Island of Sand and Thailand Travel:This blog contains-buried on the Island of Sand in a Chest-: An Ode to Palin

The Link Above ... and then on to the Blog

This book is the cumulative knowledge gained through living in Thailand for eight years and traveling on a budget. It contains complete itinerary with logistics of a trip from Bangkok to the southernmost Thai island of Koh Lipe and then up along the Andaman coast and crossing over the Kra Isthmus and out onto the Gulf of Thailand. It contains notes on Chang and Samet and other islands. It is a kit in the sense that it tells you how to go about things, such as outfitting a hut with lights on the porch and how to avoid the rip-offs that can occur. Thousands of bits of pieces making up tips for travel in Thailand. While written by a budget traveler, it is also of value to the high-end traveler, who can use this kit to explore less commercial areas and as a guide to specific locations. It is not a mere listing of locations or a standard tourist guide that while good, often leaves tourists staring at a hundred places and not able to decide easily an accommodation or a restaurant. This is a ‘How to Guide,’ written by a guy who has stayed on islands many times, for up to eight weeks straight. He knows how to get what you want and how to take your trip to a higher level. Jack Wily, the author, is currently traveling in Thailand and will support you through email or guide services, if you desire, while you are here in Thailand. He might be convinced to give out his cell number. Jack is the author of a number of fiction books and stories. This particular book can be found on Amazon for 14.99 plus any related Amazon shipping charges. If you order directly from Jack, he will knock a dollar off the price and depending on location in America pick up the shipping charge or a percentage of it. The book will be shipped immediately on PayPal verification and probably it will arrive within 48 hours. Drop an email to Island of Sand Publications at islandofsand@yahoo.com if you would like a copy of the book, and after you have purchased the book, or if you have any questions. Your copy will be new and untouched by human hands ... except for the people packaging it that is. If you live outside the contiguous U.S. and wish a copy of the book, please email me for applicable shipping charges or order from Amazon. While I sit on the edge of the sea, I see a lot of hotel people walking by who are paying up to twenty times my cost per night, and while I, too, travel that way at times, I know and sometimes hear them say ... ‘We should try that sometime,’ and I wanted to tell them how and how trouble-free this kind of vacation can be, and that, along with my love of the sea, islands, and sky is what motivated me to write this book. Hope to see you out there ... and you know ... I just might.

This blog contains-buried on the Island of Sand in a treasure chest-five threads that can be separated out by clicking on the labels: Writing Craft, The Bazarre Tale of Golem L. Window-Island of Sand, The Non-Fiction Version of Island of Sand, Thailand Travel, and a writer's Journal. The chest itself is located not at the end of the rainbow but under its arc on Elephant Island. I buried it there. In front of the huts. The rest of the skeleton ha ha matey... I'll never tell. By the way, if you would like a paperback copy of my guide ... Thailand Travel Kit send me an email at islandofsand@yahoo.com and for those of you in the contiguous United States I will ship direct for about 13.99 (California, will inform if shipping cost exceeds limit for some states) Paypal available.

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Friday, July 10, 2009

An Ode to Palin

Follow the money. Cross that bridge. Palin and a meeting of execs all putting nothing in to the investment. All taking money out. Progress in Alaska. Home on an Island of Sand. A simple island, wouldn't it be nice to have a bridge? They give money for pipelines don't they. Snuggle in that house, we are coming for you. A few people living on an island. Can't be hard to find you. Run away... the lease is on the net. Not that tough to find it really. Hook up that conkshell to your ear. Oh, shell can I find you. That pipeline might be dear. Exon, do you want to hear?

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He sat in the rocking chair, rocking to and fro, waiting for death. I'm sure we're going to be the best of friends.

All the birds were gone and as he emerged from the door he saw in the sand a man lying on his stomach. The part of his face he could see was half eaten away and a crab sat, its claws reaching out in celebration of a snack.

He thought about the girl raped on the lawn and beers in his fathers kitchen. The TV was on in the living room. No one heard the racous on the grass. That might be why he opened the door on another day and let something evil in.

He only knew that he wanted it to go, but Charlie was sure they were going to be the best of friends.

And now there was Twitter. With each tweet, the day grew nearer and Golem pondered his plan, as the Bird Venusians intercepted each tweet and knew a tweet brought the humans closer to heaven. They heard the tweets and mistook them for birds.

The bird flu was released and dead pigeons were everywhere in Thailand. There feathers littered the upper floors of Siam University now. And still the humans didn't stop. It was as if they thought they would live forever.

Jack was about a quarter of the way through the reading of the manuscript when he was made suddenly aware that he was not alone on the porch — that awareness would have been enough to cause a certain amount of shock — since he had been alone a moment before and, as he was sitting just above the steps leading onto the porch, and as there was no other entrance, but what he saw on the porch—the other person, caused him somewhat more consternation, as the other person looked exactly like himself—as if he himself was about to be replaced. As if this was not enough to make a day on the sand turn suddenly bizarre—beyond belief—on second glance, the stranger took on a different appearance and no longer resembled Jack at all.

By that time Charls would be the head of a major corporation. He would have perfected cryogenics and cloning, but he kept a secret that only he would know — his company could not provide new souls. His creations do not attract the light of knowledge, creativity, and wisdom. They exist as robots of a future generation. They are unable to see beauty in the sky or sea. They would have to be disassembled before it was too late, and it would very nearly be too late towards the end. They had already become a little too human for the human race.

People needed super markets; power supplied on demand through electrical outlets and Golem liked this world and couldn’t understand how some seemed to want to destroy it. Golem liked the beach and living out doors, but after a month he was ready for a hot shower, some air conditioning perhaps and peaceful indoor living. Sure, he wanted to be outdoors than most, and he knew what it could get to be like after a month or so.
Maybe these people who seemed bent on bringing society down had never been hungry, never walked into a super market with empty shelves. Never had really learned of what could be and therefore could not enjoy what was. Didn’t have the ‘past’ to know the present or see the future as so many in the world once had or have. Some link between the generations had been cleared, Golem thought. Like unplugging a USB device, nothing could be read. Food was ready, for the mouth for this generation. Always there, face book awaiting an upload, dinner ready on the plate, Daddy’s wallet sitting over there — some stole, some asked for money when they needed love?

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Friday, July 10, 2009

An Ode to Palin

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