I was sitting in a cafe waiting for my friends to arrive and these two middlw aged men came sat on the table beside me. I couldn't stop myself from listening to their conversation, one of the men was telling his friend that he has been out with white lady and a black lady but prefers the dating black ladies than white ones. He said he has more fun with a black woman. I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

Beginning (again, and again)
Gung hai fat choy, to you all. It's the lunar New Year, which makes it appropriate that we talk about beginnings.
Some beginnings are quiet and inexorable. Others take rather more work. The beginnings of TOUCHSTONE are proving to be the latter. Then again, with three main characters whose voices need nailing down early on and a complicated political and social situation to work out, I suppose it’s best to start out in the key I intend to stay in.
Generally, I don’t do a lot of rewrite-as-you-go. I write the stuff as a first draft, knowing it’s awful, allowing myself to just write crap, so long as I’m writing. Sometimes it’s necessary to stop what I’m doing and go back a chapter or six in order to work out my thoughts on a character or a plot development, since it’s nearly impossible for my mind to make any sense of an outline. I don’t think in outlines, I think in story lines, and although I may occasionally sketch out how I see the story developing, it’s merely a sequence of events, not anything with structure to it.
Some writers take this get-it-right approach to an extreme, refusing on principle to go past a sentence until that sentence is absolutely Right. Personally, I’m sufficiently compulsive that if I adopted that approach, I’d never get past the first paragraph.
All writing is compromise, and writing done with any degree of commercial awareness in it especially so. If I don’t get this book’s first draft finished by the time THE ART OF DETECTION comes out on May 30, I’m in trouble, because a tour eats up a month or more and that will put me past deadline. And since May is filled with the Edgars, a possible trip to Italy for those publishers, and an event both exciting and terrifying that you’ll hear about later, that means TOUCHSTONE needs to reach its end by the end of April.
I don’t have the leisure to go back and fiddle endlessly with the beginning.
At the same time, this is going to be a big book, and the direction needs to be clear before I proceed. Some books grow from a seed, organically—THE BEEKEEPER’S APPRENTICE, for example, has virtually the exact beginning pages I sat down and wrote as my first venture into crime; TOUCHSTONE feels more like a building being raised, and the architect sort of needs to have the foundations pretty clear in order to see what’s coming.
That last image comes from the dreams I’ve been having, of things crumbling and falling apart literally underfoot. The back of my head seems to be pretty insistent that I get things solid before I go much further. So I rewrite the beginning, taking material out (necessary material—I’ll use it later), filling out the physical descriptions of the three main characters we’ve met so far, honing their words so that each one could only have said what he said, (yes, all three men at this point), making sure that the place and the objects they come in touch with are all reflective of where the plot is going: the main character’s house, for example, and the villain’s overcoat.
I’m nearly ready to move on to chapter two, and allow the story to begin moving across the British countryside from Cornwall to Berkshire.
Not that the tweaking is over, by a long run. No doubt I’ll continue to fiddle with the opening pages until the manuscript goes off to my editor in May, and then again when I’m working on the copyedited version over the summer. Perhaps when it’s all over, I’ll post the several versions on the web site, a lesson in the art of rewrite.
Or, “Can’t I ever get it right the first time?”

Steak and Rice OK, this one is hard to post. It is the story of my very first boyfriend, my first lover, and how he broke up with me because I wasn't thin enough or blond enough to be seen with. Of course I felt like a huge cow when that happened, which was when I was 21, but the truth was that I wasn't even fat. I just wasn't thin enough, or perfect enough for him. But it really fucked me up and triggered one of my worst cutting episodes ever. It is scary to post this because it makes me feel so ashamed. So why do it? Who the fuck knows.

SO LONG AND THANKS FOR ALL THE FISH
Thanks Goose for the thursday post. Haro and I are now going to go to Rubios and complain when they gives real fish tacos instead of the fish tacos we really wanted!
You call your self a chauvenist? You haven't even begun to sink low enough!
Not you goose, your right behind me.
Friday night rocked. Thanks to all the people who showed up!
Fuck Maripa who decided that getting shit faced and picking up on guys like a drink whore was more important then hanging out with a friend who is leaving us so soon!
Thanks to Geo who is now considered a skinhead by the VCPD. Yep, that cop you were talking to came in the next morning and told my boss you were a skinhead and wanted to know if you should be "dealt" with.
Thanks to Brandon for the list of potential new names for our "band".
Thanks to Haro for hanging out with me.
Thanks to mom for buying Taco bell for me and haro.
JESSICA WILL BE MISSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had already noticed it at the time of the preparation of a dinner for friends, 1 dinner with 4. A dinner between people who know each other well and who invite themselves for any reason, a dinner between friends, a dinner to give pleasure. A dinner or I had make a fish fondue.

This receipt was to give me by my beautiful mother, it is another history which will be told later with a pleasure not dissimulated.

I had also noticed it at the time of the monthly purchase of necessary of the case for need for my she-cat. I had also noticed it a morning by making my races of Christmas.



The guys who are used the fish D store INNO for Montparnasse are hyper beautiful. Why? Make they a Casting to like to the housewife crested of 14th? They look at, They serve them and let their fingers be posed on these dead fish.

And PD empty their porte-monnaies.

I thought it more than I dreamed it. It is funny of subject of overpower. I have ten fingers well why not 3 sexes.
If I had three of them I would be made suck by 3 guys at the same time and it would not have there the Jealous one. If I had three of them it there of it well would have a little badly made a little odd. If I had 3 of them is what I would make them bandage one by one? if I had 3 of them is what I pourais to ejaculate with the 3 at the same time? If I had 3 of them is what I could still do me to fuck up the ass?
If I had 3 of them, it would not have to be said; some would like, me to cut one or two Juste of them to see. Would my parents with my birth they have castrated me? If I had 3 of them and that I wanted to become a woman?
if I had three of them I would say it to anybody. If I had 3 of them, I would make flee my plan bottom and I will attract the magazines for Freaks? If I had 3 of them, I would sleep with David Lynch. If I had 3 of them I will cry not to have 3 hands.
ah!! If I had 3 of them.

Cure of Leprous and Sacrament of the Patients" If you want it, you can purify me !" shout this man with the feet of Jesus. To purify me : this word says all the desire of this man and the evil of which it is reached. This evil, it does not name it, parce qu’it is seen, and that, S’it named it, it would redouble it while making it public. But he says his desire D’delivered being of what does of him one excluded in the Jewish company. He is sick and he is impure.Jesus included/understood : " I want it, would be purified ! "and most astonishing this N’is not the immediate cure. C’is the inversion of the roles : C’is Jesus from now on, who became impure puisqu’it touched this leprous. And L’one thus sees from the very start of L’Gospel of Marc that Jesus does not fear to take on him all that reaches us in our humanity, body and heart.C’is L’invitation that made God, as a Jesus, about the evil and of the diseases. A human being forms a whole. Which error to compartmentalize it by being unaware of all these prohibitions which multiply unceasingly between L’heart and the body. ! And especially what a inhumanity lorsqu’one reduces a person to the evil of which it suffers, whatever the evil, as if the evil abolished the personality, the desires of Cœur, the capacity D’to like and D’loved being !I think of the mother D’one of my friends. She had a light cerebral accident. She speaks more slowly, she goes with precaution, but its spirit remains alive and very present at the others. Unfortunately his/her daughter, who is a maternal assistant, N’did not include/understand. She treats her mother like a child. And his/her mother does not support that. She wants to live with her limits, but she wants to live.The sacrament of the patients is D’access with the service of this desire of living. It N’does not announce death. Quite to the contrary, and it communicates the force of Christ to face the evil and with the disease, when they are there.It is necessary to be much further remembering than our friend Jean Pierre BELY told lorsqu’it was cured in Lourdes of his multiple sclerosis, after having received the sacrament of the patients. It insisted much on the decisive role of this sacrament. : before D’being given upright in its body, before the following night, it S’was felt internally cured memory of the evil and sin which made it suffer. The words of the sacrament of the patients had been for him legal tender : " By this holy oiling that the Lord, in his great kindness, expresses us by the way of L’the Holy Spirit. Thus, us having released of very sinned, qu’it saves us and qu’it raises us."It then included/understood qu’it N’was a more prisoner of the evil, and qu’it was going to become pilot safety of God for him.I N’would not dare to say that the sacrament of the patients always produces such a cure. And yet it is always an act of Christ for us, it has his source in the mystery Pascal, it S’accepts in us like a small resurrection, even if effects N’are not sensitive and visible.In any case, I thank you, you them people who wished to receive aujourd’today this sacrament. Thank you for this real act for faith and D’hope ! Thank you to your families and to your entourage not y to have made obstacle under pretext that this sacrament would be L’announces death.C’is L’opposite which is true. This sacrament is the sign that nothing N’prevents the life God from coming S’to register in your humanity, and L’to impregnate like L’oils sacrament. And C’is why, by receiving this sacrament you, the patients, you become for all of the signs and the witnesses of L’glare of God who passes by these gestures of hello.We need to understand that L’evangelization S’achieves as follows : as in L’Gospel, it is the meeting of Christ living with men and women on standby of hello, men and women who soufrent, which fights and needs D’being recognized, respected, supported in all that makes their dignity.What a disaster when one reduces people to what returns them formerly infréquentables like leprous’D ! Which inhumanity when one cannot see any more in a human being only his appearance or his reputationL’action of the sacraments, of this sacrament of the patients touches with this qu’there is in us of deeper, where the sufferings of the body and L’heart S’intermingle, where we need D’being completely looked by God !With you the patients, I ask you to request so that all, we let ourselves reach by L’love of Christ to deepest of our folds. And you all, brothers and Sœurs, let us beg L’Holy Ghost to render comprehensible to us that our church is committed with the manner of Jesus, by perceiving all that wounds our humanity, and by communicating this joy to him in life, this force of resurrection which comes from Him the Saver !

other moviesi was bored with lost in translation. this racist egotistic movie of ms. copolla doesn't deserve all the attention its getting. despite that, the last two weeks have been very rewarding with the movies thrown my way. 21 grams was great, it told a simple story but used fantastic editing work to change the conventional syntax of what could have been a typical melodrama. naomi watts, sean penn and benicio del torro were really superb and it seems they have out-acted everyone in the supposedly great movies this year including mystic river. i have yet to see in america. romance, a french art film with an american porn star (i forgot his name but i did remember seeing him in a lot of porn movies), has been mind boggling. it was discussed as a feminist movie in class, but i read it more as a coming-of-age lesbian movie. milan was cute, and so was woody allen's anything else.thank god for vacations. i spent tuesday night and the wee hours of the morning after with film classmates and our teacher talking about a lot of things that i normally can't talk about with other people. it's nice to be part of a bunch where you actually belong and don't feel like the weirdo just because you have ideas that run contrary to the gamut of popular beliefs. somehow the world becomes more bearable with them. i woke up at 4 pm then went out again last night to watch morny's play which was funny because he gets to play a white man. we always tease him negro, but in this play he gets to be the white boy shouting at the nigger. it was so surreal. the night cap was just as fun as we stuffed ourselves full. the play was three hours long, so dinner had to wait until 10 p.m. and now, with a sore back from a 3 hour sleep, droopy eyes and a lot of unfinished crap for work, i can safely say that i'm o.k.