Novel Eye

Your past life diagnosis: I don't know how you feel about it, but you were female in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern Portugal around the year 1325. Your profession was that of a jeweler or watch-maker. Your brief psychological profile in your past life:Inquisitive, inventive, you liked to get to the very bottom of things and to rummage in books. Talent for drama, natural born actor. The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:The world is full of ill and lonely people. You should help those, who are less fortunate than you are. Do you remember now? Amusing. Though I am wondering how a female could have become a jeweler or watch-maker in 1325. Thanks to Musing for this .

So, speaking of Japan... I read the very short novel "In the Miso Soup" or イン ザ・ミソスープIn za Misosūpu (ha ha!) by Japanese novelist Ryu Murakami , not to be confused with Haruki Murakami (who writes equally strange but generally much longer novels). Murakami R has always focussed on the seedier side of Japan, one which the Japanese do not speak of and try not to acknowledge. This one was about a young guide who makes a living guiding gaijin through Tokyo's sex clubs--until he meets an American who may or may not be a serial killer. The Japan painted here is unrelentingly shallow, full of desperately lonely people who cannot make any kind of connection. Le plus c'est différent , le plus c'est la meme choses . ADDITION: Per below--at one point konbon wa was written kombon wa . I don't know whether this was an attempt to capture the nasal hum that is the Japanese final n, or merely a typo, but it seems to show that translating sound from one langua

A week ago, last Saturday, after that long, strange week and a pleasant day of shopping with my husband, I came home and slipped down my stairs. I don't know if it was because my hands were full, or because I hadn't pulled my slippers over my heels, or because the stairs are very narrow and steep and slightly crooked, but for whatever reason, my foot slid over the lip of the top stair and down. I jettisoned everything I was carrying and grabbed for purchase, stopping about mid-way down. Too stunned to speak I turned and crawled back up my stairs, walked into my bedroom and lay face-down on the bed. My husband, who had come running at the clatter brought me an ice pack wrapped in a towel. Among the things I had thrown into space were my camera (fortunately in its case) and a small box of earring barbells which had scattered like confetti on the way down. While I lay there he went an picked up. After the whimpering stopped I was able to gauge that nothing was broken. Somehow I h

I know I said I wasn't going to write about work--but this is an accomplishment of sorts, and more working things out. The week of the 7 th -9 th was the bi-annual Summit, here in Boston this time. It went well and I received some praise. I met some very nice affiliates and sponsors and speakers, and some really, really strange ones. Like the one who wanted to be The Chairman of the Board. In fact, on the little humorous questionnaire we passed out he admitted that he worshiped ol ' Blue Eyes. He's 35... Then the one who found Atlas Shrugged a seminal novel--which I guess it is, it just depends on how you take it. I'll pass over those who listed Da Vinci Code as one of their favorite books, or "anything by John Grissom ." And move on to the two older male affiliates --one who's favorite movie is "The Neverending Story" and the other who's favorite is " Ladyhawke ." His favorite book is "The Princess Bride." A

Matt and Bethany both wrote to tell me that their understanding--that I was trying to say WTF in Japanese--was not being fulfilled on my CafePress shirt. SOOOO --I have decided I will offer both. I think I will add the romanji for people who have only heard it--say in anime rather than read it in manga (or from the lips of their favorite J-Rock stars). Yup, I'll rush right over and do that... at some point.

Bonjour Vietnam Raconte moi ce nom étrange et difficile à prononcer Que je porte depuis que je suis née. Raconte moi le vieil empire et le trait de mes yeux bridés, Qui disent mieux que moi ce que tu n’oses dire. Je ne sais de toi que des images de la guerre, Un film de Coppola, [et] des hélicoptères en colère ... Un jour, j’irai là bas, un jour dire bonjour à ton âme. Un jour, j’irai là bas [pour] te dire bonjour, Vietnam. Raconte moi ma couleur, mes cheveux et mes petits pieds, Qui me portent depuis que je suis née. Raconte moi ta maison, ta rue, raconte moi cet inconnu, Les marchés flottants et les sampans de bois. Je ne connais de mon pays que des photos de la guerre, Un film de Coppola, [et] des hélicoptères en colère ... Un jour, j’irai là bas, un jour dire bonjour à mon âme. Un jour, j’firai là bas [pour] te dire bonjour, Vietnam. Les temples et les Boudhas de pierre pour mes pères, Les femmes courbées dans les rizières pour mes mères, Dans la prière, dans la lumière, revoir mes