The original author of the old saw about death and taxes never sat down at the equator. If he had, he would have instantly added “sweat” to his timeless twosome. I lived on the small Micronesian island of Kosrae for a year, and I had a constant companion: whether a silky sheen of perspiration or dripping rivulets of body water, sweat was never far from my side. Or my arms and legs either. The propinquity of the equator means that islanders … [Read more...]
About Tom Bentley
I'm a published journalist and essayist (hundreds of articles), and the author of three novels, a short story collection, a how-to writing book and my latest, a memoir of my teenage shoplifting business. I have a finished draft of my truly lunatic 40 years of correspondence with the Jack Daniels' distillery that needs some stirring before it comes out.
I live in Watsonville, California and love to write. Except when I hate to write.
Santa Barbara: Make Mine Mediterranean
Oh the dizzying thoughts of a Mediterranean vacation: maybe a waterside villa in Lake Como, touring Turkey’s Turquoise Coast, or perhaps olive picking in Mykonos? Dizzying indeed—particularly the price. But there’s a stateside Mediterranean that’s no dowdy stepsister, and it’s only a few hour’s drive and many dollars less: Santa Barbara. Wrapped between the mountains and the sea, with picturesque palm trees for its ribbons, Santa Barbara … [Read more...]
The Other Side of Paradise
Warm winds, incredible sunsets, gently lapping waves—CUT! Please no, not another travel article about barefoot idylls on island paradises. Instead, let's consider how you (that being me) can have the cheeriest expectations of a balmy Caribbean house-sitting gig met with the miserable crush of the human ego, so that you (that still being me, but more embarrassed now) behave like a caged animal. Let's start before the howls: my girlfriend, who … [Read more...]
Without An Address, You Can’t Go Home
When I lived in Las Vegas, my title at United Parcel Service was "Bad Address Clerk." Because Vegas is a town of drifters, grifters and shifters of identity, packages would continually go astray, paralleled by the wanderings of their addressees, who in a month's time in Vegas might have changed their residence—and their jobs, spouses and perhaps even their sex—two or three times. And then disappeared. So my shelves were filled with boxes large … [Read more...]