packing

Jul. 8th, 2014 09:36 pm
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In addition to the ush' (4 or 5 t-shirts, ditto on undies, spare tzistzis, passport etc), I am folding into my backpack:
-pocketknife
-"gentleman's" mirrored compass (both from my Daddy-o)
-Tarot pack
-siddur, tehillim & tefillin
-comp for diss writin'
-Ethics& folder o' essays for ditto
-Seferides poems
-salt-worn brass clips
-green bandana, spare kippah(s)
-dop kit consisting of karpouzi sunstick, toothbrush, t etc
-whale sweatshirt
-anchor hat
-special kosh wine Hunter gave me for my bday, wrapped in my hooded beach towel
-travel wallet w/Rebbe card and tzedakah from my hevrusa (so "[I] can be shliach mitzvah")
-borrowed travel guitar
&c















Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

eight stack

Sep. 2nd, 2010 06:47 pm
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After an awesome French reading class today I was struck with frittering anxiety gathering speed so I walked in the hot heat, got a smoothie 10ยข short from a truck on University and set to combing the stacks outside the Strand. Sometimes, like today, the dollar racks are a blessing from the city/universe/Gods. I scored:

-A three-inch wide book called The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling with illustration plates, a gift for Taylor.

-Escoffier's Ma Cuisine, in English malheureusement.

-The Kybalion, a little blue hardback book of soi-disant Hermetic philosophy

-Woman Who Glows in the Dark, about curanderismo

-The Quantum Gods, a real black occult paperback from Weiser

-Paul Auster's City of Glass, which the guy inside congratulated me on

-A dark little gastronomical novel called The Debt to Pleasure with a cut-out on the jacket framing a picture of a peach

-And oh, maybe the best for last, Kazantzakis' The Saviors of God: Spiritual Exercises

drip drip

Jul. 7th, 2010 07:10 pm
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It's not summer til the fat lady downstairs starts yelling about the lights going out.

ramblin'

May. 31st, 2010 10:16 pm
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Tomorrow Bea and I start our drive down to Ida, and as much as I hate unpacking there is a certain organizational joy in packing itself. ) This is probably more than I'll take when I go to Greece (!!), but somehow I feel like I'll need more sartorial options down south than I will in the old country. I love organizing and making things fit and I cannot wait for this adventure!
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I am reading the Likutei Amarim (I have no idea what that translates to in English, anybody?) online; after having a second person point me towards it I figured it was time to finally get cracking. I slow-roasted a chicken today with the last of last year's preserved lemons and garlic and the whole house smells amazing. Tomorrow is my first day of school, and T. is leaving for 4 days to take his senior kids to the Poconos (yes, PEEC, incidentally, for those of you who have any idea what I'm talking about) so I will come home and rattle around the house avoiding roommates, soaking in the experience.

I'm standing at this precipice-- it's been so long since September was significant like this! I started a fresh batch of preserved lemons yesterday, a late-August small spell of intention, and made e a list of kavanot in my notebook to keep me centered for the time to come. This morning in Morningside with Critter I could feel the earth rejoicing in itself, the full full fullness of the green + sunlight before the detumescence.

high tide

Aug. 2nd, 2009 05:39 pm
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It must've rained lots during the night and then it started pouring this morning because the bottom of my road near River Road was flooded, the creek all brown and roaring high on the left and up the banks on the other shoulderless side water rushing down from the rocks. The river is huge and chocolate brown, all the way up past the bench on the Frenchtown side. Colin and his friend Diana and I took an oregon trail tour around Tinicum and Bridgeton, up Headquarters across the flooded dirt plain of Sheephole Road, making every precarious bridge crossing we could think of. Eventually we went up to Ringing Rocks all cool and herbaceous with rain, the mud rising up against our feet, and walked down over puddle-rocks to the waterfall which'd grown huge with rain and pounding endless patterns of shale-red water swirls down. We climbed up onto the rocks above where it gathered force, down below where it crashed in a fine spray, ferns and bugs and spongy mud. On the walk back up I found a little yod-shaped stone.
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A massive summer storm just rolled in, the sky got dark all at once and then the lightning started, the thunder and rain. I felt it outside before it started, the air all charged up and the wind starting to move.
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1) Late August back home in PA makes me understand the dying god, burgeoning sun within the Earth, the grass getting dry where maple and oak leaves can't outstretch their shade. Everything is lush, the clouds thick and bramble buzzing with bees, butterflies, a red-tailed hawk keeeeing off over the hills somewhere. Everything is rolling, tumbling, sticky with sex.

So, a poem I wrote back in summer of 2002. )


2) I smell like dry woodsy vetiver and skin-salt, oceanic dry grass and geranium. I love it.

3) Rory's sister got married (my first gay wedding-- I felt so much less cynical than I'd expected!) and seeing Rory was great. We took a eucalpytus-y sauna together and talked late about Gods and spirits, woke up and had coffee and weird pillsbury orange rolls before the caterers arrived for brunch, went swimming. She smokes Marlboro Smooths now and claims they taste like Thin Mints. I got a bunch of her old t-shirts that don't fit her now and I especially love the pale yellow one with big painty flowers and the Barbara Kruger "you construct intricate rituals..." one which is hard-won (I only got it cos it's so small.)
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I miss the land at home, the sweet dry grass smell as the earth bakes, the cornfields rushing by the river and the way magic catches in the bushes bordering our field.
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Rob took his tongs to the grill and remarked about as sentimentally as I'd ever expect, "I'm losing Oli, man. I'm so disappointed." Flip the ribs. It feels good to be missed.

Things take practice.

A big scab from a kitchen burn fell off my arm (okay, I helped it) and is sitting atop the book I'm reading. I'm so gross.

My spine likes cracking.

Summer is cresting. It only breaks for good once I'm back in school, and then once everything starts to smell like leaves it's fall.

Things take practice, like learning to breathe and release, breathe and take and let go. All the nodes and knots and clenching places, I need to learn to release.

The theme, evidently, is movement.

eye

Jul. 22nd, 2006 12:23 pm
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It stormed; the sky is big and gray and the wind's calmed down to a slow hip-shift of ominous softness. I wanna go to the beach and walk in the sand while it's still all spotted and gross with rain, look at the sea choppy and stone colored. Storms down here, like sunsets, are the best.
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1. So much to free-associate about my new job but I'm so exhausted. Suffice it to say that:
a)it's basically as easy as pie
b)the chef takes shortcuts I (and Val, for that matter) would never take
but I guess that's okay cos the food's decent and it fits the point of the restaurant I suppose, which is simple and filling and accessible and production-based
c)I'm not emotionally or intellectually stimulated by anyone there,
which is to be expected I guess but in the past I've been lucky enough to not have that be the case
d)there's a chance that some of them might think I'm straight. and, you know, that none of them know I'm a guy. dommage. and yet, strangely funny
e)I miss Val so, soo much. I started to compose a letter to him in my head whilst working but because I'm sleep-deprived it's pretty much gone. I kind of need to come out to him I think

2. "A dozen yellow roses/ is all that's left/ in Minneapolis..."

3. G-ddamn sometimes I feel so fucking full of happiness, poised on the brink of some blessing that just keeps bursting off inside my skin. It's nice.

4. Oh, the trans studies reader that I forgot I pre-ordered 7 years ago somehow got forwarded down here, yay. It got a little rained on but it'll be okay. I've been thinking about it all day, burning a whole in my pocket. It's upstairs sitting on top of my covers now. I keep thinking about it in that way that you (I) do when you have a new sex toy waiting in a cardboard postal box that you want to unwrap.

5. If I go to sleep soon in theory I could sleep for 12 hours and still have a little bit of a day before ambling into work at 4. mmmph!

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