Sunday, June 29, 2003
ran the juggling workshop today- turned out fantastically. the kids had a blast- some of them even showed some improvement. most just wanted to balance the clubs on their heads, which is fine. I was doing it first.
played kickball and capture the flag also- hot sunny weather, lots of running around. heaps of kids. cartwheels.
afterwards, went to the beach for a swim.
awesome day.
got very sunburnt though.
played kickball and capture the flag also- hot sunny weather, lots of running around. heaps of kids. cartwheels.
afterwards, went to the beach for a swim.
awesome day.
got very sunburnt though.
Friday, June 27, 2003
To tell you the Truth, boys and girls...
This.
This right here is my own private Switzerland.
I promise to come visit on occasion. But traveling for me is expensive these days and I have several rainy days ahead that need saved pennies.
Be good and have fun building the new place.
~me
This.
This right here is my own private Switzerland.
I promise to come visit on occasion. But traveling for me is expensive these days and I have several rainy days ahead that need saved pennies.
Be good and have fun building the new place.
~me
Thursday, June 26, 2003
I am not a clannish person.
my family is in isolated pieces- they always have. I was an odd duck all the way through school; a lone wolf on the playground to wearing a red clown nose when I received my college degree.
I choose to live in places where I am more or less distinctive from the norm.
Many times, I prefer my isolation. I am happy to entertain myself, watch people come and go. Sit with my own noggin. Deal with the occasional stoning when they've come- and they do.
Never really belonged anywhere else, but that is my choice. Still is, to some extent.
I am the lightest person I know that I can carry.
But then, the most amazing thing happened- I stumble across a fun park one day while I was looking for the little man to dance and make me laugh.
And in that fun park, I found the most delightful playmates. They like the same little dancing man. Some of them like to scribble on the bathroom walls, others spit loogies in people's drinks. Water balloons go aflyin', a House of Mirrors makes a brief visit, and there are enough elephant ears for everyone.
Oh man, that was fun.
But some of these playmates know more- they know about contentment and stonings. Noggins and isolation. Red noses and lone wolves. And much more too.
Crap.
I've made friends.
Well, I better do something about it- otherwise I'm going to revert back to being four and pretend that I have imaginary friends.
So I did- I encountered a motley crue of monkeys in the mother of all apples. And the little man who can dance and make me laugh (He is very tall). The fun park was in NEARLY reach, if only for a day or two. Could even smell the elephant ears.
But oh man, that was fun.
Now, they are back where they belong (for the time being). And I begin to wish for more. The fun park had been under the dominance of very unhappy person who did not like water balloons, mirrors or elephant ears.
I had enough. I wanted my elephant ears.
But I must say, my newly-established friends shocked the hell out of me. I go away for a nap and I come back to the end of a "shoot-out". Reminded me of Lord of the Flies. I couldn't recognize some of you in your warrior paint.
I hate the smell of warrior paint. It makes me gag.
I know she brought it completely upon herself.
I do understand where the resentment comes from- I felt exactly the same at one time. But anger is remote control of a different form. So, I decided to just see her Truth- she is one woman half a world away with a computer. That's all. Nothing more. Nothing less. All she has done is expanded my experience with humans- just like everyone else. I have the right, and now the obligation, to talk back to her and say "What you are doing is wrong and hurtful. Stop it."
You obviously agreed. And you guys articulated that, very eloquently I might add. Yet, it was hard for me to watch- you also know what it is like to be on the other end of a "bullet", however eloquent.
I'm not scolding, I'm not judging. I would have probably joined in with a one or two shots, ifn I had been there. Ifn it happened a few monthes earlier. Ifn she didn't roll over and play her victim card. Ifn I had more real estate in chit-chat. Ifn I wasn't half a world away, a stinkbug with a computer.
Life is an ever-changing kaleidoscope of ifn's.
I truly think she doesn't have a complete idea what she does to people. No one truly does. And there is some element of forgiveness there.
But yeah. Given my druthers, I'm not into raising the awareness of a 35 year-old woman. I'd much rather play in fun parks.
Elephant ears, anyone?
my family is in isolated pieces- they always have. I was an odd duck all the way through school; a lone wolf on the playground to wearing a red clown nose when I received my college degree.
I choose to live in places where I am more or less distinctive from the norm.
Many times, I prefer my isolation. I am happy to entertain myself, watch people come and go. Sit with my own noggin. Deal with the occasional stoning when they've come- and they do.
Never really belonged anywhere else, but that is my choice. Still is, to some extent.
I am the lightest person I know that I can carry.
But then, the most amazing thing happened- I stumble across a fun park one day while I was looking for the little man to dance and make me laugh.
And in that fun park, I found the most delightful playmates. They like the same little dancing man. Some of them like to scribble on the bathroom walls, others spit loogies in people's drinks. Water balloons go aflyin', a House of Mirrors makes a brief visit, and there are enough elephant ears for everyone.
Oh man, that was fun.
But some of these playmates know more- they know about contentment and stonings. Noggins and isolation. Red noses and lone wolves. And much more too.
Crap.
I've made friends.
Well, I better do something about it- otherwise I'm going to revert back to being four and pretend that I have imaginary friends.
So I did- I encountered a motley crue of monkeys in the mother of all apples. And the little man who can dance and make me laugh (He is very tall). The fun park was in NEARLY reach, if only for a day or two. Could even smell the elephant ears.
But oh man, that was fun.
Now, they are back where they belong (for the time being). And I begin to wish for more. The fun park had been under the dominance of very unhappy person who did not like water balloons, mirrors or elephant ears.
I had enough. I wanted my elephant ears.
But I must say, my newly-established friends shocked the hell out of me. I go away for a nap and I come back to the end of a "shoot-out". Reminded me of Lord of the Flies. I couldn't recognize some of you in your warrior paint.
I hate the smell of warrior paint. It makes me gag.
I know she brought it completely upon herself.
I do understand where the resentment comes from- I felt exactly the same at one time. But anger is remote control of a different form. So, I decided to just see her Truth- she is one woman half a world away with a computer. That's all. Nothing more. Nothing less. All she has done is expanded my experience with humans- just like everyone else. I have the right, and now the obligation, to talk back to her and say "What you are doing is wrong and hurtful. Stop it."
You obviously agreed. And you guys articulated that, very eloquently I might add. Yet, it was hard for me to watch- you also know what it is like to be on the other end of a "bullet", however eloquent.
I'm not scolding, I'm not judging. I would have probably joined in with a one or two shots, ifn I had been there. Ifn it happened a few monthes earlier. Ifn she didn't roll over and play her victim card. Ifn I had more real estate in chit-chat. Ifn I wasn't half a world away, a stinkbug with a computer.
Life is an ever-changing kaleidoscope of ifn's.
I truly think she doesn't have a complete idea what she does to people. No one truly does. And there is some element of forgiveness there.
But yeah. Given my druthers, I'm not into raising the awareness of a 35 year-old woman. I'd much rather play in fun parks.
Elephant ears, anyone?
Tuesday, June 24, 2003
One board. For all.
I mean it, kids.
I mean it, kids.
Sunday, June 22, 2003
Is it just me, or does the island of Kerguelen look like a small bird about to land on the water?
Check it out- the lat/long is about 52 degrees south, 69 degrees east.
Check it out- the lat/long is about 52 degrees south, 69 degrees east.
Friday, June 20, 2003
I'm digging the circular verse in fiction- if you haven't dabbled yet, go. Run, don't walk. Circles are pretty.
When I left this afternoon, I kept it in mind because it was still stuck on ambo's sticky fingers line. As I sat waiting for the train, I came up with this ending (my lines start from number 5)
1. curled
2. toes tucked
3. suckled honey drips
4. from eager sticky fingers
5. wrapped around my ice-cream cone
6. tongue catching vanilla
7. hokey-pokey*
*hokey-pokey is a kind of ice-cream, which I've only seen in New Zealand- it's vanilla-based with crunchy bits of honeycomb and honey swirls. It's fairly delightful, but not especailly spectacular as far as ice cream is concerned- no need to import, but do try it if you are headed in that direction.
---------------------------------------------------------
So, as I came up with this, scribbling it down in my notebook, I realized something: Distance = point of space + point of time.
For example, even though I was physically close to my apartment, I knew that I would not return until much later this evening. (Therefore, my chances of tacking onto the current verse were very slim.) At that point, I was much further away from my apartment than I would be later on in the day, even at the furtherest physical point- the school. Minute by minute, distance gets that much shorter. Not sure what this all means, but it seems to hang well.
----------------------------------------------------------
Typhoon all this week- not the weather, but the game. I've had open house all this week (yeah guys, smart- let's allow parents to watch my classes as I'm struggling to figure out what my boss did with them for the last three weeks). Typhoon is the ultimate classroom game- a little bit of intrigue, lots of ruthless competition, luck, excitement, secrecy, second-guessing the sensei (me) and a whole lot of acting on my part. Even the parents watching get into it. Oh and yeah, the students get to practice English.
Here's the game- before class, I make a 4X4 grid in my lesson book, randomly placing point values 1, 2, 3, or 4 (3 of each). In the four leftover squares, I place "T" for Typhoon. I draw the same grid on the board without the point values. Then, I divide the class into two teams and choose the starting team in the most objective, impartial way ( a little fast-paced eenie-meenie-minnie-moe action). A student from the starting team chooses one square- I ask them whatever language skill I want to review. If they get the answer right, then they find out what point value is in the square: 1, 2, 3, 4 or Typhoon. If it's a number, they win that many points for their team. If it's "T" for Typhoon, then the points their team has accumlated go back to zero.
Since I keep the point values hidden in my lesson plan, I'm able to totally play on the suspense. For example, the point value "1" and "4" start the same as the "T" when I write them. I write the vertical line first. Then I linger....
linger....
linger...
over that part that can either be the top of the "T", the finish of the "4", or leave blank and just keep as the "1" it already is.
It just kills them.
Sometimes I ask them, "Are you sure you want to know? Are you REALLY sure?" (That's when they hide their face or duck under the table)
Or, I'll act really crushed, or really excited- and put up a two.
or even better, put up the opposite point value of my reaction- act really excited, like it's a four. And then put up a "T"
(by the way, even though the points are my secret, I NEVER allow myself to change the point values in the middle of a game- once I've written them down, then that's what I put on the board. Otherwise, the game is rigged and I hate rigged games.)
I love playing it with a big group of spectators- parents especially. They get into it even more than their kids. And the kids REALLY get into it- some do little hocus-pocus spells before they choose a square, others try to get sneak peeks at my lesson book. I've even had bribes (cookies- they know my weak spots). But it's always in good fun and no one feels too badly about getting a typhoon, because it could happen to any of them.
For my part, I get to make silly faces. And play with my students' youthful tendency to ride the joyful crescendos of sticking it to their peers.... as well as watch each of them deal with the typhoons when they do come.
When I left this afternoon, I kept it in mind because it was still stuck on ambo's sticky fingers line. As I sat waiting for the train, I came up with this ending (my lines start from number 5)
1. curled
2. toes tucked
3. suckled honey drips
4. from eager sticky fingers
5. wrapped around my ice-cream cone
6. tongue catching vanilla
7. hokey-pokey*
*hokey-pokey is a kind of ice-cream, which I've only seen in New Zealand- it's vanilla-based with crunchy bits of honeycomb and honey swirls. It's fairly delightful, but not especailly spectacular as far as ice cream is concerned- no need to import, but do try it if you are headed in that direction.
---------------------------------------------------------
So, as I came up with this, scribbling it down in my notebook, I realized something: Distance = point of space + point of time.
For example, even though I was physically close to my apartment, I knew that I would not return until much later this evening. (Therefore, my chances of tacking onto the current verse were very slim.) At that point, I was much further away from my apartment than I would be later on in the day, even at the furtherest physical point- the school. Minute by minute, distance gets that much shorter. Not sure what this all means, but it seems to hang well.
----------------------------------------------------------
Typhoon all this week- not the weather, but the game. I've had open house all this week (yeah guys, smart- let's allow parents to watch my classes as I'm struggling to figure out what my boss did with them for the last three weeks). Typhoon is the ultimate classroom game- a little bit of intrigue, lots of ruthless competition, luck, excitement, secrecy, second-guessing the sensei (me) and a whole lot of acting on my part. Even the parents watching get into it. Oh and yeah, the students get to practice English.
Here's the game- before class, I make a 4X4 grid in my lesson book, randomly placing point values 1, 2, 3, or 4 (3 of each). In the four leftover squares, I place "T" for Typhoon. I draw the same grid on the board without the point values. Then, I divide the class into two teams and choose the starting team in the most objective, impartial way ( a little fast-paced eenie-meenie-minnie-moe action). A student from the starting team chooses one square- I ask them whatever language skill I want to review. If they get the answer right, then they find out what point value is in the square: 1, 2, 3, 4 or Typhoon. If it's a number, they win that many points for their team. If it's "T" for Typhoon, then the points their team has accumlated go back to zero.
Since I keep the point values hidden in my lesson plan, I'm able to totally play on the suspense. For example, the point value "1" and "4" start the same as the "T" when I write them. I write the vertical line first. Then I linger....
linger....
linger...
over that part that can either be the top of the "T", the finish of the "4", or leave blank and just keep as the "1" it already is.
It just kills them.
Sometimes I ask them, "Are you sure you want to know? Are you REALLY sure?" (That's when they hide their face or duck under the table)
Or, I'll act really crushed, or really excited- and put up a two.
or even better, put up the opposite point value of my reaction- act really excited, like it's a four. And then put up a "T"
(by the way, even though the points are my secret, I NEVER allow myself to change the point values in the middle of a game- once I've written them down, then that's what I put on the board. Otherwise, the game is rigged and I hate rigged games.)
I love playing it with a big group of spectators- parents especially. They get into it even more than their kids. And the kids REALLY get into it- some do little hocus-pocus spells before they choose a square, others try to get sneak peeks at my lesson book. I've even had bribes (cookies- they know my weak spots). But it's always in good fun and no one feels too badly about getting a typhoon, because it could happen to any of them.
For my part, I get to make silly faces. And play with my students' youthful tendency to ride the joyful crescendos of sticking it to their peers.... as well as watch each of them deal with the typhoons when they do come.
Thursday, June 19, 2003
I'm starting to think colors have a lot more power than we think.
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
shhhhhh.....
wild fireflies
wild fireflies
Saturday, June 14, 2003
The sweet cherry wine is to help the time spill away.
I don't even like sweet wines.
But, if I have a Japanese summer all to myself, melting into the sultry warm night with lips tasting of sweet cherry wine is a small consolation.
a very small one.
I guess what I'm looking at now is articulation- I will never have the chance to live this again, so I better take the time to experience and put it all together as best I can now.
Let me put it this way: I'm a kid in a museum looking at a masterpiece...no, LIVING in a masterpiece. I can barely make sense of what I see- but the difficulty doesn't just stop there. Oh no. Not even close.
The problem is, if I want to share what little coherency I have of this beauty, I must leave the masterpiece, leave the museum, find a park bench to sit down and tell the pigeons all about it (people come and go, but pigeons stay where the crumbs are) .
But why is this a problem, you ask?
Because timing is everything- or at least, a very large something. The masterpiece is always shifting. Everything I see today will be slightly different tomorrow- just like you can never go home again. And the price I've paid for the admission to the museum is huge after the opportunity costs are added in (which are still being tallied, by the way. Okay, okay...yes, I MIGHT have gained proportionally more opportunities than I've lost, but that is hard to see that in the thick of it.) What it boils down to is that I better do the best I can while I'm in it, because I'm not coming back. I can't.
In the meantime, sweet cherry wine should help take away some of the turpintine aftertaste of this painted world that I live.
I don't even like sweet wines.
But, if I have a Japanese summer all to myself, melting into the sultry warm night with lips tasting of sweet cherry wine is a small consolation.
a very small one.
I guess what I'm looking at now is articulation- I will never have the chance to live this again, so I better take the time to experience and put it all together as best I can now.
Let me put it this way: I'm a kid in a museum looking at a masterpiece...no, LIVING in a masterpiece. I can barely make sense of what I see- but the difficulty doesn't just stop there. Oh no. Not even close.
The problem is, if I want to share what little coherency I have of this beauty, I must leave the masterpiece, leave the museum, find a park bench to sit down and tell the pigeons all about it (people come and go, but pigeons stay where the crumbs are) .
But why is this a problem, you ask?
Because timing is everything- or at least, a very large something. The masterpiece is always shifting. Everything I see today will be slightly different tomorrow- just like you can never go home again. And the price I've paid for the admission to the museum is huge after the opportunity costs are added in (which are still being tallied, by the way. Okay, okay...yes, I MIGHT have gained proportionally more opportunities than I've lost, but that is hard to see that in the thick of it.) What it boils down to is that I better do the best I can while I'm in it, because I'm not coming back. I can't.
In the meantime, sweet cherry wine should help take away some of the turpintine aftertaste of this painted world that I live.
Friday, June 13, 2003
Do you know how much I love the Dukes of Hazzard theme song?
A whole lot.
A whole lot.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
so I'm looking at what I gonna do when I grow up.
it's a little hard, because I'm always coming back to what I want to learn still. just the idea of being able to take lessons in something is exciting enough for me, much less being able to take them in my own language (sorry, I know I keep coming back to that, but it's a biggie- I'm getting my own voice as a present in a few weeks. I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself.) Dance baby, dance!!
Good thing there is a kitchen behind me.
Anyway, back to what I want to learn still. Heaps. Right now, I'm reading Story by Robert McGee- which would be the synthesis of everything I want to bring out. But there is a long road filled with tangents to get there. And a story is never an endpoint in it of itself...
I wanna teach my voice to hold a musical note properly on its own, I wanna drum, I wanna learn how to play music so I can appreciate it even more.
In the short term, I want Photoshop, Dreamweaver and Flash in my pocket (minerva just needs some RAM to boost her up a little so I can keep dabbling. plus I need to stay in one place so I can buy some online space to keep my motivation to experiment.)
I need to be able have enough room to put all the puzzle pieces together and enough money in my pocket to breathe, read, eat, play in the water...
To learn how to tell a story, to keep playing games, to keep teaching (if I can) (but, but... classrooms aren't messy enough. and there's never enough room to fly paper airplanes.)
Photography. Still for now, but I can see that mulitplying if I had my hands on a motion camera. Learn it, live with it, I don't care- as long as it's with me.
All of this for a good cause (or at least, most of it) so I can stay in love with the world.
And would someone PLEASE teach me how to ride a motorcycle so I can get around? I like walking, but it's not the best way to get around in the land of the freeway-lovin' fast car sexiness- a speedy kayak for those rivers of asphalt.
One thing at a time... I need to focus on what will get me to that place where I can do all of this. One of those "get-out-of-jail-free" cards will do nicely.
In reality, I'm going to have to make up my own bail.
it's a little hard, because I'm always coming back to what I want to learn still. just the idea of being able to take lessons in something is exciting enough for me, much less being able to take them in my own language (sorry, I know I keep coming back to that, but it's a biggie- I'm getting my own voice as a present in a few weeks. I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself.) Dance baby, dance!!
Good thing there is a kitchen behind me.
Anyway, back to what I want to learn still. Heaps. Right now, I'm reading Story by Robert McGee- which would be the synthesis of everything I want to bring out. But there is a long road filled with tangents to get there. And a story is never an endpoint in it of itself...
I wanna teach my voice to hold a musical note properly on its own, I wanna drum, I wanna learn how to play music so I can appreciate it even more.
In the short term, I want Photoshop, Dreamweaver and Flash in my pocket (minerva just needs some RAM to boost her up a little so I can keep dabbling. plus I need to stay in one place so I can buy some online space to keep my motivation to experiment.)
I need to be able have enough room to put all the puzzle pieces together and enough money in my pocket to breathe, read, eat, play in the water...
To learn how to tell a story, to keep playing games, to keep teaching (if I can) (but, but... classrooms aren't messy enough. and there's never enough room to fly paper airplanes.)
Photography. Still for now, but I can see that mulitplying if I had my hands on a motion camera. Learn it, live with it, I don't care- as long as it's with me.
All of this for a good cause (or at least, most of it) so I can stay in love with the world.
And would someone PLEASE teach me how to ride a motorcycle so I can get around? I like walking, but it's not the best way to get around in the land of the freeway-lovin' fast car sexiness- a speedy kayak for those rivers of asphalt.
One thing at a time... I need to focus on what will get me to that place where I can do all of this. One of those "get-out-of-jail-free" cards will do nicely.
In reality, I'm going to have to make up my own bail.
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
shiny bits of memories that lodged in my mind from the past two weeks...
my cats- (sam's silent meows. calvin holding me hostage in bed by laying where the blankets met the pillow, every single morning.) going in to save my frightened nephew from the tunnels in Chuckie Cheese, feeling simulataneously like a kid and an adult. doing the crossword at the Morning Star Cafe while the rest of the world rushed on with Monday morning. singing along with obscure grocery store music while juggling avocados (I love going to the grocery with my mom). sailing with my dad, talking to the sea lions. watching the marx bros with my dad and uncle. truely olging over the melding of fiberglass, electrical systems and propane tanks to make a sailboat. (watching) my brother bulid a computer. (playing) hoy-hoy (wrestling with pillows) with the Bug (nephew).
being stalked by Leigh. the Bud Light monochrome people on the subway. ze's selective memory. catfish and other fried miscellaneous objects (yak balls?). irish car-bombs. dickie's (aka british porn star) inablity to be inconspicuous (or sober). the villiage idiot- dueling banjos and the smell of humanity. Post No Bills. Pencil graffiti. Hoboken. Red Light Lounge. Japanese Jimmy Walker (yeah, you could have taken him). Matchsticks. Being picked up. Thankfully, being put back down again. Meeting the Lovely Lala. Eatting roses. Nick's diner feast of lox and cream cheese bagel. Singing "I Will Survive" with Leigh on the street.
Erik von Picklebutt, but everyone calls him Timothy. chocolate sculptures. losing all sense of outer reality to the big bang, flying over our galaxy and maya angleou's voice. lying under the world, watching it change from ice to now and back again. watching lala enjoy thousand-year old eggs. watching glenn bring out the best of our angie. seeing red and donnavan holding hands while walking on the street. talking with Leigh in the cab to the Red Light Lounge. giving the bartender impossible orders like "alcoholic. green. boy." and "sex on the beach but not that. girl. heavy on the alcohol." Being sad over feeling the bullet-proof vest after hugging Steve. Talking and getting a kiss on the cheek from one of the most elegent older gentleman I have ever met- he told me he is usually there for last call on Saturday nights.
Haze. Conversation and not eatting Indian food. Picking up ice cream, chessecake and "some candy". More conversation- games, theater of the oppressed, leslie feinberg, acting. Drinking the melted mango ice cream. three-hour nap. Packing after my shower (yes, nude), waving to the construction guy watching me from across the street. Having him wave back. Quickly putting on my clothes. He went back to work. Manhattan Diner for breakfast, watching the little girls dance with their own reflections. Finding a martini glass in my bathroom, unsure how it got there. Saying see you later. Flying off into the New York sky, feeling very unfinished about the whole thing- one of the best feelings I've had in a very long time.
I love it when a plan comes together.
my cats- (sam's silent meows. calvin holding me hostage in bed by laying where the blankets met the pillow, every single morning.) going in to save my frightened nephew from the tunnels in Chuckie Cheese, feeling simulataneously like a kid and an adult. doing the crossword at the Morning Star Cafe while the rest of the world rushed on with Monday morning. singing along with obscure grocery store music while juggling avocados (I love going to the grocery with my mom). sailing with my dad, talking to the sea lions. watching the marx bros with my dad and uncle. truely olging over the melding of fiberglass, electrical systems and propane tanks to make a sailboat. (watching) my brother bulid a computer. (playing) hoy-hoy (wrestling with pillows) with the Bug (nephew).
being stalked by Leigh. the Bud Light monochrome people on the subway. ze's selective memory. catfish and other fried miscellaneous objects (yak balls?). irish car-bombs. dickie's (aka british porn star) inablity to be inconspicuous (or sober). the villiage idiot- dueling banjos and the smell of humanity. Post No Bills. Pencil graffiti. Hoboken. Red Light Lounge. Japanese Jimmy Walker (yeah, you could have taken him). Matchsticks. Being picked up. Thankfully, being put back down again. Meeting the Lovely Lala. Eatting roses. Nick's diner feast of lox and cream cheese bagel. Singing "I Will Survive" with Leigh on the street.
Erik von Picklebutt, but everyone calls him Timothy. chocolate sculptures. losing all sense of outer reality to the big bang, flying over our galaxy and maya angleou's voice. lying under the world, watching it change from ice to now and back again. watching lala enjoy thousand-year old eggs. watching glenn bring out the best of our angie. seeing red and donnavan holding hands while walking on the street. talking with Leigh in the cab to the Red Light Lounge. giving the bartender impossible orders like "alcoholic. green. boy." and "sex on the beach but not that. girl. heavy on the alcohol." Being sad over feeling the bullet-proof vest after hugging Steve. Talking and getting a kiss on the cheek from one of the most elegent older gentleman I have ever met- he told me he is usually there for last call on Saturday nights.
Haze. Conversation and not eatting Indian food. Picking up ice cream, chessecake and "some candy". More conversation- games, theater of the oppressed, leslie feinberg, acting. Drinking the melted mango ice cream. three-hour nap. Packing after my shower (yes, nude), waving to the construction guy watching me from across the street. Having him wave back. Quickly putting on my clothes. He went back to work. Manhattan Diner for breakfast, watching the little girls dance with their own reflections. Finding a martini glass in my bathroom, unsure how it got there. Saying see you later. Flying off into the New York sky, feeling very unfinished about the whole thing- one of the best feelings I've had in a very long time.
I love it when a plan comes together.
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
wiping the spittle from the side of my mouth....
okay, I feel much better now.
I guess I shouldn't take up residence in Mickey D's-fed freeway suburbia any time soon. Thankfully, there are heaps of other places to live. Even in the states.
My skull feels very roomy now, given that my brain is the consistency of fried jell-o. My automatic pilot is even waning a little bit, but she got me home, through the knots and tricks of the JR trains. I'm very proud of her.
However, it was all so very worth it. Once I can gather my thoughts (mmmmm....lumps of greasy green sweet goodness), I'll try to see if I can articulate them little better.
okay, I feel much better now.
I guess I shouldn't take up residence in Mickey D's-fed freeway suburbia any time soon. Thankfully, there are heaps of other places to live. Even in the states.
My skull feels very roomy now, given that my brain is the consistency of fried jell-o. My automatic pilot is even waning a little bit, but she got me home, through the knots and tricks of the JR trains. I'm very proud of her.
However, it was all so very worth it. Once I can gather my thoughts (mmmmm....lumps of greasy green sweet goodness), I'll try to see if I can articulate them little better.
Wednesday, June 04, 2003
WARNING: the blog below is a complete and utter rant. It's not eloquent, it's not even nice to write, much less read. But there will be no apologies made at the end. If you don't like it, get yer own blog.
I know I've said it before, but...
WE LIVE IN THE LAND OF FVCKING OPPORTUNITY.
And we are throwing it all away.
For what?
For reality TV, SUV, corporate bleach clean white lies.
I don't see people here- I see cars, stores, starbucks, roads, pastel-colored suburban houses, starbucks, trash cans and street lights. Occasionally I'll see people, but usually they are on drugs- TV, oil, coke, caffine, prozac, low-carb egotism- it's all the same. No, it's not just the teens on drugs. It's their parents.
People giggle about the woman in Japan who knifed herself because she wasn't getting enough attention from her husband. Then we watch our children gun down each other and ask "Why?".
And it gets worse...we have Junior Bush in the Oval Office, gunning down the COUNTRY of Iraq, riding on "victory" high and flexing his rhetoric muscles at Syria and Iran (not to mention the Palestinians are probably scared shitless).
Believe it or not, it is ALL connected.
It's because we aren't paying attention. And while we are off dilly-dallying in front of our computer screens, it's all slipping away.
FAST. And yet, we don't even know what we are supposed to change, just what are we supposed to pay attention too?
I'm just one person, WHAT THE HELL CAN I DO ABOUT IT?!?
Nothing. Everything.
We are throwing it away by not challenging the current power sturcture NOW. NOW, when they refused to listen to millions of people asking for a different way. NOW, while there are still people who know how to live without the corporatation and teach the rest of us. NOW, while there are people still willing to stand up, who haven't given up hope. NOW, while we still have something worth saving.
Right, it might be my idealistic youth shouting out. But damn it, at least it's shouting.
We may be living in the land of opportunity, but all I see now is the land of mediocrity.
Brought to you by Starbucks.
I know I've said it before, but...
WE LIVE IN THE LAND OF FVCKING OPPORTUNITY.
And we are throwing it all away.
For what?
For reality TV, SUV, corporate bleach clean white lies.
I don't see people here- I see cars, stores, starbucks, roads, pastel-colored suburban houses, starbucks, trash cans and street lights. Occasionally I'll see people, but usually they are on drugs- TV, oil, coke, caffine, prozac, low-carb egotism- it's all the same. No, it's not just the teens on drugs. It's their parents.
People giggle about the woman in Japan who knifed herself because she wasn't getting enough attention from her husband. Then we watch our children gun down each other and ask "Why?".
And it gets worse...we have Junior Bush in the Oval Office, gunning down the COUNTRY of Iraq, riding on "victory" high and flexing his rhetoric muscles at Syria and Iran (not to mention the Palestinians are probably scared shitless).
Believe it or not, it is ALL connected.
It's because we aren't paying attention. And while we are off dilly-dallying in front of our computer screens, it's all slipping away.
FAST. And yet, we don't even know what we are supposed to change, just what are we supposed to pay attention too?
I'm just one person, WHAT THE HELL CAN I DO ABOUT IT?!?
Nothing. Everything.
We are throwing it away by not challenging the current power sturcture NOW. NOW, when they refused to listen to millions of people asking for a different way. NOW, while there are still people who know how to live without the corporatation and teach the rest of us. NOW, while there are people still willing to stand up, who haven't given up hope. NOW, while we still have something worth saving.
Right, it might be my idealistic youth shouting out. But damn it, at least it's shouting.
We may be living in the land of opportunity, but all I see now is the land of mediocrity.
Brought to you by Starbucks.
Tuesday, June 03, 2003
this is a standing blog.
why?
'cause my 17 year old cat has stolen my chair (the theivin' varmit) and I respect my furry pumpkin-colored elders.
Still working on the philosophy book- Kant is pushing the practicality of postulating God's Existence, Man's Free Will and an Immortal Soul (he says we need them to stay moral and clean. But to be able to prove them with reason is another matter entirely).
I've been pretty distracted lately by visiting people and their respective sailboats. My uncle is putting the finishing touches on his massive jigsaw puzzle of a sailboat that he's been simulanteously designing and building for the past nine years. My father bought his second boat three years ago and he has been living in his floating construction site since. Owning a sailboat is basically having a hole in the water that you throw your money into- but it's still a lovely place to live. Secluded, quiet and people think you are somehow romantic.
My father and I went out for a sail, which was nice to get my hand back into it- I miss sailing terribly. Had a nice range of weather, from sun and luffing (no wind) to a storm front, complete with rain, but also wind! It was a nice, uneventful sail- the best kind. Only the sea lions for company.
Otherwise, just a bunch of get-togethers with relatives. Yesterday I was able to escape and spend a half-day at Powell's City of Books- a city block wide, three-story, well-organized independent used bookstore- one of the best and the biggest in the world. Right in my old backyard. Handy to have people to visit here, because I'm pretty sure I would fly into Portland just to spend a day there.
Sailing in the rain, smelling used books and hanging out with old cats- so far it's been a great trip.
why?
'cause my 17 year old cat has stolen my chair (the theivin' varmit) and I respect my furry pumpkin-colored elders.
Still working on the philosophy book- Kant is pushing the practicality of postulating God's Existence, Man's Free Will and an Immortal Soul (he says we need them to stay moral and clean. But to be able to prove them with reason is another matter entirely).
I've been pretty distracted lately by visiting people and their respective sailboats. My uncle is putting the finishing touches on his massive jigsaw puzzle of a sailboat that he's been simulanteously designing and building for the past nine years. My father bought his second boat three years ago and he has been living in his floating construction site since. Owning a sailboat is basically having a hole in the water that you throw your money into- but it's still a lovely place to live. Secluded, quiet and people think you are somehow romantic.
My father and I went out for a sail, which was nice to get my hand back into it- I miss sailing terribly. Had a nice range of weather, from sun and luffing (no wind) to a storm front, complete with rain, but also wind! It was a nice, uneventful sail- the best kind. Only the sea lions for company.
Otherwise, just a bunch of get-togethers with relatives. Yesterday I was able to escape and spend a half-day at Powell's City of Books- a city block wide, three-story, well-organized independent used bookstore- one of the best and the biggest in the world. Right in my old backyard. Handy to have people to visit here, because I'm pretty sure I would fly into Portland just to spend a day there.
Sailing in the rain, smelling used books and hanging out with old cats- so far it's been a great trip.
