June 2003 Archives

my new room is a rich pumpkin color. when i turn off the stereo, i hear the soft song of the fountain in the courtyard behind my flat. when i walk outside, the people i see are friendly, they smile. this morning, i walked to work. it took fifteen minutes.

i should have a new phone number tomorrow and i've got a new address. if you know me and want it, write me and ask.

things are looking up.

i've been packing. i boxed up one bookcase and started walking around this apartment, known as Amazonia, noticing what was mine. what needed to be gathered, wrapped, packed, abandoned. come sunday, i'll be in a new apartment, in a nicer part of time. i mean town. that was an authentic freudian slip there. analyze away.

i don't really know what i can say here about how leaving this house makes me feel. it makes me cry. i'll admit it. it's hard not to remember all the things said and done here. which is also why i'm moving. hopefully to a nicer part of time.

rumaging through old stuff, i found a quote i had written down.

"guns don't kill detectives, love does."

my brother was hit by a car on thursday. his girlfriend, lea, called me from the ambulance. at General, when i got to see him in the trauma center, his face was caked with blood. and making jokes with the nurse, i scrubbed the blood off my brother's face.

there were a lot of static-filled cellular calls to Jersey, where my parents were, and to Burlingame, where my sister was. and lots of x-rays and cat scans and back and forths with this nurse or that doctor. lev was in a lot of pain, but in good spirits. i left around eleven, took a long shower and fell into bed.

I have an exceptionally big basement.

That's what this palmist told me. She looked at my hands at a party. Then she looked at my hands. She'd been giving people quick readings for fun.

She looked at my hands and said, "Can I take prints of your hands sometime? I've never seen features like these before." She wanted to come to my house, on her time, to take prints of my hands and give me an extensive free reading. That's too weird to pass up. I had her over.

There are, it turns out, many strange things about my hands. She said I had a big basement. This means that one of the quadrants on my palms is exceptionally large. This segment pertains to my ability to access and revive elements from my past. Most people have normal "basements" and can only keep so much old stuff there before they need to get rid of it. Not me. I can store inordinate amounts of stuff from my past and I'm able to revive and relive the past quite easily. Not only do my palms say this is true, but it is, in fact, true. I also have philosopher's fingers.

The really odd thing, though, is that my pinkie fingers have only two segments. Everyone else has three. I have the correct number of knuckles but on the palm side the finger is broken into only two segments. I asked my immediate family and I'm the only one with this trait. It took her a long time to figure out what that could mean and in the end she could only guess.

If you're a palmist, take a look and let me know what you think.