mei

in reference to stickyrice -mei makes me think of books-

i never buy novels. i read them over coffee at bordersbooks and leave them coffestained and bent on the table.

i had a cat who loved earwax. yoga is good and may help you deal with the job you really do not want. please consider doing another set before you leave.

"Hell is other people," Jean-Paul Sartre.

(See--you're in good company at least. Don't let it get you down.)

Last night, at 2a, of my bandmates and I were driving the two hours back home from a gig we played at a bar. The highway we took rans right up against the coast, and the ocean's mist poured over the road like brothy soup, obscuring all but a few of the road markings reflecting my car's headlights.

There are times that my head gets full to bursting with the volumes of uncertainties in the world I try to single-handedly dispel. A few hours before, I tried letting go of this all, and did my best to mingle with the bar patrons in the bar's eloquent spanish mission courtyard-style patio -- they even had a freakin' olive tree growing smack dab in the middle. Losing my mental weight in such a setting seemed an easy to do. But to no avail. I found myself slinking off to the corner store to buy my first pack of cigarettes in almost two months.

But at 2a (or so my dashboard clock says), my passenger-side friend and I were far, far away from any resolution, the stars were blotted out, the road was barely visible a few feet ahead of us, and the car was stuffy with the musk of three sweaty musicians. Yet I felt the freest I've felt in a long time.

I'm very lucky. My mother taught me to read so early that I have no memory of being illiterate. She always made my brother and I her #1 priority. She raised us with few rules, preferring to let us figure most things out for ourselves. Her influence guides me daily. I'm very lucky to have her.

I was raised Catholic, though I gave it up just before confirmation (haha). But when I set foot inside St. Peter's Basilica in Vatican City I struggled to keep from weeping. I was silent, fearing that the only sound I could make would be a sob. My knees were weak and my lips trembled. I wanted to drop prostrate upon the ground and declare my sins before the tourists of the world. But I kept my feet and held my tongue. Soon the feeling passed. That was the last time I believed in God.

I think you'd look just smashing in dark lipstick.

(Forgive the lengthiness of the comment. It's that darned English degree acting up.)

I was talking to my boss today about an experience of sound grander than anything man can ever create...It was a jet taking off across at the Austin airport which at that time was adjascent to a neighborhood. That sound was so huge that it filled infinate space and moved across my field of hearing like the breath of the divine. the sounds we make fill a finite space coming from a point. this sound was all around me and filled up everything! I try to imagine what it would take to make something like that. I like to sit at the beach and listen to the intricacies of the surf. there are so many layers to that sound moving across my field of hearing and I love to try to imagine what I would have to put together to create what I hear...

I am grateful for sound...

I hear you on the finances, girl - I'm unemployed now, and I just got back from the store where my debit card was declined - for $12.55!! Sheesh.

I love your entry - do you write? You seem to have a gift for prose. Your writing flows beautifully.

Anyway - It was a nice surprise to see your response to my journal...good to know one of my favorites cares!

*kiss*

i'm glad you're feeling better Mei. You're too pretty to be stuck feelin sick

i'll have to try that damp towel thing tomorrow night. thanks for the tip!

I hope you are well, well, well by now. Having our food-enjoyment apparati disabled for any length of time is problematic to us epicures, yes? I send rejuvenating beams.

get better soon.

stormed here last night, and there's a tornado off to the west a bit.
gonna gather Toto and head for the storm cellar.


there's no place like home....there's no place like home.....

...sounds scrumptious...

Mei, now you have me all worried...

After you told me about this blatent act of stupidity and lack of taste, I decided to look into this whole handwriting evaluation business.

Apparently, it's called "Graphology" and there are graphology personality tests you can take online. It all sounds very cooky to me, as my handwriting says that I am some sort of psycho with an assault rifle who's one step away from going postal.

Or the material I was reading was written in 1973, long before people stopped using pens on a daily basis and learned the art of 80wpm touchtyping...

We report, you decide. Any way it goes, this is just more proof that lawyers are scumbags.

youre a good one, youre destined for something good.

Five days. OK. I'm worried now.

Happy Bloom's day.

If you could bear with me for a bit I'll have your poem ready by the end of the week.

A job to have while you keep looking is a good thing.

And if you are happy won't that make them proud? Beisdes it's their genes that helped give you the body we are so thankful you share with us.

oink

hmmm...is that a good thing or a bad thing??

I'm not high as a kite...I'm just waiting for the sun to show its face so we can go play outside...

I saw your thread about nationalist/ethnic homelands, and I wanted to strongly encourage you to find a book I've read some of, and am still going to read more of, called Blood and Belonging by Michael Ignatieff.

I found out about Ignatieff from a Iraq war debate on cable TV. He was arguing in favor of invading Iraq to help the Kurdish people. In this book, I learned a lot about the Kurds from his trek through Kurdish areas in Iraq and Turkey. (I personally don't think they were helped by the Iraq war, but anyway...Ignatieff is not usually a war-hawk, btw). I've also read the chapters in the book on French-Canadian nationalism (Ignatieff grew up in Canada) and various groups in Ukraine (Ignatieff had Russian roots and went to see caretakers of his ancestors' land there).

Also, I'm currently reading The Brothers Karamazov.