...sometimes in saigon...

i) From St. Clair to Finch I thought about tenuous moralities and what they mean for me and what I was thinking about doing, saying. Halfway there I decided it had nothing to do with morality. I know the extent of my morality, and it isn't always pure. But this isn't about personal ethics anymore, not even a little bit. It's about respect, and because of that I'm not going anywhere near there, am not going to even think about going for it. Grey's Anatomy missed the point, really. There was Love and they took it away. Well there's Love here too, you know? Even if it isn't mine. There are some things you just don't mess with.

ii) I finished the painting last night, but woke up with a new perspective. There's something I need to take away, and another thing I need to expand. So tonight I go to it again.

iii) This morning on the bus, I had the most unsetlling experience. There was a little girl on the bus as I got on, maybe 7 or 8, and she immediately ordered me to sit on the "girls" side of the bus. I did, to humour her. She spun around and went straight to an older lady a little further in, trying to talk to her, loud pitched voice, endless questions. At first I was surprised at how adamantly the woman was ignoring this child, pretending to do her crossword and listen to music. How do you that to a little girl instead of playing along? A moment later, she was onto the next passenger, not even bothered by the first lady's refusal to acknowledge her. This went on and on, around the bus, 10 different passengers, different stories, different questions, again, again, again. It became obvious from her comments that she had been on the bus awhile and had been acting this way throughout. Meanwhile, her mother just sat and stared straight ahead, not doing anythying. It became clear that this child was troubled, and she was making the other passengers increasingly uncomfortable. Her mother was immune to it, not surprisingly, because she probably experiences the same situation every day. This was the first time I saw mental illness so clearly manifested in a child so young. It was sad and frustrating, and honestly, very disturbing.

iv) Eluard again tonight, this time in French. The emotion isn't strong enough in English, it doesn't hurt as much.