Sunday night. 12:20 am. for an uneventful day, it has been rather nice. i bought a second copy of ivan klima's Love and Garbage, a book I really liked two years ago. Klima does interesting things with the narrative, switching from the actions of the day to two streams of reminiscing. I bought a used copy; the previous reader has underlined unusual parts of the story. Then later I went swing dancing, which was a new-old thing - there was this wrestler I knew from high school who liked to dance - but I haven't been since rainy curvy lying to the parents about where I'm driving days of swing at the scandanavian hall.
These past couple of days have been kind of strange, since getting back from Karme Choling. I had intended to move to a buddhist land center in France when I graduated from school, and instead I find myself still in Portland. So I've been wondering if I made the right decision. Eating rice with chopsticks. Drinking coffee. Reading Klima.
Not so bad, really.