Saltwater Room

well.

too much and not enough.

grateful for people who ask the right questions...and force me to answer.

my Grandma passed away this past Thursday, and her funeral was this past Monday.
i really couldn't ask for a closer, my giving family in respects, at least, to the entire weekend, travel, support, words, fellowship, grieving, honour, the visitation, meals, hugs and long talks, the funeral service, laughter (yes) etc.

but i do dislike funerals.

busy: doesn't even come close

the more i learn the more i don't know
never truer words

i find i like quiet increasingly more
E.E. Cummings': mud-licous and puddle-wonderful
maybe just a passing phase
but i like the colour in Hemingway's' bullfights
too

and I can't decide if Frank McCourt is realistic or just plain vulgar
his grammar is atrocious, but his writing is A Tree Grows in Brooklyn kind of beauty
Hmm.

Mien Kampf
go away arrogant Hitler and your fascism, will you?

and Aesthetics on Art and Beauty
best class ever

but i'm behind because i haven't done school of the correct sort in five school days
i learned more though, i'm quite sure

after today's hygiene routine, i smelled of black amethyst, and raspberry: midday i smelled of onions, beer, Chicken Alfredo, green olives, and cheap cigarettes: afternoon i smelt of shampoo and Aveeno moisturizing cream: now i smell faintly of coffee, fainter still of shampoo and that is that.