Confession?

Well, i don't think i have been fair to my blogger. I have been neglecteing him.

You see, the trouble is this... Am i expected to keep an extensive journal, log, and art/poetry collection, and THEN go back and type it all up on this blog? Is that really what i need to be doing with my time, while in London? I don't think so, and I haven't been doing it. It is more like a random forum (well, i guess i'm the only one in the forum, though... hmm?) where I can jetison the absurdities of my mind.

Also, i am limited here. I cannot be as personal as i want in my own journal. I refrain from spilling darker secrets. Some things are simply not appropriate for a blog (which by the way is a shortened form of web-log ...yeh, i looked it up).

But, nevertheless, it is a useful beast. I can share thoughts, fellings, pictures, verse. I'm really not sure who reads this thing, but certainly appreciation is due to both Gaya and Leyla, my two most faithful readers.

OK, so on a different subject, what is the deal with people who type/write and refuse to use capitalization? Is that hip or something? Are you too cool to capitalize the beginnings of sentences or proper names?

So, I really had a good day today. By that, I don't mean i got a huge load of work accomplished, though i did attend to my immediate responsibilities. I say it was a good day because i got the greatest feeling tonight, riding by myself on the tube, from Kensington to my tube stop in Holborn. I felt more content than i have in a while, and really felt in place. Not an American in London, but indeed a Londoner myself. It was very satisfying - a powerful feeling. Between the Oxford Street stop and the Tottenham Court stop, i just kind of started nodding my head, like i understood some grand enigma. I looked around at everyone (a fairly uncrowded tube ride for the time of night, i thought), and just kept nodding. To myself.

I'm not sure why i got the feeling right then and there, but it was quite visceral as well as psychological. My limbs buzzed and the physicality of my mind was elated. But a mysterious elation. Me, sitting there with my brown bag of wool socks, pens, and contact solution, with my shoulder bag of notebooks from class, bundled up in scarf and jacket, smiling and nodding my head over and over again, and mumbling to myself. Yes, i'm sure i looked to be dabbling in lunacy, but I really did get the feeling that i was part of the fabric - that wonderfully cosmopolitan tapestry dancing about London and the Thames Valley. This really is a marvelous place.

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Right, so, maybe some haikus to round off this post? Yes, please Patrick.

-I-

Dribble and drabble;
Splish, splash, and rippled ripples
Such is memory.

-II-

Here stand prison bars
Of water, Poseidon bless’d.
What is stopping me?

-III-

Hail! I am iamb!
Loved by the Occident,
Relaxed, later stressed!

(^ haha, that one is pretty ridiculous, but i do like it...yes i know the second line has only 6 syllables...)

-IV-

A fluttering fugue
Dances on the breeze, then soars
Into the jet-stream.


goodnight, children.