tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37208882012-01-24T10:58:56.311-08:00The Lion's DenThe place where the everyday crossings of life meet the undercurrent of the urban subconscious.Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.comBlogger991100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-88041117716496567282012-01-03T17:59:00.000-08:002012-01-03T18:50:41.049-08:00I drank sound soup today for lunch, meandering among the houses surrounding the place I work, grazing along Imperial Highway for whatever auditory hors d'ouvres might be left on the buffet table of city life. I've long neglected this table; often I commute to and from work as if I am commuting from one building to another, all the while fast-tracking past the life that is in between. It is a Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-41136483967857717692012-01-01T01:06:00.000-08:002012-01-01T01:21:08.592-08:00New Year Shrouded in FogTo begin with an expression: a bolder move perhaps Than the years that have recently passed There was a time when I greeted the new year with a magic word I once heard in a book: shirak In my mind's eye then, the year’s dawn lifted itself mightily Above the horizon of possibility, Lit by my hopes and certainties. Now, as another brother of that season greets Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-81187352943103603592009-03-30T13:28:00.000-07:002009-03-30T13:37:08.637-07:00Recently, it seems my soul and imagination have wanted to be elsewhere, and I've been trying to figure out where that is. I don't mean anything morbid by that. Just that nostalgic longing you get from time to time, and the feeling that if you could just go back to a certain place or time, things would click, even if you could only do it for a day. As far as I could calculate, the place and time IJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-19921170837450268162008-10-10T00:34:00.000-07:002008-10-10T00:55:34.393-07:00"Now I sit with different facesIn rented rooms and foreign places"Ok, so I visited a high school campus today, which I rarely do, so I may be overly morose and drunk on nostalgia, but the phrase does ring true. I stayed up a little bit tonight looking at an old high school yearbook. I cannot say that I've had the experience of going back to visit now that I know what I received in that time. Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-28831450661778933902008-10-09T16:28:00.000-07:002008-10-09T16:30:04.329-07:0049 weeks, 2 days, 32 minutes.That's how much time, cumulative, I've spent on our schools email/bulletin board system.If virtual time were money, I'd be going to the bank.Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-8310475968494353472008-10-01T22:47:00.000-07:002008-10-01T23:18:11.856-07:00Fewer and further between, fewer and further between, yet life is giving me twice the content, it seems. Just not in the form of paper or post.A moment: He stood there at the pulpit for the second time. Same message, different story. He stood there, an older man, clearly passionate about what he sought, almost desperate. He told us a story of a life he'd changed, just one, and how much it Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-32687512337656333962008-06-03T15:01:00.001-07:002008-06-03T15:15:58.660-07:00A quick notion:Living in the urban community, there is an elusive yet ubiquitous paranoia that follows me, a longing for significance and yet total anonymity, like a hidden genius or a sidewalk coffee shop philosopher who knows himself and knows all, and gladly tells all who actually find him what they need to know, but never writes books or anything public to evade the trappings of fame. A part Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-23547299388930504742008-01-31T13:11:00.000-08:002008-01-31T14:35:04.340-08:00(Karen, this one is for you)As I put on my coat and slung my bag over my shoulder at lunch time today, it suddenly struck me how much I looked like I was about to go to the airport. I liked it.In truth, I was just going to my car to try to eat and escape my cubicle as much as possible in the 60 minutes I had, but the idea that I even looked like I was going somewhere of more consequence--that Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-10904572326720950602007-09-25T20:39:00.000-07:002007-09-25T20:58:06.882-07:00From the Encyclopedia of Experience: Human Being (2) Sitting in traffic today, I mulled over Longfellow’s “My Lost Youth”, thinking “long, long thoughts.” My mind wandered over a great many things; how beauty in images and words draws me deeper into myself, as if there were some dried up spring inside me that had just been refilled, and now I were drinking from it; how that spring must be in Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-44201114896319729552007-09-21T17:39:00.001-07:002007-09-25T20:56:42.099-07:00From the Encyclopedia of Experience: Human Being (1)It strikes me as odd that we do not spend more time seeing people as the expression of a time line of being rather than a moment; the person who cuts me off in traffic or sits opposite me on the bus is a receptacle of childhood senses, smells, sounds, sights, songs, a soul that has been touched by certain people, shunned by others. They've seen Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-53142028184388299952007-05-06T01:35:00.000-07:002007-05-06T01:37:39.365-07:00Launch Tonight’s writing is in retaliation Against chains that slither between my creative limbs, The humdrum mundane plodding that keeps my mind earthbound And unfree, clips words’ wings from feather to fibula, Or melts wing-wax to send me plummeting from the pinnacle of invention, And I fall, fall, fall, Into left-right-left certainty; A cubicle, A keyboard, A phone, And files; Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-91191884654903223262007-05-02T15:03:00.000-07:002007-05-02T15:04:07.558-07:00There is little that haunts me more than death; not because death is ultimately in charge, or because there is a finality in death for the individual who is leaving this life. I know and believe firmly in the resurrection as Jesus taught it.Still, there is a taunting that happens when you hear about a death. The height of the tide of terror that comes with being human rises before you. You're Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-53357739538030271182007-03-05T10:53:00.000-08:002007-03-05T10:57:29.949-08:00Okay, so here's what happened: Sunday in the late afternoon we went to the park where I first asked her out when we were in college. I brought along my box of memories from our relationship--cards, little things we made together, ticket stubs, etc. I had included with those things a DVD of the movie we watched on that first real date, The Wedding Planner. While there, we also looked at pictures Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-76399095367014197892007-01-26T10:58:00.000-08:002007-01-26T11:04:36.541-08:00Recently I’ve found myself longing for a certain sense of place and experience. Sitting in my cubicle at work, my mind draws me past the puce panels and ringing phones out front, to a place somewhere else. Yesterday, as I entered such a state of mental escape, I looked through some of the photographs from National Geographic’s Picture of the Day website, each image acting as a portal for me to Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-16562116803278215092007-01-15T16:26:00.000-08:002007-01-15T16:28:43.134-08:00For the final days of 2006, after all the hullabaloo of Christmas had subsided, I spent most of my time wading through boxes of miscellaneous paraphernalia, packing, or whatever it is you call that lost wandering through your things right before you move to a new place. For those of you who didn’t know, I had to move at the end of the year due to health reasons. Without getting too much into thatJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-35505624065423155252006-12-25T01:25:00.000-08:002006-12-25T01:59:04.381-08:00How far is Bethlehem from here?I sit awake tonight and wonder those kinds of things, things I probably should have already at least thought about or processed at some point, but have not for whatever reason. That is, not until a cough kept me up drinking tea and hunkering down under a blanket like a wise man or shepherd on a cold night near in Palestine. But even my archetypal, and now probably Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1164604010771160362006-11-26T21:04:00.000-08:002006-11-26T21:06:50.783-08:00For your procrastinating pleasureI'm supposed to be writing a paper right now. I thought grad school would be different from undergrad; I thought I'd be serious and focused and driven. Not that I was a complete slacker in my undergraduate years--I did my homework (generally), attended classes (as much as your average student does), and did not only graduate by the skin of my teeth.Never-the-less,Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1159814022776022612006-10-02T11:31:00.000-07:002006-10-02T11:33:42.790-07:00From the Encyclopedia of Experience: PerspectiveIt is an odd thing that I spend many of my days worrying about my belly, my budget, my bank account, when truly I'm not in that difficult of a position. Sure, there are bills I end up having to pay a little later, and there are times when I cannot afford what I would like to have, but that's just it: like to have. Many of us live in a microcosm Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1159257725820390932006-09-26T01:01:00.000-07:002006-09-26T01:02:05.833-07:00Like anyone, I'm sure, there are things that keep me up at night. Sometimes I sit here in this room, the window to the balcony open, my blinds letting the soft metropolitan glow in through the space where one of them fell; long into the night, on nights like this one, I sit here and contemplate pointless things like how small my apartment is compared to the vast geography of the planet, or how Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1152917353932950292006-07-14T14:56:00.000-07:002006-07-14T16:00:30.323-07:00From the Encyclopedia of Experience: PompositySomeone who works here drives a BMW Z4* with the license plate "Z4 PHD", also displaying their educational achievements (I assume--I don't know the person). I've walked passed the car many, many times, but today as I looked at it, I began to wonder why someone would put that on their license plate. Those are great achievements, yes, but still, why Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1147823136684257402006-05-16T16:45:00.000-07:002006-05-16T16:45:36.693-07:00A postcard from dad; something I needed to hear today--perhaps it will encourage you. The image on the front is an elephant standing on its hind legs to reach a branch above, where it is seeking food.Dear Jonathan,We trust you are well. I thought you would enjoy this postcard. Ever thought an elephant could stand in that position? Well, we are capable of accomplishing more than we or other peopleJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1145293445379269962006-04-17T10:01:00.000-07:002006-04-17T10:04:49.830-07:00"If there's one thing that I'm pretty certain of that is paramount above everything else with regards to creating, if you are an artist, or an aspiring artist; open, be open,do whatever it takes to make you open. If you have to change your environment, change it, but just be open; because when you are open, that is when the real stuff comes through. That is when we experience that thing of almostJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1141664975374529062006-03-06T08:11:00.000-08:002006-03-08T08:45:44.456-08:00After watching the Academy Awards tonight, I reflected a little on a theme that came up several times throughout the evening's proceedings.We are creatures who thrive on stories.From the small child who just wants someone, anyone, to tell them a story, whether they've heard it or not, to the elderly person whose life seems to continue its flow by the fuel of sharing his or her own stories; we allJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1140545277078817052006-02-21T09:43:00.000-08:002006-02-21T10:07:57.086-08:00I've spent the last few days limping from place to place due to a basketball injury I got on Sunday. Trying to move to fast for my own good, I guess. The past couple of days I've been putting ice on it, heating it, stretching it, but it all seemed aimless--I would get up to walk around and find that I was still sore and unable to walk without a limp. But it made me think of David's "Cast Off DayJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1139859025135832262006-02-13T11:27:00.000-08:002006-02-13T11:30:25.146-08:00A page in the encyclopedia of experience: ManeuverThe concept of maneuvering had not occurred to me at the time, though when it hits, it’s always an old new lesson. That I was doing my own maneuvering to keep up had in fact been on my mind for a while. And I felt badly about it—about myself, for being myself was something that by nature caused me to have to maneuver; being my friendly self led toJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1139331059086172212006-02-07T08:45:00.000-08:002006-02-07T09:26:25.536-08:00A page in the encyclopedia of experience:SurrealYesterday the sun rose sleepily, as if it was already on its way out; the haze from fires that had been burning in the Anaheim Hills for several hours tinted even the morning's crispness, coloring everything in a soft golden hue. It was an odd feeling; somewhat like having translucent yellow plastic wrap over your eyes. On the news later that Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1136149009645576052006-01-01T12:55:00.000-08:002006-01-01T12:56:49.656-08:00Crisp freshness of a new year’s birthHazy fog clouding everything but vision—Oh to not be a crazy driver this year!* * *On New Year’s Eve camaraderie is at its pinnacle—we’ve made it through something, some unspeakable journey. We watch the ball drop in Times Square, or simply count down with glasses raised in celebration; we make resolutions, just as we have in years past, Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1135890223550189302005-12-29T13:03:00.000-08:002005-12-29T13:03:43.560-08:00A Good LaughSorry I've been scarce on here--I've been under the weather the past week and a half or so--ironic since this is one of the few places in this country that hasn't been covered with snow the last month. Anyway, this video quickly got me to feeling more like myself: http://nbc.com/nbc/Video/?c=Saturday_Night_Live/snl_1432_narniaI hope you can all hold onto those smiles into 2006! If Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1131155885726985312005-11-04T17:57:00.001-08:002005-11-04T17:58:05.730-08:0073,000.That’s how many people have died as a result of a quake a few weeks ago in Pakistan. I can’t wrap my mind around it.As the radio newscast went on tonight to describe the seemingly insurmountable needs of the victims, I thought of exponential weakness, how I don’t give even $5 sometimes even though I could, and how that $5 multiplies every time I don’t do the right thing with it. I thought Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1131155844573883372005-11-04T17:57:00.000-08:002005-11-04T17:57:24.583-08:00The world is so full. People, throngs of people, on every continent, brushing up against each other, breathing earth’s air, carrying things back and forth like ants busily rushing in and out of our anthill domiciles. So many things, myriads of manufactured goods, boxes of grain, greenery, groceries, books, crates of cars, barrels of liquor, drums of oil, floods of water, molecules multiplying to Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1128628046109000522005-10-06T12:46:00.000-07:002005-10-06T12:47:26.116-07:00My dad emailed me today, asking me to find a particular poem for him, which he had once used in a talk he gave. I used the key words that he had given me:Jesus, Carpenter, 200 miles, poemGoogle gave me 91,700 hits.As I continued my search, the whole place around me seemed to shift at the impact of a life lived almost 2000 years ago, according to historians; a life I still believe continues, in Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1128554339641332702005-10-05T16:07:00.000-07:002005-10-05T16:20:14.056-07:00"A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret..." -Dickens, A Tale of Two CitiesI got an email from an old friend today; something I had done right in the past had been brought to Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1123553447370831012005-08-08T19:02:00.000-07:002005-08-08T19:10:47.370-07:00A poem from Saturday morning:Living GodIn you I live and move,and have my breath,butCan I see you in it all?The vast mountainscape,churning ocean,tipping tides, now near,now out of reach;Can I hear you over the rumbleof city-people-life,the growling engines and jibber-jabber cell phone talk,the hissing barristas,pounding car stereo bass...I have strained ears and eyes to touch your face,to see Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1123552914933727242005-08-08T18:57:00.000-07:002005-08-08T19:01:54.940-07:00Went to a blog that I check on and off when I can. Someone I don't even know. But the blog wasn't there. I got a message about a URL not being found and yada yada yada. I just sat there and stared at it. It's funny. I don't even check the blog everyday. Yet, somehow it felt like being cut off from someone I know. I tried several times to access it, but the same message kept popping up. So, you Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1119299832564172222005-06-20T13:33:00.000-07:002005-06-20T13:37:12.570-07:00I've reheated my coffee from this morning 3 times today. It must be radioactive by now. Monday always whacks me on the head in the morning, drags me through muck most of the day, and spits me out like Jonah's whale whenever the day ends. But that's okay. K kept me going with her belief in me (Athos, I know you're wretching right now) and I was held up by reheated coffee and Madeleine Peyroux. As Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1112657314614011332005-04-04T15:08:00.000-07:002005-04-04T16:33:35.580-07:003:08 and only time for a quick rant. Here goes:I'm not entirely sure why it is that certain people simply do not wish to reciprocate a smile with a smile. I mean, the way I see it, we've got one chance at each day, one shot at each individual interaction with a person. I have a chance to make you happy, frustrated, ticked off, sad, depressed; why waste an opportunity? So I try to smile at people Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1112006334436416882005-03-28T02:10:00.000-08:002005-03-28T02:38:54.440-08:00I took some medicine today--a random excursion into downtown L.A.. I found myself smiling as I passed between the tall buildings, some ornate, some plain, some standing there like old pilgrims, dreary looks on their facades while clusters of pedestrians clung to the thin cracked sidewalks at their feet. A pleasant surprise--the Walt Disney Concert Hall stretched her curving form like a metallic Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1109710883652048612005-03-01T12:51:00.000-08:002005-03-01T13:02:43.430-08:00I read an article a little while back about Tuvalu, an island nation that is slowly losing ground to the ocean (literally), disappearing as time passes, or so it seems. It made me wonder how much of my identity is linked to places, temporal geographies from my experience. Nairobi, a monolith in my self perception, has changed since I was last there. Yet even so, it remains, in my memory, home. Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1106953517958101982005-01-28T14:57:00.000-08:002005-03-01T12:51:10.333-08:00A couple who are friends of mine are grieving the loss of their first baby today. Born last night prematurely, the baby did not survive the night. There are a lot of things that go on in my heart when things like that happen around me. I see the pictures of myself and wonder at divine planning, wonder at the fact that I am what I am, and yet I survived and others did not. I won't pretend I Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1106639530179077412005-01-24T23:19:00.000-08:002005-01-24T23:52:10.180-08:00Her voice came over a couple dozen miles of phoneline, drowsy, speech slurred slightly.
"What's the best day you've ever had?" As she drifted off to sleep again, my mind raced over the course of my life. It seemed that the answer should have come more easily; I've had many joys in life since my childhood. Cookies and Sesame Street, walks to "the store" with my big sister, Street Fighter marathonsJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1104218782772132922004-12-27T23:17:00.000-08:002004-12-27T23:26:22.773-08:00Aren't the holidays lovely? All this time to post. Enjoy it while it lasts!
I took some time today to go to the public library down the street, not intending to leave with anything since my bookbag was already full of Harold Bloom; of course I still walked out with two books: Poems from Black Africa and Under African Skies. The latter I have yet to read, but the poems, I've been submerged in Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1104174126000833332004-12-27T10:59:00.000-08:002004-12-27T11:02:06.000-08:00Times like these...my weeping brothers and sisters all around the Indian Ocean, and around the world. Hold on. Just keep holding on.
Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1104042307802732862004-12-25T22:01:00.000-08:002004-12-25T22:25:07.803-08:00Christmas 2004 is now Christmas past. Of course the last Christmas song of the day I heard was "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas". There's something comforting about having a day of the year when most radio stations are playing the same songs, just different styles. KOST (a listen at work station) was playing soft-rock-by-the-fire-with-hot-chocolate versions. The classical station KUSC was Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1103885994266350292004-12-24T02:54:00.000-08:002004-12-24T02:59:54.266-08:00Wow, the last time I posted I was so enchanted with the ideal. Today I couldn't feel more disparate. I had a very unpleasant conversation tonight; one of those detours from all you've believed important to a different world you suspected was there all along, but never expected to meet head on. I hate those.
I found myself contemplating what matters in life--stability? Family? A "good" job? My Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1099299220957442392004-11-01T01:36:00.000-08:002004-11-01T00:53:40.956-08:00I read Basho tonight. As I read through the moments of his life he had printed in haiku I felt a bond between us, and yet a distant sadness as well. His walk through nature was like that of Adam through that first garden, a cascade of delights that could only be spoken of sparingly, in humility and silence. Perhaps that's something the Japanese held on to in their poetic forms and understanding Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1098772682390035712004-10-25T23:21:00.000-07:002004-10-25T23:38:02.390-07:00I know thing's may not be complete yet, but once some stones start rolling, their trajectory is sure:
For Kristin
It was an eventful day for all of us, but for you, my dear sister, for you heaven must have panted in exhausted empathy. Even so, smile, though he may not be there today, smile and remember that you've gained another home, another family, another place and people to call your own Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1095811330344638122004-09-21T16:18:00.000-07:002004-09-21T17:02:10.343-07:00I struggled to stay awake this afternoon, the candy wrappers piled in my trashcan like translucent leaves, covering a couple of Dr. Pepper cans. No, this was not a day of health consciousness, I must confess.
A student came in to see one of my fellow counselors--a straggler. He's still trying to register even though technically it was all over last week. I felt bad for him; his dragons have heldJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1094867229829461992004-09-10T18:37:00.000-07:002004-09-10T18:47:09.830-07:00Finally Registration is over! Sort of. The students come milling through here during that time every year, apocalyptic looks in their eyes like we hold the key to their very lives...
And yet, each year, life rolls on. Some register, some don't. Some walk away with tears, others with stories of answered prayers. And here, in the cubicles of Metzger Middle West, my desk sits under the measurable Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1094153318792345092004-09-02T12:16:00.000-07:002004-09-02T12:28:38.793-07:00It's taken me long enough to resurface, and for that I apologize. Sub-current there have been many things going on.
I'm listening to Carly Simon right now. She died in 1995. I didn't know that. The first time I encountered her music was back in the 90's, I believe; a chance hearing of a tune that baits your mind as you watch the intro titles to "Working Girl". Certain musical artists dance on theJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1087936649193063352004-06-22T13:21:00.000-07:002004-06-22T13:37:29.193-07:00Shock filled me when I heard the news about the beheading of Kim Sun-il, the Korean man in Iraq. I touched my neck with disbelief; that one could so easily cut through flesh and jugular of a man he had never known, a man who was not in the military, who was begging for his life...Mr. Kurtz's words come back to me, "The horror, the horror."
When you hear something like that, you find yourself Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1087457163347906372004-06-17T00:17:00.000-07:002004-06-17T00:26:03.346-07:00Well, I signed the paperwork for a new car (new to me) today. I still have some things to clear up before I can bring it home, but it's virtually mine.
Funny though, the way things work out to bring up more issues you need to take care of. I spent much of the evening after I got home brooding and reading my bible. You go into high tension situations like car purchases and you find yourself Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1086937312484074502004-06-11T00:01:00.000-07:002004-06-11T00:01:52.483-07:00To RayJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1086931629809517412004-06-10T22:14:00.000-07:002004-06-10T22:27:09.810-07:00So I figured out the problem--the reason some of us feel...dissatisfied at work.
Financial Aid is kind of like Needles, CA. You don't really plan on ending up in it. You just do. It just happens to be on the side of the road to where you are going. There are places to eat, to get gas, etc. So you pull off, not really in knowing where you are. And you're okay there, as long as you don't stick Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1080686832687926792004-03-30T14:47:00.000-08:002004-03-30T14:50:43.293-08:00The Thread of Human Contact
Met with a student's parent today.
"So is there anything more we can do?" He asked, his tone already lowered by the battle with hopelessness.
I had heard the tone before. Sometimes I'd see those same students a year later, everything fine and dandy, worked out by the One beyond us. Other times students would fade away like episodes on a tv series long gone, only Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1079325618342927392004-03-14T20:40:00.000-08:002004-03-14T20:43:28.280-08:00Bombarded
I've had to come into work the past couple of weekends. Having to work more than 40 hours drains you creatively. That's part of the reason for the silence.
Living in silence or meaningless noise (white noise?) makes things two dimensional--I hear what happens, I see with my eyes, and yet to truly touch it--reality, I mean. It's like ephemeral jelly. All ambiguity and smoke.
Puff.
Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1076238033641596962004-02-08T03:00:00.000-08:002004-02-08T03:02:56.810-08:00Hanging out at Dennys tonight I overheard the conversation of some guys at the next table. They were talking about that big question mark that hangs over our heads: God.
It seems we know that God is God, but religion presents a problem for us. Who to follow? With the evils of man infused into the religions of the world in one way or another, with the feelings of inadequacy we encounter when Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1075842776160917362004-02-03T13:12:00.000-08:002004-02-03T13:15:13.123-08:00As I was working today, I received a letter from Juneau, Alaska. When I make contact, passively or actively, with places like that, or people who have lived in places like that, it captures my imagination. I was raised with World Book Encyclopedias readily available at all times, though, so rather than simply speculate, I looked the place up on the web. I've always wondered what Juneau is like. IJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1075800585598814842004-02-03T01:29:00.000-08:002004-02-03T13:17:47.560-08:00Well, for reasons I'd rather not think about or explain, I'm up and on the web at 1:30 in the morning. It's been a while since my last post, so I thought I'd drop into your day and say hello.
"Hello."
The story beyond that will have to remain obscure, but me being up at 1:30 can, if you've enough imagination, serve as a beginning, in medias res; a beginning in the middle, if you will.
Tomorrow'sJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1072991816832373792004-01-01T13:16:00.000-08:002004-01-01T13:18:30.186-08:002004. I don’t think the stream of cars ever stopped on the 5 freeway last night. I spent New Year’s Eve sick at home; nothing to dampen my spirits though. Thanks to TV you can always have company, even if your choice of it is limited. Dick Clark and later Conan O’Brian; I often wonder if those people enjoy working on New Year’s Eve. Dick Clark has been hosting his “Rockin’ New Year’s Eve” for theJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1071255838788974792003-12-12T11:03:00.000-08:002003-12-12T11:05:05.873-08:00This week I've had pneumonia. I had wanted a week out of the office, but I hadn't exactly had this in mind. All day Monday and Tuesday morning, I wasn't really sure what it was, so I just hung around the house, which always drives me completely insane. I spend time on the balcony watching cars, or on the internet trying to connect with people "out there". I read the news more than usual, watch Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1069190580113956052003-11-18T13:23:00.000-08:002003-11-18T13:23:34.466-08:00Sitting at lunch, unsettled, the pen took hold of my hand and wrote this on the inside of the top of my take away lunchbox:
It all feels unstable at times;
at times, the best you can do is write
those thoughts, the recurring human experience
of life's ambiguity, the obscure messages
of all the noise in the world
beeping, flowing, chuckling, chattering, thrumming --
You don't get it.
At times,Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-106806805777706692003-11-05T13:34:00.000-08:002003-11-05T13:34:35.170-08:00I ran into an old friend indirectly today. Her sister walked into our office for an interview and I didn't even recognize her. When I found out who it was, a forgotten past crept in through the backdoor to my mind; the memories left it open.
What directed us to the web we now live haunts us sometimes. In this case, there is a black box, like one of those flight log boxes on planes, telling why Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1066257187147637972003-10-15T15:33:00.000-07:002003-10-15T15:33:06.863-07:00Defamiliarization
Two experiences today.
I went to see a friend today in another department on campus. He's finishing his time working here at the school, heading on to other undertakings. When I got there, the farewell reception was pretty much over. The only people there were myself and one other guy I've been acquainted with for a little while. It was funny though. There was this lack of a Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1064528497051245652003-09-25T15:21:00.000-07:002003-09-25T15:21:37.023-07:00I've truly no idea why so empty.
I stayed home today because I wasn't feeling well, a sore throat, a wheezing lung. The funny thing is, though, I'm not sure I fully believe myself, even with all the empirical evidence. There's something underneath the fabric of life that tests everything we say, everything we do against itself--Truth, I think is what we call it, though I'm not entirely sure thatJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1060720515311613232003-08-12T13:35:00.000-07:002003-08-12T13:35:15.340-07:00Perhaps in my trek over years and land to the me I am now, I forgot those past atrocities, the darker portion of my self, a shadow history I'd rather not mention to anyone; not even to myself.
I read a story called, "The Decapitated Chicken" during my lunch hour today. The story is not a lighthearted tale. Whatever else the story was, though, is somewhat irrelevant for now; sometimes in our Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1058920680532288712003-07-22T17:38:00.000-07:002003-07-22T17:38:00.510-07:00I sat in the dingy cubicle retrogressing every minute, it seemed, as file after file flew by, not a single one of them satiated, not a single one complete, but, for the moment, each one kept at bay, like hounds, like terrible Baskervillian hounds crying out for my blood, my sweat, and even a few of my tears.
Actually, working in a financial aid office is not that bad. From time to time, things Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-1057168365002277082003-07-02T10:52:00.000-07:002003-07-02T10:55:18.903-07:00On with the thread of human contact.
I talked to a lady today about the federal loan application process we use at the school. Students have to go online, read, answer questions, etc. It's funny. The process is supposed to make things easier, but some people call and complain about how it's actually more difficult.
And you've always got the people who seem to be calling just to vent. Like this Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-959688792003-06-23T20:55:00.000-07:002003-06-23T20:55:36.873-07:00It's been a while since I last blogged; my birthday's come and gone, I am now 25 years young.
Yet even in my prime, even now with only promise before me, I find a lurking sense of reckoning. I've been that way since childhood, I think, a yearning for futures which will one day be past, a kind of solemn echo as if my ancestor's and descendent's thoughts carried through Time's all but linear Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-952516192003-06-03T13:10:00.000-07:002003-06-03T13:10:56.000-07:00Where I've been today
Rolling out of the deep recesses of subconscious halls paved with neurons and synaptic
gaps
I stood in the bathroom at Carl's Jr thinking of autoloansandfinancialaidandinadequacy. Someone took the trouble to transcribe their depravity to the tiled would-be-whiteness, something I would never do, yet something the darker corners of man's mind always identifies with. My office Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-942856742003-05-13T13:30:00.000-07:002003-05-13T13:30:17.490-07:00Obviously my mind has been on the things back home of late. Not really anything in particular; just the general situation.
In side scrolling video games, i.e. Mario Brothers or Sonic the Hedgehog,(hang in there with me even if you're not a gamer -- there is a point to this that has little to do with digital escapism) most levels have at least one place at which a jump seems impossible. You look Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-940218632003-05-08T17:29:00.000-07:002003-05-08T17:43:19.000-07:00The Mind of an African Expatriate
Yesterday I was talking to a couple of friends of mine and was surprised to realize that I actually have philosophical and political opinions about the state of third world countries, particularly my own, Uganda and Kenya. The conversation, of course, was an exercise in nibbling at the ideological buffet; I felt so far removed from things, and the ensuing silenceJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-936326392003-05-01T20:20:00.000-07:002003-05-01T20:20:38.950-07:00Forgiveness
It's such a paradigm shift. In this world of reality tv and check out aisles, this spinning sphere of moving trucks and personal space, it's easy to misunderstand what true forgiveness is.
I was talking to a friend of mine about it and it saddened me because so much of "letting things go" has become based on bargains, i.e. I will do this, if you do this. If one person doesn't hold Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-931223282003-04-23T10:07:00.000-07:002003-04-23T10:07:46.473-07:00Yesterday evening I found out that someone close to me passed away. It was dark news and immobilized me for a few minutes. She actually passed away several months ago, yet I had not heard about it until it was mentioned in a general newsletter from my parents.
The Word of the Day for Apr 23 is:
ineluctable \ih-nih-LUK-tuh-bul\ adjective
: not to be avoided, changed, or resisted : inevitableJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-930670202003-04-22T13:30:00.000-07:002003-04-22T13:30:41.080-07:00 The Word of the Day for Apr 15 is:
defenestration \dee-feh-nuh-STRAY-shun\ noun
: a throwing of a person or thing out of a window
As I look at the pile of files on my desk and the phone rings and a head peeps into my cubicle, my savagery roils but the dark exterior remains ever placid. Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-930019222003-04-21T13:34:00.000-07:002003-04-21T13:34:09.373-07:00So I had lunch with a friend today. It was a far cry from the morning -- my confusion at first light and the surreal sound of Fluor Fountain bubbling up suds and froth while I walked by with my indecisive breakfast of Cinnamon Roll flavored oatmeal (it tastes better than it sounds) and Fritos corn chips.
But lunch -- midday. The conversation ranged over the experience of being a second Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-928681102003-04-18T19:20:00.000-07:002003-04-18T19:20:24.733-07:00Good Friday.
Well, my visa came through a couple of weeks ago, for those of you holding on for the suspense. I'm finally back at work...that is, during the regular week.
This week takes eventful pause as my course shifts for a moment to retrospect.
Today, almost 2000 years ago, God died on a rough hewn cross, clothed in little, covered in much, but never submerged in his 100% humanity; oddly Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-913121612003-03-24T16:38:00.000-08:002003-03-24T16:38:35.000-08:00Well, today was one of those days. I saw a documentary on National Geographic about an elephant that has been "fostered" by a man who takes care of a herd of cape buffalo. The elephant has somewhat imprinted this man and this herd of buffalo as its kin, protecting the man when he is attacked and "leading" the herd, so to speak.
Anyway, elephants have a need for physical contact so they often useJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-910242812003-03-19T16:29:00.000-08:002003-03-19T16:29:03.483-08:00Let me take you where I've been today:
Stepped out of the hazy sleep blanket into the sunshine between blinds, my mind a vortex sucking in reality, sickly under unreality, a wretched feeling in my stomach, and euphoria in my brain. For a while.
After tax returns and breakfast found my way wending down residential streets to the looming invisible globe, bubblelike in texture, full of air, full of Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-908324682003-03-16T19:08:00.000-08:002003-03-16T19:14:45.000-08:00A couple of things:
Moo
Today I was listening to Third Day and thinking about how Psalm 50:10 says God owns "the cattle on a thousand hills."
Then I had a strangely juxtaposed thought: the Masaai of East Africa traditionally believe(d) they were given all cattle in the world by the creator. A laughable thought right? Well, they are Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-900285892003-03-02T19:22:00.000-08:002003-03-02T19:22:51.293-08:00It's been a while since I last wrote.
Human pain is what this weekend was about too, so I don't know that now is the best time, but it's been a while, so I will take up my pen (or keyboard) and write.
I was talking with my girlfriend on Friday night about how I think of History as a metaphor for something larger that is going on; she was telling me about the coming of the Spaniards to latin Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-886213382003-02-05T17:31:00.000-08:002003-02-12T13:53:18.000-08:00I got one of those random promo-trash emails in my inbox at work today with the subject: Name a star for someone special. I thought that was kind of pretentious, and of course proceeded to delete the email before even reading. It's kind of ironic to me that we who feel so disconnected from even our neighbours find such comfort in identifying ourselves with the stars, mysterioius fiery spheres Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-884969242003-02-03T15:12:00.000-08:002003-02-03T15:13:41.000-08:00It's amazing how a turn on life's road can completely change your perspective. I listened to a friend of mine talking about a car she wants to buy -- it's pretty much her thing right now. She's even thinking of changing jobs for it. I don't blame her, in a sense. Life is pretty much take it as it comes sometimes, so you do what you can to get what you want, and if all things do not match up, you Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-883687152003-01-31T23:27:00.000-08:002003-01-31T23:33:56.000-08:00I started reading Possession by A.S. Byatt this week. I'm really enjoying it; she has a delicious prose style, not the kind my brother might call "cheesecake" but rather a lighter less rich style, beautiful enough when examined in form, but not so much so that one is overwhelmed:
In early days she had had lots of quiet opinions, he remembered, which she had offered him, shyly slyly, couched as Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-881177052003-01-27T13:46:00.000-08:002003-01-29T10:51:51.000-08:00Today I received a note from an old friend in the mail. I was a little startled; we were really good friends a few years ago, but things happened, as they tend to, and we hardly see each other anymore but once every few months or so per a chance meeting in the mall or a crossing of paths in the street. Funny how things play with you like that.
Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony, andJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-870511952003-01-07T00:32:00.000-08:002003-01-07T00:36:08.000-08:00This was interesting:
The Word of the Day for Jan 06 is:
epiphany \ih-PIH-fuh-nee\ (noun)
1 capitalized : January 6 observed as a church festival in commemoration of the coming of the Magi to Jesus at Bethlehem
*2 : a sudden striking understanding of something
-From www.m-w.com
At times the past blows over me like the Santa Ana winds which now batter southern California buildings,Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-867812582003-01-01T01:25:00.000-08:002003-01-01T01:26:16.000-08:00medias res New Year's Eve, 2002.
I paused outside on the balcony for a moment to reflect -- in the back of my mind the bubbles were already beckoning the newness, yet there was still something hanging on. I did all I could to close the case. The last year was buried, yet there were still tendrils dragging in my wake, like spiderwebs, unseen, yet felt and feared.
Even so, the new year comes on Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-866355912002-12-28T13:31:00.000-08:002002-12-28T13:31:20.653-08:00Almost a month. So much happens in a day, though, let alone a month. My brother got sick on the 23rd and ended up having surgery on the 24th, then eventually coming home for recovery on the 25th. It all sounds different when you use numbers instead of the names of the days. "Christmas Eve," "Christmas Day".
The ER was actually busier than I thought it would be a couple of days before Christmas, Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-855661752002-12-05T16:57:00.000-08:002002-12-05T16:57:18.683-08:00Friend Athos sent me a comic and it managed, as do many things on the internet, to drag me from my work for a few moments -- long enough for me to write this blog entry. The internet is such a phenomenon, radical, yet recognizable; we have tv, on which you can channel surf for hours on end meaninglessly; we have the paper, where you can read all kinds of articles which may or may not pertain to Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-854728752002-12-04T00:39:00.000-08:002002-12-05T15:01:29.000-08:00Well, went to Oregon for Thanksgiving and visited with my old roommate and his family. It was a friend of mine and I driving up there from So Cal. (So Cal sounds so commercial, like one of those generic supermarket brands. Ick)
Oregon is a different place. In Oregon the fog hangs onto the trees like spiderwebs over a dark corner in a house, or an old man's wispy beard, unperturbed by sunshine or Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-841985072002-11-07T16:39:00.000-08:002002-11-07T17:01:03.000-08:00The imminence of rain has hung over the skies of Los Angeles for the past couple of weeks. Today at about 1, the clouds darkened, threatening deluge, so eagerly we looked to the smog swathed grayness above, hoping, waiting. Outside the library, I felt a few drops, but it was a poor showing. Rain cleanses me, I feel, and sometimes when I drive through it, I feel cheated and dirty, like those days Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-840897572002-11-05T17:23:00.000-08:002002-11-05T17:23:37.626-08:00It's Monday again. I just realized that quite a few of my blogs fall on Mondays. Maybe it's that point in time when everything is just out of wack enough that I can see all the colors, like some cold prism that refracts life into a array of philosophical undertones.
Or it could just be coincidence.
Either way, Monday always comes too soon, and I found myself in the same bed in a new apartment Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-833760182002-10-22T16:45:00.000-07:002002-10-22T16:45:17.023-07:00Despite my oh so lofty meditations, life does occassionally take a turn for the ordinary; in fact, office life is anything but extraordinary most days of the week.
Saturday this last week I went to a concert with my girlfriend. It's amazing how much of a step outside concerts can be. I had heard a song or two by the band before, but my guesses as to what the group looked like were completely off.Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-820192462002-09-23T17:33:00.000-07:002002-09-23T17:35:47.000-07:00The sunlight streaming through my window hardly made me alacritous to go to work this morning. Since I crawled from my bed the haze over my mind has not lifted, transporting me places against my will throughout the day -- work, home, Nairobi, Washington.
One of the higher-ups in our office is leaving. Wow. Today when she announced it, we all just sat there and stared, like babies being weaned, Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-817072392002-09-16T21:10:00.000-07:002002-09-16T21:22:16.000-07:00I spent most of the day alone today, in and out of social consciousness, so to speak. One of those isolation days, like a renegade electron refusing to be drawn to the center
Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot bear the falconer, Things fall apart, the center cannot, mere anarchy is losed upon the world.
Random bits of poetry show up in my mind on days like this, like myJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-810757942002-09-02T21:54:00.000-07:002002-09-02T21:54:54.540-07:00Labor Day. I spent the day sitting around. My girlfriend came over in the afternoon, so we went to the mall and sat around there, reading and watching people with all of their funny little antics. We noticed a Muslim woman selling Mrs. Fields cookies and I thought about how historically significant that is. She was dressed in a flowing dress with a black shawl covering her head like an astronaut Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-807632242002-08-26T22:08:00.000-07:002002-08-26T22:08:23.256-07:00On my way to eat lunch on the library balcony today, I picked up "Animals and their Moral Standing," by Stephen Clark. The cover had a black and white picture of a forlorn looking beagle puppy sitting on a pillar, like some unheard soul, or a neglected street child. Photographers can write essays with a single shot.
I didn't even make it through one chapter, but it got me thinking about change, Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-806815712002-08-24T23:50:00.000-07:002002-08-26T23:55:36.000-07:00I feel like a fish.
Gills inflated with the density of "real" life and the abhorrence of that which many call breath of life,
my fins guiding me toward something entirely different, something subterranean and unearthy--I am not in my element, here.
My brother says everyone writes memoirs these days. I think it kind of disgusts him in hard copy form, but electronic is completely different. Not Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-806435842002-08-23T21:33:00.000-07:002002-08-23T21:33:53.623-07:00It's 9:27 PM on Friday night and I'm actually ticked off that I can't be at work right now.
Now that's messed up.
The campus is overrun by Freshmen and their parents, the banes of my existence, at least for about a week. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just jumped in the car and drove until I didn't have any gas left, then walked as far as I could go before dropping.
And back at my Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3720888.post-805657732002-08-22T05:46:00.000-07:002002-08-22T05:53:25.000-07:00Another day. You know, it all existed before this was up, but somehow reality fades when unpublished, tomorrow, today, yesterday, last week, last year. Sometimes it feels like you're writing a book and tearing out pages as you go.
It's 5:42AM and work is looming before me, shaking its tentacled head and winking a malevolent eye -- come on, you've got to dramatize. That's the only thing that's Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17874902582485276827noreply@blogger.com0