Nyotaimori

i don’t have time right now to scan any more of these pictures. hell, i don’t even have time for this one. but i couldn’t resist. oh jason, oh oh jason.

thank you for giving me this photographic opportunity.

last night i went to work at the center for pacific studies gala honoring banquet/fund-raising auction menagerie. it was at the mark hopkins intercontinental hotel at 999 california. top of a hill, panoramic city views, little pastries passed around after the speeches. theoretically i was there as a volunteer to help out. mostly i stood around eyeing the crowd and the hotel vacation stays up for bid. they were covering tahoe to cabo san lucas. plus there was a lot of wine up for auction, art, passes to SF events and museums and theme parks, and a signed photo of jackie chan. ha! in the middle of the gala, while drooping from the boring thank you speeches of the honorees, myself and 2 other volunteers from my program elected to ride the elevator up the the bar/lounge on top. called ‘top of the mark’ this place is very classy elegant with it’s windows on all 4 sides, little tables, dim lighting, cocktails, and live piano music reminiscent of riding the esalator in the walnut creek nordstroms (supper club take note, we should round out a meeting there someday).

recently i had a sushi party at my apartment for nuala who was visiting. during this party, i made tempura. which was tasty. even jason’s cookie which we fried, and the wasabi ball. and mostly the sushi balls. the one bad thing about the event was the hot oil burns i suffered on my right arm. painful and then funnily colored, i was intrigued by these pain filled pustules. however, about an hour ago the biggest one of them split open in two places and is now this open screaming wound that gapes like a slightly soggy mouth. it kind of glistens under the light. i’m not sure what to do now. but typing hurts due to the skin stretching as my fingers reach for keys.

gene will probably yell “aloe” at me again.

recently i spoke with some friends from high school who i haven’t talked to in a long, long time. well, one of them i’ve talked to. and even seen, (not within the last year). and sporadically exchanged emails with. but the other one i haven’t seen or spoken to since the summer after my freshman year of college.

i’m both delighted and made vaguely nervous by this reconnecting business. how much have i changed in 6 years? i think possibly quite a bit. maybe. certainly i talk somewhat differently. as has been pointed out to me on the phone.

it’s just, i don’t know, a little strange. but exciting. even if now i never actually get to see them it’s the kind of excitement that has a whole town talking about that time last year when farmer jebediah’s pig got drunk on homemade gin and tore thru the football field during homecoming. it’s the kind of fascinating event which brightens up the normal humdrum rush of ordinary life which i have come to expect. kind of like bill finding us on the internet. like that. something out of the ordinary which will give me ample opportunity to embellish in my imagination/day dream ruminations for weeks, or months, to come.

just last night, for example, i dreamt that james and i went to this place called “jail pot” and there were a lot of drug addicts there. also…they had rooms you could rent. sex cubbies you could say. i woke up in a state of horror when we walked in the door of said cubby. but i enjoyed the psychoanalyst interpretation.

even more i enoyed making goo goo eyes at a 15 year old tonight at dinner. he was at a table near mine with his parents and friend and friend’s parents. he completely ignored my existance thru the 2 hours we were both there. but when he ordered the chocolate cake and took the first bite. i pretty much feel in love with the melting expression of pure orgasmic feeling that crossed his face. he seriously sucked on that spoon. watching him pull it out of his mouth so slowly like a qualified tease, eyes half closed–i wanted to moan right along with him.

fucking 15 year olds. i mean that in both senses of the world. sick. seriously. sick. …you know what?–why do i always have to fake guilty feelings over this? i don’t feel that bad for being attracted to 15 year olds. i’m not actually having sex with them. and probably wouldn’t if i had the chance. so i shouldn’t feel bad about it anyway.

(note: title of this post taken from a line in a song from this really terrible indian movie that i recently watched. i stared at the subtitles in consternation the first time they sang it. then i rewound to make sure i was not imagining things.)

long-hai and jimmy/james. the two i am talking about at the beginning of this post. this is from the summer of 98. being the last time i saw james.

not only did i open the package, i then scanned one of the contents of the package.

<img src="http://eloise.cementhorizon.com/albums/Fjords_Musical_Filming_2003/fjords_setting0001.thumb.jpg".

The flamingo states his happiness with his lot

Another bird proclaimed, �You must agree

No bird could ever be as happy as me.

All day long I feast on shrimp,

Till I am round and fat as a blimp.

From my indulgence I turn such a glorious pink,

That all others in beauty below me must sink.

Why should I give up a life of satiating pleasure?

The goal of the Way seems foolish beyond measure�

To be inferior to the Simorgh�s station

Is no replacement for eating crustaceans.�

The hoopoe�s answer

The hoopoe scorned, �To speak merely of eating

Is only so much trivial bleating.

If you can not see the everlasting benefits that before you lay

Perhaps you do not deserve to join us on the Way.

A mind focused on the feast

Is on a level with a savage beast.

To join the Simorgh at his holy throne

Will mean you never again have to eat alone.

His love will fill you more,

Than shrimp ever did before.

Listen to my pithy fables and repent

The waste of your life you have heretofore spent.