Vetring specter.

I've strayed from the navigable waters of my mind. Eyes wandering listlessly; fingers searching for tangible evidence of a past. The concrete is cold and smooth on my bare feet, and I want to flatten myself to it. The lines on my hand, like a flock of birds in flight, seek to renew my vivacity. They guide me through physical creation, but the motor overtakes the mind.

hrm. well enough stream of consciousness bullshit.

I just finished Pico Iyer's Video Night in Kathmandu, a survey of various Asian cultures and how they have turned American culture on its head. In each country, he focuses on a specific manifestation of the cultural hybridization between east and west. The chapter on the Philippines just blew me away. Iyer is a journalist for Time magazine, and a fabulous travel writer. Though the book was written in the late Eighties, it shows incredible insight into the so-called Pax Americana and the coming age.

The other night I gashed my hand on a cluster of amethyst crystals. Ironically, amethyst is supposed to have healing power. Whoops, karma slip. It should leave a wicked scar though.

I like the way cars skitter about town like ferrel rodents, anxious to escape a cat. Rumour has it that the Washington state government plans to decrease the speed limit and raise the gas tax. Meh, doesn't affect me much.

Ruby might be setting up a troupe tour to Turkey next Fall. That would be absolutely luscious. I get all hot and bothered just thinking about it.

Tonight I absentmindedly walked into the Downtown Sounds concert in the alley between the Wild Buffalo and Mindport. Round Mountain, who I had never heard before, was playing some delicious folk fusion. I had a great time dancing with a crazy Irish step dancer. The band (and all of its two members!) used a lot of really exotic instruments, which they routinely switched out during the show. Good stuff. Reminded me of nights in Antigua.