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Monday, December 18, 2006

two hundred dollars

six days

more than one thousand kilometres travelled

fifteen meals

five jellyfish stings

one board repaired

two impacts with rocks

three exchanges of phone number

two books read

what does "biasa" mean?

twenty-seven kretek smoked

four minutes of pain everytime my cuts enter the saltwater

two hang-fives

more waves than i can remember.

Friday, December 08, 2006

every breath

like a marathon.

a boy has a dream. in it his family are going on a holiday in the hills but the coach they are travelling in crashes and is flung off the highway in a traffic accident. he sees the twisted metal, smells the singed flesh and leaking fuel. when he wakes he insists that they not go but they have been planning it for months and are looking forward to it. these are excellent coaches, they say. nothing to worry about.

he confides in a friend, what should i do? she says, well you have to do something. he goes to warn the travel agency: on this day, at this time, a crash will happen on the 92nd kilometre of the highway and eight vehicles will be in the pile up and your bus will plunge into the ravine. the agent smiles like you would to a fervent charity fundraiser. amongst other things, the ravine only begins at the 93rd kilometre.

nobody replies the phone call to the press and the internet site he sets up only gets hits from people who already believe in premonitions and their spammers. he tries to talk to the drivers but they avoid him, believing him to be bad luck. You have to do something drastic, his friend says. I tried everything, he says. No one believes.

stay with me tonight, he says to her. it will be my last night alive. You must be kidding, she says. Do you really think i'm going to let that happen? I'm off. she doesn't answer her phone the whole night.

the day comes and they are all standing at the depot waiting for the buses to pick them up. he is so filled with dread that he can't sit still. they wait and wait and wait. half an hour passes, then an hour, then another, and then another half. there is no bus. there are no buses. the travel agent comes to apologise, all of their coaches were vandalised last night. the windscreens were smashed to pieces or spray painted over. So sorry so sorry, we'll be arranging alternate transport soon.

While waiting some more, they hear that

(what should it be?)

an eight car pile up occurred at the 92nd kilometre of the highway?

a much smaller crash occurred at the 94th kilometre of the highway?

traffic is smooth up and down the highway to the hills?

a girl with a baseball bat and blue stains on her clothes is walking this way?