fire all of your guns at once and explode into space.

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16 march 1997

8:13 p.m.

Dear diary, I have to take cold showers. My body is covered with cream. It hurts to wear clothes to bed. That's right. I'm sunburnt. It was worth it, though. I spent all day yesterday jumping five-foot waves, eating sandy biscuits and napping at Sherwoods. It's a spot just past Bellows Air Force Base, otherwise known as Waimanalo Beach Park. The sand was coarse and cigarette butt-free, the ocean was roaring blue, and the sun was doing its job too well. Things didn't look so good yesterday morning, actually. First of all, it was morning -- by definition too early to be up on a Saturday. Derek forgot his prescription sunglasses at home, we couldn't get in touch with Sean to figure out who was bringing lunch, and all the way up the Pali, it was raining and miserably cold. It's a wonder Mary and I weren't murdered en-route for our whining. Right as we came out of the tunnels, though, you could see it was clear and sunny out over the beach. By the time we were picking up breakfast at Jack in the Box, I was impatient to jump in the water. Sean eventually came through, bringing the requsite bucket 'o chicken. He and Derek tried to drown eachother, while Mary and I tried to keep from drowning ourselves. I think the high point of my day was getting mowed down by two -- count 'em -- two Japanese tourists. One armed with a dayglow pink tube and the other with a cruelly solid bodyboard. By three o'clock, we were wiped out. We spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the sand trying alternatively to tickle and out bad-joke eachother. The guys made excellent pillows, and no doubt both went home with head-shaped pale-spots on their backs. It's been way too long since I've been at a real beach. Living in Waikiki, you start to take sand and surf for granted. That and you forget how beautiful a shore with natural sand and even moderately clean water is. On Friday, "Return of the Jedi." Opening night, Waikiki Three, midnight show. This time, no one had to sit on the floor. Of all the special-editioned films in the trilogy, I think I liked the changes in "Jedi" the least. I walked out feeling mildly betrayed. A little disappointing, especially since the cost of the "improvements" challenged the budget to make the original films. "Jedi" was already bordering on silly with the Ewok element (though, truth be told, I always liked the little devils), but it was turned into a veritable cartoon by the folks at ILM. The alien dance sequence was dubious as best, but the new ending was downright preposterous. That's right. New ending. If that kind of excess is a taste of what we're to expect from the next three (or rather, first three) forthcoming films, I'm not sure I'm looking forward to seeing them. George, dear... beware of the "Clerks" effect. Give a good director big bucks and new toys to make a sequel, and believe you me -- he'll work very hard to screw it up. No, RFH wasn't the only thing on my mind on Thursday... I was just interrupted by a late night cry for attention from the Independent One. Eventually Derek came by and we just drove around for a couple of hours. First we went up into Manoa Valley to the elementary school to play on the swings for a while. It's been a while since I swung on a swing... and frankly it made me a bit ill. (In retrospect, I think most things that excite children involves nausea.) Turns out there were toads all over the place -- as well as other mysterious noises only I heard -- so we didn't stay long. After that, random driving. Diamond Head, Kahala, Waialae Avenue, Beretania, Downtown, South King... There wasn't a topic of discussion we didn't touch on (though admittedly I did most of the talking). We stopped for some gyoza and $1 cans of Coke at Sanoya's (the best place for noodles after midnight), then called it a night. He was happy. I think he just wanted to get out, to have some company. In the last few days, he's been spending more time than he ever has with his brother. I think they were getting a bit tired of eachother, though. No doubt there'll be more drives to come. Actually, I used to roam around the island a lot when I was in high school... nighttime drives were one of the few things that calmed me. After I'd broken up with my last boyfriend, it was my favorite way to clear the cabin fever of being alone. Almost every other night, it was up over the Pali, through Kane`ohe, and back down on the Likelike. After I got the $600 gas bill, mom told all her friends to invest in Chevron. I know it's a hell of a stupid way to do nothing -- polluting the environment and getting absolutely nowhere in the process. (Sure, walking would be a passable option... if I lived anywhere else but in Waikiki.) I guess it's just one of my wasteful, indulgent quirks.