The fair lunar goddess
Excellently bright,
Seated on silver Chariot
Carry me away in bliss
And lay me in thy heart
Crystal shining, pearl chaste,
The fair lunar goddess
Excellently bright.
Tag: thoughts
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Moon Rabbit
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Winter, come; snow, come
Where she came from
The white wreath of snow
Blossoms where cactuses grow,
Lakes become links of ice;
She shall smile when Boreas
Arrives in the wings of winter
And ushers in the fury of fire. -
Afterwards
The haze of the great fires
lingers beneath the evening sun
in soft sunshine shadows;
Every shadow sheds tears
on the dust of the memories
Windswept in allwhither.P.S.: Today, during the mass, the priest said some parishioners lost their homes due to the Great Fire this week and could not attend the mass. Presumably, they should live in Pasadena, about 15 minutes from where I live in the heart of Los Angeles, CA. It reminded me of the Great Fire of London (09/02/1666 to 09/06/1666), which was said to result from a fire in a bakery in the city. I have never seen anything to that effect in my life. I can still smell the burning, and the ashes from the fires scatter around the city. I hope those affected by the fires will have the care and help they need promptly and effectively.
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emotion bin
Why do I always feel guilty and remorseful about things I am not wholly responsible for, the faux pas?
And I have a reason to think so.
Today, the accounting clerk – more of a delivery guy – was supposed to pick up a returned check from a vendor, but he wasn’t, and the accounting department was behind him by not answering my questions about why he didn’t pick up the check. Did I do something unforgivably or gravely wrong? Was my calling the guy “Hey George” enough to irritate his nerves? But don’t they at the firm call each other “Hey?” Oh, I got it. So they can say hey, but me. It’s not the same, hey. It’s a different hey from mine. I got it.
Still, it’s a job, and what if someone – and most possibly the guy himself – steals the check and appropriates it to frame me so that I will be fired from the job? I have a valid reason to speculate the scenario: that guy smirks at me and is always happy to ignore me when saying hi and hello, and what’s up to everyone but me. Too sensitive? Of course, when you and he are alone in an elevator, and there’s only radio silence, except for his malicious and vile smirk? Oh, yes, definitely sensitive.
The check was not returned and is supposedly kept in our desk drawer in the office. I worked from home today, and I asked my colleague in the office to keep it in the drawer. I hope the delivery guy or his kindred accomplice will not do anything malicious to wreak havoc on my career and sanity.
I am writing this because otherwise, I would feel like I cannot sleep. So, by writing the litany of woes, I hope I can get rid of the evil spells or exorcise demons hell-bent on gripping my soul, dragging me to hell.
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I love you, my dear Camille
My Camille is unwell now. He eats, drinks, and defecates, but I know there’s something wrong with his demeanor, mood, and aura. No, it’s not a hyped reaction from an overly protective spinster guardian, but I ohknow. It worries me to death; it pains me to no end. I am so thankful for his little heart pumping beneath his sleek, straight black fur, and on the other hand, I inwardly recoil in fear that what if it begins to slow and then stop?
I have noticed that when I pet Camille, he secretes a fluid with a noticeable smell, which isn’t terrible. I thought it was his way of expressing content when petted, and my research shows it’s partly true. Partly it is due to his anal gland charge, which worries me. So, I think maybe it’s a complication of the anal glands and other organ infections, such as liver or urinary.
And it plunges me so low into the abyss of grief, echoed in guilt for Camille’s condition because I have not been so loving or patient with Camille’s urge to play. He tends to eat frequently, almost every 10 minutes or so. Even though I always ensure my cats’ bowls are full of dry food with water, Camille prefers wet food. He eats small but many times. It might indicate diabetic symptoms. I feel like a terrible guardian, and more terrible is losing him – which is unthinkable! Let present fears less than horrible imaginings!
I just made an appointment with a vet to check him this Saturday. I hope Camille is not seriously ill.
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Shooting star
He shouldn’t have been there. No, not at that McDonald’s or any McDonald’s where random people might have seen him. For the class of people he seems to care about, that’s how they perceive him. What an irony it is—sad but true.
Mangione must have been incredibly hungry to eat at a McDonald’s while knowing he was on the run.
Did he think he wouldn’t be caught? It seemed almost naive in a boldly youthful way. Mind you, I am not endorsing his killing of the CEO of UnitedHealthcare on his way to the “investment” conference. Still, his motives reflect some of the ancient and medieval ideas of self-evident justice—his actions against the unjust. The entire narrative feels like an adventurous tale about a young knight.
He comes from a wealthy background, much like our new president-elect, Donald Trump. However, there is a key difference: Mangione is a well-read, articulate thinker and writer who empathizes with the have-nots. He does not feel entitled or complacent about his status and circumstances. Here is a young man who truly cares about those outside the boundaries of social protection—those without health insurance or, even if they have it, without enough benefits.
He is an unlikely person in an unusual situation.
Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh 
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