I was eating a toasted everything bagel in the middle of the night. I had some labneh I was putting on it. Great idea.
But some labneh fell off the knife and onto my computer. Ming was eating chips and salsa in the middle of the night. I asked him for a paper towel to clean up the computer labneh.
Somehow I was doing a poor job. I would wipe up some labneh but manage to smear more labneh. I couldn’t manage the paper towel complexity. “I’m doing this in the worst way!” Ming and I started to laugh.
Then he got me another paper towel and ate some watermelon. He’s thinking about meteorites. I read the lyrics to No Sleep Till Brooklyn. Wow–too beastie, too boyish. Seems like women are treated like trash in a way that’s supposed to be appealing. Yuck. It was 1986.
The good news: my friend followed through, translating the series of poems I wrote for a fundraiser zine for Immigrant Families Together.
The also good news: I have a wonderful plan for my retreat. Along with prayer, singing, rest, meditation, I want to make a special dance for a special purpose.
I remember when Ming and I got married. I wanted to choreograph a strange dance to do during the ceremony. In my mind, I could almost see it–something alien, angular, funny, fun. A newish kind of dance that might surprise. I asked my best friend to help, and she said no. The ceremony was great anyway.
Two antennas met on a roof, fell in love, and got married. The ceremony was okay, but the reception was excellent.
