The Aces

There were about 10 other high schools on the Main Line. That's 10 different pools to visit each season. Each pool was distinct and had its own decorations - Conestoga hung up all the competing schools' flags, Ridley had a below 0 pool with wide ledges, and our pool had no diving blocks. The pools never changed, and from year to year, I'd arrive at each pool, counting on it to never change. And somehow the teams never changed either. Kids would graduate and others would replace them on the team. But really, each high school would stay at its same spot in rankings.

We practiced really hard. Just as hard as the other teams. But we sucked - and our school stayed at the bottom each year. It was strange. I didn't understand or realise why then. But I see now that you can work really hard and even convince yourself that you're great - but you lose.

Toward the end of my senior year, our pool got new diving blocks. Suddenly, our pool had changed.

the love grenades

i cut off two stems of buds from the rose bush in the garden. i put then in two bottles, one in my bedroom, the other on the kitchen window sill. i had a dream last night that the one in my bedroom began to bloom into a deep pink rose. it was like the beginning of life for me.

in the morning, as i was making oat bran in the kitchen i saw that the rose on the kitchen window had not bloomed. instead, it had retreated and its leaves were turning purple. the stem was now tortuous because it didn't know where to find sunlight.

the buds have been in our house for about a week. i don't think they're going to bloom at all. but they're not wilting away either. they're kinda in the middle of the two - where you don't know if they're going to live or die.

enjoy your time in india K

dear i and m

write about your lives, please.

love,

kristen

slowly saying goodbye

finest man alive or finest man alive?

he's so fine the only flaw on his body is that stain on his blazer

a Saturday-

morning fantasy of __
three forms of chocolate scanned by c. who has penetrating eyes
riding!
his house
m. and other people I should know
granola
spice jars
CAF
locked gates
swamped lady
pierced nipples etc
riding!
baking powder
an island spell understanding
an unhappy cat lady

Castaneda was a fraud and also a bodhisattva

This morning at 6:30a when I was picked up for work at Hollister and Modoc I decided to stop by Java Station on the bike ride home. because I decided this so early in the day it was in my mind the whole time and made the day never end. it was very hot under the new dark tarp and during my mandatory breaks I sprawled in the folding chair and daydream-slept.

I had thought the day would be lovely because I had not been around certain lovely coworkers for a week, but mostly because the first song on Morning Becomes Eclectic was "Dear Prudence". but then the radio degraded into dizzying and yet, paradoxically, extremely dull yammering about presidential politics and WAMU collapsing. and that was the end of magic.

Finally it was time to leave and after Friday rush hour traffic we made it back and my bike was not stolen. I walked it to Java Station and got an iced coffee from the attractive, competent, professional barista. I collapsed into a mustard velvet chair. I stirred my drink and felt amazing for a moment as I reopened A Separate Reality (Carlos Castaneda, 1971).



I read and sipped slowly. It reminded me of some things I already know, and as I biked home I smiled at the growing pulsing trees with the not-so-secret knowledge that everything exists instantly and no longer.

Oh Canada!

in captivity

i spotted a large snail in my compost bucket today. i looked at him and he looked at me. it was strange to see him there. he probs thought that he had really landed somewhere. but it is really just a hot bucket.

case in point - i dislike living in los angeles. there is no way to get around on my bicycle. i think that i will make a trip to santa barbara this weekend. i have lived a full 2 weeks sans the co-op.