eating some day-and-a-half old udon and katsuo soup with leeks. it smells slightly fermented, as if something pleasantly pungent has been happily culturing in it for a short period of time, and i believe this only serves to enhance the flavor. mai and i made it two days ago, along with some tofu soup, which we ate with some korean appetizer foods from hanareum in k-town.
man found a suitable apartment for our dwelling needs in berkeley, only a short walk from aparna's abode. this is most fortunate. it would have been extremely difficult for me to find a place by myself, given my distance from the location and my recent inability to concentrate on nearly anything. i will be arranging my flight shortly, and then i'll be off to the west coast to begin a new life.
is this exciting? i would say this is beyond something as base and simple as excitement. it's very much like floating down a widening river that is quickly picking up speed, and making out just ahead the violent aquatic turbulence of the head of a massive waterfall.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
chuchki saved
when i got home today i couldn't find chuchki. it was 11.30 at night and usually she comes romping to the door when i enter. but even five minutes after i filled chloe's bowl, which also gets chuchki's attention, i turned on the light to find only the ghostly chloe crouching silent above her food dish. as usual, she stared at me with an uncertain significance, which came across this time as urgent concern, accurately reflecting my inner thoughts. perhaps that is what chloe's stare does: it simply throws back what i am revolving around in my mind.
it was then i heard the yowl. it seemed to come from the closet containing the trap door leading to the basement through which clothes are dropped down to the laundry machines. i opened the closet door and found only the familiar trap door and bottles of preserved food, packages of pancake mix, the hanging light switch. i then opened the basement door: entryway to a darkness so impenetrable it takes on a life of its own, a lingering smell of musk and old linoleum, the descending staircase down into the graveyard for all the house's unneededs, the tight spaces that lead to my grandpa's old laboratory, still decorated with cloudy beakers, piles and piles of screws and nails, unmarked glass bottles filled with mysterious liquids, hanging light bulbs activated only by screwing them in by hand.
as soon as i opened the door, the instant the musk hit me, my cat's bright orange silhouette struck my eyes against the darkness. she was cowered, unsure of the light from the kitchen that stung her eyes, staring at my feet in disbelief. i scooped her up and cradled her, and she loosened up considerably, refraining from pulling her escape moves or enacting an annoyed struggle. i carried her upstairs and fed her some seafood-flavored pellets, which she gobbled at briefly before wandering out of my room mysteriously to stare into the void galyna left in the next room after leaving this evening. she returned in intervals to finish her meal, and once done hopped up onto my desk to receive some affection and stare out into the black night from my window overlooking the backyard. she made a few rounds around my computer before settling down, lowering her head familiarly when she reached mine, whereupon i gave her the familiar toothless bite and kiss between her ears. sitting with her face practically pressing upon the window screen, her tail twitched as i played amnesiac by radiohead, complemented by the scratchy chirps from the insects outside.
it was then i heard the yowl. it seemed to come from the closet containing the trap door leading to the basement through which clothes are dropped down to the laundry machines. i opened the closet door and found only the familiar trap door and bottles of preserved food, packages of pancake mix, the hanging light switch. i then opened the basement door: entryway to a darkness so impenetrable it takes on a life of its own, a lingering smell of musk and old linoleum, the descending staircase down into the graveyard for all the house's unneededs, the tight spaces that lead to my grandpa's old laboratory, still decorated with cloudy beakers, piles and piles of screws and nails, unmarked glass bottles filled with mysterious liquids, hanging light bulbs activated only by screwing them in by hand.
as soon as i opened the door, the instant the musk hit me, my cat's bright orange silhouette struck my eyes against the darkness. she was cowered, unsure of the light from the kitchen that stung her eyes, staring at my feet in disbelief. i scooped her up and cradled her, and she loosened up considerably, refraining from pulling her escape moves or enacting an annoyed struggle. i carried her upstairs and fed her some seafood-flavored pellets, which she gobbled at briefly before wandering out of my room mysteriously to stare into the void galyna left in the next room after leaving this evening. she returned in intervals to finish her meal, and once done hopped up onto my desk to receive some affection and stare out into the black night from my window overlooking the backyard. she made a few rounds around my computer before settling down, lowering her head familiarly when she reached mine, whereupon i gave her the familiar toothless bite and kiss between her ears. sitting with her face practically pressing upon the window screen, her tail twitched as i played amnesiac by radiohead, complemented by the scratchy chirps from the insects outside.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
feelin' fine
o mood of moods.
the miracle of the natural high. or it could be the strong tea i've been drinking all day. or it could be the nine hours of work i put in at my volunteer job. all worthwhile, all relevant, all well-spent. we finally mailed away our second grant application -- that makes two in two days! the deadline day for a grant is ironically, or actually quite unsurprisingly, the busiest. or it could be the mug of coffee and chocolate chip cookie i just bought at think coffee. possibly the best drip coffee i've had in the city.
the atmosphere heavy with academic weight, the lights dim, the air nearly palpable, the collective self-consciousness almost pungent.
the faces lit eerily with monitor glow gazing up longingly, hoping to catch each other's gazes, the quiet desperation, the nervous attention to everything but the screen.
the wine bottles stacked on wood behind the bar, the barista in tee-shirt, baseball cap, and thick-framed glasses slamming the portafilter into place, hitting the "single cup" button with his thumb, the swish of steam and burning black beans, the harmonica-driven americana blasting from the wall speakers saturating everything with warmth.
how can anyone ever be bored for any extended length of time?
the miracle of the natural high. or it could be the strong tea i've been drinking all day. or it could be the nine hours of work i put in at my volunteer job. all worthwhile, all relevant, all well-spent. we finally mailed away our second grant application -- that makes two in two days! the deadline day for a grant is ironically, or actually quite unsurprisingly, the busiest. or it could be the mug of coffee and chocolate chip cookie i just bought at think coffee. possibly the best drip coffee i've had in the city.
the atmosphere heavy with academic weight, the lights dim, the air nearly palpable, the collective self-consciousness almost pungent.
the faces lit eerily with monitor glow gazing up longingly, hoping to catch each other's gazes, the quiet desperation, the nervous attention to everything but the screen.
the wine bottles stacked on wood behind the bar, the barista in tee-shirt, baseball cap, and thick-framed glasses slamming the portafilter into place, hitting the "single cup" button with his thumb, the swish of steam and burning black beans, the harmonica-driven americana blasting from the wall speakers saturating everything with warmth.
how can anyone ever be bored for any extended length of time?
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