« July 2006 | Main | September 2006 »
Thu | August 31, 2006
le dernier jour
Je déteste le dernier jour du mois. I always feel a sort of despair at this time, and need reassurance. I feel I haven't done enough, get distracted, and do even less. Today I jumped from one thing to the next. A translation of that little "Chez Louis Vuitton" memoir, to an ice cream scene, to walking to the library just to return A Black Prince, then upon getting home Chrissa calling and me talking to her for 40 minutes about NYC housing and then a bit about my writing group. And then scrubbing the floor for a half an hour and then dinner and now this. Checking email at the library. Oh and Sarah came earlier. I don't know what else I did earlier. Basically though the only really worthwhile thing I did today was clean the floor a bit. Even though I didn't finish the floor, at least I know where I am and how much more I need to clean. With the LV memoir I have no idea what exactly to do next or where it will be at the end, if I ever finish it. Anyway it's the last day of the month. I am often crabby at the end of the month. And weekends when I don't have plans.
journal | Posted by Lily at 07:55 PM
homme asiatique en colère
If I read Angry Asian Man I would have known about the survivor thing, and a lot of other stuff, way earlier. But I am in my own time, not to worry. Alors, est-il «homme asiatique fâché» ou une forme de «s'énerver»?
liens | Posted by Lily at 12:44 AM
Wed | August 30, 2006
la foule de soirée
I came to the library for some peace and quiet, a well lit space with tall ceilings, or taller than my house, and a bit of mild AC... what I am getting, what I got, over at the other computer, where I initially sat for an hour- a disgusting middle-aged fartbag. He has glasses, is a fairly generic looking white guy, in a maroon polo, and glasses, and frown lines. I moved away from him to this computer over here, and now sit next to some crazy other middle aged white guy, with paler and pinker skin, but also with brown hair, and glasses, in a polo, whose annoying characteristic is that he keeps flapping his legs open and shut. And I have to listen to this swooshing fabric while the smell of the farty guy is still wafting over.
I think the time has something to do with it-- post work hours, a certain crowd comes in. During the day it's a lot of senior citizens, whom I don't adore but who are actually preferable to this disturbed, disgusting clientele.
journal | Posted by Lily at 07:20 PM | comment
Lily said on Dec 29, 06 02:22 PM:
At the library again. Peppery fat guy in the navy plaid shirt keeps coughing without covering his mouth. The woman over there has a big, flat ass. I have to be careful not to look around because I'll see things like that. That other woman has an even bigger ass. Disgusting. My god, there is another one. Last night after swishy pants left another annoying guy came. I forgot what his thing was.
I'm going to make a list of all the annoying people.
1. Flatulent man
2. Swishy pants
3. Unrestrained cougher
4. Fat, flat asses (3)
Tue | August 29, 2006
Survivor: Cook Islands
So the next season of Survivor divides its initial teams up by race. And New York City Councilman John Liu is against it. In fact he and some other politicians supported a protest against it.
I can only assume he knows what he's doing and that the show is a bad thing. Democrats usually have good judgment. And yet I think I'll wait til I see it to decide.
I see nothing wrong with the premise itself-- the four groups are Asian, Black, Hispanic, and White. That means five out of the twenty contestants are Asian. I think that's pretty good, considering that you usually get one token Asian.
Critics say the show will promote divisiveness among groups. Actually I think a bit of divisiveness is good. Asians, especially immigrants, are way too nice to white people. Way to willing to go out of their way to please them. They don't realize that all that good will and effort is never coming back to them. That white person is just going to take the money and run.
I suspect that Councilman Liu is susceptible to fantasies of equality and everyone being the same and united. Actually that's kind of Republican talk. Not that I know, all the politics I catch is completely inadvertent. At any rate, acting like we're all in the same boat won't make it true. Time to try a different tact.
So actually I'm kind of glad to have it out and see races pitted against each other on television. I am more excited about this than I am about the fifth season of The Apprentice. Or whatever number it is.
Of course they won't even really explore the race issue. In fact I'm pretty sure at least a few of the contestants are atypical of the cultures they supposedly represent. In the worst case scenario, we'll get a bunch of people who look like they might have elements of other cultures in them, but they are really all bananas. Or, oreos, or whatever (but maybe then they'll actually win).
I'm not optimistic that the race issue will be handled well on Survivor, whether it is addressed directly or implicitly. I'm basing this on the fact that The Amazing Race, another CBS reality show, is fucking racist. White travel ideology, people shouting "do you speak English?" into crowds of people struggling with their living. White people cutting through traffic because their stupid little treasure hunt is more important than five potential car accidents. or even just one. And just the way they talk to the people. The way the natives are often silent helpers and the white person just runs up to them and grabs what he can and leaves.
Anyway I'll be watching on September 14th. I've written it on a post-it, which is of a saturated yellow color. I will bring the post-it to my planner, and pen in "Survivor."
Livres, films, TV | Posted by Lily at 11:38 PM
Fri | August 25, 2006
le week-end
Well, 1440 is having an ice cream party right about now. Or in a little while, at 2:30, I think. It is odd because I just mentioned to Josh the other day when he was griping about work, don't you have the occasional ice cream party? And he said not on Wednesdays.
I wonder if I like ice cream parties because I grew up with ice cream socials. It makes me wish I were there. But if I worked there full time I'd be there day after day until I eventually went insane. More insane than my deteriorating laptop is making me.
So I made plans for the weekend. This is good because not having weekend plans also drives me insane. I am going to walk around Chinatown tomorrow afternoon and look for music and a spa. Chrissa is going to be in NJ, I think-- she just called but I missed it and haven't checked the message. So perhaps I'll see her tomorrow night if I don't stay in the city. And next weekend, I will go to the beach.
journal | Posted by Lily at 01:41 PM
Thu | August 24, 2006
des parents asiatiques
I have taken on a couple of kiddies-- Sarah, 12, who has been coming twice a week just about all summer, and Ryan, 10, who has been coming since August. Sarah has always been melancholic, yet still childish, and therefore amenable to giggle therapy (who isn't?) But today she started muttering about how miserable she is, and life is so hard and she wishes it were over. I resisted the urge to say "Your life is hard? You think it's hard now?" It turns out she finished her homework early this week, and instead of praising her, her mother complained she must not have had enough! And I give her a boatload of homework every time. So much that I don't even feel like correcting it, and I wonder how she manages to do it. So I went to the car after our session and told her mom how well Sarah was doing. As I ran back up the walk to my house I thought I heard a raised voice.
And this other kid, Ryan. First of all he had an enormous packet to fill out as summer homework, and he's only going into 5th grade. The first week we did like two chapters. The second week we did like six chapters. Then the third week he arrived having finished the rest of the book, which was like, I dunno, fifteen more chapters. I hadn't read that far, so we just did another six chapters. But he had completely lost interest in going over what he had written, or in figuring out answers to questions he had skipped. He said he finished it because his mom said he couldn't do anything else until it was done. But he didn't do a stellar job of it, and getting him to fix it and finish it was like trying to walk a dead dog. Finally this week we finished the book (an awful, racist novella called Sign of the Beaver) and I'm just glad that I'll have more control over the curriculum in the future.
It makes me realize that my parents weren't the "typical" Asian parents, when I was in grade school. I had a sense of this even back then, based on my very sparse glimpses of other Asians at the time-- but I am thinking about it again now. My parents never made me do extra schoolwork, and more importantly they never made it seem like school was a tribulation to be endured. I did go to academic summer camps, starting from 8th grade... but I wanted to go. I kind of liked school. The academic parts of it... the other parts were accessories. It was a system I understood, composed of manageable, concrete parts. Not the way things are for me now, lost in space by myself, not knowing which end is up. I thought school was fun because in elementary school when I got good grades (which was all the time) my mom would give me a little prize and be proud of me. A little good feeling is all it takes.
I mean if things aren't fun, then you don't want to do them. What's odd is that I see the same tendencies in myself now-- to push myself too hard, to forego rewards, to think that I have to constantly be progressing and doing something, to never be satisfied, to just want more. Always this drive to do better, and never rest on one's laurels. But never feel good about anything, and you'll never progress. One must take the time to reward oneself and feel good about one's accomplishments.
Part of the reason I'm like this, is that I don't know where the line is anymore. And I'm so far behind that I feel like I don't have time to take breaks, and I feel like nothing I do could be good enough. As a result I put too much pressure on myself, am never happy with what I accomplish, and probably do a lot less than if I were just relaxed and confident.
My mom knew where the line was. Some parents have no idea where the line is, what overkill is, and what a 10 or a 12 year old is capable of. If Sarah's mom is miserable no matter what, how is Sarah ever going to be motivated by her own improvements? Anyway you can't really tell kids that their parents' attitude is off-key. Though I did tell Sarah it was great she finished her essays early. Maybe sometime I will tell her how I left essays to the last minute and it was no fun, and a bad habit, that can give you ulcers. That would motivate her, because she's pretty health-conscious.
I wish I knew how to tell my parents how awesome they are for not crushing my spirit when I was a child. But they probably regard everything they did with me as a mistake. They're probably like, where did I go wrong, why isn't she working full-time at a major corporation, and getting married and having children? They don't really like me the way I've turned out so far, so it's pretty hard for me to like myself right now, no matter how desperately I need to in order to move forward. That's another thing about happiness, you can't just tell yourself to be happy because you need to be. I dunno, it has to come from somewhere else. I don't think it comes from yourself. I think it comes from seeing how people respond to what you do, whether it has an effect on people similar to what you intended.
journal | Posted by Lily at 11:58 PM
Wed | August 23, 2006
je n'abandonnerai pas!
My laptop is humming and fanning like a storm's coming. It's nearly midnight... maybe I will just go to bed. But maybe I shouldn’t gie in so easily. So what if my laptop is falling apart? Let it fall.
I think that oer the next few months I will document the steady, ineitable demise of my fujitsu lifebook. Currently the c, v, and b keys don't work so well, but if I hit them hard they come through, eentually. I will just keep using the laptop while the keys die out one by one, and eentually what I am saying will become indecipherable. In the meantime no one will know why I am banging on my keyboard like a concert pianist.
Or perhaps the frustration will gradually pile up until one day I will need to spell something with a lot of c's, v's and b's and I will just lose it.
Yes we will see who breaks first...
nonsense | Posted by Lily at 11:55 PM
Tue | August 22, 2006
la chanson préférée du moment
par Zazie - Zen - Larsen
Web/Tech | Posted by Lily at 12:39 PM
Mon | August 21, 2006
de parler courament
I have been thinking that I already know more words in French than I do in Mandarin. Yet I consider myself fluent in conversational Mandarin, in that I can kind of hold a conversation with someone, even if a lot of it is me asking them clarify parts I don't understand. I think what it is, is not that I know more words, but that I know a few words really well and can manipulate those few words that I know and use them to explain what I need to. And if I don't know how to say something, I know how to say "I don't know," "that thing," "over there," "not that one" --a solid vocabulary of vague descriptive words that apply to everything.
They say nouns and verbs are the meat of a language, and maybe in some ways they are, but when it comes to speaking fluently, it's the small connective words that matter. I suppose they are called prepositions, conjunctions, articles, demonstrative adjectives, and pronouns. Knowing the word for "armchair" (which I don't know in Mandarin but I do in French) is pretty useless, because even though it's an everyday object, that word only applies to that one object. If I wanted to say "don't sit in that armchair" in Mandarin, I'd be stuck, but I'd just say "don't sit there."
So what I think I need to do next, after I have filled in some more of those exercises, or not after, maybe while I do them, is I should pick out the essential words. Conveniently, I have a template to work from. If I know the word in Mandarin then I will consider it essential to fluency. If I don't then I can forget about it. In this way I will build up a fluency in French that mirrors my fluency in Mandarin. I am sure there are differences, that some words are more important in Mandarin than in French and vice versa, but I think on the whole I will build a functional French vocabulary.
journal | Posted by Lily at 11:10 AM
Sun | August 20, 2006
je meurs d'ennui
I've done absolutely nothing for the past two days. I've literally been lolling on my bed since Friday. When I don't have plans to go out at night on weekends I waste even more time because there is no end to time, and I lay around and do nothing. If I had something to do I would get up and work up until that point. If I have nothing to do later I do nothing now. Then it affects the next week. Rotten weekends make for rotten weekdays.
journal | Posted by Lily at 11:43 AM
Thu | August 17, 2006
déjà jeudi?
What have I been doing all week? Learning French, I suppose, is my focus now. It's a temporary but extended detour from writing. I still want to be a writer-- that will not change. But it's so difficult to have direction with writing, or know what to do next. With French is easier to see progress-- I can feel myself learning new words and my vocabulary growing as I recognize more of what I read. and listen to. And think of things to say. And write. Read, listen, speak, write. It must be good for me to expand my linguistic cortex. I think it must be tangentially related to writing. But I must not analyze too much. There is fear that analyzing kills things. Am I glad it's already Thursday? I have been learning French, and waiting for the kiddies to come, not that many, and yet double the number as before. I don't feel that I have particularly wasted my time, and yet what results do I have for the week? I've written a bunch of sentences in French. I'm on chapter 13. It's good because I can see how much I've done. I read the whole workbook initially and now I am working on filling out the exercises.
The "To Do" list:
- read chapter (for grammar)
- do exercises at the ends of the chapters
- write some sentences using vocabulary
- write some sentences using grammar
I've read the whole book, so the first item is checked off. I've done exercises up to chapter 13. I've written sentences up to chapter 13. I've edited the sentences up to chapter 8. I haven't written any grammar sentences. Should I be going faster? There are 26 chapters, I think. The problem with being alone is I have no idea how fast I am going. In writing or in French. With French I have a better idea because I have taken language classes before-- Spanish in high school and modern Greek one summer, it must have been 2002. I should probably try to go as fast as a college course would go.
journal | Posted by Lily at 01:07 PM
Mon | August 14, 2006
Mother Courage and her Children
Saw Mother Courage and her Children last Saturday, which means I have seen both "Shakespeare in the Park" plays this summer. It was good for me to see a play that wasn't on the subject of love. It's good for me to do things that aren't my idea. It was more about a self-interested person during a time of war. She makes decisions and they cost her her children. I liked it. Played by Meryl Streep. They kind of ad-libbed their lines, flubbed them a little. But no one really seemed to care. They also paraphrased certain parts, or replaced antiquated references. I know because I read part of the play before going, in a last-minute cram session. Which I enjoyed because I am a nerd. I also researched epic theater and Brechtian theater, and read the Spark notes on the play, which I believed was more important than reading the play itself. Anyway it filled out my Saturday and was a nice break, a change from the usual eventless weekend.
Livres, films, TV | Posted by Lily at 02:56 PM
Sat | August 12, 2006
description de Casablanca
Casablanca est un film classique au sujet d’un coeur brisé. Humphrey Bogart est Rick Blaine, un grand homme dans le petit endroit qu’est Casablanca. À Casablanca, tous le connaissent, et on dit “tout le monde va Chez Rick.” En même temps, ils ne le connaissent pas. Ils ne savent pas pourquoi il ne retourne pas en Amerique, ou pourquoi Rick n’est pas intéressé par les femmes, ni par se faire des amis avec les nombreux clients de son bar. Il est seulement intéressé par la gestion du bar qui s’appellé comme lui. Il a l’air sérieux, et ne sourit jamais.
Le film a lieu pendant le seconde guerre mondiale. Au debut du film, à Paris, des allemands declarent que vont arrêter tous les réfugiés. À Casablanca, Chez Rick, le commandant Strasser parle au capitaine Renault du meurtre des agents. Strasser va arrêter le meurtier, qui va être Chez Rick ce soir.
Nous voyons Rick pour la première fois dans la salle de jeu. Ugarte, un client du bar, va vers Rick et lui demande de garder des papiers. Ugarte dit à Rick qu’il est le seul en qui il peut avoir confiance. Ces papiers s’avèrent être les sauf-conduits pour lesquels Ugarte a tué les agents.
Cette nuit, la police ârrete Ugarte, et Rick a les sauf-conduits. Ça devient important parce qu’une femme apparaît, avec un homme, cherchent à Ugarte et les sauf-conduits. La femme est Ilsa Lund, joué par Ingrid Bergman, et l’homme est Victor Laszlo, le chef des Alliés.
Ilsa reconnâit Sam, le pianiste du bar. Après avoir parlé avec lui, elle lui demande de jouer une chanson qu’elle aime tant, “Comme le temps passe.” Sam ne veut pas le jouer mais elle insiste. Il joue… et soudain, Rick apparaît. «Je croyais t’avoir défendu de jouer ça! » il s’exclame. Alors il voit Ilsa.
Ils parlent un peu mais ne revelent pas leur histoire. Elle part avec Laszlo. Ce soir, Rick attend dans son café. Il croit qu’elle va revenir. Et elle revient, mais il est ivre. Elle part.
Rick pense à Paris, où ils se sont connus. Nous voyons un montage de leur temps heureux, mais ça finit mal. Ils doivent partir de Paris quand les Allemands envahissent, et elle ne vient pas à la gare. Sam lui apporte un mot, qu’elle ne peut pas aller avec lui.
Le personnage motivé par le désir de savoir pourquoi une femme n’a tenu pas sa promesse est très intéressant. Rick est blessé, confuse, et encore amoureux. En même temps, il devient plus dangereux pour Laszlo de rester à Casablanca. Lui et Isla ont besoin des sauf-conduits pour s’échapper. L'homme obtient-il la femme? Qui obtient les sauf-conduits? Peut-être il est meilleur n'abîmer pas le reste du film. Je finis avec la ligne célèbre, «Si cet avion décolle sans toi, tu le regretteras. Pas aujourd’hui, ni demain, mais bientôt et pour toujours.»
Livres, films, TV | Posted by Lily at 01:55 PM
Fri | August 11, 2006
step away from the email...
Instead of finishing my summary of Casablanca (in French), I spent the last few hours reading email and (someone help me) forwarding it to people. Could be fine except I haven't talked to a lot of those people in ages. In a lot of cases I've never really talked to them, just sort of. It will be varying degrees of weird for them to get some random forward mini-mass email from me. About free kayaking on the Hudson, or getting paid to blog for Boots n All.
journal | Posted by Lily at 01:44 AM
Thu | August 10, 2006
Le réfrigérateur s'est cassé
The fridge broke yesterday. I went to get an ice cube and found the tray full of water. The frozen pizzas on the shelf underneath were warped, the boxes all soft and wavy. The ice cream was soft too.
After some adjustment of the dials and clearing out the area by the fan, it was running again. For awhile though it looked like there would be a feast. I was kind of looking forward to consuming everything in the fridge in order to "save" the food.
For the past several weeks I have been obediently snacking on apples instead of cookies. Recently I have been eating microwave dinners and ice cream. I've been slipping. Now I am eating a thawed, refrozen, and then microwaved personal pizza.
I guess it's good that the fridge didn't break permanently.
journal | Posted by Lily at 02:56 PM
Tue | August 08, 2006
La Échappée Belle
I got stopped by a police car last night. I broke into tears. And instantly felt that I was being manipulative, even though the tears were genuine. It had an effect on him. "I'll check your record," he said, "and if nothing comes up..." he walked back to his car.
He had previously been interrogating me—Do you know how fast you were going? What's the speed limit on this road?
"40?" I guessed. He was taken aback slightly, an indication that I was grossly incorrect. "25?" I guessed again. I had been down North Passaic hundreds of times, over the years, so it was surprising to me that I had no idea. It was difficult to think with the blinding, flashing lights and the officer standing there.
"Have you been stopped before? Do you have any points?"
It was then that I broke— while I said "no," thinking of my sister who had just gotten two speeding tickets within two months. She went to court for one of them, and got it reduced to a seatbelt violation. I was familiar with the consequences of speeding and points.
The officer went back to his car and did whatever policemen do in their cars while they have you stopped, and your license and registration confiscated. I waited, collected myself a little, and hoped for leniency. I worried because I had said I hadn't been stopped before, when actually I had been, several years ago. Would that come up and would he see that I had lied? I had said no without thinking. And I'd gotten several parking tickets over the years-- I wondered if those would come up.
"This is a warning, not a ticket," he said when he came back. His tone was slightly milder. But it was the difference between alarming and intimidating. I suppose that's the closest that a traffic cop can come to being comforting. "There's no fine, no points," he said.
"Thank you," I managed to say.
He told me to put on my seatbelt and go. At home I played literati and tried to figure out what had made me cry. I didn't have tears streaming down my face, but I definitely lost it a little. And why did he let me go? I could not help thinking, based on my very few experiences being stopped by cops, that there is a small window of time in which the officer makes the decision whether to ticket you, and you have a fleeting chance to save yourself.
Things that could help: crying, saying I'm sorry, saying "I had no idea how fast I was going" (things I said, and truthfully), being a local (he said, "Since you're from the town—").
Things that probably don't help: acting nonchalant, dismissive, or unremorseful; admitting that you knew you were doing something wrong; challenging or arguing, trying to defend, explain, or justify your behavior.
En tout cas, je l'ai échapée belle.
memoir | Posted by Lily at 01:04 PM
Fri | August 04, 2006
Pirates des Caraïbes
No summer is complete without a summer blockbuster... Pirates des Caraïbes is to be mine. Henry and I went to the small theater in Madison that never has any people in it. We parked at the Stop and Shop, on the side closest to the theater, in front of a sign that said Violators Will Be Towed (it added to the suspense). The commerials and previews were so annoying that I left and got Sour Patch Kids, and ate them til the tip of my tongue burned.
An enjoyable movie, more or less… there were some funny moments, like when they were rolling around in that ball. That was one of the last ones, predicated on the mood established by previous ones. And Johnny Depp...
But overall the film had no vision- a bit of an intangible that holds the film together. There were elements that might have given it a center – the magic (broken) compass, Elizabeth's betrayal of Jack, who had betrayed Will, who magnanimously pledges not to abandon his father, even though his father abandoned him — but they don't amount to a lurking, unifying background, for example of unsettled debts or questions of loyalty.
Anyway sequels are difficult so one never really expects much of them. An original can be created with a sense of the unknown, whereas a sequel must be a suitable variation of what has already been made. I think all good movies are made with a sense of wonder.
Livres, films, TV | Posted by Lily at 11:28 PM
Thu | August 03, 2006
Chez Louis Vuitton
Quand je suis descendu du metro aux Champs-Elysés, une femme asiatique m'a approché.
«Parlez-vous Chinois?» elle a dit.
«Je parle un peu», j'ai dit.
«Pouvez-vous me rendre un service?»
«D’accord.» J'ai dit. Je n'avais rien d'autre à faire.
«Bien!» elle a dit. Un homme qui était près de nous est venu. Il a porté un manteau beige.
«Nous recherchions d'une jeune fille qui a l'air honnête.» Elle a dit. Elle m'a regardé de près, et je l'ai regardée. J'ai noté ses sourcils fins.
«Je voudrais que vous aidez-moi acheter un sac.»
«Un sac?» J'ai commencé à reconsidérer ce service, mais il était trop tard. Elle a parlé sans arrêt.
Elle a expliqué que Louis Vuitton avait une règle, selon laquelle on ne peut faire qu’un achat. Elle avait déjà fait un achat, mais elle voulant autre chose, pour une amie. J'ai pensé que peut-être c’était pour elle-même, mais je rien n'ai dit. Je contemplais la stupidité de la règle. Seulement un achat? Ne veulent-ils pas que les personnes reviennent?
Nous nous sommes assisses sur un banc et elle m'a montré des photographies sur son appareil-photo numérique. Nous avons regardé plusieurs photos. Et elle n'avait pas décidé quel sac elle voulant exactement. Elle hésitant entre deux.
«Vous voulez celui-ci», j’ai dit, en sachant peut-être qu’il serait plus cher et en voulant voir jusqu’où elle irait.
«Oui, je pense que vous avez raison», elle a dit. En fait, l'autre sac avait l'air un peu trop jeune pour elle. Je l'ai assurée que je reconnaîtrais le sac avec deux poches et une boucle, et que l'on porté à l'épaule, grace à une bandoulière ajustable.
Je fut un temps où je savait identifier chaque cellule du corps humain sous un microscope, voulais-je dire. Mais je ne savais pas les mots pour cellule, corps humain, ou microscope. J'ai seulement su comme dire, «Je peux le faire, je suis très bonne pour faire du shopping.»
Elle m'a donné 1 000 euros en liquide. Et nous avons marché au magasin. Nous avons marché pendant dix minuits.
J'ai eu une pensée, que j'avais eu avant, mais qui s'est concrétisée quand elle m'a donné cet argent. J'ai pensé qu'il serait très facile pour moi de courir avec l'argent.
Par coïncidence, j'avais économisé 1 000 euros pour mon voyage. Son sac a coûté autant que mes vacances de six jours-- des billets d’avion et la note à l'hôtel Tolbiac jusqu'à mes repas, billets de musée, carte orange et cartes postales.
En plus, j'avais dépensé tout l'argent que j'avais apporté avec moi en espèces et travellers cheques. J'avais seulement dix euros pour cet soir et le jour prochain.
«Nous vous attendrons ici», a dit son mari quand nous étions en face du magasin.
Quand j'ai traversé la rue et ils sont restés derrière, j'ai senti une ouverture.
Mais à la porte je n'ai pas couru. Je suis entré dans le magasin et j'ai commencé à chercher le sac. Pendant une seconde, j'avais peur d’oublier à quoi il ressemblait. Mais finalement je l'ai vu.
J'ai pensé que c’était fini mais c’est seulement le début. Quand j'ai parlé à la vendeuse, elle m'a dirigé au fond du magasin, où il y avait une queue.
J'ai fait la queue à la dixième place, ai observé les personnes, et ai pensée combien j'avais horreur du capitalisme. J'avais pu excuser un américain mais les asiatiques, je l'ai pris personnellement. Toutes les personnes qui ont fait la queue avec moi étaient asiatiques.
Après une demi-heure une vendeuse m'a servi. Elle a ressemblé à une employée de Walmart-- maladroite, grosse, et sans intérêt. Elle a manipulé le sac négligemment, l'a porté dans une main puis elle a frappé contre les jambes tandis qu'elle marchait jusqu à la caisse enregistreuse.
Je me suis inquiétée quand elle a pris mon numèro de passeport- j'ai eu visions de moi à l'aéroport arrètée, ou forcée de payer un impôt dû pour le achat. Évidemment, Louis Vuitton n'avait pas informé l'aéroport de mon achat- il a seulement créer un compte informatique. Mais je me suis vraiment inquiétée.
Avant que je sois sortie du magasin, environ une heure plus tard, j'étais trop fatiguée pour leur parler plus longtemps. Je leur ai donné leur sac et leur monnaie et ai dit au revoir.
memoir | Posted by Lily at 04:02 PM
Wed | August 02, 2006
la marche à la bibliothèque
It was very hot. I didn't mind. My keyboard was broken. I was going to the library to use their computers. At the top of Myrtle I took two steps out on the street, and the black suv did not stop. I let it pass. I noted the person inside. The tiny ants crawled like animated poppy seeds over the giant dead beetle. "The Metamorphosis." On Main Street, when I was almost there, fifty meters ahead there was an old woman with a metal walker. I saw the man having trouble passing her. To avoid the same fate, I veered off and cut through the lawn of the law office, and went through the back door. It was cool, but not too cold, in the library.
journal | Posted by Lily at 12:35 PM
Tue | August 01, 2006
le clavier cassé
Keyboard is broken. Or, it was. It was sticking ceacccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc ccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccceearclier.ccc ccccccccccccccccccccThecre ccccit cccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc cgoes cacgaicnc. cccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc ccccccccccccccc ccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc ccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc cccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc cccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccwhcatc whcatccthe chcell camc cI csupposed cto cdo? ccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccBaccccccccccccccckspace cseems cto cseop cit cccccsometimes. ccccccc cI cguess cI cjust cwonc’t cuse cthics clapctop cacncymore. cccccccccccccccThcis cis cwhatc cI cget cfor ctrying cto cleanc cmy clapctop. cI cthinck CI cmust chcavec ccccsrvatchced csomethicngcv cwhcen cI ccccccccccccccc cleanced cit. Thec cspace cbarc csets coff cthe cccccccccccccccccccc key cncow. ccc
it’s cbizcarcre. cI cthicnkc cthec carcrow ckeys cset coff cthe cccccc ckey casc cwell. I can’ct ceven cedit. cI cccnceed cto cuse cmy cmouse cto clik cand chichlighct cand cdelete.
nonsense | Posted by Lily at 09:34 PM
lettres pas envoyées
I wonder whether I should send this letter to Alice that I wrote Saturday. I vaguely remember that she didn't reply to my last letter. But she sent me a holiday card-- and while, in my ineffectual state last weekend, I was looking at the cards pinned to my bulletin board, I noticed that she had a new address.
I really shouldn't send it because there is no reason to. I probably will send it, in a little while.