| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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Food that looks beautiful but tastes terrible. |
Have fun! |
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Hong Kong is very overwhelming. It's the tall part of NYC times 20, maybe more. With windows full of air conditioning units and clothes hanging and crazy wires and shit. |
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got an email from my mother this morning. she's in victoria b.c. she said nothing about the food. |
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insane and crazy. we rarely have conversations that lack detailed descriptions of her most recent sexual encounters. like, seriously detailed. i had planned a trip to China last year. then i met my Chinese girlfriend. we just booked 4 nights in Montreal. as with our last trip, i paid for hotel and plane, she'll pay for the food. food looks asspensive in Montreal but not so much as nyc. my mother and i came here in 1986 when i auditioned for Juilliard. 2 cappuccini and 2 brownies at Rockefeller Center: forty fucking dollars. we laughed about that for years. now i know we coulda just gone to Queens and probably got the same thing (sans gratuitous view of a skating rink) for $3.75. |
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to pick up a bottle of cheap wine at walgreens. yesterday, as i was coming back, i passed a homeless guy bathing himself in a garden on the side of a dentists office. there was a hose still attached to an outside faucet. he was clothed - t- shirt and shorts - but completely wet and grinning. it must have been wonderful for him; even late in the day, the temperatures are still hovering around 100. this evening i ran across him in the public park a couple of blocks up from the dentist's office. this time he was standing next to a public drinking fountain doing his ablutions. his back was to me. he was washing his ass. he was wearing loose-fitting shorts and had his hand stuck down the back rubbing away at his scrawny cheeks. i don't know if it was with his bare hand or some rag he'd picked up somewhere. i didn't feel right about sitting there and staring. i'll bet heather could see something like this in hong kong if she went to some of the "non- touristy" spots. and, of course, in nyc. chicago. thailand. canada. ass-washing is universal. |
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sounds homey. a city is where you live by the laws of the concrete jungle. besides...in the woods, who will watch your ass? |
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the ass-washing guy from a previous post. it's been relatively cool, lately - in the low 90s - and i thought it would be nice to go out there and finish the book i was reading. the main character is in lust with the femme fatale. she convinces him to kill her husband. he stages an accident, but the victim turns out to be his own best friend. i hear what seems to be singing. i look to my right and see what looks like a woman walking up the street from the west. she's far enough off, and my eyesight isn't good, so it still looks like a woman. blond hair in a mullet; the voice sounds like a woman's. but the closer she gets, i find it's just just her talking to herself...in wailed bursts. she sits down on a low wall in the park and is quiet. at this point in the book, the main character is standing over the body of his friend, who is not quite dead yet. but his body is mangled and one eye is hanging out of its socket by a tendon. then i hear a voice to my left. "this whole park was once a water garden, this whole thing," he says again when i look over at him. he is making a sweeping motion with his right arm to indicate the park. he's in his mid-fifties to about sixty, as far as i can tell. he's wearing a baseball cap and his long, salt and pepper hair goes down to his shoulders. he's wearing a faded t-shirt, shorts, and has a purse-like bag slung over one shoulder. "actually," i said, "this park has been here since 1905. the water park is over in the southeast part of town." "no," he said, "there was a water park here. i know because this is my park. there was water every where." i realized this guy had his own reality. who am i to contradict it. he pointed to the east, "see that construction?" i nodded, though i didn't know what the hell he was pointing at. "that's mine. i built that." i nodded and looked duly impressed. this seemed to satisfy him and he walked off. stopping just once to look back at me and say, "i have spoken." |
about a nurse in los angeles who was a jewish refugee from austria during ww2. i hear a scraping sound. from my peripheral vision is sea a field of blue and green. i look up and it's a man - a black guy, just to set the scene. he's wearing a flowing robe of blue with a green sash or whatever hanging over his left shoulder. his hair is cut to the scalp on the sides, but what's left on the top is dyed blue. he's four feet away from me. i look up at him and say, "hello." he says hello back and walks off. i watch him walk off across the street to the courthouse. he walks alongside it and you think at some point he's going to bless the place. |
I am feeling tired even thought I wasn't doing anything. It was naproxy (medicine) making me so sleepy when not doing anything. Yesterday at the gas station, A lady from my high school day ran into me and asked me if knew her. I was dazed and confused until I recognized her face. Tomorrow, I starts my class at the community college. hopefully, this will occupy me from being boredom and keeps me from getting depressed. |
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what happened with the audition at Julliard? |
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The lack of an answer only sends my crazed imagination into over drive. Scenes of foreign intrigue flash through my mind. |
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