A perfectly good weekend of solitude was ruined by blowing out a tire on my brother's Jeep yesterday. When the spare was put on, it promptly kicked the bucket too, forcing me to leave the Jeep at Midas until tomorrow, since nobody's working today. Except me, that is; God forbid someone get their Greensheet a day late.

I hung out with my pops all day Friday. Matt, Sara, and Van Cleve stopped by at various points, and it was a damned fine day. Not socializing Saturday and Sunday was also ideal, though I failed to get much reading done, sucked in by Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel as I was. I think that once I'm done watching the fourth and first seasons of each show, respectively, I'm going to have to take a break in order to get anything done. That said, when the time comes for another burst of actively passive consumption, I know where to go.

As a parting gift, here is Li Po's poem "Waking Up Drunk On A Spring Day," taken from Five T'ang Poets, translated by David Young, Oberlin College Press, 1990.


Life is a huge dream
why work so hard?

all day long I drink
laying outside the front door

awakening
looking up through the trees
in the garden

and one bird singing in the flowers

bird, what season is this?
"Spring! I'm a mango bird
and the spring wind makes me sing."

now I grow sad
very sad

so I have some more wine
and I sing
out loud
until the bright moon
rises

what was I upset about?
I can't remember