My dad took me to "Monday Night @ the Grove" service last night. I told him I didn't want to go but that I'd go if he wanted me to. I actually liked it--it made me think. Greg Laurie was speaking...and he said some things that struck a chord in me, though I must admit I don't agree with everything he said. Obviously, I still have some major issues to work out with God, but maybe avoiding Him isn't quite the solution I thought it would be....it's just that I don't want to lose myself again. I've never been as closed-minded as when I was a devout Christian. It's scary trying to go back. I don't even know if I could, or if I should.

Off to yoga class!

Why do my poems always seem to end up in iambic pentameter?

Revealed--a dusty shard of memory
Forgotten fragments of a long-lost dream
Come forth with sudden perspicacity
And standing out like Islands in the Stream

Caught and glimmering, shining in the light
For one brief moment bursting into song
The fleeting glimpse of hope I once held tight
But when I reached to grasp it, it was gone

And in my small still empty outstretched hand
Are only aspirations, yearnings, goals
That slip between like silky grains of sand
Yet sear my hands and soul like burning coals.

LMAOWeblog Entry - 03/30/2002: "The Heterosexual Questionnaire"

Les Iles du Frioul, Marseilles, France, April 5, 2002:

It's amazing to be able to sit and hear only the crash of waves and the cries of seagulls and the wind blowing past my ears.


I'm sitting on a rock looking out at the Mediterranean Sea--the rocks are a sunbleached white, and they stand out from the gemlike turquoise of the ocean below. It's very windy, and the air smells fresh and crisp, not salty and briny like at home. I envy the seagulls that are floating around playfully in front of me.

I love it here. It is so far, far away form home, and I'm glad I had the will--and the means--to travel to the Mediterranean again. The light seems more pure, the sun more friendly, than any other place I've been to. In two days It'll be back to "normal life," my stupid car, the innane job, bills, bills, cell phones, law school applications, loneliness....but right now, I'm not worried about any of that. Because I'm sitting on a rock in the French Riviera, drinking a carton of (delicious) white grape and mandarin orange juice, smoking a Mild Seven Light that I lit with my "I love Amsterdam" lighter, and enjoying life perhaps more than I deserve to. Life is good. No, life is beautiful.

In the Basilique de Fouveiere, Lyon, France. April 3, 2002

I climbed up a steep hillside garden sprinkeld with tulips and trees that showered small white petals like a delightful spring rain. The hill was so steep that I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of my camera strap against my neck like a pendulum, and imagined I was walking up the central street in Riomaggiore. At the top of the hill there was a panoramic view of the city, its orange rooftops gathered closely around the two great rivers that bisect it.

The inside of the basilica is gilded to the hilt, but done nicely, with a subdued rainbow of pastel colors. Organ music echoes through the space, as do the footsteps of churchgoers and tourists. The vaulting on these ceilings are interesting--either I've forgotten what kind they are, or I never learned of them.

The stained glass windows are truly a sight to behold--the colors are very nuanced, and I can see the details and shadowing of the clothing, and the stripes on a tiger's back. The side windows (there are 3 sets of 3 panels on each side) are more subtle than the three giant windows behind the altar tht display a profusion of royal purples, reds, blues, and oranges in a sunburst of color.

On the steps of the Sacre Couer, Paris, 4/1/02:

A man is standing in front of the steps, turning a crank on a machine that plays beautiful accordion-like osngs. People keep applauding him, but all he's doing is turning the crank!

---

My hotel room at Coulaincourt Square, Montmarte, Paris, 4/1/02:

I'm sitting here watching German MTV--a guy named J-luv feat. Cutty, "O.U.T" is rapping in German, with a liberal sprinkling of "Dirty Mama's" and "Bitches." One thing i miss about Amsterdam is the great music they play in every coffeeshop. I think I'm going to go walk around Montmarte later, hang out at a cafe with some the, and have my picture drawn by one of the artistes.

I wonder why i still go to church. To an extent, I'm still a Christian. I believe that there is a God and that there is such a thing as heaven and hell, but I struggle with the idea that Protestant Christianity is the only way to salvation. But somehow, when I'm wandering around Notre Dame, or sitting in the Sacre Couer, or listening to the organ at Sainte Eustache, or staring breathless at the light in Sainte Chapelle, I'm convinced that our lives must be directed, composed, by a benevolent deity. My problem is that I can't seem to reconcile the religion I've been taught with the life I've come to live. It seems to me that if God were the type of deity I'd want to commit my life to, he'd understand me and not mind the things that I do.

Cassis in the south of France

4/4/02 Journal Entry, Marseilles, France

I went to Cassis today-a beautiful small beach town on the French Riveira where the water was as clear as a swimming pool.... I ate a kebab and drank red wine on the beach. We tried to hike up to the chateau but got (kind of) lost....or stoned... and ended up in a cafe drinking capuccino waiting for the storm to subside..

Jonathan and I just took a bunch of hilarious pictures of Julie while she was sleeping....

The europeans have these wonderous things called Kinder-Surprises... they're chocolate eggs with a capsule inside that contains a small toy. I seem to have rather bad luck with the toys, I always get the French guy. Sometimes, (Julie's friend told me) you get the strangest things in a Kinder Suprise. With all the small parts in theese toys, I don't think they'll ever become popular with Americans...or at least the impending lawsuits will drie everyone away.

So i went to this restaurant called Coquillages Toineau tonight and ate an obscene amount of seafood (and drank some great Cotes du Rhone) and smoked , so I'm pretty gone right now.

Keukenhof, Holland


Journal entry March 30th, 2002--Amsterdam

FINALLY, i got a pen! I arrived in paris on the 28th, after a long-ass delay...went to the Luxembourg gardens and around the Ile de la Cite. I found the cover picture for Adam Gopnik's Paris to the Moon!
I've had a...mind-bogglingly good stay here since i arrived yesterday. hehe. Everything's pretty much the same as i remember it, except for my green patch at the lake in Vondelpark. I barfed all over my backpack today because i ate too many Philosopher Stones.

I went to Keukenhof yesterday to sniff the tulips...the miles of tulips...and got lost trying to find the maze (!) Dutch food still sucks. I'm supposed to meet Sherry at 3 tomorrow at Gare de Lyon.


Six million tulips and a trippy lake...and substances...*sigh*

i know that upheaval is a catalyst for change, but how is one to know whether such change is beneficial? something good has to come out of the shitty things that have been happening to me lately, but growing is such a painful process. i wish i could just live in denial in my own stagnant pool of mediocrity, refusing to budge and making excuses for anything that challenges my comfy status quo.

on monday i drank a rum and coke, two glasses of red wine, three shots of tequila and a cadillac margarita. needless to say, i threw up in the parking lot and later at mcclaine's, and woke up feeling like shit. that's the last time i go to happy hour, but i did have lots of fun for a monday night.

reading "blood and gold" right now. i'm not too sure i'm an anne rice fan anymore.

i think i'm moving to LA very soon.

ugh. i'm 22. it's finally hitting me. not 21, but 22. whether i feel like it or not, i'm an adult... i no longer have the excuse of being just a kid, or even very young and naive. it's horrible to think that i won't be looking forward to my birthdays anymore, and that before i know it, i'll actually be dreading them. am i to become a boring, soulless sellout yuppie? oh dear... *bites nails in anxiety*.....

Islands in the Stream was a beautiful book, but i wouldn't expect less from Hemingway. I love that the title serves the double purpose of describing both the physical location of the islands in the Gulf Stream, and the the episodic narrative that recounts "islands" in the stream of the Tom's life.

I'm reading Suzanne's Diary for Nicolas right now--it's engaging, and sappy, and romantic...a good one-day beach read.

France was amazing. I still need to transcribe my journal entries to this page.....

when i was in france last weekend, the bush/blair summit was a pretty big deal...yet when i came home, i found that nobody i know even heard about them, which is strange since they were held in crawford, texas. i have a sneaking suspicion that the american media didn't want to show us how utterly stupid bush looks next to tony blair.
americans, read and weep; this is our leader:
Bush, Blair Pledge Quest for Lasting Middle East Peace