my mother raised
three children
to be served

paranoid that any of us should
feel overburdened or have
anything done unwell �

which is to say, imperfectly � she did
it all herself: dishes, laundry;
and spent the sunny hours baking

in bad lighting, where petty
office battles and flourescence�s
endless quarrel with aluminum

raged. she wrote briefs
that wouldn�t let her rest, like
her mother-in-law whose mind

had phased back, over her eighty-six years of
midnites, to the lopsided, clumsily-
formed moon of childhood

Why not American rice? she�d
say petulantly evening after
evening when confronted noxiously

with cous cous. My mother strove
not to let impatience show while we children
snickered.

my grandmother called me "pepi,"
the second name of an unknown aunt
who died young from, my normally unromantic

father tells me, a broken heart:
her husband made her choose between
her ailing, fragile mother,

and him: cruel man: whose heart
wouldn�t give way like a crab under
such a mallet? The subtle lesson

of this was, Don�t intermarry.
I got her name and my mother got
her burden: a mother-in-law

whose damp sighs clouded
the inside of the windows as she and her
dangling armflesh lumbered up and down

the stairs at night, calling "Marge?" Once in my bathroom
on the top floor, she collapsed
and lay like a de-shelled mollusk

on the white tile til the white ambulance came
and white men lifted her onto a white stretcher
and took her away

After that, the waning of her mind accelerated
like a wind-up toy my little brother propelled
toward a wall. She died in a hospital.

My mother never said a word
throughout and if my father grew impatient with
her later, I never doubted he loved her

for that. My mother who lay the
job she wanted, the helping-people job,
on the altar to help us instead

three pampered children who sighed
and bitched and poemed our way
through 13 years of expensive Jewish school

returning home to ask Dad questions
when we had them and inform soapy-
handed Mom what different rabbis

ruled was the proper way to clean.
She invariably listened and she still
feeds the dog first because in sixth grade,

I told her to. Taking advantage of her compulsion
for order, we carelessly left smears and piles
for her to rearrange: in explosions,

sometimes, she reminded us that this
was selfish, and we were contritely diligent
for a while.

she wanted us to be mannered, sociable,
attractive, and polite, but while I hid
from puberty�s invasion in tee-shirt tents,

she allowed me � even as I did
so (reading instead of running, remaining
stubbornly content in my circle

of familiar friends) she called me pretty;
wisely, she kept
her frustrations sheathed.

essentially, she gave me freedom
not leashing me with even modest obligations
to the house

where she whiled away nearly all
of her out-of-office time.
and when I got into my first choice

college, twenty-pounds lighter
between the shedding of weight and angst;
contact-ed, gelled, expressive, Express-ed;

she built a Mayan temple from
the surplus bumper-stickers she ordered
from the school store

but never once said "I told you
so." I�ll be a mother someday � it�s possible,
even likely, but my generation wasn�t raised

to sacrifice like that; to bite our lips
and bide our time -- I don�t know how I�ll handle
motherhood. hopefully better than daughterhood.

and hopefully my mother, a perfectionist
to the end, will instruct me: what rice to cook,
and for how long, and when.

oh hell. today had been going really well: actually doing work at work today made the day go by faster than usual -- then i came home to find an envelope from africa. the contents were nearly unbelievable. the author, presently a member of the peace corps, told me in neat, curly cursive without a single blotted word or awkward sentence that she was a swat alum; since the skool continues to send her our paper, the phoenix, she read my review of amores perros ("love's a bitch"). she complimented me (it) and said that she intended to rent the film at her first opportunity. flattering enuf. then she went on to say that she was the person who interviewed me oh-so-long-ago and that i stuck in her mind as one of her favorites, so she cheered for me when she saw me accepted and is even prouder now to see that i am happily bedded down in my swat-nest. "i know that swat can be stressful and unnerving at times," she concluded, "but i just wanted you to know that you've had someone rooting for you all along, that you made an impression on someone along the way, and that your writing, even in the little old Phoenix, is reaching people in further corners of the globe than you probably ever imagined it would."
isn't that insane?
i was so thrilled i immediately called my mother.

good luck kept on coming: much better emails; hilary and jackie; plans w/ ilana and annie to go to franklyn's for the poetry open mic. when we finally got down there (late, of course) the circle had long-since formed and become un-inclusive. we got a table to ourselves instead and chilled for a while, then made plans to score, rent a new batch of 7, and party at my house. all was blissfully, vanilla-y smooth.
we dashed to my house to check messages, thinking becca or tamar might've called, and instead found a furious message from my mother. i had left her a car in the appropriate place, only apparently the wrong one. ilana annie and i sped off toward friendship heights and passed her, walking -- she waved us on, still fuming. everyone in my family has a tendency toward anger and i figured i deserved it: earler, i had burst out at ilana for something innocuous. karma, dude.

plans aborted. i went to the video store alone and rented another week's worth, but was further dispirited to find that annie hall, harold and maude, and sophie's choice had all mysteriously disappeared. would they ever be replaced? not likely, shrugged the cashier/manager.
how can you argue w/ someone who doesn't care?
i came home and i've been tiptoeing around my mother since. shite, man. that's all i have to say.

my horoscope said that today was my kind of day (and even added an exclamation point [!] for emphasis.) maybe it's my rather suspicious nature, but i always get put off by that. in this case, rightly so. when i woke up, i felt distinctly non-social: despite intentions to round everyone up early to get an expedition together to go to adam's morgan for lunch, i ate brunch at home, stayed in my pajamas, and meandered down to my living room to watch lola rennt. (dubbed, too, those bastards ... )

then people showed up. it took us a while but we finally got our shit together and met jay at his place (where we chatted w/ his mom, who was our lower skool guidance counselor and of whom we all have fond memories.) then we walked. six trodden miles, one margarita, three salads, one chimichanga, 54,321 conversations about food and/or fitness, four recounted dreams, and (for my part) the same two bars of music hummed 67 times, we returned to jay's, bid him farewell, and becca liz ilana and i made it wearily back to my house.

i think everyone's estrogen level was completely out of whack. it must have been. once jamie and tamar appeared, we sat around my kitchen table like a group of goddamned matrons w/ mugs of tea and bowls of raisins and grapes and discussed moon cycles. no, actually, that part was fun. i don't know why i didn't enjoy what preceded it as fully. in any event, we watched fabulous lock, stock, and two smoking barrels. i adore movies that know that they're movies -- which is to say, the work of filmmakers who know that they have a unique medium and under no circumstances have to confine themselves to the simple or even the realistic.

i'm beginning to feel shitty again for being the only one who doesn't run. bah.
poetry tomorrow. hopefully moodiness will have passed.

oh, the goodness of today was totally removed from the mediocrity that was last week (post mad tuesday loveliness.) friday nite things looked precarious: ilana, becca and i hung out but got into a mood to do something and found that there was nothing to do. went to the silver diner to check whether their midnite movie was worth watching. as it turned out, no. we lounged around in the parking lot for a while, shrugging off ideas; then ilana just returned to her house and becca and i came to mine where, w/o much ado, we went to sleep.

this morning, revitalized, we organized the trip to baltimore which ended up including rick, liz, and jay. the five of us smooshed into rick's car and headed off to this festival. interestingly, as it was held in a fairly ethnic area, we mingled, sweated, and laughed at bad performance art w/ quite a mix of people: black locals and white touristy-looking folks, oldsters and youngish punks. after collecting all the free samples we could hold, both in stomach and in arms, we met up w/ jamie and decided to walk down to the inner harbor. we returned in time to see etta james (or, rather, liz and rick left; jamie and jay wove their way thru the crowd to get w/in viewing range; and becca and i found a farback seat and half-listened to the music while we discussed Marriage and Relationships.)

came back to my house, toyed w/ the idea of going out again, decided against it, and split amicably w/ promises to meet tomorrow for more walking and lunchtime margaritas as rewards. the whole thing successfully distracted me from yucky emails, unsatisfactory phone calls, and peer angst. everyone got along swimmingly: laughter is definitely social lube, and we all have a sense of humor in common. to top it off, i got home and talked to ben. yes, this long distance thing sucks, as do arguments w/o hugs at the end to diffuse the negativity. but i'm glad he's there.

more feminist leadership training today. i'm all for it, but i realized that i'm not as cut out for the whole thing as some of the other girls are. the majority of the interns in this program are driven, mini-businesswomen or politicians: i can envision them on sunday morning talk-show panels and arguing before the senate. they have passion, they have self-assurance, they're smart, they're attractive in that conventional made-up stylish way.
at any rate, this is a unique experience for me. next thursday, my bday, my group is meeting w/ arlen spector and rick santorum and trying to convince them of the virtues of health care equity in the marketplace, making arguments like if insurance companies cover birth control, more women will have access to it and that will result in fewer unwanted pregnancies and fewer terminations thereof [can't use the "a word"]. so really, it's all about family values, not to mention to ultimate financial well-being of the community. [*cough*bullshit*cough*] some statistics: for every dollar the insurance companies pay towards contraception, they and the general community saves $4 - 14 in subsequent costs (dealing w/ the pregnancy, birth, and raising of the child.)
the truth is, men's prescription drugs are covered and it's ridiculous that women -- who earn 75 cents for every dollar a man makes anyway -- have to pay 68% more out of pocket for something as simple as the pill. goddamned puritan sanctimonious prissy country ...

after the program, i met nomi ilana and jamie for lunch at CA tortilla, where i'd never been. no carry-over hostility. nomi's leaving this evening to eventually get to memphis and yoni ("i'm jealous." "why? you always wanted to go memphis?") annie's leaving this weekend too, planning to try her hand at nyc karaoke. more power to her! maybe baltimore for the rest of us; probably small gathering w/ movies tonite. i'm way behind in my watching.
(side note to #32, if you're reading this: damn i miss you. damn. i miss you.)

in honor of nori who finally emailed me today -- among other things, to comment on how weird she looks in my barneys picture. it happens to be true but i think she gives the scene character.

anyway. today was sort of slow and strange, tho it ended well. i felt curiously grape-like; then my mother served a bowl of grapes w/ my grandfather's bday cake and i realized it might have been a distorted psychic signal. on the metro after work, a grumbly young man was ascending the escalator next to me as i was descending. when we were right next to each other, he said clearly and distinctly, "it's your fault." i had no idea what he was talking about, and no doubt he was right.
then fro yo w/ ilana (good)
followed by gentle chiding for having friendships that are too emotionally intense (bad? what? true?)
what does that mean? i don't have melodramatic roller-coaster relationships w/ anyone at the moment. energy and excitement are not synonymous w/ emotional intensity, not that that's even a bad thing. becca and i discussed the issue more while and after i drove her home. (at one point we wondered aloud what returning to skool would be like. i hypothesized that we might return to being on different wavelengths. she responded by "quoting" a typical phone conversation:
-- becca: "so i went to this party --"
-- ester: "so i sat in a crunchy grass skirt eating kasha w/ my vegan friends --"
that being so hilarious that i nearly fell out of my car. but to resume.)
both of us take friendships seriously. maybe, as i was told today, too seriously. i don't know. i don't know what i think. i also tried to create a list of possible careers and couldn't come up w/ nearly anything except 1) advertising, or 2) writer of a) hallmark cards, b) soap operas, or c) porn scripts. rather dispiriting.

baltimore this weekend, anyone? good times good times, i promise.

in trying to submerge my depression last nite, and just b/c, i finally got al the pics on a thumbnail page. annie gets all the credit for the scanner (thanks, annie). it's only a start: 18 pictures. i'll have to scan more at some point. then i'll think about integrating them further.

talked to rick last nite for the first time in a while; we made tentative plans for this weekend. ari was going to come over and watch something but what w/ my mid-evening possibly-irrational breakdown and my recovery-thru-pagemaking, there was no time. today, after work, a woman from cbs is giving us a tour of the studio. class later. dinner in between, i guess?
i'll have a few empty hours.
i'm reading two novels at the moment, both of which are good: a milan kundera book
called The Farewell Party, and fielding's Tom Jones. the latter i'm reading at work; i haven't found a paperback copy at home tho i'm sure one exists. initially i picked it up to humor/please my father, but i'm actually enjoying it.

wow -- my counter hit 100. yeehaw baby and all right. check it out for yrselves, folks.

i was on a high of sorts earlier; i'm come down since. oddly, happiness didn't depress me, tho it is (as you'll see) a controversial and fucked up film. todd s.'s previous attempt, welcome to the dollhouse, made me want to crawl into a cardboard box and stay in a fetal position for a couple years. this one is definitively better, i think: more interesting, more well-written, sharper, although it veers off into the range of less-believable melodrama a la requiem for a dream towards the end. at least it remains creepy throughout.

maybe i'm so used to going places, being surrounded, feeding off of the momentum that i'm feeling some withdrawal. i have to pick up my mom in twenty minutes. i fought w/ my brother this afternoon but i might write about him for my class. becca suggested my other brother, which i hadn't thought of. i'll probably do one or the other. i might not be able to see tamar for weeks. nomi's leaving for a tour of the south. i don't have plans for my bday yet, tho i'm sure things will fall into place. they just tend to.

my hamstrings hurt, tho they would probably be worse if i hadn't spent two hours in annie's hottub last nite. much of that time was spent playing truth or dare -- the dares were relatively modest, being as it was 12 - 2 a.m. and we were all more mindset to talk than to dance or carol or sit naked in the middle of the water or do obscene things w/ ice cubes. still, it was quality fun. the yard smelled vaguely from the n. carolina fireworks annie set up while we cowered in fear from a safe distance.
when we were thoroughly prunified, we went into the kitchen and annie sliced her father's home-smoked salmon for us and then made us bananas enflambee. they didn't flambee so good but my, were they tasty.
after that, we went to sleep. had to get in our four hours, yessir.

i feel pretty woozy this morning, between the yoga that ilana and i did before (an hour and a half -- it was pretty intense) and the suburban bacchinalian excesses of the evening. it was worth it. lots of good food: ilana jay and i went to mama ayesha's for lunch w/ dyannah and cindy from my office, who subsequently went to get their noses pierced.

today will be much calmer. i am going to go home, watch one (if not two) of my latest 7 rentals, sleep, and maybe return for another, shorted yoga class. (watch me end up w/ liz, liz wilkins, annie, and ilana again. not that that would be a bad thing. we function well as a group despite the fact that, as i noted, we no longer all look alike.) and i haven't seen becca in 30 hrs or something. that must be remedied.
hey, ari finished death kit. excellent. that means i finally get it explained.

so my lovely drop-ins yesterday proceeded to proposition me to go to annie's house where i could scan in the pictures i've been meaning to add to the site. these girls waste no time. it's exhilirating being around them, altho every once in a while i feel a pang of guilt/nostalgia for not spending my time w/ the fuelos. but i don't hear from the fuelos as much. i remember last summer becoming irritated often b/c those girls were often busy or tired or simply couldn't get away so we couldn't hang out. the people i'm around most now are the people who're around most: ilana who works here, liz, annie, becca, ari ... it's not just a matter of convenience b/c i so thoroughly enjoy their company. it still strikes me every once in a while as strange.

talked to ben last nite who delicately expressed surprise w/ how free i am in terms of what i've posted on my site. i don't know, is it bad? too explicit? i can't tell -- i'm just fumbling around here, feeling my way. if anyone is ever offended, please, let me know. (i don't mean to imply he was; it just made me think of it.) i would definitely value any input. on the poems too, folks: nothing is a final immutable draft.

mexican lunch today perhaps, then yoga, maybe movie, hopefully party in annie's hottub. ooh baby.
quotes from yesterday: becca: "people from cornel are just like people at penn, only less happy. maybe because they drink less."
ben: "of course i have a sense of humor, you fucking dolt!"
:-)
ah, love.

spent this early-afternoon w/ liz at another freedom forum presentation, this one on child slavery in the ivory coast cocoa bean industry. after a panel of journalists showed their slides and discussed their findings (about 2.5 - 3% of the 600,000 family cocoa farms in the region use children who are bought and sold in various markets, then forced to work full days w/o compensation), they opened up the floor for comment. the reaction ranged from outrage from the ivorian ambassador who was, all the same, furious to see his country maligned, to the glossy flat denials of the represenatives of the chocolate industry ("we really didn't know") and their powerpoint solutions to the problem, to state department representatives pointing out that this is a more complex situation than we realize.
that there was controversy surprised and excited me. liz and i agreed that we had expected a pretty routine thing: after all, no one could possibly argue that slave labor, particularly of 9 - 16 yr old children, was a good thing. but a number of issues people raised were thought-provoking and liz and i walked away, mulling and discussing.

she's also thinking of marketing her strip to publications in the area, a la alison benchel's dykes to watch out for. she's using wifp's directory listing of women's periodicals in the area. yay i get to be of service.

ahhhh people just showed up; i get to be a host again. :-) more later then, i guess.

liz's illustration!

liz has never seen this journal before. she's here now: she and ilana are splayed out on my bed, inaugurating my new real-space notebook w/ doodles. the l.a. confidential soundtrack is keeping us company. i have lovely memories associated w/ this cd.

"i need a jazz musician to just follow me around all day"
-- liz

i love my friends. last nite, after a day in great falls and hanging out w/ johnny and tamar (and an aborted attempt to see godfather I + II), annie ilana ari jamie and i ended up in annie's hottub. i nearly died. (extreme pleasure w/ me is always mentally associated w/ pain ... oh dear ....) it was that awesome. then annie got out and played us folky songs on her acoustic guitar. that's always been a dream of mine, and since she has 1) hot tub, 2) guitar, and 3) a scanner (yes! finally! pictures for my webpage!) i put my hand on her thigh like one of the old men in the bible and solemnly swore that she was my new best friend.

then jamie and ilana slept over at my house -- yay floor --; then brunch; then chilling and time wastage; then becca came over, brimming w/ stories about her crazy weekend. tonite i met up w/ liz and ilana and we watched requiem for a dream and baked fat-free "no pudge fudge" (just add yogurt!) score, baby. depressing movies always make me think about the state of things. in this case, i came down w/ a sudden, unpleasant attack of self-doubt. all my old questions re: the net surfaced: isn't it just self-indulgent? isn't all art? shouldn't we all be doing productive things instead of coddling our precious emotions and desires to express ourselves?
ilana says, what's wrong w/ being self-indulgent?
i don't have an answer for that.
they talk me out of it. i'm not really interested in being seriously depressed so the mood is easy-ish to shake off. but these are real questions and i don't have answers yet.

surrounded by friends (which is my preferred state of being), i just took the spark's gay test. i started from the assumption that i was a straight female, tho another spark test informed me it was 86% sure i was a man; this one declared me 44% gay.

but i got my first ever chance to formally declare myself a feminist. it probably gave me a few extra gay points. so worth it.

i'm sitting in annie's office w/ ilana. we've been here for hours now. her supervisors are away so we're just chilling, chai-ing, "don't think twice, it's all right"-ing, spying at other windows out of ours ... it's awesome. it's been a good day. i had my feminism workshop where two women came in and coached us on the fine art of lobbying while assuring us cheerfully that no matter what we do, very little if anything will change and even it does it will be over the course of years. their point was that you should keep plugging away anyway but i found it irritatingly frustrating. still, they gave us cookies, so all was good.

ahh, 1200 curfews ...

i walked over to dupont after to check up on liz and was surprised to learn that, as per the discussion we held in bethesda while stuck in the rain, she had quit her mind- and soul-sucking job. that's what i call spur of the moment. also commendable, tho: she made a decision, she took the initiative, she got out of a situation that was making her unhappy. more power to her, that's what i say.

shabbes dinner tonite w/ the family that thinks they never see me. then the weekend starts and people everywhere are making plans plans plans. w/ any luck at all, i'll see tamar, nomi, and jamie ... christ, it's been ages, or that's how it feels.
hey! birthday soon baby. yeahhhhhh.
marc signed my guestbook which means he found me. marco, if you're reading this: howdy, dude.
i'm pumping. i should calm down. or maybe not. :-) as joseph brodsky says, "the grave will render us all alike/ so while we live, at least, let us be various!"
which in my case means hyper.
happy friday everyone. sign my book, let me know you love me. i'll return the sentiment, i promise.

just returned from my first Sculpting the Story class. it was actually the second meeting for everyone else; i missed the first in favor of non-literary delights in SF. needless to say i don't regret it. i didn't have any trouble fitting in, either, or at least it seemed that way. the teacher is wonderful. the anti-lisa cohen, as it happens, which is not to say the indomitable l. cohen is unworthy or that her lessons were unappreciated. this woman's style is just very different and i think i instinctively respond to it more/better.

tomorrow i have the 3rd -- my 2nd -- meeting of the New Faces, More Voices workshop (motto: "turning the world feminist one co-ed at a time"). hopefully the adrenaline rush from this writing thing will carry over into that. since it starts at 9 a.m. and goes til 1, i can't think of much else that would keep me going. but the first meeting was wonderful and i have continued high expectations for this as well.

johnny drove me home tonite and spoke of a godfather marathon/festival this weekend. that would be wonderful. i'm craving distraction in all its forms: cinematic, classroom, food. it's all keeping me busy, tho not spotlessly happy -- i suppose that's as much as i could hope for what w/ SF all the way across the goddamn country (who designed the bloody thing anyhow?). and on that note, b/c ben gave his blessing thru laughter and liz got all misty-eyed when she read it, here's one of the three poems i've been working on the past few days:

The sun sets,
like a woman gently laying her bruised body
down, over me on the runway
while I think of your next girlfriend:
the lights of the runway forecast the
smart, tidy shine of her hair;
its length, the length of her thighs.
Maybe she will be a fireman�s pole like you:
I�m always shimmying up and sliding down you; maybe she
will simply lie there
nobly.
Maybe she will not tell you to smile more
or anything so frivolous; she�ll encourage
the growth of a goatee, turn your chin into a
bonzai tree that she can cultivate. She will be spiritual
and serious and tall, so you won�t have to stoop
to kiss her, and composed, so she�ll never laugh
during love when you cover her mouth to stifle
her impassioned �ah�s. She will not �ah.� Perhaps
she will say �Yes.� Perhaps �Precisely!� Perhaps
she will orgasm in japanese. Regardless,
she will be suave.
She will you call Benjamin.
She will not have a stomach like a rabbit curled up
beneath her skin or breasts like pots of water for which
your hands are lids; she will not have a stomach,
and her breasts will be perky-tight like
dashboard dolls. And it goes without saying
she will never wear the same outfit twice.
I cannot compete with her. Superiority is her nature:
it would be foolish to try. You may grow old with her
but Ben, oh Ben, if you want to be young,
come find me in this plane, lost in the night as in
the shadow of a lover leaving, flinging me hours states
months away from you.

holy shit, y'all, i just had my first absolute stranger sign my guestbook. that's just so damn cool that i had to give him a shoutout: jonc.be.tf.
yeah!!

cds to buy once i actually get some money of my own: boys for pele, revolver, if you're feeling sinister, white chocolate space egg -- or does anyone know the best liz phair? i have exile in guyville but ross took one look at it and said that it was an interesting choice but i could do better.
speaking of which, ross is back from alaska. he's made plans already to get to SF (he's dating alyssa) and he's staying longer than i did even so that he can attend area one and go backpacking. it's so funny to remember that life continues in a place once you leave it. ben called me this afternoon while becca ilana and ari were here, feeling shitty, and i immediately felt guilty for having been in a giddy mood. when i returned to the kitchen after speaking to him, ilana told me i always look sheepish when he and i get off the phone.

ilana went to liz's, ari went to a barbeque, and becca came w/ my family and me to mel's. there we drank copious amounts of diet coke and then watched traffic. didn't get all the way thru cause i had to drive becca to a metro station. the plan was to proceed to liz's but traffic dissuaded me, and tiredness, and the desire to call ben, and to go to sleep. i also have (another) poem brewing in my head. for some reason, altho i thought i was going to and i certainly claimed i would, i'm reluctant to sketch on this site. it's too public a forum for drafts, i think -- ? anyway, it's about potatoes :-) if you're interested enuf, email me and i'll send you a copy. or at least a thank you note for yr attention. i also wrote one yesterday but i kind of want ben's okay before i post it on my site.

it's hard but i'm trying to take in only what's right around me, not to think about the two months ahead of me or even the week i just had. sheba smells (she's next to me, breathing heavily onto the bathroom tile). becca outlined her life's plan for me this evening, then demanded mine. i could only stammer vague ideas, like apprenticing myself to avy kaufman. unfortunately that would be locating myself in hollywood which, tho i might very well want to end up in movies, would be good for my self-esteem only in the sense that i would doubtless soon be the thinnest i'd ever been.
and may i add, it's wonderful to be back on my computer using IE 5.0 again. goddamn netscape in the berkeley library irritated me.

christ, i'm tired. i never found an adequate notebook in SF so i'm stuck staring forlornly at the last blank dirty page of my present one -- one page left, can you believe it? this thing lasted me less than a year. i started it 9/29. (amusing enuf, on 9/29/00, i wrote, "another high point of the day: i ran into the illustrious matt rubin by the cereals. he complimented my presentation at the poetry slam, said i was clearly a performer and an extrovert. i laughed and told him i wasn't, but it had been nice to pretend for 5 minutes or so.
and it was nice." yeah, as i remember it, it was: i won a prize, a little plastic horse and a sheet of alphabet stickers. but see now, i wouldn't say "nice" -- ben wouldn't have it -- and i would have laughed at matt rubin and said of course i was an extrovert. have i always been one or is it a recent development? hmm ....

anyway, that was a tangent. the point is i'm home, two plane rides (with, again, no veggie food) later, weary and feeling rather dull. whole days of travel in which i only hear what others say and have no meaningful interaction have a deadening effect on me. but yesterday was fun: after a fruitless attempt to meet up w/ alyssa for lunch, ben and i went into the city, determined to conquer it on foot. i have to say, we did a decent job: started at the bart station at powell, hiked up to chinatown, wound thru chinatown and north beach (the view from which reminded me so much of jerusalem that i had to continually stop and make weak, whimpery noises) all the way to fisherman's wharf, where tourists thronged for no discernable reason. then we walked along the coast and down chestnut street almost to the bay bridge to the exploratorium. i wish i could have enjoyed it more but a nasty headache that had been sending warning signals all afternoon finally bore down hard and ben had to guide me outside so i could lie down and wait for the pain to get bored of banging around my brain and move on. luckily beautiful weather and ben's pooh stories accelerated the healing process and before long i was steady enuf to retrace our steps and even see a.i., a film which is as muddled as you'd expect kubrick via spielberg to be. i mean, lord: kubrick's bleak worldview and obsession w/ sex and robots and spielberg's crowd-pleasing sentimental platonic-love stories are like oil and water. in this case, the oil is much more interesting than the water and i came away frustrated, wishing that more time had been spent exploring the darker side of the elaborate fantasy-future. the disney-esque part we've all seen thousands of times, altho admittedly it is visually stunning.

tomorrow is the fourth. i don't have concrete plans yet -- but i've scarcely been home an hour. what can i say? that was one of the fastest weeks in recent memory. my parents both met at the airport and fussed and hugged so extensively that it seemed like i'd been gone ten times as long as i had. well. it's over. happy independence day everyone.

and #32, goodnite.

i'm going to cry. i had the equivalent of like a 5 page entry and right before i was about to post it, i pressed some button and the screen went blank. fucking bastards, that's all i have to say. i don't have the energy to recap the whole damn thing and anyway we're about to go to lunch.

essentially: having a wonderful time (good)
going home tomorrow (very very bad)
saw come and see (excellent disturbing and induces a lack of faith in humanity)
am going to chinatown (yummy);
had blackberry pie; watched short circuit 2, hamlet;
went walking yesterday outside my comfort zone;
read becca's site (yay becca!);
dropped the other becca off at the airport for hong kong;
and bought a new bag (white. rather unnerving but i'm getting used to it.)

all in all, life is silly-wonderful and i have to go continue to live it rather than writing about it (FOR THE SECOND TIME).
*sigh*