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FUCK HOLLYWOOD
I have an idea, broiled out of the user charges at the airport and
Virgin Mobile's stupid texts: I am going to buy a hotel on the beach, I
tell Suleyka, and buy all the eggs for four bucks a dozen, build a
hatchery like the hatcheries I've filmed in Mexico, and make a tiny
theatre and a tiny library and a place where the gringos can come and
do photoshop and poetry and fix their websites and make a book, all in
a week of vacation for twenty bucks a night, and before dinner they can
walk down to the waves with a margarita in one hand and a baby turtle
in the other, and this way the turtle gets into the water without being
eaten by gulls or dogs and maybe 15 years from now the baby turtle will
come back to this shore and bury treasure into the sand, and you know
what the best part of my plan is, Suleyka? She is thinking maybe this
is performance art where the audience participates: "You're going to
pay for the college educations of the young girls who operate the
hatchery?" Wow. That wasn't the best part of my plan, but it is now.
But why girls? "Boys don't lay eggs." Yes, yes, of course. I was going
to say the best part of my plan was the name of the hotel: Even
tourists from England can pronounce and understand "Hotel Tortuga." But
I like the girls in University on the hotel profits, for too many
reasons to admit here, and this becomes the cornerstone of my plan,
hatching itself into my life.
-- From Blue's book, "My Secret Nicaragua"
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