Bashio, and Sunday additions

Lead my pony
across this wide moor to where
the cuckoo sings

(Post- Silk Road thoughts on a 100 degree Sunday:)

I ordered carry out from a student whom I had a terrible run-in this spring (along with her intollerable mother) and was concerned that she would tamper with my order. I was even more concerned when the Turkish cook came outside to talk to me while my order was being assembled--she was the only other person in the air-condintionless place. The order was wrong--of course-- and I worry that what I ate will have me puking my guts out in a few hours. I still tipped her a dollar.

A few minutes later, since Cinemat was closed, I entered a mainstream videostore and was greeted by another old student. This one went way back. I don't know how I remembered his name as I must have taught him back in the early 90's. He was kind, polite and congenial; we shared talks of Tim Burton and other directors. I always worried about Bart and-- thankfully-- still see him on occasion around town. A sweet person-- the kind others prey upon.

Two very different transactions within minutes of each other. If we only knew what kind of impression we left on others. Perhaps we would act differently.


I played some songs for past friends on the radio. I know they didn't hear them, but did it anyway. I wish I understood how forgiveness worked-well, at least for other people. I unfortunately don't think it exists for many.
It's hard to be a friend from a distance. Show me the way.

I am half-way through City Of Lights by Lauren Belfer.
Have two movies for tonight: This So-Called Disaster and The Stepford Wives (remake).

I can't seem to make it through Sunday, still.