If I have been absent lately, it is because I am quietly working for you, for humanity.
There’s so much red tape involved in obtaining a government grant (particularly when the proposed project does not meet the objectives of those in power). And then there’s the issue of intelligibility and/or readability. Of course I can fill out online forms–but has it not occurred to anyone that I enjoy the manifold color options offered by Crayola? For instance, my budget was beautifully detailed in Macaroni and Cheese (a color understandably close to an orange sunset or a grilled cheese sandwich–with the bubbly stuff that oozes out). And even though the opening statement, in Periwinkle, may have been a little hard to read (it’s a very timid color), it showcased some of my finest writing.
I used a lot of graphs, first rendered in Dandelion but then in Permanent Geranium Lake–a real stroke of genius. It all looked so good. It’s unfortunate they took the attitude that 500 pages of graphs, however pretty, was excessive. Damn bureaucrats.
Still, my central thesis was simple enough, and I think using stick figures to illustrate my point about the economic and social ramifications of obliterating part of the island to make room for cash crops was powerfully made, and the series of lawsuits they threatened is proof enough that I had touched a nerve.
Sometimes, one must take a brave stance. For instance, why do we need so many hotels here? I was merely suggesting that by a utilizing a state-of-the-art interlocking system of dams, we could repurpose the land currently earmarked for the hoteliers with their golf courses, duck ponds, and messy palms. The land, once flooded, could be used to grow crops such as cranberries (if we could somehow roll back the temperature) or camu camu.
My closing statement, in Wild Watermelon (a fluorescent crayon), was so spot-on it made me cry. Hopefully they will read it in a darkened hotel room, preferably before the flood gates open. “Change is coming,” I warned them in Robin’s Egg Blue.