I am twenty this year, now, and even though I don’t feel any different, sometimes I feel I should ( Read more... )

There was one evening I was on office duty. I was sitting at the bench outside the ops room eating the food I had just collected from the cookhouse and thinking about what Hongyu had written about cookhouse food, about eating one inedible meal after another. I looked at the food I was eating. There was a strange dish of chicken, cooked with raisins ( Read more... )

(an open letter to my team, and the rest of the club ( Read more... )

In a surreal postscript to this entry, at five-thirty this morning suddenly I sit up in my bed, wide awake, and run my fingers across my face. There is something dry caked against my left cheek ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

A harrowing dream: I check myself into a small hotel in a strange city. It is a narrow white building and there are rows of public-works greenery in the vicinity, as well as convenience stores and bicycles. Inside, it is not spacious, even to the point of being claustrophobic, and all the walls are white. On each floor there are two rooms, white- ( Read more... )

'...I have John Donne for my seminar later,' the other girl said.

'What, has he taken us for class before?'

'it's v romantic': whatever is romantic for the couple is lonely for the individual.

variations on a theme of UNORIGINALITY... this is a short story about 'patriotism'.

( yukio mishima, PATRIOTISM )

In the absence of words, we still have music and pictures... this is all kinds of awesome.

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