Feb. 15th, 2011

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Me: Hey!! Let's listen to jazz at 3! Nolan Gasser chief musicologist at Pandora is playing from SF

David: Woah kool beans fuck yeah lets do it two salt shakers to hash out and with jazz music lash out

Me: Word up thats wazzup got jazz muzak on veeday like doves and gimme that sax as sexy as ecstasy and black white piano keys

David: Made of ivory don't you see this day is one made for you and me put aside the pamplet then eat around the clit and start sweating to the music burn away the calories

Me: Fuck, me-- hard, I just. Had a // P, B & Jay...

David: With bananas better believe were no longer in Kansas were allowed to do shit that uncle sam would have censored he doesn't agree with these sorta senses. he'd throw us in the dunk tank well tell him were drunk off life already much thanks.

Me: Joie de vivre a la carte blanche and symbiotic growth of souls! oui oui merci Sam, which Sam is and I am, not! Freedom to be not-sam is freedom indeed

David: For my feeble mind this idea is far too above flying with the dove mentioned prior my point is to punch out rhymes yours is to explore mine is just start creating you take the creations and make go further than before

Me: And you are wonderful too wonderful to adore you kiss me with ecstasies and symphonies of your trips flying around riding your bike with no handlebars

David: Come over after class I'll have lunch waiting.

Valentine's Day was one of those days that turn out to be amazing with no plans whatsoever. Sunday night beforehand, I went over to David's apartment though I was in an odd mood equivalent to insomnia but I was happy to see him. We read each other poems, ate chocolate and cuddled to sleep. In the morning, he made breakfast. It was some of his mother's cooking, with toast and delicious. He let me borrow his bike to school since my tire was flat. It's a great bike, sturdy, fixed gear with a comfortable seat. After Essays, in which Ellen brought cookies her mother made for us, I ran into Dale and she looked beautiful, smiling and calling me. Then Chinese class was just a presentation of Chinese cuisine and every slide gave me wonderful reminders of my trip to China. Valentine's Day coincided with Meatless Mondays, free PB&Js in front of the SRB. The bread was delicious and one of the guys tabling was cute as all hell, slightly Asian. Then in the restroom I ran into Michelle, which made me giddy. In Poetry, I had a poem for workshop, about my father, and it went well. Afterwards I biked over to his house for lunch and I heard Ashley call my name as we biked in opposite directions, and I called her back. At David's, he was preparing this falafel burrito with guacamole and vegetables. Nikki was also there, and she was excited to tell me that David Porreca was back for a while. When David brought a water bottle for me, that was simply icing on the cake. I got up to him, saying "You're the best!" and gave him a kiss. He simply glowed after that. We went to see Nolan Gasser's lecture on Jazz as a bike and skateboard duo, where he gripped onto the frame under the seat and I pedalled us there. It went smoothly like teamwork and on the way I saw Matt walking towards Pardall Tunnel and I called him too. We were slightly late to the talk but we didn't miss any of the music. It was breathtaking symphony. The complexity of the music, the drum and the metal feathers, the dexterity of the bassist and the small auditorium... well, it sent shivers all throughout my body in tremors and whispers of delight. We held hands and I couldn't help smiling. Afterwards we went back to his apartment, which was practically empty and we were interrupted many times. Jeremiah visited, with his childlike bulk and said he saw us on our way back. But when Derrick came back from trying to get his paycheck from Hootiez, we went into his bedroom instead. A few hours later, he went to Bean Night but I opted to go home. Andrew, Grant, Jen and Susan were all home and it was wonderful to walk into a busy house. Before bed, I wrote about how much I love Holidays.
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Every monday is bean night though the beans
have since been replaced with pot luck
bikes on the lawn and cars out into the street
dozens of people holding instrument cases
the kitchen by the sliding door
has paper lanterns hanging from string
the living room is breathing coloristic muse
metallic tassels from New Orleans
sweat dripping from eyelashes on the west wall
across that to the east is powder azure sky
massive hand pointing at a brain
technicolor fingers of god and Adam blend
above the open windows and the seated crowd
OM tapestries and Beatles posters
paper carpets zooming across the ceiling
the organ, elephant supporting leaning
towers of piano keyboards and guitars
couches, hair on three faces of the room
combed through by legs squeezed knee to knee
the night begins past nine, names float
on the sign up sheet orderless vapor
Lisa, dark eyebrows and pixie dancer
performs new song on keyboard, You Crazy Man,
a silent evocation of deep breathing
chasing feather in storm by tall Broadway
obsidian African, ship of sardonic song
sails across guitar blues of the Atlantic
Brieanna belted dress, wide eyes meet smiling
I sit on the bottom bunk my printed soul
on the pillow bedfellow with my friends
turn's up, I sit on a red velvet foot stool
My name's Darice, this is my first time
performing-- the crowd roars for virgin blood
like we always do and I enter, my voice
trembling with pulse, I receive, my chest
fills, awakened breath carries rhythm through
I lumber back to my seat deaf to applause
until seated I hear its last calls
echoing the silence of what I've become
drums, throaty and deep like the elementals
paranoid guitar, electric fusion jam
Eliot Smith cover and her lover's comedy act
David's prelude, his cousin's egg shaker
all stand up for the midnight goodbye
all instruments in for No Woman, No Cry.


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