Something placed it there, this hand. Some thing or word or thought or impression or feeling or action or one--this has a source and, please, it must have a destination. It must, or I am to be felt by it for too long now. To find the destination, and from there to see the source--perhaps that can be placed second or third on my 'to do' list.
LOVE - Tristan
PS-I stumbled into Sam's today after roaming Yonge with Stacey as a Christmas shopping mate. I was wanting to jog up to the folk section, but I entered through the classical door. I thought of Debussy, and wanting to know more of him--his compositions mostly. A girl met me and asked, so I said, and she pointed, and we talked, and smiled and talked off topic--jazz, playing, learning, instruments, names, finally. Deanna, or that sound. Nice girl. A good friend to make on the turn of instant. Three for two on the 'eloquence' line of release, so two Debussy discs, and one Rachmaninov (piano concertos).
The one I'm listening to is nice (does that help describe it?)--fucking beautiful and full of feeling, then. I am pleased with my perchases of the day. I got a lot covered, and once the first session is done there is an ease in the ones that follow. There is nothing like sitting on your gifts through the season. I would love, for once, to be finished before the eve of the twenty-fourth. I borrowed the second season of 'Six Feet Under' from Kyla, and I am looking forward to watching it at mom's home with tea and hot chocolate and Josefina, and whoever else wants. I don't know if I have already seen the whole season while it was running, but at least I will have something commercial-free to watch.
Tomorrow doesn't need to be a big day, but it feels me with the hand.
PEACE
before || after
