Life in gravity|
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|Saturday, April 4th, 2009|
|Friday, January 23rd, 2009|
Cooking mishaps and cooking triumphs.
Get up and try again.
I am so close to finishing a manuscript that it hurts to continue.
Grit my teeth and push on.
Life is hard. I find myself vacillating between a sense of grounded peace and a desperate ache for human contact, human connection. I have planted too many gardens and let them go.
My talents lie scattered. My room is a mess. In moments of lucidity I suspect that I am not happy.
I am teaching myself about whole grains. Taking on the spectrum all at once. This learning process is full of mistakes. I pick myself up and move on, but it is hard. My inner reserves do not feel boundless.
My moods are tied to the weather so strongly that it scares me. This is why I need to live somewhere sunny and warm -- my optimistic core is tested every time it rains.
Love, and my wok, will see me through.
|Monday, August 18th, 2008|
it is like being struck with a hammer, fracturing without breaking. think of starred impacts in glass, building complexity in refraction, stars growing thicker and brighter
until there is nothing but light
and no space in between
|Wednesday, August 6th, 2008|
I think I found what I needed. Current Mood: oh, earth.
|Thursday, June 26th, 2008|
Let me first state that, while this is public (I am not interested in hiding), I know that some people (like my sister?) read this journal that might prefer not to know the intimate details of my emotional and sexual life.
If you fall into that category, I suggest you do not( Read more...Collapse )
|Friday, January 11th, 2008|
|Things I have
These are things I need to get back to their owners:
The dvd for Fantastic Planet (boredlizzie
Three videotapes - Hard Cash, Hard Boiled, Texas Rangers (raccoonmask
On Stranger Tides (knight3d
, I think)
A collection of Raymond Carver's short stories (princesofswords
A collection of Borges' fiction (Lex, who I have absolutely no idea how to get ahold of)
Victorian Fairy Tales (itybity_rose
Contact me and we will work out how to get you your stuff. I am moving, and this is moderately important. Otherwise, it might end up consigned to a box somewhere until the end of time.
|Sunday, December 23rd, 2007|
Training at Samovar
this coming Thursday. My last day at L'Amyx
is Monday, December 31.Oh, Earth. Current Mood: excited!
|Tuesday, December 18th, 2007|
is right. I almost feel like I've been superstitious about LJ - not ridiculous, I'm superstitious a lot. As if the act of nailing something to the Internets could make it less real.
To recap, for those of you I never see:
(first, however: is it bad that I have to write these things down in order to remember them properly? I can remember the important things, brown eyes, hair that spreads out a little like wings, rough hands with thumbs gnawed to the quick, certain warmth of bodies pressed together. But I can't remember dates, and sometimes even names escape me. The more I use the name, the more it stays. stephanie stephanie stephanie.)
December the one. Saturday evening, No Snow Ball. Formal Contra dance. I wore my suit (yes, I finally bought a suit, or rather, my parents bought me a suit, it's very classy, black of course, this was the second time I've worn it, the first being to Lauren Manierre's WEDDING) and the nice dance/dress shoes I used to wear to Gaskells. T-shirt and suit pants. Did You Know? formal pants do more for your appearance than a formal shirt does! Amazing!
But I digress. Stephanie and I had flirted before - I remember seeing her at the Berkeley dance, and not just once, but several times. Regardless, I hadn't seen her in many months, and when we locked eyes it was a very definite sensation of breath leaving the body. We danced together, twice -- in contra lingo, that means "I like you". The music was fabulous, the callers were smooth and very talented. I was surprised and proud to see Jessica called up to the stage with the other volunteers to receive recognition for her work in keeping the Berkeley dance running.
We exchanged cards (oh how adult I felt at that moment, and how ridiculous to be feeling such) and spoke at some length during the break. It was during this time that I learned her reason for being away - she had moved to Colorado. Not to let that stop us, we arranged to have a "hang out" the next evening. The night closed with her telling me that she "really enjoyed flirting with [me]". Given several different ways to interpret that statement, I held to my principles and took it at face value.
December the two. Sunday. We met for drinks at Au Coq -- I had a steamed milk thing, I think. Or possibly tea. I might even have had a steamed milk with a tea bag in it. We talked for a long time, held hands, and almost kissed -- she expressed reluctance to be so forward in public. Thus encouraged, I escorted her outside, where we made out under the lizardy thing attached to the building at the corner of Addison and Milvia.
Her frankness is very, very attractive. Nothing like being told in no uncertain terms that you are "so sweet", in an awed tone of voice. I don't think it's just my love for praise, however. The term "refreshing" offers itself -- it is so true, and I am reluctant to use it only because of its overuse. But it's true. Her straightforwardness is so refreshing, it takes away my breath.
We spent a couple of hours making out in her car, parked on the wrong side of the street, down the block from my house. It was very, very lovely. I felt (and have been feeling, since) the spark of connection, what I want to call love, mixed with a vague, self-conscious ridiculousness. Two days, and you feel like this?
December the three. Monday. I attempt to ride my bike to work, and discover that the neck injury incurred on Friday has become much more uncomfortable. Giving up, I walk my bike back to BART, use the elevators to get down to the platform (yes, really that bad) and then go home. Stephanie spends most of her last day in the area in my room, cuddling and making out with me. Beautiful. She excuses herself to take a phone call, propped up on my bed -- the ease of it is comforting. No tension, no expectations. We talk about distance a little, promise to stay in touch. My mother pokes her head in, is introduced, looks embarassed, retreats. Stephanie, meet Stephanie.
Now it is two weeks later and we have been emailing back and forth fairly regularly. Much more regularly than I email anyone else. I have spoken to her on the phone three times, and each time I have had very little to say, except to talk about the weather and to listen to her complaints about her job. I have trouble on the phone, and really I just want the excuse to hear her voice. She has suggested webcams. I am listening.
sarha is encouraging.
As for other things in my life, I took my last final of my undergraduate studies about two hours ago. If we suppose for a moment that I will pass all my classes (and I believe I will), then I should receive my BA (or at least confirmation of such) in a couple of weeks.
I am excited and not excited. It feels very anticlimactic. I want something extraordinary to happen.
In the meantime, I am searching for a job that will pay me more than $8.50 an hour, and give me full time work. Benefits would be nice, too.
My mother wants me to work at UC. It's a possibility. I need to examine more closely the instinct to reject anything she suggests, out of... what? Pique?
Now that I have put it out in the open, it will be worked over in my mind. Perhaps I will begin to post more in this thing.
Perhaps I am a monkey. Current Mood: Oh, I'm definitely a monkey.
|Tuesday, May 15th, 2007|
|Accessing docs.google.com with Safari
(after telling you that Google Documents does not work under Safari)
If you are working to fix problems with a specific browser and would like to bypass this check, just add &browserok=true to the end of the Google Docs & Spreadsheets url.
Please note that it is a violation of intergalactic law to use this parameter under false pretenses, so don't let us catch you at it.
And, it won't work very well -- really.
Awesome. Current Mood: intergalactic planetary
|Friday, April 27th, 2007|
|Glass Bead me
Thunderheads Current Mood: cryptico
|Thursday, March 15th, 2007|
Got another piece accepted to Transfer - this time, a short story. This is immensely gratifying; once could be seen as coincidence, but twice definitely has much more significance.
It can be found in my other journal under the title, "Observation".
Also, I have shoes with wheels in them!
*rolls away unsteadily*
|Wednesday, February 14th, 2007|
I tickled sarah so hard, she called the cops.
|Monday, January 1st, 2007|
|Tuesday, November 7th, 2006|
|only slightly fiction
He reached across the narrow space and rested his hand, lightly, on the back of her neck. She nudged the car onto the onramp, signaling to turn. The air in the car had the singular quality unique to young love – each could smell and taste the other, sweet and perfectly human, with every breath. The sun had just set, the sky still a lingering dullish orange. He let his gaze rest on her profile, absorbing the details. He felt a pressure in his chest which he knew to be love, knew it from experience, and even as he felt this enormous weight he knew the overwhelming anxiety that she would be taken from him. It was too good to be true, they had agreed, it was too perfect, and he knew the logical dramatic conclusion would be for some terrible tragedy to occur and force them apart. Merging lanes, she glanced over, and he smiled, forcing the dread down. It was unreasonable, he knew, completely unfounded. Looking out the window at the passing cars, he told himself, I am an optimist, trying to remember that it was the truth.
She sighed, leaning into his hand. “I can’t help but think that something terrible is going to happen.”
He shook his head. “I know what you mean. Ultimately, though, worrying about it won’t get us anywhere.” He pressed his hand upwards, ruffling her short hair. “If it happens, it happens.”
She nodded slowly, and turned the car towards their exit.
|Wednesday, October 18th, 2006|
| Watchword Press and Vesica Pisces present
THE WHOLE STORY
Friday, October 20 & Saturday, October 21
A. Muse Gallery
614 Alabama Street @ 18th, San Francisco
With live performance, dance, and a life size multi media diorama based on a story published in the latest issue of Watchword – Number NINE. Come celebrate the release of the magazine with over 40 artists who present new works using After the Flood by Paul Gacioch as inspiration for their installations.
10/20 Tim Barsky - Mtn. Kin
10/21 Extraordinary Forest - Dave Malloy - Mtn. Kin.
ART & PERFORMANCE BY: Stephen Ausherman, Jas Bagri, Kita Baldock, Sara Bomba, Tony Campanale, Brian Caraway, Nina Carduner, Jesse S. Clark, Jacob Evans, Jana Flynn, Tanesia Hale Jones, Hollie Hardy, Bret Hitchcock, Gregg Horton, Dafna Kory, Monique LaCour, Minky Lew, Rokko Miyoshi, Melanie Moser, Yoshi Murai
, Leslie Outhier, Susan Park, Tye Pemberton, Helene Poulshock,
Cyndera Quackenbush, Liz Saintsing, Tiffany Sankary, Maeve Sheridan, Evenlyn Soto, subvertistas, Renee Summerfield, Larissa Thomas, Andrew H. Touhy, Truong Tran, Michael Trigilio, Liz Worthy Current Mood: excited
| leave behind your fear
you will not falter.
there's no danger here
you can breathe
in clear blue water... Current Mood: shiny
|Thursday, October 12th, 2006|
I seem to have a bamboo leaf in my pocket.
How nice. Current Mood: pretty much awesome
|Saturday, October 7th, 2006|
I'm shining like a star -
gravity's got nothing on me now. Current Mood: (also, I just discovered Pandora)
|Friday, August 11th, 2006|
I got my wish! I am no longer working Saturday nights!
Instead, I have to be there at 10 in the morning.
|Saturday, July 22nd, 2006|
I had a very long dream about Char.
I feel odd.