She is Risen
She is Risen
All the things I did: talked to Kay R. (instead of writing), went to a birthday party (did not shine), survived a terrorist attack (it was in NY & Washington, I was here in Seattle) & even survived another 2 weeks at work.
And here I am. It's finally cloudy, outside – it's been cloudy in here. I owe my, um, posterity a description of some of the Probationers—including the one who looked like Fred circa 1973 or 4. Gave me a moment's paws. Why not? After all, Kim L., former neighbor showed up. Beyond that, there are such a lot of people in the world I don't know, & don't want to.
Bones hurt, eyes blur & face creases – now I try to re-enter my story about Julia. With the happenings reflecting backward – maybe I should make Ju (in Dave's story) killed by a terrorist bomb? I'm going on – in the field – from the work "Dak."
Things happen. I think of John Brunner's prophetic sci-fi books. Stand on Zanzibar now. Terrorist attacks – they've raised the bar. How many more? How many more until we become like Israel, I mean with checkpoints everywhere. Instructions never to leave bags unattended. Etc. Well, who was stupid not to forbid knives on planes? Well, perhaps it will be necessary to deport all Arab Muslims? Or all who don't have a good reason for being here? No, on the whole, I think the Muslim religion, the more conservative versions anyway, is uncongruent with a permissive & open society. But I don't like conservative Xtians either.
You don't get militant Buddhists, do you? I think the world needs one religion or 2: Bahai and/or Buddhism and/or Agnosticism. The monotheisms have just made trouble. All the way back.
I need to make a shopping list. It will begin with Shoes.
BM Starbucks 9/16/01
Crease-Necks
Big fat bald guy with a deep crease across the back off his neck has a big (but not fat) girlfriend wearing black shiny-skirted outfit that looks like an evening gown. Just a camisole-leotard top & long skirt. Not quite blatantly Goth – she has one of those little, tiny trunk purses.
I walked up Broadway today marveling anew at the ugly styles rampant. Proliferative. Sort of reminds me of Haight Street in the old days. It was pretty ugly at all times, now that I think of it. But that's life, hm? Not like the movies—except when it is. A bad action flick. Exploding skyscrapers & the populace fleeing. Almost 5,000 people missing presumed exploded and/or incinerated, crushed, flung into air, to fall 90 or more stories. Pick one
Not raining today but gray & cold. The season turned. Almost dark now at 6 p.m. I'm off work & trying to adjust to slow time, to being alone. Trying to dive back into Julia's imagined life in 'Nesia, an island in the past. I might as well work – if only.
I don't feel inclined to re-enter my secular mind space. We need, we need some operants: Terrorist for Love. Fanatics have more staying power.
BM Starbucks 9/?/01
Pleasure(s) of the Day
Dimming light under the (usual) overcast at 6:15 making the bright illumination of the Starbs (Broadway) all the more. And blues: Bonnie Raitt, Robt. Johnson, people I don’t even know: Chicken-Butt McPotter. Gee, I wish I could make noise like that, with just my voice & my fingers & a guitar.
Happy — I wrote 2 lines. I re-wrote 2 lines & I walked over to the U. District & bought new running shoes for only $20 – Brooks. Big N Ugly, but not 2 Big or 2 Ugly. Then I bought some supplies. New notebook, pen, portfolio, label sheets. (I need a job so I can steal labels – a box cost $34!).
So then I came back, printed my pages & drank my coffee—and, alas, bought smokes, though I have been saying (to no one in partic.) that I really ought to quit.
Now I am heavy-laden in the manner of shopping-women all over the world.
I 'd like to have some words for friendly souls but I have a bit of barrier. Don't know why. I feel like saying all sorts of things, in the middle of the day. By the time I'm anywhere, it's gone. Could do letters. Now I'm thinking that this catastrophe is going to be a tragedy for me personally. The mood is wrong for my lucu lucu lucubrations.
Got some gloaming out there; I'm gonna walk home in it, & lay my burdens down – if I can bear to leave that 12-string playing.
Broadway Starbs 9/18/01
All the things I did: talked to Kay R. (instead of writing), went to a birthday party (did not shine), survived a terrorist attack (it was in NY & Washington, I was here in Seattle) & even survived another 2 weeks at work.
And here I am. It's finally cloudy, outside – it's been cloudy in here. I owe my, um, posterity a description of some of the Probationers—including the one who looked like Fred circa 1973 or 4. Gave me a moment's paws. Why not? After all, Kim L., former neighbor showed up. Beyond that, there are such a lot of people in the world I don't know, & don't want to.
Bones hurt, eyes blur & face creases – now I try to re-enter my story about Julia. With the happenings reflecting backward – maybe I should make Ju (in Dave's story) killed by a terrorist bomb? I'm going on – in the field – from the work "Dak."
Things happen. I think of John Brunner's prophetic sci-fi books. Stand on Zanzibar now. Terrorist attacks – they've raised the bar. How many more? How many more until we become like Israel, I mean with checkpoints everywhere. Instructions never to leave bags unattended. Etc. Well, who was stupid not to forbid knives on planes? Well, perhaps it will be necessary to deport all Arab Muslims? Or all who don't have a good reason for being here? No, on the whole, I think the Muslim religion, the more conservative versions anyway, is uncongruent with a permissive & open society. But I don't like conservative Xtians either.
You don't get militant Buddhists, do you? I think the world needs one religion or 2: Bahai and/or Buddhism and/or Agnosticism. The monotheisms have just made trouble. All the way back.
I need to make a shopping list. It will begin with Shoes.
BM Starbucks 9/16/01
Crease-Necks
Big fat bald guy with a deep crease across the back off his neck has a big (but not fat) girlfriend wearing black shiny-skirted outfit that looks like an evening gown. Just a camisole-leotard top & long skirt. Not quite blatantly Goth – she has one of those little, tiny trunk purses.
I walked up Broadway today marveling anew at the ugly styles rampant. Proliferative. Sort of reminds me of Haight Street in the old days. It was pretty ugly at all times, now that I think of it. But that's life, hm? Not like the movies—except when it is. A bad action flick. Exploding skyscrapers & the populace fleeing. Almost 5,000 people missing presumed exploded and/or incinerated, crushed, flung into air, to fall 90 or more stories. Pick one
Not raining today but gray & cold. The season turned. Almost dark now at 6 p.m. I'm off work & trying to adjust to slow time, to being alone. Trying to dive back into Julia's imagined life in 'Nesia, an island in the past. I might as well work – if only.
I don't feel inclined to re-enter my secular mind space. We need, we need some operants: Terrorist for Love. Fanatics have more staying power.
BM Starbucks 9/?/01
Pleasure(s) of the Day
Dimming light under the (usual) overcast at 6:15 making the bright illumination of the Starbs (Broadway) all the more. And blues: Bonnie Raitt, Robt. Johnson, people I don’t even know: Chicken-Butt McPotter. Gee, I wish I could make noise like that, with just my voice & my fingers & a guitar.
Happy — I wrote 2 lines. I re-wrote 2 lines & I walked over to the U. District & bought new running shoes for only $20 – Brooks. Big N Ugly, but not 2 Big or 2 Ugly. Then I bought some supplies. New notebook, pen, portfolio, label sheets. (I need a job so I can steal labels – a box cost $34!).
So then I came back, printed my pages & drank my coffee—and, alas, bought smokes, though I have been saying (to no one in partic.) that I really ought to quit.
Now I am heavy-laden in the manner of shopping-women all over the world.
I 'd like to have some words for friendly souls but I have a bit of barrier. Don't know why. I feel like saying all sorts of things, in the middle of the day. By the time I'm anywhere, it's gone. Could do letters. Now I'm thinking that this catastrophe is going to be a tragedy for me personally. The mood is wrong for my lucu lucu lucubrations.
Got some gloaming out there; I'm gonna walk home in it, & lay my burdens down – if I can bear to leave that 12-string playing.
Broadway Starbs 9/18/01
posted by K. E. Ellingson at 4:06 PM
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