October 7, 2002




Just got back from a work out! There is nothing more refreshing then a shower after a work out and sitting down to a fresh page and typing the words out. It’s a new beginning. I had a taste of fresh squeezed apple juice. My sister brought it home from work. To me, apple is October. I want to make more orange juice. A few days ago, I pick a dozen ripe Asian pears. I like to peel it with a knife and toss the peel in the dirt then eat the fruit in the evening sunshine. The air is fresh and clean like the fruit. There is still a bit of sunshine left. While I wanted to sit out in the garden to write, I did not. Instead I read.
I read a few essays about Asian Americans. A few of the essays talked about the death of their parents or stories of their parents.
Fall brings on the mood to study. I don’t like studying as much as all of the accoutrements that go with it, the folders, pencils, and notebooks.
I took the bus and talked to a German tourist. She was going to Powell’s bookstore. I asked her about the Flood. It’s better now. She was looking at a map. She is a slim blonde woman. Spoke English very well.

I stopped in at the AIA Gallery. I saw my piece. This is the third or fourth time they have hanged my work between the spaces of the steel I beam. It’s an interesting place. Each time it seems to fit. I am always interested in where they will hang my work.


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