A man can be happy with any woman as long as he does not love her.

The wellspring of our nightmares

It seems our goal in life is to put more distance between us and every other human being.

Lived in an apartment most of time so far. Childhood apartment in Nanyou/Zhanjiang, 5th floor, the sea breeze, view of the hospital and the rice fields. 2 bedrooms, 1 dining, plus kitchen and bathroom, all subsidized by CNOOC. Personally didn't know how great the neighborhood was in comparison to the other crappy districts, it didn't matter. My parents' goal in life was to get to somewhere better.

Grandparents' house, transit point. three generation under one roof and 3 floors, which only two have living spaces. Spaces didn't mattered because we have friends and family. Being a kid didn't require a lot of spaces back then. But now, with 3 kids and 3 families living in just 4 bedrooms, you can just feel the tension grinding down the kid's emotional development.

Irving, 1994, second floor, loud air conditioners on first floor makes a quiet night of sleep a luxury. A downgrade from 3rd world first class to first world 3rd estate. Another apartment closer to high school, but what did it mattered? High school for many was not the infinite American possibilities in Friday Night Lights.

Being stuck, from generation to generation, in lower middle class is the wellspring of our nightmares.

Bought an iPod. Was struck by how consumer hostile the whole thing is. Scrambling of music files, refusal to organize by user's existing folders. No drag and drop, lack of seemless transfers between computer and player. Ugh, the thought that I actually paid for this thing makes me sick.

Just give me a mp3 player that I can just drag and drop folders to play music, in addition to the ability to use it as a mass storage device.

The Mysterious Geographic Explorations Of Jasper Morello

It was like this: you were happy

It was like this:
you were happy, then you were sad,
then happy again, then not.

You were innocent, or you were guilty
actions were taken, or not
at times you spoke and at other times you were silent
mostly it seems you were silent
what could you say?

Now it is almost over
like a lover your life bends down and kisses your life
it does this not in forgiveness
between you there is nothing to forgive
but with a simple nod of a baker at the moment he sees the bread is finished
with transformation
eating too is a thing now only for others

It doesn't matter what they will make of you or your days
they will be wrong
they will miss the wrong woman
miss the wrong man
all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention

Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad,
you slept, you awakened.
Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.

- Jane Hirshfield

Rises and Rises Again

The Bourne Identity (2002)

There are some espionage writers who use the form as a way of probing troubling geopolitical realities and vexing ethical dilemmas. Ludlum, who died last year, was not one of them. But at a moment when big, dumb thrillers like ''The Sum of All Fears'' find themselves suddenly burdened with expectations of relevance, the utter and systematic irrelevance of ''The Bourne Identity'' to anything currently or formerly happening in the world comes as something of a relief.

The Bourne Supremacy (2004)

As an action-movie travelogue, ''The Bourne Supremacy'' is unusually evocative. From its beaches of Goa to Berlin's clotted skyline to Moscow in the snow, its city lights glowing, it imparts a glamorized sense of tourism under duress.

The Bourne Ultimatum (2007)

For Bourne, who rises and rises again in this fantastically kinetic, propulsive film, resurrection is the name of the game, just as it is for franchises.