[ j o u r n a l ]
The following online journal entries are from January 2001.
They are taken from my written journal and email updates to friends.
[ 0 1 . 1 2 . 0 1 ]
Friday. 4:24 PM.
My most recent update I sent to people:
2001: A San Francisco Odyssey and Other Meditations...
As I stare out my window at the January rain coming down on
San Francisco, keeping the sky a pearly gray, I wonder how and
why it's taken me so long to turn on the faucet in my often
over-earnest brain to sit down and ramble out a few or four-hundred
lines in an email update. Since the start of the holidays late
last year, life has been more than my fair share of tumultuous.
Furthermore, akin to crop circles and dreams about falling, the
turn of the year summons for me period of deep introspection.
I have been living relatively quietly lately spending most of
my time nestled in some small place inside my thoughts and spirit.
But I'm sure the words will come tumbling out...
I am really uncertain as to where to begin. I'll just hop around,
like Goldilocks, from point to point, from moment to moment, until
I find a place that's just right. I think my last big email
update was last June. Crimony, I need to get better at sending
these things out. But I think through conversations here and
there, most of you know what's been going on. Though even my
personal journaling has been scarce of late. I just haven't been
in a particularly writey-type space.
Again, the usual disclaimers apply: this is just a slice of my
life, this is not all of my life, this is what I'm thinking now
and not necessarily going to be thinking the same thing six months
from now, this is private yet public because it's going to a list
that grows longer every day, this is my way of keeping connected
with all of the people in my life. It is that connection that
remains key and underscored.
[ 0 1 . 1 2 . 0 1 cont. ]
ELEGY FOR N.S.
Certainty is on my mind
as I count the short number of days
I had to know you,
and the long number of days
I have to miss you
and to look for you at my table.
I know so few words,
no good synonyms
for loss, for your death,
except it is a kind
of paralysis, a roughness,
like shortness in my chest,
that holds my tongue
and writing hand.
But I cannot give you
to silence yet.
I want to belt out
in thunder and aria,
ring monk's bells
till my hands burn,
call out your name
over and over and tearful
for you to walk through
my front door
like Gilgamesh or Orpheus
(I just want to say
You find for me the words,
for goodbye, for your pain,
like gentleness or brown hair,
honor and friendship,
brilliance, presence, warm hands,
ease of self, ease with others,
bike rides and boyish smiles.
You were too young
to walk the long road.
I believe in you
and your power to be
in many places at once,
here, next door, there,
with the clutch of friends
who now guard you,
here, at home, there
with the summer in your eyes
leaving footprints near the ocean.
(And I just want to say
It's only a handful of days into the new year and already I have
been delivered a black dot. Last week, on Thursday, my new friend
Nick, who just joined my Tellings gaming group, was killed in a
car accident. He and his girlfriend were driving back to San
Francisco from Seattle. It seems that Amy, who was driving at
the time, fell asleep at the wheel. Tragically, Nick did not
survive though his girlfriend Amy did. My thoughts and condolences
are with Nick, Amy, all of their friends and family. Nick is
survived by his mother, father, and younger brother. I believe
he was only twenty-one.
I will miss him.
[ i n d e x E D ]
© 2001 Edmond Y. Chang. All original material. All rights reserved.
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