words, words, words
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?
P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.
raisin@gmail.com
albums:
Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
songs:
Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
Tuesday, September 24, 2002
christopher has been trying to figure out why these events have so plagued me when he doesn't know anyone else so upset. i can't belive that everyone isn't even more upset than i am. i am not nervous and yet i catch my breath sometimes, a quick shot of fear runs through my belly. i don't want to check the missed calls on my cell phone, afraid of seeing the 618 area code of work, who might just call me in, because some new form of the war has begun, because they need me to deploy somewhere, some stan suffixed country, a desert, far away from anything with which i am familiar. i'm afraid of the planes in the sky, and i can't believe people keep driving by, just going on with their lives as if two huge towers hadn't collapsed on themselves, swallowing up humanity. i have tried to find things that occurred before september eleventh, look wistfully at them, wishing i were back there, and able to stop time, even if it's just september 10th over and over.
I had forgotten about writing this. I don't know exactly when I wrote it. it couldn't have been too far from september 11th. this is when I awoke to the fear in me, and what it meant. when I drove into work on the eleventh, I had an incredible amount of fear in my stomach. The only thing I could place it with, could compare it to, was football. but why? How did the fear I had for football compare to this? I just figured that out this week, a year later. I've been writing about my thoughts on violence, why I started to feel I didn't agree with it, why I'm contemplating concsientious objection. Margaret, from the Quaker meeting, told me to think about my past history on violence, what times I had encountered violence, what I had done, and what I had felt. I started with when I was around 11 and began to memorize I Cor 13, trying to curb my temper. I used to hit people when I got angry, only when I got really angry, but sometimes over mindless stuff. I hated that, I hated the way I felt I couldn't control myself. And it didn't go well with the morals I was trying to follow. I can't believe that I was moralizing at 11, but I was. I remember clearly that I knew I had to get rid of my temper to be a better person. it worked, amazingly. I essentially became a passive, non-resistant guy. I thought about enacting the love that chapter taught me about in everything I did, everywh
11:24 PM
|
|
| |
|
|
|
