An Unfinished House

William, I've thought about what to write all day now and while part of me would like to continue exploring the theme and meaning of Justice from philosophy class, or rail against the seemingly monolithic, lock-step acceptance and use of P.C. language and how it's destroying our culture and ability to communicate with each other, or stake out my claim against the tyranny of gay-marriage; I'm left thinking that in that I haven't truly written anything since September of last year it might be nice to begin this new season of writing and opining with a fresh and sunny story from Los Laureles. Thus I bring you Carlos Jose Ucles Ferrufino, affectionately known in Laureles (and other parts) as Chucu. I shan't write a long bio on him as I did with Chihua; at least not today. I do though want to share with you a scene from his birthday back in November. Normally when a birthday in Laureles rolls around I arrive with a cake, we sing a song, say a prayer, eat, drink co...

It's been far too long since last I've written and while there's been much that I've wanted to say and comment on, I've found my ability to articulate these thoughts to be wanting. My old knack for putting finger to keyboard and unloading my missives in a coherent way seems to have dissipated over these past few months. It's not been for lack of inspiration; there's much within the culture that has me frustrated and much here in La Ceiba that has me either pensive or overjoyed. For whatever reason though that perhaps God only knows, I've found that every time I've sat down to write nothing has come - I've barely even had the desire to try. William Nickols though, my feckless and jovial gadfly of a student has been relentless these many months pestering me to write a new post and always I've swatted him away hoping to avoid his reproaches. Today though on the Facebook I decided I'd had enough; I decided that I'm tired of silence, tired...