|2004-05-05 - 11:09 p.m.
walking back home from the market, i had to reach down and start into my bag of dried figs. a favorite chinese discovery. these delicacies are the size of a spinning nickel only closer in shape to a hershey's kiss before impact. and really resembling more of a scrotumette, which apparently does not phase me one morsel. i have always found the beauty in my any day, every day. but now i do so as a conscious meditation. if i am going to expose my father to a way of seeing, i need to do so from a solid position. yes ghandi, being the change i want to see- in him. so i will begin to take yoga seriously again. not that i don't. i just substitute it with running, distorting yoga to become my 'workout' and not my moving meditation. be the change. be the change.
i left a beautiful young chinese worker in my apartment. when i returned, the heat had encouraged him to remove some layers. he was stretched in the doorway of my bedroom and as i open the front door, he was only wearing his tight black tank top over his perfectly fitted pants. rare for a young chinaman to have ass. i was gazing as he looked up. i sighed. we smiled. and then he put his shirt back on. it has been two awkward mornings of me sitting on the couch with my computer while he paints. occasionally exchanging limited glances. very sweet but very short mental fantasy. and now, he has slipped back into the anonymous sea of the chinese-speaking population.
tron asked me to be a beta tester for his new site. he's been sending me a couple of early snapshots. he trusts me again. he loves me. but not again because now i know, he never stopped.
oh, mother of pearl, i wouldn't trade you for another girl.
listening to - mother of pearl - roxy music