Sumpin' Witty

Puerto Viejo recently lost one of its most memorable and most loving and lovable characters. Patrick Abrams, Captain Zero was a true legend and famous in his own right. I'll let his own words speak for themselves. This story was handed to me by Captain Zero one day while giving him a ride into town. He wanted me to help him publish it because he knew I "worked with books." I have typed the copy exactly as it was given to me so that you can read it in his own words. There is no way not to hear his voice or picture him while reading this account.  EMBRACING THE GIFT The following story recounts a series of events in the life of Patrick Abrams, the notorious Captain Zero. The story, I think, speaks volumes of Patrick’s philosophy concerning how we could and should live. I met the Captain in March of 2015 and he welcomed me into his home as he would an old friend. Patrick wrote, at some point, the first draft of this tale on 16 sheets of lined paper and gave it to me, Brain...

I woke up on my 35th birthday to my 13-year-old dog having a seizure. Not a great way to start what could very well be the mid-point in my life (depending on how much Zumba I do), but one of those moments that reminds you that shit isn't always going to be like this. Everything changes, everything comes to end, and if we're lucky enough to still be breathing, we have a chance to start again. Call it a mid-life crisis (or if I'm lucky a third-life crisis). Call it my lastest fitness obsession since I seemed to have phased out my Salsa Fever that consumed the 34th year of my life. Call it what you want, but I decided to go to Zumba. Now, going to Zumba was something I never, ever in a million years would have thought I would have done. Aside from the fact that dancing in a group setting, with a bunch of overly peepy fitness freaks, would have made me run the other way just a couple of years ago, I had a personal vendetta against Zumba. You see, when my ex of 8 years...

It’s been a year since my heart broke. And it didn’t shatter all at once, like a wine glass crashing on a tile floor, the way I imagined it would.  It crumbled, slowly, over a few months, or maybe longer, it’s hard to tell. It started with a crack that crept its way across, as little bits began to fall away. And as the crack grew and splintered across my heart, the symptoms of a broken heart began to set in.  My insides turned to liquid. My intestines, large and small, my stomach, they just turned to liquid. I couldn’t eat, on account of my insides no longer existing in a solid form. I yo-yoed between thinking I was going to vomit up my digestive system or shit it out, at any moment.  Eating went out the window and so did sleep. Of course I’d be exhausted all day, from crying, from lack of nutrition, but then night would come, but never sleep. It was like I was possessed. The dark thoughts came with the darkness and that little voice inside your h...

A day will come where you'll find yourself, seemingly, in the                                                                                                                                    middle                                                     ...

Be bold, be brave. Be loud and obnoxious. Be fearful and timid. Make waves, start fires, cause a commotion. Be anything but nice. Be compassionate and have passion. Be cunning and charismatic. Be sarcastic. Be rude. Say things that make people uncomfortable. Start awkward conversations. Laugh loudly. Tell jokes and stories. Laugh at your own jokes. Shake hands firmly with those you meet. Talk to strangers at parties. Memorize random facts to tell others. Be reliable and dependable or be flaky and flighty. Be punctual or always be late. Say yes to invitations. Show up with presents. Be outspoken or soft spoken, but be heard. Make your point and leave it at that. Listen closely and attentively to others. Be anything but nice. Be blunt and direct. Be romantic. Recite poetry. Sing loudly and off-key. Be caring and kind. Give people homemade gifts. Be flirtatious and funky. Wear costumes as often as possible and speak with fake accents and give fake names at parties. Be rowd...

She was difficult to describe. Not because she was plain or unremarkable. In fact, quite the opposite. The fact that she stood out so much, that she was unique, that was what made her almost indefinable. She was tall. Taller than most women and even most men. She had a long neck, broad shoulders, a strong back, with wide-set hips and legs that could have strangled someone, if she wanted to. Her hair was an odd color, somewhere between dirty blond, rusted orange, light brown or auburn and depending on the light, depending on the time of year or time of day or night, the way she wore it, or her mood, it could change color. Her eyes were the same. One moment they appeared blue, the next green, and the next a cold grey, and at a times a storm gathered in them, filling with dark clouds and streaked with lighting. These were the features that made her difficult to define. While her stature could not be ignored, her personality could at times be so reserved and almost meek that one ...

Dear Alcohol, It's hard to find the right words to say to you. I'm not even sure where to begin. We've been together for so long now and we know each other so well, and that's what makes this so difficult. I know it sounds cliche' but I want you to know that this isn't about you, it's about me. I think you're great. I think you're amazing and believe me, I do love you. It's just right now, I feel like I need to take some time for myself and figure out what I really want and I can't seem to do that with you around. We've had so many great times together over the years. When I look back on all the memories we've made together, it makes me that much more upset to say goodbye, but I have to do it. You see, I find myself putting you first all the time, and neglecting myself in the end. Even when it comes to other relationships and friendships I always end up putting you ahead of everyone else and while I usually don't regret it, ...