Harmonics from Under the Stairs

Harmonics from Under the Stairs

Being wired to EEGs can gratiate the old ego - at least it's proven that I am indeed one chilled out dude (or one with little brain activity). The weather has improved greatly here, enough to move the Buddhist club sessions to the campus green (no photos yet). A little aikido sparring with the Chinese leader really gets the compassion flowing. The attendance has dropped lately, but that's cool...if they want to be reborn as meercats it's a shame...but it's cool...metta. I need all the metta i can get.

This semester the person living next door has invested in a sub-woofer that is capable of spinal surgery and lighting candles all by itself. Bass is a good thing, rounding off the music of life. At first I thought it would be better than having to hear her conversations (she apparently has difficulty hearing herself and thus must try to rupture her vocal chords each time she needs to share pressing information about Shakira and the general situation with fake nails) through the walls, but guess what...she is able to speak over the spinal surgery box. Whopee. metta.

Anyway, next semester Nikita and I are outta here to the evilly named College III, the high tech college, and the quiet block - the silence...the stillness...or maybe not, apparently 6 people living there own guitars and there are rumors that 2 are electric. We'll see, and Nikita is sharpening swords in the meantime. His new hobby, hair styling, requires great prowess with slicing things. Stefan, the victim in the photos was here a good hour and a half under experimentation while the hair surgeon foretold great things in the way the keratin died.

The dazed dude from Zimbabwe (or Zim as he calls it) with the Twix bar was one of the more prominent figures here during this week, the African cultural week. It's not really an accent, just a particular way of talking that makes him almost impossible to understand sometimes and his poetry pretty good (and sometimes just leaves you with an uneasy feeling that he just ordered pizza). Complex, as he calls himself, has reminded me of the value of poetic expression, and in such vayne inspired the purchase of a fountain pen of great power that will aid me in world domination.
And to that end, I'm gone....