立夏 lìxià / 立夏 rikka / 입하 ipha
槐月初八 / eighth day of the sophora month

2013 spring harvest of green tea from China. I'm excited.

立夏 lìxià / 立夏 rikka / 입하 ipha
槐月初八 / eighth day of the sophora month

Walked into a butcher shop. Smells Like Teen Spirit was playing on the radio.

立夏 lìxià / 立夏 rikka / 입하 ipha
槐月初八 / eighth day of the sophora month

To be remembered.

In Scarry's The Body in Pain:
"Freud's own work is devoted to...a third body part he has habitually taught us to recognize in successive circles of sublimation: people living in a post-Freudian era effortlessly and unembarassedly identify the phallus in dream objects, domestic objects and civil objects. It is apparently 'out there' with dream sticks, dream vultures, materialized pipes, hats, drills, swords, skyscrapers, obelisks, and rockets, where it is companions by equally pervasive materializations of its female counterpart, the womb, which reappears in multiple forms of sheaths, shields, dwelling-places, and shelters."

What a way to be remembered.

Earlier in the morning, I showed Lindsay some Chinese phrases. I was thinking about them again while I was walking.

七情六欲 qī qíng liù yù
Lit. seven affections/emotions (happiness, anger, sadness, fear, love, hate, desire) and six desires (experienced through eye, ear, tongue, nose, body and mind)
Int. the natural physiological responses of a human being that cannot be avoided

昙花一现 tán huā yí xiàn
Lit. the once-a-year, for-a-few-hours flowering of the night-blooming cereus
Int. the beautiful and the good things are rare and short-lived

妖魔鬼怪 yāo mó guǐ guài
Lit. spirits, demons, ghosts, monsters
Int. the rejected, repressed aspects of one's personality; the shadow self

I was asking myself, "What is love?" It is a question that does not need to be answered.

立夏 lìxià / 立夏 rikka / 입하 ipha
槐月初八 / eighth day of the sophora month

I met this wisteria last year: it flowers at a special time of the year for me. I am calling her, "Johanna".

立夏 lìxià / 立夏 rikka / 입하 ipha
槐月初八 / eighth day of the sophora month

I am at 40 Maltby Street with the Scarry book and a plate of artichokes waiting for Amy to come have lunch.

I was chewing on a bit of bread when I read this line that made me make a sound that sounded like, "uuuuuuuhh".

"...this habit of perception is neither exclusively ancient...nor exclusively poetic...and thus cannot be attributed to acute sensitivity nor, as it is sometimes phrased, to romantic sentimentality."

Analysis later, Amy's here!