Yet another holiday that I've minimally celebrated, or not celebrated at all. Oh, well, it's okay, really, I have more important things to think about. Life's a lot complicated at the moment. And I think we're going to go up North and check out north Oakland. It just seems like the best choice at this point. Maybe I'll reapply to Berkeley in the winter, but right now I just want an apartment!

Other than that, I'm working on my paper doll project, reading a little Herb Caen, and poking about the WWW looking at potential jobs and apartments.

I came across a poem that I like and strikes me well just now, but I don't feel like noding up Su Dongbo today. Here's the poem, though. It's about a thousand years old.

Spring Night

Spring night - one hour worth a thousand gold coins.
Clear scent of flowers, shadowy moon,
Songs and flutes upstairs - silk threads of sound.
In the garden, a swing, where night is deep and still.