It used to be
I found comfort in silence.
Or the sound of rain.
This was replaced by day dreams.
And then suddenly your heart beat beneath my ear.
Returning to silence,
Is startlingly disquieting.
KB: “It’s not obsession”
Moi: “Right”
KB: “No really it’s not”
Moi:”So doing all that extra reconnaissance is normal?”
KB: “Yes.”
Moi:”Godbless Google”
KB: “Indeed.”
Cheyenne’s here. I suspect I’ll see Tantek & Amber soon. Vera & Amy are also expected.
And where the hell are you on this lovely chill evening?
I’d like very much to believe that my current state of mind is just a response to high barometric readings.
I’m feeling in between.
Not in between anything specific per se, just in between.
I’ve felt this way before. In quiet and meditative anticipation of dramatic change. It’s coming. Some sort of storm in my life.
And when it happens, I will make decisions, move swiftly, and not look back. I don’t know what choice I’ll make then. I don’t even know what my choices are just yet. And the questions which I will have to answer? Don’t have those either.
My pyschological breath is heavy. Weighed down in anticipation of these things.
In the interim, I’m just in between.
Mom’s there cutting up fruit, stirring a pot of something tasty or knitting.
She’s wearing galoshes. In the kitchen. Yellow ones. They are the ones that’d she never wear during her lifetime.
She would tell me stories of carefully folding & cutting newspaper to line her shoes or jackets while growing up, quite poor, in Korea. Wearing dark colors was good because wearing the Monday news on your shoulders would leave stains.
Mom is happy when busy, preparing for something. Welcoming folks in to feel cared for. Beloved. She’s perpetually feeding those she loves.
Otherwise knitting booties. Funny looking little anklet socks from thick yarn left over from various other projects so they were always a bit too haphazard for fashion, and occasionally pinched the toes a bit but toasty. And you knew that they were one of a kind.
Why the galoshes and the booties?
Because one must *never* *ever* catch a sneeze from cold, wet feet. And toeing around the clouds is what folks in heaven do.
Life is too short not to do something whimsical and with utter joy.
Making pretty little magnets or doing hooping.
Stealing kisses on the cheek.
Stretching your arms wide, and like I when I was a wee little Min Jung, exclaim to someone that you endear tenderly…
“My arms are kind of short…but I (stretching fingers and arms wide) !!LOVE!! YOU!! !!THIS!! !!MUCH!!”
It’s a good thing.
Yup.
That’s me.
I like hooping weekly. My goal is a new trick per week. We’ll see if I can keep it up. (And over my head and around my neck, and rolling around my shoulders and elbow) =D
If you don’t have a hoop and want one, order one through Ms Lovely Vera. Or if you’re industrious and want to make your own, visit Jason. and his handy guide.
You *may* see me at Code this Thursday hooping it with Vera & Amy.
I am delightfully reminded of the rhapsodic little joys that make life good.
* Mini roadtrips blasting violin trance (Bond)
* Hugs from wonderful friends
* Sharing in the joys of housewarming with laughter, hugs & stories
* And hula hooping
I was also delighfully reminded in conversation with Aaron on how wonderful it is to be accepted and loved for one’s flaws and fabulousity. That delight in acceptance, that transparency in being utterly present and wrapped within the moment with the other, that joy that comes from effortless intimacy. It’s what makes us human and makes us holy and wonderful. I love it.
To Aaron & Keith
May your home always be blessed with love and laughter,
Today, tomorrow, ever after.
Plus, in the bathroom you can look at your ass at 6 different angles. And boy does it look good. Snapping popping sparkly kisses from here to you.
Celesta
I think you not cruel.
You do your duty and such is the way of things.
But why should it be
when I see your shadow on the footboard
That I recognize now
how dear everyone else is to me.
And how I wish you’d visit another day.
There is challenge these days with accepting change. Particularly that which is unexpected. Or worse, with great trepidation well known.
I consider how time runs in ribbons before me in my life and how i choose only to identify the threads in the mere inch before my nose. Shouldn’t I look farther? But what if I saw something that I didn’t want to see?
Would I live differently?
Perhaps and perhaps not. Living each day with whimsy and integrity, a heart wide open and eyes that take in everything and lips that fear not to express the most ridiculous and juvenile, though whisperedly honest truth, is perhaps not a bad way to make use of this inch of ribbon.
A message from “Mr. Penis”
Image of a funny looking thin erect penis against pale & hairy thighs.
Mr. Penis wrote:
> hey jung, u like the amercian boys, i got alot
> to offer;p
My response:
Mr Idiot.
I *am* an American.
And if you’re referring to white boys. While not abhorred with the concept of dating white boys, I don’t date dicks. Especially not you.
This is directed at YOU. And also some of these are directed at ME.
General list of qualities I hate.
* Faithlessness
* Weak Character
* Thoughtlessness
* Infidelity
* Broken Promises
* Flakiness
* Selfishness
* Emotional Bandwidth Vampires
* Immaturity
* Folks who never learn from their own mistakes
* Inconsideracy
* Conceit
* Neediness
* Braggadocio
* Folks who put their temporary situational wants over other’s long term needs and considerations
* Non-listeners
* Users
* Liars
To which, instead of a four letter word vomitorium of expression,
I sit back and say…
Bless you.
So I’m on this *diet* see.
And so far it’s working. I’ve dropped about 7 lbs since I started.
I’m reaching for my hottie “just out of college” fighting weight.
3 more lbs and the boys better watch out.
My belly button will demand kisses.
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