January 30, 2003




I’m going to Poland in a week. I don’t know what to expect.

I read a bit of Czslaw Milosz’s ‘Begining with My Streets’ just to get a flavor. I think that I will bring ‘Brothers of Karamazov’, and Huck Finn. I took Thomas Mann’s “Magic Mountain” to the carribean. I got that book from a Eugene, Smith Family Bookstore. The stick said it was from a Boston bookstore. Then my brother took it to New York. That book has travelled more than I have.


A Box of Ku

January 19, 2003



Masao Yamamoto

a box of ku

lexly says:
ku is something old warm and fuzzy
lexly says:
ku is something not perfect but flawed, and aged beautifully, like an old wrinkled face.
Aprilz – This day is tomorrow, this day is today. This day lasts forever, let it please go away… says:
how can they be in a box
lexly says:
hehe…they can…squeeze it in.
lexly says:
please don’t bruise the ku
lexly says:
actually come to think of it…the ku could benefit from being bruised…it adds to the aesthetic

Broken Rice

January 8, 2003




It’s so suny here.

broken rice shredded pork

what a lovely lunch

also meals of thin yellow crepes

wrap with shrimp, bean sprouts, etc.

early hours for me

January 4, 2003


early hours for me

It’s the new years and I’ve thought of abandoning this page for another. Three people know about this journal. I can’t write anonymously anymore. But I can’t bring myself to leave it. i found a diaryland journal that i admire greatly. she spares no secrets and writes honestly. i hide mostly. it’s hard to bring that sort of abandon to myself’s secrets. but i’ll try. maybe it is just this early hour that brings me a state of grace and peace, a lonliness that i’m allowed to feel and not fear, a quietness that brings clarity and my words could tap into something deeper. it’s like the stories of rick bass, humans sinking into another zone, into an abandon mine or a lake that has been dried out under a thick layer of ice. It is the early hour trance. so many times i come to the keyboard on the surface. nothing sinks deeper then the layer of protections, that layer of ice, affraid of drowning affraid of knowing it all too well the geography that we are not meant to find. this trance breaks…it’s start in fits. it rarely happens that i sink into myself…sometimes i sink for someone else although i should not. it is after several weeks that a story seeps into me and i rediscover new meaning, like a path that i’ve walked before.

there is a sense that i ought to pull the corners of a large enveloping blanket together…my friends…my different worlds of painting, living, and feeling.

last night dan made crab cakes. it’s good to see him away from his laptop, in front of the big screen. he is highly intelligent and skilled in the kitchen. but the choice for his entertainment is light and humorous. everytime they come home, it’s like a part of a childhood is rebuild again with different lives added. i remember writing about my family all the time, tracking their every movement on the page during those idle summer hours when i had no place to go.

it is strange to see a live unfold from october to september. this stranger that i have known through the pages in reverse. and again the writings that i admire i emulate the mood. the good writings infect my own words. she uses this word ‘unfolding’. to me this is a joseph cornell word for his feelings. i know this word.

for a moment i deluded myself into beliveing that a fresh new year meant that the lost of money and love can be a clean slate. yet the knowledge of loss still sink back into me…that is the past.

i remember i used to make my brothers write. Andy does, but dan rarely. when he does his writings are so precious to me. i can see something that is hiden and rare. his words are thoughtful and few but bring with it much emotions for me because i know him but i rarely see this side of him. it makes me mad that he doesn’t write more. he writes out of necessity. he writes for college applications and school competitions. i write too much and with out aims… i write selfishly and without shame. i write what i feel and can write for someone else.

ol’ an syne

January 1, 2003


ol’ an syne

In chronological order
‘The Sheltering Sky’ Nov 25 finished Thankgiving at Blatner Place’
‘Keep the River to Your Right’ (or is that left) June 2001 read at in Lake Balaton, Hungary
‘Sun Also Rises’ Sept. 11 2001
‘A Year in Provence’ Nov. 2002
‘Book of Illusion’ Dec. 2002
In chronological order

Crab Cake

January 1, 2003


Crab Cake

We had baby back ribs yesterday and Crab cake today. Dan fry the crab cake. Tina made it the previous evening. For lunch, we had beef stew. We sat around and Alex host a game show about food. I am constantly eating and thinking about food which strangely relaxes me and made me think about the book ‘A Year in Provence’. I think that sometimes I read about tragic stories and a light, funy book is a nice change of pace and that I should read more of this.




We had Scallope soup in a hot pot fondue. The scallopes are huge and thick, the size of a half dollar. I’ve been holding a book ‘Possession’ by A.S. Byatt. I read it a little just testing the pages with my toes before I really dip into it. This feeling of departing is arriving…the aftermath of the holiday post funk. My brothers are leaving soon and it’s a little sad…but it will be okay. And I am about to leave too.