The Fountainhead

is the book to carry with you if you want to identify with Bostonians. Since beginning the book on Wednesday (at the Red Sox game), I have had strangers of all shapes and sizes commenting on my reading choice. One man shouted at me from across the stands at the RS game, and another, not much older than I, confessed to me on the T that he had personally read it 30 times. And so continues my treck across foundational literature.

On this last Red Sox Wednesday (and the longest day of the year), I also bought:
– Cry, The Beloved Country
– One Hundred Years of Solitude
– East of Eden
– The Chosen

What an outstanding summer lies before me.
p.s. does anyone else get that strange feeling in the back of your throat when you eat pancakes? As much as I enjoy pancakes initially, that unnerving sensation lingers, bringing with it feelings of guilt and nervousness about – something – I’m not sure what.

Thou dids’t leave Thy throne (in the bathtub)

Yesterday I was personally responsible for the deaths of seven mice. All this within the space of five minutes. Three others had near death experiences – shaking and gasping for air. I have realized that mice tend to get the death shakes, which signals the beginning of the end. In the past, I would see their paws quivering and teeth chattering and I would desperately attempt to warm them back to life in my hands. “Baby, baby, baby, baby!!” When mice die, their back forms a strange hump, almost the shape of the side of a muscial instrument. The red eyes of white strain mice turn black. The mice urinate for the last time.

I think that this genocide in particular was caused by dirty tubes leading to the smoking cubicles in Feng’s hood. The tar from the cigarettes can come out of the tubes in a bubble – quickly and quietly suffocating the mouse. Many times mice just receive too much smoke and need some fresh air and water to recuperate completely. It’s a dangerous and discouraging life, as a lab mouse – death either by smoke inhalation or carbon monoxide poisioning (the usual way to sacrifice mice). Some mice actually have a great life – the obese males who don’t smoke and are only there to breed. If the female doesn’t get pregnant quickly, she is replaced with a younger female. He gets the “mad hook-up” as JB would say.

I don’t want you to get the wrong impression – once the mice become addicted to the smoke, they crave it and run into the smoking cubicles. If mothers do not receive their smoke daily, they will eat their pups (this happened last week when i didn’t come to work because my flight was delayed).

We here in Boston just danced to Aquarius and Beck and now we are watching the Office together. It’s been a grand evening with Tuggy – buttery nipples, hymns, chiropractoric actions.

My new work hymn:

Every day the Lord himself is near me
with a special mercy for each hour;
all my cares he fain would bear and cheer me,
he whose anme is Counselor and Pow’r.
The protection of his child and treasure
is a charge that on himself he laid;
“As your days, your strength shall be in measure,”
this the pledge to me he made.

Informational Reformational

This night is first one I see ever the Return of the Jedi. I never before see the movie.

We decide Yoda last words should say , “Make…. sure…. milk…. in….. fridge…. put…………”

Other thing I have to say that interesting:

Courtney Ann here, she eat our food. We are much happy, much glad. Today she buy leg sweater. Leg sweater with two blue stripe on left leg and right leg. Sparkling happiness is hope for our many hope. Joy drink us with Courtney.

Linnea Hope Laura John Gili. Jazz. Club. Keri Courtney Tami. Home. Cyber-Club. Boom boom to the blogs. Yes. We are too cool for everyone.

Last night we drank and evangelized. Poor unsuspecting guy who approached us. Didn’t know what he was getting himself into.

Courtney, Linnea and I visited the Boston Public Library, reading aloud the story of “Sir Galahan and Holy Grail” while viewing the Sargent paintings. We learned the Eve brought the branch of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil out of the garden with her, which grew into a white tree, which turned green when she conceived Cain (supposedly she was a virgin until after the Fall) and red when Cain killed Abel. Apparently Sir Galahan, poor chap, also remained a virgin until death (even though he was married) for the sake of remaining sinless for the quest. Great sexual doctrine.


… is the thing to say, on a bright Hawaiian Christmas day.

Here’s a hello to our friend Tami, who will be flying here TOMORROW. back from a Hawaiian Christmas with her family. Happy Christmas to all. As for me, I’m tired of celebration and irregular schedules. I’m feeling the pull of reorganization and recommitment to classes – this is the time I usually buy new school supplies and write “Be disciplined!” and “You will hate yourself if you make a poor grade in this class!” on the inside of my binders (which I have done in the past). The closest I can come to resolving that feeling is washing my laundry. arg – sometimes I really miss school.

The last few weeks have been eventful.
Evan Donovan, our good chum, came to visit and relax on our couch.
Evan and Laura accompanied me to my superb hospital party (with a chocolate fountain and crab claws).
My 14 year old brother took communion for the first time.
Lucy is gone from our lives forever (Hope’s mum took her away today).
We’ve spent another mirthful evening with our neighbor John, with homemade pizzas, wine, and a cheery seed spitting contest. Sometimes I’m worried that we have a parasidic relationship with him (he’s so generous with his money, car, etc.) but as we say, “As a dog returns to its vomit, John returns to the 3rd floor.”

I’m realizing how many of my entries can be categorized as “befuddled and unwashed.” Yet, somehow they always seem true.


– Keri learns how to call everything “brilllliant” in the British sense
– Keri learns that musicals really do happen
– Keri eats a scorpion with the neighbor downstairs
– Keri watches couches have sex
– Keri volunteers for the Salvation Army and keeps dropping the bell
– Keri tries to get the neighbor drunk
– Keri finds out that she is “everything Americans should be”
– Keri is chastized by her lesbian boss for letting faith get in the way of true love
– Keri is accused of smoking pot frequently
– Keri falls victim to many a snow fight, suffers greatly thereafter
– Keri watches “Next Stop Wonderland” with Hope Davis starring Hope Davis
– Keri takes communion
– Keri manages to avoid teaching ESL yet another week
– Keri cleans bathroom in preparation for the coming of Evan Donovan
– Keri cries when telling testimony to British friend
– Keri continues rumors at work by referring to her love child
– Keri goes hog wild grocery shopping with housemates and understands giddy domestic bliss
– Keri no longer must sleep with Linnea, after her windows are fixed
– Keri always gets very sleepy when time for reading Bible publicly, but revives after vigorously singing alto on Christmas carols
– Keri accidentally leaves the dog tied up outside the Chinese restaurant, forgets, frantically searches for the dog, and is chastized by the Watertown police, who find the dog 2 hours later
– Keri is quite happy with her life, though tired all the blooming time

Oda a la alcachofa

Greetings again, friends.

And then there were four… Tami has left us to scuba dive in Hawaii with her mum and family. Please keep speaking to our common Father about her (I enjoy the comfort of Brae’s quiet Christian China language). Laura is back from Uncle Rudy’s funeral and we are all inspired to wholly devote ourselves to God’s work.

In other news, I have been trying to read all of the important literature to make up for being a biology major. I just finished Les Miserables and To Kill A Mockingbird. Phchew… (that’s an Alex Neff noise). I’ve also invested in two poetry books, “The Poetry of Pablo Neruda” (1000 pages) and “Haiku” by Richard Wright. A few of my favorite haiku thus far:

Six cows are grazing;
The seventh stands near a fence,
Staring into space.

It is without taste,
Or am I a stranger here–?
These drops of spring dew.

In a misty rain
A butterfly is riding
The tail of a cow.
these are a few of my meager additions (modern because no seasonal word) inspired by my daily commute to work:

Indecisive beast
The revolving doors suck in
And quick, spit me out

Vulture commuters
Await the green subway train
To overrun it.

The elevator,
Workman with a hefty friend
Nitrogen tank

“Without your love, it’s just a honky-tonky parade.”

Billie Holiday is playing and Elk and I are making chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, for keeping and sharing. Our days here recently have been filled with both idyllic moments and quite painful ones. Tami is leaving us on Wednesday, to move back home to support her mom’s struggle with cancer. Linnea and I are the only ones here whose families haven’t been hurt by cancer within the last month. So pray for those affected, please.

“Gilbert Blythe says being smart is better than being pretty.”

“Who ever thought we’d be watching Anne of Green Gables and drinking martinis?” Hope asks. And on the first snowy day at Boston-city, too. Happy time-changing day! I greeted the man standing next to me on the bus with this, and he eagerly began telling me about how he was two hours late to work every day anyway, and an extra hour would do nothing.

“Oh Diana, I feel as though you’ve tasted the bitterness of death.” says Anne when Diana is forced to abandon the Queens class to stay at the home and learn housework.

I visited the MFA today, especially to see the Ansel Adams exhibit – “Black and White.” It was magnificent. The snow was falling outside and I started to cry, deeply moved. One must realize that I am at a point in my life where everything is deeply moving unto tears. I recently teared up during an OSHA video at work orientation. Pathetic, eh? Not as pathetic as Linnea tearing up while describing “Feed the Birds” in Mary Poppins.

Last night, we ate with our male neighbors below. Ryan seems a tad halfhearted, but he has a serious girlfriend and is a special ed teacher. John is funny and an adventurous spirit – he is going to Israel next week just to see whats there. Our house talked to him for four hours. How come the Christians we know can’t be that interesting.

Mrytle-loy. That’s what Hope, who is horrendous with names, calls Marilla of Anne of Green Gables.

Dang it, I’ve got to clean the kitchen now.

Lucy, the Roman Goddess

Hello and hello. Did you know that for two years I had dreams with 1979 by the Smashing Pumpkins as the soundtrack? It wasn’t until college that I figured out what song it was that was echoing in my mind continually. When I realized the song (I had never heard the title before) I celebrated by screaming and vigorously hugging Richard Iserman. It still gives me chills. Our dog, Lucy, is trying (unsuccessfully, I must add) to woo me with her eyes. She seems to be under the impression that if her eyes are just a little more soft, I will give in and worship her, feeding her butter and panties while she lies on the prized red couch. I’m not quite to that level, but close.

Lucy is going to leave our lives forever soon. Unlike Linnea, who sees this as a truly blessed event, I’ll be quite heart broken (but less hairy). The tentative plan is to fly her to my parents’ house in Alabama, where my family dog (strangely also named Lucy) and a acre of yard awaits. It’s a pretty expensive venture, but we think that it would be worth it to have Lucy spend the rest of her life with other dogs, children, and a yard – with a family we trust and can visit.

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