Yet another
holiday that I've minimally
celebrated, or not celebrated at all. Oh, well, it's okay, really, I have
more important things to think about. Life's a lot complicated at the moment. And I think we're going to go up
North and check out north
Oakland. It just seems like the best choice at this point. Maybe I'll reapply to
Berkeley in the
winter, but right now I just want an
apartment!
Other than that, I'm working on my
paper doll project, reading a little
Herb Caen, and poking about the
WWW looking at potential
jobs and
apartments.
I came across a poem that I like and strikes me well just now, but I don't feel like noding up
Su Dongbo today. Here's the poem, though. It's about a thousand years old.
Spring Night
Spring night - one hour worth a thousand gold coins.
Clear scent of flowers, shadowy moon,
Songs and flutes upstairs - silk threads of sound.
In the garden, a swing, where night is deep and still.