what rain does

more effective than any topcoat

When I was still asleep I could hear the rain creeping into the morning. It began as a whirring that I mistook for circulating refrigeration fluid. The sound disturbed Sierra, too; I saw her sit up in bed. Then the whirring swelled into a watery cascade -- no intermediate pattering, just a sudden arrival.

As I walked down the glassy path to the library sans iPhone camera, I fumbled for images fit to describe the transformation. Rain deepens all colors just as seawater polishes pebbles: those round coins, temporarily coated in gleaming cobalt, gathering ruches on the shore. How disappointed I am an hour later to find the glistening token in my pocket replaced by a dull, gray lump, as pointless as a paver, powdery to the touch. Today the rain lavishes on the great granite quarry that is Vermont the same emollient, one that intensifies every gray and washes every white; creating contrast, phrasing, dynamics. Light reflects off of wet walls instead of warming them. And tomorrow returns the dry, dusty neutrals of sun-baked brick.

But the soft leaves on feathered trees absorb the rain and glow ever brighter their golds and russets and greens, their apple-tones, until they are so waterlogged that they drop to the mud. 

that age-old question

"Gloria, do you want to be an architect?"

10/10 －10/14: 朋友見面

真的很想你

(I can outline the motions in Chinese, but the emotions I reserve)
星期五下午四點半，我坐上去學校辦得秋假公車。小怪座我旁邊，跟我分他的 Ritz 餅乾。她對中國古代文學很有興趣，她小時候不到一歲已經會背詩。她說我應該給（朋友）送一個紅豆手鐲（紅豆生南國）。小怪的男朋友在清華大學醫學院，所以她也送過紅豆手鐲。還有，小怪發現我的名字（“友梅”）有特別的意思。中國詩人有三個朋友：竹，梅，松。梅花在冬天開花，竹子和松樹不會被風吹斷。弟弟的名字剛好是“友松”。

我們晚上八點半到南波士頓的車站。我跟小怪座地鐵，過美麗的 Charles 河。她在 MIT 站下來，我自己坐到哈佛。（朋友）在油條點等我，我一看到他就開始跑。他現抱我，再擦擦眼淚。我們那天晚上走去河邊，一邊說笑話，一邊說實話。我們在橋上走幾圈，看圓圓的月亮。那天晚上睡得很飽。

星期六早上，我們吃冷披薩，賴在宿舍裡。下雨了，所以我們躲進去一家越南麵店。吃完以後一起坐地鐵去波士頓市中心，花一個下午逛街。（朋友）餓了，所以我們在 Quincy 市場吃龍蝦三明治和蛤蜊濃湯。我們看到熱鬧的糕點店進去買波士頓 cream pie，eclair， 和 canoli。 還沒肥死，但是我的褲子扣不起來。回到宿舍一起跳舞。噢！我忘了最有意思的事：睡覺前，我們倆帶上耳機，一邊聽音樂，一邊散步。我們在科學學院找到一間空教室，在黑板上畫圖，留給別人欣賞。

星期天早上，我去地下室找鋼琴。練完鋼琴以後，（朋友）帶我去吃三頓午飯：Clover 素菜（他受得了），Life Alive 嬉皮食物（他受不了），還有韓國豆腐煲。天氣真美，所以我們去公園曬太陽。那天晚上，（朋友）的朋友慶祝生日，另外一個朋友請我們去聽她的無伴奏合唱團。我覺得（朋友）很適合唱這種歌。這位朋友叫 “阿拉克絲”。阿拉克絲請我們跟她的表姐去很高級的甜點店吃宵夜。蘋果派配冰淇淋，芝士蛋糕， 熱熱的巧克力蛋糕配核桃，三種冰糕：我們簡直太幸福！阿拉克絲是杭州人（長得非常韓周）；她的表姐是湖州人。很高興認識她們。

星期一，Columbus Day。跟（朋友）再去吃一頓豆腐煲。他帶我去參觀一下哈佛 Crimson 紙總部：前門當然是紅色的。我自己去逛街，找到一家非常可愛的舊貨店叫 Oona’s。（朋友）和阿拉克絲打算跳進去 Charles 河，但是太多人在河裏划船。他們最後該注意去吃披薩。我們回去宿舍看一部電影叫 Ponyo。小魚太可愛！看完電影又討論我們很特別的情況。

星期二，該回家了。早餐：先做的白米飯配蘿蔔！（朋友）送我去門口的地鐵站，幫我拉行李。希望有一天可以再跟他過一樣好的日子。再見，好朋友！好好學習！

books and movies books and movies some music too

This week, I am sponge.

Squelched from the pages of Kafka on the Shore:

"Still, there's something in this photo of the nineteen-year-old that the middle-aged woman I know has lost forever. You might call it an outpouring of energy. Nothing showy, it's colorless, transparent, like fresh water secretly seeping out between rocks--a kind of natural, unspoiled appeal that shoots straight to your heart. That brilliant energy seeps out of her entire being as she sits there at the piano. Just by looking at that happy smile, you can trace the beautiful path that a contented heart must follow. Like a firefly's glow that persists long after it's disappeared into the darkness."
I want to draw this scene. I want to live it.

"'Tell me something,' Hoshino began. 
'What?''
Are you really Colonel Sanders?'
Colonel Sanders cleared his throat. 'Not really. I'm just taking on his appearance for a time.'
'That's what I figured,' Hoshino said. 'So what are you really?'
'I don't have a name.'
'How do you get along without one?'
'No problem. Originally I don't have a name or shape.'
'So you're kind of like a fart.'"
That is powerful writing (or translation).

Sopped up from last night's screening of Frühlingssinfonie:

"The Spring Symphony" roused in me indomitable desire. Desire for musical companionship, for communication, for insoluble bonds. The love story of Robert and Clara Schumann confirms the impermanence of human passion, but affirms that our art--the words, sounds, and images that outlive their smithers--may cheat change. 

In one scene, they swim in seas of white sheets and nightgowns to the swelling of his piano concerto, clinging to each other with a fury usually reserved for their respective roles as composer and performer; in the next moment, they are married strangers, regretful yet resolute. An abrupt ending: Robert dies young of syphilis, but Clara spends the next forty years performing and promulgating his works. Music tied them together in life and death; it was a strand that the Fates could not sever.

And a comment on music-marketing:

What does it take to make classical music appeal to contemporary audiences? Perhaps some proper exploiting, as this flyer does Symphonie Fantastique. Berlioz's audiences knew the stories behind his sounds; if our generation did as well, there would be hope for the genre.

sounds good to me