my own cape tribulation

I had thought to get to Cape Tribulation.
I wanted to stretch myself that far north
and visit where Cook went aground. But I've
run onto my own reef in Cairns. I'm exhausted
and I've left my passport in an earlier
town. I have to find it, courier it to
Sydney and have it waiting for my Monday
morning flight to Canada. So I'll stick
around Cairns. It reminds me of what Miami
must look like. With West Hastings stuck
onto it. I'm living in West Hastings, in
a hotel that has a private room on the
second floor and I listened to the rain
hit the corrgated roof all night. There's
a green wooden fan on the high ceiling.
Am reading P.G. Wodehouse's "Right Ho,
Jeeves". And there is something light and
open and funny about this book. There is
something in it that Canadian fiction
could learn from. Humour and style and
openness. It's a memoir, and so he
abbreviates words. I guess it's twenty
years since I've read Wodehouse. Also,
watched Mike Binder's movie "The Upside
of Anger". Had heard the Joan Allen
character was impressive. And I thought
it was terrible. Binder himself and
Kevin Costner are terrific. Their
roles are fabulous. Those are men. But
what is it to describe Joan Allen that
way? That's not real anger, and that's
not the way women I've seen treat anger.
Binder gives a great speech about preferring
younger women because they enjoy a steak.
This is all true. But what is not true
is his portrait of an angry woman, or
the childish teenaged daughters she has.
It was pathetic. So too in Oliver Stone's
"Any Given Sunday." Dennis Quaid's wife,
and the daughter of the old team owner.
Both are terrible blonde women. What
gives, Oliver? There is no excuse for
men in films to be treating women this
way. I want to smack both of them.