Written By:

Dillinger

Current Rock of Residence:

Somewhere in the Caribbean

Island Girl Since:

arrived in error, 2011

Originally Hails From:

UK

A frequently regretted, late night, red wine decision resulted in her arrival to the islands. She lives on one rock and commutes to work, by boat, to another rock. Her isolated hillside apartment has unrestricted ocean views. She’s a booty call for a scorching hot Rastafarian. Yet, if you allow her to take off those rose-tinted spectacles, she’ll be the first to tell you – life’s a bitch. If you’re looking for a reason not to live on a rock, you’ll get it from her.

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Backwards Service

The 21st century has given birth to considerable dialogue on how to raise children. Back in the 70’s, parenting philosophy was the product of dope and Dr. Spock. Everyone’s parents had a copy of Dr. Spock, but other than my best friend’s mother, no...

Island Perplexities Currently Perplexing Me

A couple of years living on this island and my grasp on reality becomes ever diminished. As each day dawns, my understanding of the world and the people around me becomes less and less. I don’t know whether this increased apathy and cynicism comes with age or...

The Rules of Engagement…Does it Matter?

About a decade ago, I crossed paths with a gentleman called Dr. Dolvinsky. He was undeniably screwed up. He was bi-polar, had middle-child syndrome, chronic diabetes, a 50-something German wife, a 20-something Swedish girlfriend, and a fairly heroic cocaine problem....

The Bodyguard

From an early age, I’ve been a freak magnet. It’s genetic. My Father is a freak magnet too.  Leave either one of us alone in a public place for more than a few minutes and some nut job will appear as if by magic and latch onto us. If you encounter a...

The Closet

The closet is full to bursting. Though not my closet, which is decidedly bare. The proverbial “closet'”. The one where Martha lives wrapped up in a rainbow scarf, but Arthur won’t let her out. If you ask a local about homosexuality, they will suck...

One Love

I admit it.  I am no longer a booty call. I am having an identity crisis. I run through the possibilities in my mind: Lover? Partner? Girlfriend? Wife? Nothing fits. I don’t really have any real points of reference to go on either. Over the last 20 years, I have...

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