Homeless by Choice: March 2013

Monday, March 25, 2013

Fill her up.

Off to borrow a generator, and buy a pump. Fuel problem on my boat. I guess first stop is to get a new water separator. So, four of us crowded into a tiny dinghy powered by a 1.5 HP motor and took a very long 300 boat ride.

So I went to the Yahama store and walked behind the counter to get it myself as the clerk was busy and the phone. Were I to ask he would probably say he doesn't have it. I went over to the register and he indicated he was talking and therefor could ring up a sale.

Down to the hardware store. This pump will do.
"Let's take a bet on how many fittings they come up with convert 1 FIP to male hose fitting. I guess 6. Half an hour of fumbling and the hardware clerk came up with a fitting with only five parts, 3 were threaded 2 were glued, we to cut nipples to get the whole thing done. At any Home Depot you could by one part for $.60 to do that. Needed PVC glue, teflon tape, electrical tape some hose fittings. A hundred bucks later I was

We need some terminals to make an extension cord, I have 1200 feet of 8 guage at my house. There was no service as usual so it a pair of us, one took through the glass counter and one to remove the cardboard boxes from the densely packed shelves as the contents couldn't be seen from behind the counter. I need an oil filter for my outboard the guy disappeared for twenty minutes. A woman who had been writing up my ticket was now engaged with another and I would have.

I went back to the first store and the guy spent 15 minutes ringing up a gallon of oil and a filter. When that was finally completed I went the hardware and only waited five minutes for them to ring me. Water, four gallons should it. I had to ask the clerk to come out from out back to take my money. We had a bunch of food from yesterday. All right, back to my house, just burning gas and off to Dolphin Bay.

A cooler, 4 gallons of water, a generator, two tool boxes, 100 pounds of wire, a 12 volt converter, gas, the pump were all walked up the hill in the bright sun. We put a hose on a tank and improvised a series of hoses that involved cutting demolished hose fittings looking for a way to jury a long enough hose. Two hoses had a piece of brass pipe that was salvaged and hose clamps were improvised. Now to connect the hose to the water. Of course there is no water tape. More fitting, more reducers more scraps of finally it was attached. We started the pump. Nothing, just a gurgle. We took off the discharge hosed and notice air in the water. Shitty hoses. We now needed to improvise an extension cord. The terminal we bought was defective so we just the male plug off a pot warmer that was certain to never be used and could be repaired easily and spliced the wires to that. More diddling with connections to attach the pump to water tank and half an hour later we were delivering water at the rate of 36 liters per minute to drain a 1000 tank. We were hot, had been working the tropic sun and douched ourselves prior to filling the pool. Wet, with a breeze in the shade, it was downright cool.

Ok, this'll take a couple of hours let's go work on one from the main. It's higher elevation, we can siphon. Well, yeah, that worked but 300' of 3/8" (The only reason to have hose that small is so that's light carry if you just want very small volumes) This is going take days. A couple of hours later, something that could have become apparent with a little we realized we couldn't fill this pool with every tank on the property.

Off to look at the golf cart we were having very difficult time pushing down the hill until we realized the woman at the wheel was riding break Now for the uphill portion and inspection. This was more jungle than vehicle, ant infested, with plants growing through the engine. Some broke the gas tank presumably to steal gas, with all of tubing it would have been easier to siphon. Spare parts on the boat a tank was improvised. The battery had been stolen. Let's get that 50 amp jumper. A bit of screwing with the controls and it sound like low voltage solenoid related, all right we'll try when we have a battery. What's this vice grips. Oh, this must be transmission. Yup the control is broken. Nothing like reaching to a hole of parts including drive belts and pulleys to add to the thrill of driving a golf cart.

Off the generators, next two two formerly magnicent diesel generators disassembled, missing parts and rusting a chinese piece of stamped steel. Turn the key, nothing, of course the battery is dead. It position in such a manner that it was nearly impossible to pull the cord.

In celebration of a great day we had a huge meal in the furnitureless bodega having availed ourselves of the grill locked in the behind a rotting. Was it hot? We each drank a gallon water and never pissed.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Rehab

I am trying to fix up an abandoned resort in Bocas. I watch the property and get to use the lovely place. A brief inspection indicated that neglect and theft had exact a large toll. I was expecting to do some minor woordworking, painting and groundskeeping. I discovered that the place has been ransacked. A washing machine, a dryer and a refrigerator and yes, a sink had been stolen from the laundry room.

The kitchen door suffered from termites and having a panel kicked. Batteries at $500 apiece were all dead Over a dozen them. Thousands of feet of building wire that tied the place together had been stolen. A water pump was missing. Three generators that don't work. Two golf carts that had given up the ghost to the jungle. Inverters stolen. Three 1000 gallon water tanks were carried off with nobody seeing a thing.

Hmm, after this discovery I decided to resume my initial task for the day which was to empty the vinyl pool and reattach the liner. I recruited a couple friends some spur of the moment recruits from the Indian Neighbors. The tools for the task where shlepped a long ill maintained overgrown gravel path with weeds over three feet tall. Could be some very dangerous snakes hiding in that overgrowth. A big generator was wired to a battery charger that was wired to a 12 volt bilge pump that was rated at 1000 gallons an hour. Due to the lift from depth of the pool it was probably making 50. Plan B, 20 gallon buckets were found and the workers got in the filthy water and filled them with probably half that and threw the 80 pound buckets out of the 10 foot pool hundreds of times, never slowing. I sat in the shade and drank water. I was getting tired just watching.

The liner was put in place and a shop vac hose secured under the liner and duct taped into position thats how you pull a vinyl liner tight. An hour later the kid was still lying by the side of the pool in the hot sun. "What's he doing there?" Holding the liner hose. Oh, got. We jammed a broomstick next to the hose, tilted it back and taped in position. The kid went back to macheting the lawn.

The older man, Gin had built the resort. We chatted late into the night while eating copious amounts of meat, served ala Chris. Chris grills huge fillets and cuts them into giant junks and then unceremoniously presents a bloody paper plate piled with meat and invites his guests to help themselves. No cutlery or dishes are offered, he just picks up giant piece after giant and eats them with his fingers expecting guests to do the same. Side dishes could potatoes, boiled or mashed with sauteed veggies. Still no cutlery.

We talked late into the night with Gin who I had discovered by eating at restaurant at the mouth of the river to the resort. His wife runs the place and serves large quantities of excellent for $6 to $7 a plate. He provided the generator and embarassedly ask for $20 for his days labor. The kid got the standard rate of $12.

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Sent the Guests Home - Bonfire on the Beach

A little more cleaning up around the house. Moved the bed back into the guest bedroom.

Simon came over, we felled a large tree that had swayed ominously during our last storm. That took about twenty minutes. He then proceeded to clear the hills in front of the house using a 30" machete. It wasn't long before he came up to the house to ask if I had something shorter. I had a 22" machete I bought in Guatemala. Not having been used for several years it was covered in rust. In his eyes it was near irredeemable. I took a large circular sander and removed all the rust in a minute and tapered on a fine edge. Too fine for working with wood, but great for grass. Simon was quite impressed and asked me to tune up his machete. This took but another couple of minutes.

He then proceeded to work for forty minutes. In the picture to the right you can see the brown spot created by the area cleared by three gringos with machetes in the course of an hour. The remaining area, and much more, extending past the captured image was cleared by Simon in forty minutes.

I went to town to pick up a couple of girls. They were tired from their travels, despite only having come from Boquette, hardly an arduous trip. I dispatched a water taxi for them and headed out to Starfish Beach with Chris and Alejandra. We dropped by numerous boats on the way but people that had committed all backed out. Cool Boat Chris sailed over with his girlfriend Natti on his proa. There was next to no wind and we waited hours for him. A bonfire on the beach, grilled chicken and potatoes. We headed back and offered to tow Chris. They declined as there was a bit of wind and it was a clear, calm starry night. By the time we got back to town it had started to rain. I am sure it was a long, cold trip.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Success

Out at 8 to Nothing Wong. I pulled along the port side and the four of us boarded. Marlin is on his way? Sure enough, he was but a few minutes off. High tide at 9:30.

Chris is going to be here at 8:30. He is pressed for time. How could this be? He has nothing to do, ever.

One inch manilla lines were tied off to the bow of Nothing Wong. Here he comes. Chris called me on the phone. He couldn't see to navigate the shallows as he was heading east into the morning sun. I grabbed some polaroid sunglasses, took my bearings and set off in my boat to lay a course through the shallows, surveyed the water and headed out. I called him on the phone. It was terse. "77. Copy?" "Roger".

I turned on the VHF radio and set it to channel 77. "Come straight to me." The big boat bore down on me cautiously, travelling but a few knots. Just one tack necessary. I stopped at the turning point. "Straight to here. I'm heading out to the anchor point." I did so. The beast came to rest. As he was anchoring I was dispatched to get "Cool Boat Chris" (CBC) from Alejandra's panga, tied off and secured with a stern anchor. I picked up CBC and shuttled him over to Marita so he could do some line handling, then back to Nuthing Wong to get the tow lines. One of the boys threw them to one that was on my boat and he started to feed out line. "Just throw the whole damn thing overboard, else you'll get the ropes tangled in your feet." Jesus, what do they teach these guys in the Coast Guard Academy? Apparently not much to do with boating. "Get in back and make sure they don't get near my prop." Back to Marita. The lines were tied off.

Marlin boarded my boat to supervise. The lines slowly tightened, Marita pitched, the water churned. "Put your rudder amidships" I squawked, repeating Marlins order. Marita straightened out and another pull was attempted. Marlin observed, "He's never tugged before, he should let the slack out and surge."

"Chris, lay back. Go." Something Wong moved a couple of inches. "Off..... go." A foot. "Off, go." A few minutes later, she was free. We hooted and hollered and danced little jigs. Clive broke out into a shit eating grin. CBC was escorted back to Alejandra's Panga. The mast and rudder were left to be collected later. She was pulled at three knots toward her next mooring in Saigon. I left with my crew to town for a celebratory coffee or two. My phone rang. "Jim, get us a bottle of rum, we want to celebrate." "There is one on Nothing Wong." "I don't want to wait until we get to Saigon." What time is it? 10:30? OK, I bought a handle of Abuelo, we boarded my boat and pulled alongside. Marita came to a rest, we tied off and resumed the journey. The sound system was cranking, blasting a particularly bad selection of music. The boys consumed rum in moderation. Others? Not so much. By the time we got to Saigon, the captain was wasted.

The boat was pulled into position, Marlin put the anchor and a hundred feet of chain on his cayuco and pulled out to drop anchor. Crazy Chris, yet another Chris, but this one is very dependable. You can always rely on him to be an asshole. He got on his dinghy and came over to tell us to move the boat, it was too close to his. It was three hundred feet away. Do you think you own the whole bay, asshole? After an unduly long time elapsed, accomplishing little, the mainstay of activity aboard Marita we headed back to the south anchorage, leaving nothing Wong and a very happy Clive.

Crazy Chris started calling, "Get the f***ing boat out of here. I don't want it so close to my boat..." He was screaming so loud that Marita Chris put down his phone and we all listened." Crazy Chris then started issuing threats. He was advised in strong terms that he was screwing with the wrong people.

I gassed up and we snorkeled Hospital Point on the way home. The water was far murkier than I had ever seen it. While enjoying a late lunch on the deck the dogs took off down the stairs in a barking frenzy. A bit later up walked Simon, my gardener. He had just returned from six months of seminary training in David. This place is turning more Catholic than an Irish neighborhood in Boston. Yup, I have work for you to do. I pointed to a tree I needed felled. Then I pointed to a spot of land which had been cleared. "Tres muchachas, una hora." He laughed heartily. It was a pathetic effort for three gringo lads with machetes. Maybe half an hour for Simon by himself. We fed him and gave him coffee. He said he would be by at seven in the morning and paddled back home.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Preparation

New moon high tide at 8:30. Off with the three volunteers to Nuthing Wong. Clive was aboard and had two Ngobe teenagers working with him. We brought breakfast burritos.

Marlin a well respected local for many reasons, not the least is his knowledge of many things was the fourth to attempt the effort to get the boat off the sand bar. He had secured three anchor lines off the starboard bow and was winching on the lines in order to pull the bow in the direction of the nearest channel. Forty tons of steel, with a six foot long steel keel and two steel skegs and six tons of lead were buried in the sand.

The boys tried to pull on the lines. I directed them to get them taught and to pull perpendicularly, the leverage advantage is enormous. Every time an inch or two was gained an Indian re-secured another line and the process continued, a couple inches at a time for about an hour. We swung the bow about four feet. A three ton winch was employed, but taking in the slack was painful. Every time the limited travel of the load chain was reached a hundred feet of work chain had to be pulled backwards, a new knot tied in the anchor rope to hold the hook and the chain had to be worked out to the rope again. All in all we swung the bow ten feet before the rapidly subsiding tides frustrated further efforts.

Marlin secured his massive cayuca, a dugout canoe thirty two feet long with four inch thick walls, with the stern but four feet from the bow and ran his reluctant forty stroke outboard at full throttle for hours, the prop wash blew away large quantities of sand, fortunately, away from the reef. This had been attempted before but weather washed away away progress.

The boys, Clive and I went to town. Clive had to provision and had no tender, the boys, well, something is always happening around me and they didn't want to miss anything. We took a taxi to Saigon, an isthmus that separates the peninsula that is Bocas Town from the bulk of the island and I led the way to Marlin's house. The five of us walked up to the boat house and two of the boys jumped up and monkeyed their way across a beam to reach another winch used for lifting the cayuca. Marlin's son Noah came out. I'd never met him before. "Hi, we are just getting one of these for your dad. Can you get us a plastic bag to put it in?" Nothing like carrying a large amount of rusty chain covered in used motor oil.

We returned to the boat, turned over the winch and decided to snorkel. Sam saw a couple of nurse sharks. I was told they were always hanging out in the mangroves there. Enough, to be continued tomorrow. We headed home. Leaving Marlin and his crew to continue blowing a channel. Tomorrow, my buddy Chris is bringing out his sixty foot trawler and we are going to try to pull this boat off of the sandbar. If it doesn't work this time, I guess we'll have to wait for a full moon tide.

Hell, we blow off most of the day, why stop now? Sam and I went snorkeling. I saw barracuda after barracuda. Most likely it was the same one. Curious creatures. I dodged the giant moon jelly fish. I avoided the box jellies, they sting. I was swimming for exercise, not pausing to inspect. I saw that barracuda again and then a big one. A big pull in the crotch of my pants. WTF? I spun around. No blood. No pain. I spun around again. Whew! It was my dog, a quarter mile from home who thought he'd join me on my swim. I wasn't quite done yet, but I returned home.

Shortly thereafter, Sam returned with a nice Spanish Mackeral. He had been pursuing fish for an hour and was just standing to rest and this fish swam up to him, asking to die and Sam fulfilled his wish.

First coat on the floor of the guest bedroom, the hall, the guest bathroom

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Still Something Wrong

Ok, Campbell, some of the steps need replacing, let's count 'em. Sixteen, 48" 2"x10" nispero. I called a neighbor that had a bunch stacked for the construction of a house he will probably never build. A quick phone call. Sure, I could by some off of him.

We hopped on my boat and a few minutes later arrived and looked at the pile that had been sitting, soaking on wet earth for five years. Moldy, green and black mold covered all surfaces. We picked up a 15 foot board, which weighed 140 pounds apiece to find termites crawling under it. We took some scraps of aluminum plate and scraped the wood. Yup, it looks good. Nispero is amazing stuff. Untreated in rainforest, uncovered and no rot.

We picked them up, moved them over near the generator as the extension cord had been borrowed and not returned, a common situation in Bocas and using an old left handed circular saw, I didn't even know such a thing existed until I was handed it, at cut them to length. The saw was old, the blade dull and glazed with resin. The saw had a workout. Board after board and hauled them to the boat.

Steps were pried out, wood scraped, wood treated with insecticide and a mixture of diesel and used motor oil on the underside and the posts. This is an extremely effective means of treating wood. I didn't have a circular saw an I sure wasn't going to try to use that one to do the finish cuts. A text message later, yup, I have one you can use. A drill, a text to somebody else. He had one.

The floors were sanded to the finish state and I headed out to town to get a couple of gallons of varnish that I will mix with penetrating oil to make a Danish Oil. The lady behind the counter asked where I've been. "Did you go out of town? You haven't been here in a couple of weeks." A South African from the top end resort in Bocas, where rooms are over $500 a night, "Hey, Jim, come and visit." Yeah, I'll have to go back, I get rooms for free. A very cute blonde walked in and gave me a hug. "Hi, sweetie." And so it went for 10 minutes, I knew everybody who walked into the place.

Got any sponge mops and refills? Shakey proudly showed me all the refills. Wow! I should stock. Do you have the mops that match. He told me to look for myself. Past the authorized personel only gate, Jessie and I went. "My head is spinning, is there someone in this town you don't know?" "Yeah, lots, but everybody knows me." Two cans of marine varnish, a paint brush, some turpentine filled into a water bottle. "Could you put a tape label on that?" A piece of masking tape was stuck on the bottle and the spanish word for turpentine was put on it. It came to $97.34. "I left my wallet at home." "Ok, just put your name on the top of the bill".

Jessie ran off to buy some rum, wine and fruit and we took off for home. I decided to take the long way. This young man took notice that we were on the wrong side of my island. On my side, Bastimentos is but a mile away. On the other side there are hundreds of mangroves. They don't remotely resemble each other.

We were 100 feet from a large steel Chinese Junk, made by a guy I know with three other people over the course of fourteen months. The main mast which, a large spruce tree was floating in the water, tethered to the boat. The rudder had snapped off. We had a hell of a blow last Sunday, We boarded the boat. A grizzled old man looked through the window at me. "Permission to come aboard." He put on some clothes and we entered the dismal cabin. Clive offered beer, Jessie accepted. The plan was to pull off at high tide on the new moon. "That's tomorrow right?" Yeah, 8 o'clock. "Need help?" "We can always use help." We'll be here and bring you some breakfast burritos.

Kirk is going to Thailand, I have to visit him. We pulled into the mangroves, walked down a long dock. I knocked on the door of a tool shed. A grizzled 77 year old man, missing half his dentition looked through a crack in the door, swung it open and crushed my hand in a popeye grip. "Jim! Where are the pretty girls?" Sorry, not today, I was at the Junk, thought I'd swing by, you look beat, did we just wake you up?" I was just watching Bonanza come on. We entered his living room a 10' x 8' room adorned by calendar girls, a band saw, scuba tanks, a two stage air compressor for filling scuba tanks, cans of paints, a drill press a bench that served as a table and a chair. Jessie looked like he'd just entered Oz. "Kirk, built Odin, that 60' foot trimaran, himself."

"I just got back from a cruise with Chris." "To see the 80' trawler? How's it looking." "Yeah, it's in rough shape, at least 3 injectors are stuck, we are sending them all off to David." I told him we were going to try to get the junk off the sandbar tomorrow morning. He said he would be there.

The boys swept and scrubbed the floors and removed most of the remaining dust that covered every surface of the bathroom.

Back home, we decided to go to the pizza fest being held on Red Frog that we were invited to yesterday. A mile boat ride, a walk through half a mile of jungle and a couple of hundred meters on the beach to be told that they couldn't accommodate us. The place was full. There had not been a boat at the dock. The operators were sold out due to accommodating the outgoing crew, the incoming crew, the operators relatives and a few guests. I don't know why they invited me if they couldn't accommodate me.

Sam cooked up a rice, brocolli and onion dish, made some a curry and stir fried some chicken breast while I wrote this blog entry and made a few phone calls.

Big Boy

Volunteer story of the day:

I commented that one of my volunteers was a beefy boy, (6'2, 220 pounds, not an ounce of fat)...

"Yeah, once in Hamburg he and a friend bought some girls some drinks. They were approached at gunpoint by two members of the Russian mob with guns. They demanded 250 euros for the girls company, who apparently had been prostitutes.

Campbell smashed them in the face, breaking their jaws and leaving them bleeding on the ground and ran a mile back to the hostel carrying his friend on his back."

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Laboring

Campbell spent the day sanding the floors. I should have given him more supervision. A mound of sawdust was created and cleaned up but the old swirl marks were removed and new ones, different, in place.

While he was doing that Jess, Sam and I retrieved some dock posts from the mangroves and started the installation of some rub posts that would allow the gunwhale of my boat to raise over and fall beneath the dock with the changing of the tides without ripping it. The heavy pole was dropped into the muck and the arduous task of picking up a heavy object and banging on the poles began. There is very little lateral stress on these poles so, three feet short of the final height we stopped after banging them over a hundred times with a hard, but watersoaked and therefor heavy log.

We cleared a path in the jungle that had been established but was now impassable due to the large amount of debris that obstructed the path as a result of recent heavy rains and windstorms. I instructed them on the proper use of a machete. We then proceeded to start the process of maintaining the land in front of my house climbing steep wet hills and knocking overgrown foilage down. After being exhausted and seeing that the stairs were in need of maintenance we scraped of mold and some termite trails and I sprayed. About 8 steps show sufficient evidence of termite damage that they will have to be replaced soon. We were interrupted by a prolonged visit by a toucan. It flittered from tree to tree. I went

About three we decided that we had labored enough, headed over to Red Frog Beach for some strenuous swimming in big waves. The boys that the place was awesome and enjoyed the eye candy. I assure you the girls were giving their muscular physiques appreciative glances.

These boys can eat. In a day and half they had gone through many pounds of chicken a lot of veggies and beans and an amazing number of tortillas. We popped over to Old Bank, on Bastimentos where we were once again greeted with, "Jim, what's up with this? You always bring over pretty girls." Well, these guys are here to work. A have a couple of cuties coming in a couple of days.

Monday, March 4, 2013

Volunteers Arrive

Yesterday I met with three young men who have volunteered to work for me in exchange for food and lodging. Based on their profile pictures I assumed they were gay. It was obvious, within seconds that this was not the case.

We chatted for half an hour and we agreed that this would probably work out for both of us. I indicated that the weather was nice for a change and that they should take this opportunity to spend the afternoon at Bluff Beach, that following day they should take the 7:30 shuttle to town with all of their stuff.

This morning I returned to town and was hailed by the threesome who were eating breakfast at an upscale hotel. I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down. Three brand new top of the line backpacks were stacked next to the wall. It became immediately evident that these were not experienced travellers and that they came from money.

The three met at a Coast Guard school which they dropped out of and hit the road. Sam and Campbell had presented themselves as a pair and Jess had joined in after I accepted the other two. They all knew each other from school and enjoyed the same lack of academic success.

We stocked up on food and other necessities, gassed up and headed back to my house. Eight bags of food, 150 pounds of travelling gear, a propane tank, a gas tank and 30 pounds of dog food where hauled up the 100 stairs to my house. I only made one trip, the guys did the rest.

I showed them to the guest bedroom checking to make sure that all the drawers were empty. I removed the women's pants, panties, and shorts and added them to a pile of forgotten clothes and suggested that they each take a drawer and unpack their backpacks as working out of backpack is a pain in the ass.

What I saw looked like a catalog of high tech backpacker gear. I'll go into that later, but consider this camping stove. They then pulled out their high tech nylon backpackable hammocks with mosquito netting and special nylon straps. These were secured around poles on my deck. As I write, on Tuesday morning, each of the three is suspended in their mosquito netted hammocks, looking very much like occupants of high tech cacoons.

In the process of refinishing my floors the stove, refrigerator, and household furnishings were still on the deck. Pretty much everything but my bed. We cleaned off the stove and oven, inside and out and did the same with the refrigerator and moved them indoors. The grounds were picked up, things that had blown off the deck during Sunday's squall were retrieved. A large cache of groceries was put away and I prepared lunch.

I prepared chicken veggie wraps with a slight seasoning of Thai curry, pinto beans and rice. Jess announced that he eats like a bird, Campbell that his habits were more like a bear's and Sam couldn't finish eating long enough to state much. Campbell was barely touching his food but consuming copious quantities of water. I asked him, "how much hot sauce did you put in that wrap?" He had added nothing. The other three diners had spiced theirs up with a fair amount hot sauce and I applied mine liberally, as usual.

Seeing a break in the weather I suggested that we enjoy ourselves while the opportunity presented itself and we toured around, visited some people and returned. Sam demonstrated how to use a casting net. As he caught the minnows, intended as bait, my dog Hayu ate them as they landed on the dock. While this was going on I was rewiring my bilge pump switch as the idiot who had been working on my boat had just used wire nuts. That would only be good for a few days. I tried to unscrew a nut and green cupric oxide dust fell out to reveal the connection had nearly completely failed. Stripping further and further back I realized that capillary action had pretty much wiped out the wiring for this switch. I shall have to buy another and see if I can solder on new leads.

Back to the house broccoli and other veggies in a improvised teriyaki sauce, rice, lentils, beans and for must of us, plenty of hot sauce.

The cupboards were emptied, sawdust on everything wipe off, all of the dishes washed and put away. It was still going on when I went to bed at 10.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Rainy Days - Bocas - Facebook

It's been raining a lot. On rainy days... shit like this happens.

Gay

by Douglas Richards on Sunday, March 3, 2013 at 5:41am ·

Special thanks to big Al, lead singer of the "Coke Spoon Sperm Smugglers", for turning my favorite late night hangout into the gayest, fruitiest, fudge packeriest, rectal gerbil inhaliest, Princess Diana skull-fuckiest, limp wristiest, cock gobbliest, Bernie Taupin back fistiest, Cleveland Grover clown punchiest, Cocksore Dave enabliest, bum lubricatiest, taint smegmaist, cleft mopiest, sigmoidiest place on the planet. Go back to wherever, you mediocre Buchanan-scarred vocal hack.

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Tony Sanders and Robbin Blythe like this.
Joaquin Mariante Doug, you have been sitting in your room too long, come back to the real world, Old Bank and get plugged back into real people.

6 hours ago · Like
Tony Sanders I think he's actually tying to avoid getting plugged into the back of people, especially those ageing flamers from old point

5 hours ago · Like · 1
Tony Sanders old bank

5 hours ago · Like
Kurt Carson fag bank point

5 hours ago · Like · 1
Tony Sanders thats the one!

5 hours ago · Like
Tony Sanders http://www.boreme.com/posting.php?id=13426

The Day Today - Gay Desk

www.boreme.com

The Day Today - Gay Desk - Colin Poppshed rounds up the day's gayness

5 hours ago · Like · 2
Sea Bass-Turd whats getting your ipod stolen have to do with real people?

3 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd Doug you know you like the Elton John and George Michael duet song, so continue singing along.

3 hours ago · Like · 2
Sea Bass-Turd rounds up the days gayness hahahahahaha

3 hours ago · Like · 1
Kurt Carson I wish I could see videos.

3 hours ago · Like · 2
Jim Schmidt Playing at "The Point". Just kick the inflatable altar boys out of the way and have a seat. Put a towel down first, over a sheet of heavy plastic.

3 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd I love Bastimento, it's like being in the movie Jurassic Park being filmed in Hells Kitchen, NYC, with just a hint of missing DNA.

3 hours ago · Like · 1
Jim Schmidt I far prefer Old Bank to Bocas Town. I don't get shit stolen out of my boat. If I drop some cash while pulling out some cigs, people pick it up and hand it to me. Gotta bring your own eye candy though.

3 hours ago · Like
Tony Sanders we prefer you being in bastimentos too...

3 hours ago · Like
Jim Schmidt Great! We're all happy then.

3 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd I'm trying to think of 1 thing that intrigues me about Old Bank. Um.....

3 hours ago · Like
Douglas Richards "Once you go Basti, everything else is less nasty" --DR

3 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd ..it's old !

3 hours ago · Like · 1
Sea Bass-Turd thats like a gangsta poem home slice.

3 hours ago · Like
Jim Schmidt The people watching is awesome.

3 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd I think I'd rather watch cheese grow on my gooch.

3 hours ago · Like
Tony Sanders it will grow faster on your biffin bridge, more humidity

3 hours ago · Like · 2
Sea Bass-Turd I think the Panamanian Military should use Old Bank as an artillery range, this way neighborhood improvements would happen for free.

3 hours ago · Like
Douglas Richards I barely remember making this post. Musta been a chore, squinting out of one blurry Abuelo-bloodshot eye, pecking on the keyboard with Jager-handicapped Farrowsausage stubbies, Mercury retro-spinning in the void......

3 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd I noticed the posting time, a mere 1/2 hour later I was breaking in my stainmaster carpet in multiple fashions.

3 hours ago · Like · 1
Jim Schmidt I have often been invited into homes by people who have often seen me walk by. A little quiet guitar on a deck while looking at ... well... at least the water.

Flushing toilets.

"This is my sister, mister, $20?"...See More

3 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd I only go to Basti to drop off John Farrows Manicurist. I make her swim to shore, I don't get within 1 mile of land, I can't handle the thought of her touching those stubby little sausage fingers, and all that matted hair.

2 hours ago · Unlike · 2
Douglas Richards flushing toilets?

2 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd I just shit in front of John's place, it improves the air quality while driving up property value.

2 hours ago · Unlike · 1
Douglas Richards "the Caspian and the Mediterranean......see you there!"

2 hours ago · Like · 1
Douglas Richards John's got stainmaster carpet pantaloons

2 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd Doug if you listen close you can hear John swarthinating..

2 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd 4:41 am posting time Douglas, well done my good man.

2 hours ago · Like
Douglas Richards HAHAHA marinating in his own swarthiness, actually 5:41, at 4:41 I was listening to Al's BackStreet Boy George Michael Bolton-Elton Rick Astley Liberace RuPaul medley at the BS.

2 hours ago · Like · 1
Sea Bass-Turd I know scro I was sing the George Michael part

2 hours ago · Like
Douglas Richards being able to enunciate with Al's swarthy pickle in your mouth...it was impressive

2 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd I'm allergic to swarthy pickles.

2 hours ago · Like
Douglas Richards I was wandering about those swollen glands.

2 hours ago · Like
Sea Bass-Turd Nap # 34 toodles.

2 hours ago · Like
Jim Schmidt Flushing toilets, as opposed to the ceramic sculpture that decorates a closet in some place called "Barns and Ignoble" or something close. My associative memory tricks sometimes fail.

about an hour ago · Like · 1
Douglas Richards OK, off to listen to some Kajagoogoo and Frankie Goes to Hollywood.....

about an hour ago · Like