consistant stirrings of a similar deja-vu: writing an email to someone, usually a dark haired woman, whom i am just getting to know and while reading it, this sense of carrying something pink and heavy down a long long hill comes over me, then i immediately go to which ever online dairy im using and jot it down. maybe this is the first time its happened, maybe the 3rd. Here is the email:

Marci -

A guitar, skillfully wielded by Solimon, sends bright yet sadly hopeful chords drifting through the schoolhouse; Emma paces nervously, waiting for the Canadian election results; and I sit here, exhausted. Today, classes began for the Remaking Society program. Lectures mixed with discussion for hours on social ecology and the base of capitalism wilt my brain; baking a chocolate birthday cake(vegan!) topping it with peanut butter icing & fresh strawberries has me all tuckered out. Multiple readings still remain before tomorrow and then hopefully some journalling will happen. All a vain attempt at comprehending what has been bombarding me the past three days.
Guadalajara sounds excellent. Why are you there? Solidarity work for the
arrestees/detainees/disappeared from the recent mobilization around The Third
Summit of Governments and Heads of State of Latin America, the Caribbean and
the European Union? Or just to explore? Mayhaps something more fascinating?
I dont mind compliments, often times they induce blushing, pleasurable
wiggling, or verbal tripping. That day at Staples, a bout of identity politics driven white male guilt had overcome me. I desired madly to be invisible, almost. To not be who I am, to not be different than anyone else; a day of self-deprication not adoration. Though I'm not entirely sure I understand those feelings.
My condolences for your dog and my wishes/hopes for a fast and complete
recovery to your mother. That sounds impersonal, but those words are most
accurate. Parting the fog of daily reality pain, grief, fear, and loss often
afford us brief glimpses at obscured lessons and messages. What were yours? Why
did they lead to Guadalajara? And what doors have been opened since then?
Dregs of english breakfast tea remind me that I've got reading to finish. Good luck in California. When we find ourselves in jersey simultaneously, sharing talk over hot tea strikes me in a pleasurable way.

with hugs, hope, and happiness
demetrius