At Peter's Diner last night, I ordered Swedish pancakes. When we got the bill, it said "sweetish cakes." Then Kar got out her tin flute thing and started playing "Amazing Grace" and other tunes.

I'm reading alot again. This makes me happy. This past week was indeed hectic, but I saw people I wanted to see and did things that I wanted to do. Now I want to be a litte hermit and not leave my house.

I made a decision to do more system work at work a few weeks ago, and this has affected how I do other sorts of work. I don't think it's going over very well. No matter how I try to do UNIX sys admin work, it seems that others want me to do other work.

When I know someone is dying I treat them differently then I would otherwise. I try to remember the things that I say to them, that they say to me. When I know that a moment is passing and that later I will miss that time, time itself slows down and stretches out.

Half my life ago, I saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show for the first time. I went with Nancy and some other people, including a couple who were either in their mid-thirties, or early forties. They took us to the grocery store to buy bread and other items to throw around in the theater during the show. The ritual was amazing. Running around the store locating the list of things, I had a thought that I did not ever wish to be going to see the Rocky Horror Picture show with a bunch of teenagers when I am twice their age. It is good to know what you do not wish to be.

I've got a busy week ahead. Lots of appointments different places. Kitty sitting Theo, and seeing my own cats. And Rachael's in town for the week too. Just thinking about it all is making me tired.

I cleaned out my desk. This took 4 hours and about 15 folders, and a milk crate to do. Now I have a whole system for stuff that goes on my desk.

While Kathy's on vacation, I'm watching her cat and her apartment. This is both nice and frustrating. I hate where she lives; it's impossible to park, and there are way too many people for my taste. However, her cat is nice, if needy, and she has a DVD player. Her apartment, however, is much less fun when she's not in it.

The girl who lives here went with Esther to put one of Esther's dogs down. The excursion did not sound pleasant at all.

Mo had an Ass Show party tonight. Yummy food and conversation and games. Fun. Much fun. A great end to a fabulous week off.

Meditation class today focused on writing meditation. Four concepts were brought up. The first I know of as "free writing." The second was to write down a pressing problem and put it away. (Later to be tied to the "God box" concept.) Third was a form of information gathering through writing. A bit of self evaluation. The idea is to keep an ongoing journal in which you write down important decisions you make, what actions you take, and what the results are. This is done over time. You would write down a decision you make at the time you make it. Then you comment on the outcome every few months. Over the years you look for patterns. The last was timed writing on a topic.

I finally got to a Raymond class. He did the 2 pm stretch class. This used to be a progressive class with him teaching all week. Now it's not, and I miss it.

I've made a prayer arrow, and herbal wreath, two necklaces, and two pairs of earrings. I haven't gone to a single lecture or movie all week. I've finished four books, and I'm starting on the fifth tonight. I haven't obsessed about work, my friends, other guests here, or dying. I need to think, and I'm not thinking. This makes meditation class a little easier. I am sleeping and relaxing and watching the herbs on my desk dry.

The hyacinth is in bloom, blue and lavender over several of the trelises. It comes with bulbous bumble bees. The ice plants are in bloom too, fuscia and violet, and they have regular bees. The bees ignore the people. Many are dead on the pathways. They crunch under my sandles.

I learned to walk at the Walking Clinic. Heal strike, roll through the ball of the foot, push off with the toes. Aim for between the first and second toe to ensure that you are not walking too much on the outer foot or the inner foot. I've spent my whole life walking incorrectly. You'd think that somewhere along the way someone might have noticed. I guess no one was looking, else few people know what to look for. Knees facing straight ahead. The feet are important, yet often ignored. Walking on them correctly has made them hurt.

Is it the Little Dipper that is next to Orion?

I don't want to write or talk much. Time to read. I just bumped the clock forward, but I'll try to get up for the little hike anyway.

Mmmmm. Off to Mexico. Back later.

I bought a Marilyn Hacker book on Saturday when I was in the Haight taking care of Kathy. The book wasn't cut properly, and the tops of the pages were stuck together. It's difficult to find Marilyn Hacker books, so I bought the book anyway. I just finished cutting apart the pages. Now I will read the poems.

Nutella's weblog keeps moving around. It's driving me batty. First I think his silence is due to his trip to Urp. Then I thing that it's been a long time... and why isn't he posting? Then I ask Nick, who tells me about the bug in the *vogato stuff, and points me to Nutella's *other* weblog. So, I link to the new web log, and boom, Nutella stops posting again. Of course, it takes me a week or so to ask Nick what happened to Nutella again. Then Nick tells me that he fixed the code, and Nutella merged all his weblog entries into the old account. Gar! I'm forever behind on the Nutella log!

Winter, 1992

There was this moment when I was in Risa's first apartment, and I was walking around looking at stuff, and I realized that I could live on my own. We were young, 16 or 17. She was one of the first people I knew to have her own place. She was sharing it with another student, Erica, I think. It was two stories, half of a house. Risa's room was big, a bigger room than I had ever had, and the floors were wood, bare, and she had just a matress on the floor. Everything in her room was on the floor, and there were some black and white photographs on the wall. It was after dusk, and a lamp was lighting her room. And I felt like I was looking at into a possibility. The room, or rather, the apartment had a certain feeling to it. It was a lack of connection: lack of connection to a school, or a family, parents, past. The place felt like the day and the day beyond it.

I seemed to live many days around that time in houses that Risa had inhabited. I spent time in her mother's house, onto which her father had built a strange modern addition while the two were still married. Then there was Risa's father's girlfriend's apartment, which was half of a duplex. Her father lived in the other half. I went to Anne's apartment for my cello lessons, and on occasion Risa took me to her father's side of the duplex while he wasn't home. It once struck me as odd that this family should have four residences in the same town. And then it did not.

I was thinking about Risa while I was at the Bitch and Animal show the other night. I'm not sure why. I was remembering the last time I saw her: about 3 years ago, on a bus in Soma. She was trying to get to Rainbow Grocery, and I told her where it was, and what stop to get off at. She was living in a co-op in the city, but about to go back to the east coast for six months of school. Somehow her half a year on each coast life made sense to me when she described it. Then her stop came, and she was gone. I was remembering her eyes. She had these eyes that could really see things, not just objects and light, but people. When she looked at you, she really saw you, a desirable trait in a photographer. She taught me how to develope film while she lived in that first flat of hers. Somehow I became a photographer, and Risa became a woman.