Dennis Hollingsworth: Let's Go

August 8, 2004

Let's Go

What follows is beastial and base. Click on at your own risk.

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Let's go for a walk!

After all the studio time, I've let the business garden go to seed. It's all in a carbboard box: all reciepts in a plastic bag, all my files are as yet unpacked, all the stuff in a heap. Lots and lots of documentation to take care of.

Bleh.

Much of this organization is conducted on this here laptop. It's a hot month, the heat lingers past midnight. And even though we retreat to the inner reccesses of our stone house, the humidity lingers. And here in this room is our dog juno, at our feet, panting, tongue distended, her body heaving witht the force of her exhalations. Soon, we are rebreathing the oxygen delpeated spiked humidity of supercharged dog breath.

Bleh.

It's been a full day since she's been out to go potty. Surely we can take a break for some coffee or something. "

Juno, would you..."

She already knows what's up, fluffing up.

"...like to go..."

She's spinning around already.

"...FOR A WALK?"

Yes, yes, happy, happy, joy, joy!

We're on our way.

Whe you take a dog to go potty here, you've got two choices: the beach or behind the church. While pooping on G-d's back do' is fast, the beach offers more chances to stop for coffee or something. To the beach we go.

Juno is the ambassador here. She introduced us to the House of Fun, our neighbors who live as much on the street as inside. These people are taking the summer seriously. Serious spearfishermen, I've seen their catch of fish and octopus on the street.

The short stop of choice is a pit stop at bar Josep, but not today. We've had people come over and tell us of the history of our house. It used be called "Can Marcelino", a bar where the fishermen in town would hang out. People would even bring their own sardines and cook them in the fireplace. Big barrells of wine. Several people here have given us glimpses of that history at different times, and once one openly winced that a couple of Yankees have a piece of Tossa history. And that person was from Barcelona. No offense, Catalonia.

Now, bar Josep has taken the mojo from Can Marcelino. This bar is well broken in.

The evil deed.

Go caganera!

I'll have the world know that we bag and trash the poop. We are the only ones to do this in town. I have handled all material that has gone into this animal and what has come out.

THAT, my friends, is love.

We decide to go to the little bars on the edge of the beach, tables in the sand. Along the way, a city sponsored volley ball event thingy was animating the paseo. Tossa is my model of how a city should meet the sea.