Category Archives: Thoughts

Welcome Back

Hello Lovelies,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?  Yeah… sorry about that.  The past few months been a time for adjustment. Quick rundown: I’m out in Brooklyn now, right off of Prospect Park.  It’s taken some time, but I’m completely in love with my new ‘hood.  I’m back in school for one more year (Thank God.  Wasn’t Senioritis only supposed to be a high school thing?  Guess not.)  This newfound independence is … different.  But I’m more comfortable in my own skin than I’ve been for a while.

And c’mon, it’s fall, the most beautiful season of all!  Time for brisk jogs at the golden hour, fancy-schmancy pea coats and tasty pumpkin-flavored treats.  Can you feel the energy?

Speaking of which, who isn’t excited for this election?  Even if you’re waiting expectedly for it to be over, there’s so much at stake come November 4.  More on this later.  But for now, to all you Californians, No on 8 dammit!

That’s it for now.  Until next time, here’s some Adele.  Listen, love, lather, rinse, repeat.



At 6:32 a.m. on February 22, 1987, Andy Warhol [born Andrew Warhola] died unexpectedly at the age of 58.

A routine gallbladder surgery at New York-Presbyterian Hospital took a turn for the worse as Mr. Warhol succumbed to a sudden heart attack.
Approximately 40 hours later, Padraic Wheeler was born at the Kaiser Medical Center in Redwood City, California to Bill and Laura Wheeler.

Cries of childbirth pain were drowned out by the jackhammer in the next room over (the hospital was not yet fully built).

According to Hindu teachings, only the body itself is subject to birth and death, while the soul [also known as the “atman”] remains immortal. It is written in the Bhagavad Gita that:

Worn-out garments are shed by the body; Worn-out bodies are shed by the dweller within the body. New bodies are donned by the dweller, like garments.

Just like their Buddhist cousins, Hindus believe that the soul goes on, experiencing birth and death time after time. But, here’s where it differs from the teachings of The Bald One (and by that I mean Buddha, not Britney): according to Hindu doctrine, an individual is reborn based on desire: a person wants to be born because they wish to continue enjoying all of life’s delights. And how do they continue doing this? Simple: through the use of another body. Rather than treating every earthly delight as a sin [wish Christians could do the same], Hinduism teaches that they are instead fleeting, and that each spirit will eventually crave a deeper, lasting happiness (or, “ānanda”).

2 decades down, 6(ish) to go. What good have I done? What good could I do?

I’ve lately had the need to create. I miss the thrill of warming up before a play’s opening night. I still daydream of long-ago dance recitals in forgotten high school auditoriums. But hell, I don’t need grandeur. I need an afternoon of flute duets in a friend’s living room. Or, maybe finally buying that book of Joni Mitchell guitar tabs.

Life isn’t spent hunched over a fluorescently lit computer in some cramped office. These past few days have spring hinted in the air. Time to clean off the camera and go experience this damn city.

“And how do you benefit from stringing together, the tattered pieces of your life?”

Guido: What is this sudden happiness that makes me tremble. . .
giving me strength. . .
. . .life?
Forgive me, sweet creatures.
I hadn’t understood.
I didn’t know.
It’s so natural accepting you, loving you.
And so simple.

Luisa, I feel I’ve been freed.
Everything seems so good, so meaningful.
Everything is true.
I wish I could explain.

But I don’t know how to.
Everything is confused again, as it was before.

But this confusion is… me.
Not as I’d like to be, but as I am.

I’m not afraid anymore of telling the truth,
of the things I don’t know, what I’m looking for and haven’t found.
This is the only way I can feel alive,
and I can look into your faithful eyes without shame.

Life is a celebration.
Let’s live it together!

This is all I can say. . . to you or the others.
Accept me for what I am, if you want me.
It’s the only way we might be able to find each other.

Luisa: I don’t know if what you said to me is right. But I can try if you help me.

. . .

[from “8 1/2″ by Frederico Fellini]

“I don’t want the future. I want the present to stand still.”

Here’s to many more joyous years, mon prince doux.

first day of class.

a rush of students flood the center. how can you breathe in here? i already miss the quiet of the past few weeks.

so much is already expected of me. i try to express my thoughts on post-colonial morocco when suddenly i forget how to conjugate “aller.” i am a stranger in a strange land. the natives are twenty feet tall, looming over me while i try and figure out the most polite way to ask them to repeat their question.

“désolé, je n’ai pas compris. . .”
[no, too basic.]

[ew, what am i? canadian?]

“euh, j’ai pas complètement saisi. . .”

by this time, they’ve already moved on.

– – –

i return home to an empty little studette.
[oh god, what am i doing here?]
a moment later, i’m rushing down the street, past the tired storeowners closing shop. i don’t even take the time to watch their silent repose, share their lonely fatigue. i divide my eyesight between the iPod in my hand and the ground below me.
[music. music. music.]

what is this innate need for an incessant internal soundtrack?

five minutes later, pont bir hakeim. i’m running down the middle. on either side, a blur of cars rush past.

[who are these people? who drives in the city? what makes them so different from me?]

bisecting the middle of this bridge is an long man-made island. one end of the island has a miniature replica of the statue of liberty.

[how french. they couldn’t just let a gift be original. they had to have one for themselves.]
on the other side sits a statue. a stoic soldier sits atop his horse, pointing up. following the direction of his sword, i find myself staring up at the eiffel tower. the reluctant national symbol, just minutes from my home.

just as björk’s “modern things” comes on, the tower suddenly lights up. thousands of little shining lights flash along with rhythm.

All the modern things
Have always existed
They’ve just been waiting

To come out

And multiply

And take over

It’s their turn now

[yes, this is why i’m here.]