movement

*it has been an interesting summer.
*i left 19th ave in a mess, it was a mutual mess, but i prefer clean breaks. these breaks kept throwing abusive tendrils my way, and seemed to spiral and drag me down into their black hole toxicity, but i am in a beter place now, that is all there is to say about that.

*i was told "you don't have enough room in your life for other people." maybe that is true. at least in terms of the amount of physical stuff i have, the carbon and papyrus and plastic footprint of my existence thus far, i accept the accusation. now i will be all ephemeral serverspace, i will have enough memory to disseminate, i will multitask.
*finally feeling settled into this place. the first few days, it felt unreal until i could get wireless. wireless became more essential than showering or cooking, at least in the state i was in. now that is sorted, i have some plants, i have the kitty cat, i even got some art for the walls that i bothered trying to find a frame for. i lack tools, but improvisation is the best tool.

*i made myself puke the other day. i came home from a show and was so hungry i ate these hardboiled eggs that i had in the fridge and a whole pasta dinner after midnight. some time around 5 am i was up and feeling wretched. i knew i was going ot be doing nothing that whole day but hanging out in the bathroom. the next day, i moved my pa speakers that i'd leant to the girls rock camp and ate some pho, the only thing i'd eaten in more than 24 hours. i noticed that i had a broken blood vessel on my eyeball. i don't think that's ever happened before, but it probably happened with either the puking or the lifting. it hasn't changed colors yet but the doctor says it will. can't wait.

*every few weeks i go visit my grandfather. he's been in and out of hte hospital, but he's like 93, so it's kind of to be expected. i feel guilty that i don't do more to help him. i have my flurry of activity, and when i am free some times i just want to relax and read or sleep, and i know other people don't have that luxury. my cousin and aunt have taken on the major care of him, i think it's sort of acknowledged that i don't have that many resources to spare, other than driving them to and from the doctors. there's some what of a language barrier between us, which is more on my part than his, but he's always been a reticent, strong silent type. it's weird to think that i resemble him the most out of anyone in my family, possibly my dad, but it's been pointed out by others, and i see it more. it is really hard to fathom the loss of independence that comes at that age, and dealing with the inevitability of your own mortality, and it's hard not to get morose or sentimental about it. the place i have felt most effective has been when i'm able to talk to the doctors. my aunt's english is passable, but there is a lot of technical information she may be missing, and i recently went with her to the pharmacy to get medications - she had to bring a chinese to english medical dictionary to break down what all the drugs were doing. i worry about how often he's lapsing into hospital visits. one thing that keeps me encouraged - he was always into ping pong, and even though he's on a walker and can only stand up for about 5 minutes without it, he can still hit the fuck out of a ping pong ball. his skills have declined a bit since christmas, when he was doing some crazy backhand returns and reaching for the ball. this time he missed a few direct down the center shots (which i'm not even that good at) but i am still amazed at the accuracy and reflexes he has considering what he's been throug the past few months. he's not reaching as far as before, but he can assuredly beat my mobile ass. i wonder how much practice, how much muscle memory and instinct stays with you, and what if anything i will be good at if i ever make it to that age. it actually inspires me to be good at something, anything, to the level that i could even do it one tenth as well as he can at 93.