April 2007 Archives

always late, always early

subway stations placed on hills look incredibly attractive now, and those in valleys lost all their luster. (if there is such a thing as luster to a new york subway station.) my left leg should have gotten much more workout than the left one, though actually it is the right leg that had to perform that one legged workout they never show on television. the weather turned into something of a soft pillow onto which all of us just fell on, backwards, our arms stretched out, giving in, completely. was it a waste of time to sleep for twelve hours last night? the week ahead is going to be one of the harsher ones. so all rest is necessary. good. important. will sleep with the windows open. fixing of the new mode of transportation and spring cleaning, act 7, will need to wait until probably wednesday. by then I really also hope to hear more from the legal team. twitterrific. boy, it is getting late.

but only if they are not flooded.

so here i am at the other side of the building, facing the windows, the outside glowing in interesting ways now, and the reflections of the tree outside of the office appear as gigantic glowing towers suspended over the hudson. the clock by the window still indicates that it is the 21st century. It feels very contemporary. I will dim the lights now and go home, I think. Maybe I will take a longer walk. But only if the streets are not flooded.

apples to apples.

the dried apples, the organic apples, the apple juice. "sehr gut" from frankfurt actually. it is pouring outside. buckets of water are being thrown against all windows of the house. i am on the inside, imagining how i will leave the house. today? tomorrow? the offices were shuffled around. tomorrow i will have the chance to see the sunrise at home. the sunset at the office. somehow. celery. good amounts of it. even the little yellowish trees that taste like a freshly painted toy car. how do i know? it probably comes from the same corner that reminds me that mercury feels like something very cold and heavy and actually heavier than the lead toy soldiers i would chew on now and then. not sure i did. not sure about plenty of things actually. optimistic still. dried apple. the "very good" apple juice from frankfurt, organic apple. one more left. i will have it now. (rust to rust)

survival of the most cropped.

so it looks like the large mother plant survived my yearly clone harvesting ritual. tiny yellowish pairs of soon to be leaves are sprouting from the freshly induced wounds. for several days i was rather worried. now things do look much much better. will the clones survive? i have three planted from this round. several are very alive from last year's cropping. one has to reduce sometimes in order to grow in interesting ways. it is not easy to remember this. it is tempting to assume that there is a road to happiness paved with happiness. hmm... the road of least resistance leads to a dead end... that might be true for jade plants as much as for any living thing, as much as... i really do not know what i am talking about, do i?

hope it all means something good.

there is a streak of light on my keyboard and fun music is streaming out of the speakers of my little silver computer. just ate some fage [fa-e] yoghurt and i will now take a look at some more content of boxes here behind me. this might be a good kind of day right here right now. sleepy in a good way. "how does it feel?" the music asks... it feels allright. i think. now i can only hope that my jade plants are going to survive the recent planting. and that all the other things that are currently about to happen will work out in an okay way. fingers and toes crossed.

pop. (as in piles of paper)

a bottleneck of a thought at the end of the day. robots invading the airwaves, as a second coming of a track. a black bear is looking at water. a plastic card painted gold blinks at me. there are six of my faces right here, looking at me. easter cards, printed in poland, sold in the us, ready to be sent back to poland. the robots are really getting a groove now. the windows across third street show very wealthy neighbors frolicking in front of their devices of pride: working fire places, entertaining screens, openings towards world wide webs. many. a had a flashback of something that never existed. (that's a quote.) i might be going to los angeles on thursday. for two days. i planted a few more clones of my jade tree. i just stuck them into soil. played with the soil. moved it around between my fingertips. healthy dirty dirt. the 12 year old wine is not half bad. only half empty. now at least. i taste the soil. the ball is in my court. what is happening with the moon? it looks like it is going to need to get back to orbit. heavy shiny moon. a bottleneck of a thought at the end of the day. piles of paper. pop.

recycle and dye

bag number three is almost full now. i can't believe how much paper makes it through my hands. i recycle very much, but still. i bet the paper is recycled by machines that burn a gallon of refined oil per kilogram of paper recycled. and recycled to what? starbucks cup holder trays? not sure if a magazine can become a tree again. or at least a weed? a mushroom maybe. will need to cancel some embarrassing subscriptions, remove myself from some dumb mailing lists. glad there is such a thing as wind powered computer that can be used to write, publish, play. there is probably more deadly heavy metal in the laptop in front of me than is needed to fill three bags of recyclables with magazines and invitation cards and strange letters from auction house managers. i also have enough drawing paper to survive a decade of shortage on the international pulp market. i wonder how much mercury i swallowed when i was a kid and played with the broken thermometer. they were such sweet little bubbly silver balls. heavy liquid mirror toy. bag number three is almost full. for this weekend it is.

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