First off, hi to some people I love dearly: Mom, Dad, Lele, Chris, Brit, Val, anybody I might have forgotten...

Sonia Sanchez came to our school tonight and read poetry. She's such an amazing reader. She would soar from a simple cadence to a chant to song, and then swoop back down into the hum of her rhythms, her wild repetitions, her poetry that was word bursting out of its shell to mix and mingle with life. She invoked vividly "Peace" as if it could be touched, as if it were a palpable grasping for the fingers; she murmured some words about love; she projected herself and her ideals with delight onto the stage and out into the audience.

At the beginning of the reading, I felt awkward; I felt like an over-saturated sponge -- the desire to soak up everything thwarted by a retention too thick, too yearning, yearning beyond the limits and capacities of what the mind can accomplish. To be there, right there, in the moment and listening to someone great, someone of genius -- the live birthing skill in them. To soak up every word and not miss a drop. I wanted that.

I met JD and Nick before the show. It was so weird sitting with them. Nick was wearing these jeans with gaping holes at the knees. I felt a bit scandalized, I must say. And we sat, as JD remarked with mock-peevishness (now is he a Mulligan?), 150 ft away from the poet as one "cannot listen to poetry within 150 ft of the speaker." I think it was a jab at my own elitism. Ah well...all in playfulness. Of course, then Scott saw the three of us and joined us, and I felt the extreme awkwardness of it...I was part of a group, a group infringing Reed society. It felt weird. I felt as if I were being identified by the others present as part of a group of people in strange dress, on, as I said, the fringes, and yet at the same time I felt strangely alienated from the undercurrents and overtones of the very people I was sitting with.

As the reading went on, however, perhaps moved by the words, perhaps moved by complacency, we all of us melded together and things became more relaxed. Now by the end of the night, I felt pretty good with them. But I wanted to accompany them further, I didn't want to leave; I wanted, on the one hand, the poetry reading to end so I could talk to them and maybe go out with them (Nick and JD...maybe Scott as well, I didn't know what Scott had planned as I hadn't expected him...in truth, didn't even expect Nick) but on the other hand, I was unsure if they wouldn't immediately leave when the reading ended. That was at the beginning, before I relaxed.

In the end, I escorted them to the busstop and let them go. I didn't ask to accompany them because I felt it wasn't my place. I went back to my dorm, looked at poetry I wrote, wrote some more (and despaired of doing any revisions tonight...yech) and then talked to people online and listened to music. Then David called and queried me about my inebriations over the past weekend. And now, here I am, 12:30. It's been a good day. I walked to Milwaukee today (the street, that is) and it was really very nice. Exercise for an hour, flute for an hour, The Golden Ass, a poetry reading, latin poetry...a good life. Now I just have to stop overanalyzing and reap while I sow. Ah well, day's end and rambling aside, goodnight.