gone daddy gone

In less than 24 hours Mrs. Bitter and I will be boarding a plane for Placencia, Belize, where we will be spending 8 days in a virtual decompression chamber called vacation. Our goal is to avoid snow, ice, frost, impatient customers, incompetent suppliers, ineffective management, impeachable presidents, incessant phones, irrepressible faxes and inconsiderate pages. Instead our plan is to indulge in the warm sunshine of an isolated third-world Central American country, where English is grudgingly spoken as the “official” language and the choices for beer are Belikin and a semi-polite smirk. We will attempt to muster the courage to resist the urge to patronize the local internet cafe. We will attempt to read all of those books that have been collecting dust in a stack next to the bookshelf.

I will bringing the following, listed in no particular order:

Junky - William Burroughs
Guided By Voices: a Brief History - James Greer
Go - John Clellon Holmes
Book of Dreams - Jack Kerouac
Slanky - Mike Doughty
A False Spring - Pat Jordan
All the Presidents’ Pets - Mo Rocca

Mrs. Bitter will take numerous photographs. I will write poetry on something other than a hand-held device. We will walk everywhere in sandals, shorts and cleverly imprinted t-shirts. And when we’re done with all of that, we'll do nothing. By then, of course, it will be time for us to come home.