How the Bad Economy has Killed the Nightlife in Honolulu

Adult
After a long dry spell, I’ve decided to imbibe in a few, only to find that the nightlife had left the building.

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Words: 4,130
Language: English
About Ernest Winchester


I must in all honesty, update this entry, for I stumbled onto the magic key to post a story on Smashwords. It was operator error not one of the poltergeist that I’m sure came preloaded in my computer that prevents me from getting what I want from it. For those of you who didn’t read this bio before—which I’m sure includes the rest of the world’s population—I repeat: I am an old man who loves to write. I started decades ago—the exact number is irrelevant—on a cast iron framed manual typewriter that would now serve little purpose beyond a boat anchor. I love composing fiction on the computer, mainly because of the spell check feature. Why someone who can’t spell worth a damn wants to write, I’ll never be able to explain. I take solace in the knowledge that some well-known writers throughout history were so afflicted. However, I must confess, that is about as far as I can go into this—to me—frightening world of cyberspace. I don’t have accounts on face book (wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole. Almost nightly the news is filled with stories of people murdered by people they have contacted there.) I feel the same way about Myspace, a blog or personal web site. I don’t tweet or twit or what ever that is. That really seems silly--just call them and talk! So I’ll be contented to write and enjoy retirement until the final heartbeat or wayward city buss runs me over.

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