15 XI 2002 - 19:07 - brevis63

this appears to be the 300th entry, but it's not, because i have one back somewhere that is really just a page of links. so this one actually is going to be brevis as its title implies. i talked today about pakistan and felt bad because i was essentially doing what i often complain about but never mind. i like explaining what little i know of china; it's just that much of what i have to say has to be taken with a grain of salt.

my life is one of thin disguises -- for anyone who speaks arabic (as i do not), [iskender] is a mere transparency, even if a diverting one...

at [jianadaren]'s insistence i waited outside the astronomy room today but luckily for my will it seemed there was an absence today. also today was an assembly with a classical improvisation pianist. many teachers and my entire advising group were pointing at me and trying to get the guy's attention so he'd take my suggestion for a theme to work with. thanks, guys. it didn't work because my advising group always gets the really, really bad seats that are in out-of-the-way, impossible-to-see corners of the auditorium. but it's the thought that counts, right?

tomorrow is going to be an exhausting day. i have far too much rehearsal for my own good... let's hope i don't have to cut onions for my morning shift, please. that would not make me very happy.

-- as for [the latinist], oh lord, of all the boys with whom i have any reason for daily intercourse, he is the only one who will touch me, ever, with the pats, the taps, that other boys seem to be accustomed to, and it's ridiculous how much i missed this without even knowing i missed it. his touch is so warm it seems to burn, but i don't mind. at all. what matters is that the touch is there, real and warm and solid, and for that moment i can depend on something else to be strong, to keep me tethered to this world.

sometimes, just a tap is all i need to restore an easiness in myself and in the world.

oh, wonderful. the youth orchestra has scheduled an extra rehearsal for me. thursday night. all bartok. i can't say we don't need it but neither will i say that i'm particularly happy about this turn...

(what i need then to ensure my mental health for life is to bottle that touch, to save up like a miser every scrap of touch, of the feel of things, of the thick taste of clumsy skin and the half-remembered smell of the body so close before your eyes -- because then, when i have saved, only then can i afford to spend --)