yesterday, i had to help prep a witness for trial in spanish in a second degree assault case where a pitbull was set off on her and then she was pushed down a flight of stairs while being beaten with a baseball bat by the crypts.

and, scene.

At times at the close of the year, I did not believe in magic. Maybe the long winter, the same faces and boxed in realities swept away the covering of fairy dust. The magic is the feeling of fantastic serendipity and chance glamour.

The base comes from being back in New York. New York is so authentic, so filled with endless possibilites that no ( Read more... )

This is my little brother's concert report, he goes to Laguardia, hes a jazz trumpet player. I feel like every time I leave him, he gets so much older and has so much more of a personality than when I left.  When i was little i was so worried he wasnt going to have any taste in music so i desperately burned my cd's for him, but now he could run ( Read more... )

It's almost 2am and i am taking my last final tomorrow, spanish literature.

The year is over, but it didnt end in a way that was conclusive, it didnt end with one big day where everyone packed up all their boxes and sang peace/love songs holding hands surroudning a large bonfire on Andrus field (thats what i wanted).

The ending was like real life. ( Read more... )

Saharan ( Read more... )

It is friday night. I spent from 12 pm to 6 pm laying on foss hill in the spring sunshine on my patterend blanket from portugal with caroline and tara laughing, talking, singing and watching the baseball game. I just got out of the shower so I am so clean and warm and I have a rosy tan from the long day outside. I did three loads of laundry this ( Read more... )

I am just finishing my first all-nighter. I have stayed up until 7 am before, but those times i crashed until late afternoon. Today I watched the sunset and the sunrise. The sunrise is an amazing phenomenon, the sky greys and the birds begin to chirp as the dawn brews on the horizon. Then around 5:45 shards of red yellow sunlight cut across the ( Read more... )

Where it began I can't begin to knowin' but then I know it's growin' strong. Was in the spring then spring became the summer....
I landed in northern California on an tuesday morning in January. The pavement on the arrivals platform was wet, and I wondered whether it had just rained breifly or if there had been rain for hours. I will never ( Read more... )

In American Literature, we are reading misanthropic T.S. Elliot's epic poem The Wasteland, which begins with the famous line "April is the cruelest month". Elliot appealed to the anti-Romantic sentiment, April (spring) being the time of year connected with  rebirth, happiness and love as ideals ideals (often discussed in the poetry of Byron or ( Read more... )

sitting in my single in new england in a sweatshirt drinking hot tea and typing on my laptop makes me smile because i think perhaps its the direct opposite of what i was doing at this time last week. that may be one of my favorite things about fantastic vacations: one week later you think back to the barrage of color and light that comprised the ( Read more... )