words, words, words
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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
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Thursday, November 07, 2002
I've been saying that word too often lately, the one that doesn't really describe what I would like it to. soul. I'd rather the word simply mean the kind of music I'm listening to, the Percy Sledge with plaintive voice. But I've used it to describe those inner parts that nobody has ever seen, only felt in ways most of them can't describe. Don't play with that word, something tells me, just like you shouldn't play with anyone's soul, shouldn't approach it with anything but all your depth. But what is a soul? It's a space that defies our understanding, the only potentially everlasting part of us, if forever exists. It's me, unlike this body that only represents me. But words don't work well, do they? And a soul isn't something you can describe, only something you can feel.
10:18 PM
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