http://www - hurricane to this pinoy://wantonly waiting for wilma

i'm watching the news right now, 11:55 pm sunday, and find amusement in people's attitude - or is it aptitude? - towards wilma: 1) a neighborhood in key west organized a hurricane watch party and made sure the host have enough inventory of booze to last them thru morning in their confidently shuttered refuge; 2) the elbow club in ft. lauderdale agreed to close at 1 am upon the prodding of city officials, perhaps to the disappointment of habitues in the habit of chilling out, sillying out, till the rising sun tells them, hey punks, it's morning and i'm out, time to go home to mama.

wilma, of course, is the last hurricane in the greek order of the alphabet to hit this partying part of the globe that is certainly not the least, certainly not the last, and if you're german or hails from lipa in batangas you may pronounce the intruder as "vilma". which brings me to ask, why are hurricanes named after women?

the movie "traffic" suggests an answer, via this mexican dude playing cop telling a suspected drug dealer, "because when they arrive they're wet and wild, and when they leave they take your house and car" or something of that sort that may make the distaff side agitated like no storm can ever do.

ladies, i did not say that, i did not adopt that, and i certainly did not believe that mexican dude, never mind if at this very moment i am feasting on tostitos nachos dipped in salsa picante, my hurricane hoard of choice, but i can only surmise that hurricanes, like the philippines' typhoons, are all female-named because they are unpredictable, their plans undeterminable up until the last minute.
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time check: 12:47 am, monday, and my stormtracker tells me the hurricane is now category 3, in the same longitude as key west, 100 miles west, threatening a landfall in naples with a storm surge of 8 feet. to orient you, as much as myself, key west is 200 miles, 3 hours drive, and naples is only 60 miles, 1 hr drive - from where i am right now.

miami is where i am right now.

this morning i was in a meeting with 7 people, wearing my favorite blue suit with yellow shirt with my favorite yellow tie (a gift from jet david) and one of them asked me, "sir, are you ready for this hurricane?", and i said "yes of course, don't i look it?", and she was kind of straight up, "no, sir you don't, you look like you're going to a banquet".

i tell these guys the tools of my trade, they tell me the nuances of their city. "a tornado has a very distinct sound", one explained, "like the humming of a train." i said my thanks, with hint of sarcasm, "well, then, it's not really distinct, is it?"

if the city is the teacher of the man, then it tells me why miamians know how to party in darkness. they know their lesson, they know their drill. the birds are a huge part of their storm tracking wisdom, and the last time i checked, which was about noontime yesterday, there was a flock of cockatoos circling above me, chirping frantically. if they're here, does that mean the hurricane is actually hitting some place? unless of course their frantic chirping was their way of telling me, hey you, idiot of a man, get the hell out of there.

joseph conrad once said that writing is the act of converting our nervous energy into language.

i am so very obvious.