Today I’ve got two things I want to share with you all. The first is that round here we’ve been sleeping with the Canadian covers. When I tell you why you will all want to move here, but I caution you: what you think of as balmy round here is a little different for two main reasons. (1) We are (literally) Hemingway’s (Bahama) islands in the (Gulf) stream, which means that all temperatures here must be imagined in terms of wetness — wet and cool in the winter, wet and hot in the summer. and (2) WE HAVE NO HEATING SYSTEMS. Except in our cars.
That said, this past week’s average temperature at night has been about 60 degrees F (16 C). (I can hear you now: that’s nothing!! I’d kill for 60!!) Fine, but then add the wind chill (our cold fronts are not still, but arrive on the backs of northern winds), dewpoint and humidity, and then remember: *no heat*. And for most people, no woolly sweaters — just cotton hoodies, unless you’ve been living, like me, in the far far north. All my Canuck friends and transplants are freezing. So think again.
I love it!! The tourists, not so much.
And two, which maybe I should’ve led with: I’ve had a poem published on the new online Caribbean litmag town. Which is worth reading for itself, because the idea is a damn good one. As they say in their “about” blurb:
Before there were magazines, there were broadsides: sheets of paper printed on one side with verse, essays, news articles, song lyrics, items of gossip, or pictures, and posted on public walls to be read by an audience of passersby. … Town is a literary magazine appearing in both print and pixels at irregular intervals — every six weeks or so — based in Port of Spain, Trinidad. We publish poems, very short prose, and artists’ images in broadside editions of a few dozen. These are simple 8½-by-11-inch sheets, produced using an ordinary desktop printer and a photocopier.
Every issue of Town contains four or five pieces or images, and each of these is printed on a separate sheet. Most of these are posted in and around Port of Spain on walls, fences, lampposts, notice-boards, and the like. A few get slipped under doors, into postboxes, or into books in bookshops.
How cool is that????? Forget my poem for a minute — I’m in love with the idea of Town itself.
Right. And so now I’m off to go write my poem for the PFFA Seven/Seven Challenge. Salud, then.