Saturday, November 24, 2012


Been in NY with family, sorry for not posting much. I'll try to catch up.

1. At my deceased grandparents' home, I went through a bunch of meticulously kept photo albums and snapped pictures on my iphone of some of the best shots. The best thing about the ones from the 60's and 70's is how they look like they could have been taken last week -  our fashions are rather repetitive. Also, many of them are square, framed, and faded - the original instagram.
Here are a few. If you're friends with my on facebook, you can see many more there.
My aunt in the 60's or 70's.

My dad, the Conscientious Objector, reading about Vietnam in the late 1960's.
My dad's family hosted exchange students a lot. My dad is still friends with Jan, the top guy, from Sweden. In the mid 60's he went to Sweden to visit him. This is Jan and his siblings.

My dad, Jan, and Jan's mother in Sweden 1966.

My dad's family and some friends, including my mom in the lower left hand picture.
My great great grandparents William and Marie-Louise.

3. I got to meet my sister's 8th grade class last week. Highlights:
- My sister plays music for them during "transition time." She plays the same ones every day, and she gets to pick the songs. She played Regina Spektor's "Fidelity" and all of the boys sang along. At the "better better better better, better better betttttttttterrrrr!" part they went nuts, each doing their own mimicry. It was one of the best things ever.
- They also danced Gangnam Style. 

4. Even if you don't usually read the poems I post, try reading this one.

Here's What Our Parents Never Taught Us
by Shinji Moon

You will stay up on your rooftop until sunlight peels away the husk of the moon,
chainsmoking cigarettes and reading Baudelaire, and
you will learn that you only ever want to fall in love with someone
who will stay up to watch the sun rise with you.

You will fall in love with train rides, and sooner or later you will
realize that nowhere seems like home anymore.

A woman will kiss you and you’ll think her lips are two petals
rubbing against your mouth.

You will not tell anyone that you liked it.
It’s okay.
It is beautiful to love humans in a world where love is a metaphor for lust.

You can leave if you want, with only your skin as a carry-on.

All you need is a twenty in your pocket and a bus ticket.
All you need is someone on the other end of the map, thinking about the supple
curves of your body, to guide you to a home that stretches out for miles
and miles on end.

You will lie to everyone you love.
They will love you anyways.

One day you’ll wake up and realize that you are too big for your own skin.

Don’t be afraid.

Your body is a house where the shutters blow in and out
against the windowpane.

You are a hurricane-prone area.
The glass will break through often.

But it’s okay. I promise.

a stranger once told you that the breeze
here is something worth writing poems about.

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