August 2004
yoga note #4
_don’t go to yoga because of her. apparently, i am beginning to routinely show up every monday afternoon class because of her. not her in particular but a woman like her. maybe it’s just me being retarded about the whole situation but i don’t mine just seeing her briefly once a week. anything more would require too much committment from my committmentless pit. either way, it’s generally really helping with my yoga practice. i’ve been particularly found of this type of style (jakumati or something like that), as i sweat as much as i do in bikrim […]
historic oaktown
a quiet sunday evening in old chinatown for some vietnamese pho and then the local jazz club. that is the extend of oakland that i know.
the butterfly effect
_what if i knew i had say, ‘how may i know you?” the movie of the same title was suprisingly interesting and entertaining, although the theme has been repeatedly explored in hollywood. the introduction of the whole chaos theory and the butterfly effect is noteworthly in destorying the fallacy of the power of change in hindsight. certainly, the power of the butterfly effect is a foundation of much buddhist prescriptions for curing the mind of itself. through all these seemingly insignificant pure thoughts and actions, one has the power to set forth a chain of actions that […]
the pleasure of strange company
so, i had wonderful pleasure of spending a friday evening in a part of the city as foreign as the french. make no mistake, it was no accident that we ended in the neighbor of the well lubricated. i think it is good practice for the soul of my types. entertaining to say the least but the most valuable lession of the evening was a recurring theme in my life. stubtley has never been been my strong suit nor my ability to detect it. what comes as a surprise to me on too many numerous outings is […]
my fucking state
apparently, i am in the state of major superlatives whereas i have to inject the work fuck in every other sentence that i mumble. so, i ask what sort of mental condition would exhibit should untidy expressions of igonorance. is it the bitterness or the apathy of existence that consumes my liminal mind? either way, there is a palable style that begets endless metaphors that grow quite tiresome as the journey supposedly becomes deeper.
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