Day 278 | Friday, October 2 | 2009

Today was one of my favorite days of 2009 so far. Although it was a little cloudy today (there was a later a little burst of sunshine -- when I took this picture) and I felt discouraged after meeting with my professor, our dinner tonight was really wonderful. Boaz and Sam did most of the cooking -- we had potato rolls (think an almost flaky spiced biscuit consistency with mashed potatoes wrapped inside of them), a vegetable soup, corn on the cob, some marinated and steamed kale, and vegan apple pie for dessert. The food itself was so good that I could not believe it came from my kitchen. I made the potato rolls for the most part (although Boaz made the dough), but Boaz and Sam made everything else. I am so lucky to have them here!

The night was also special because of the great people that were there -- Leslie, Dan, Mauricio, Boaz, Sam, and Caitlin. We all sat down while we ate our dinner and shared some sort of item, thought, or memory with the rest of the group. Boaz elected to 'share' me with the group by playing a few songs on guitar and I couldn't refuse. It was about that moment when Larry came over (some of his friends then soon followed thereafter). I chose to share a short film by Mitchell Rose called Elevator World which I find particularly hilarious. Go to www.mitchellrose.com for videos. Caitlin chose to share the video from her blog of a man reading a Rumi poem, Leslie gave out cards that she had made for everyone and read a piece of her own, Mauricio shared some tokens that were important to him and explained some of his valuable memories, Sam shared a poem by T.S. Elliot, and Dan performed an absolutely mind-blowing presentation of the didgeridoo. The didgeridoo is an Australian instrument (created by native Aborigines I believe) that resonates with a constant low-pitched din. What was surprising about the way Dan played the instrument, though, was that he was able to do imitable sounds through the instrument while circularly breathing. He played for about 3 or 4 minutes straight, while intermittently interpreting the careful sonic nuances of the bark of a dingo, or the squeal of some animal one might find while strolling the Australian Outback. While Dan was playing, I looked around and noticed that everyone's jaw in the room was practically drooped all the way down the floor in amazement. Of course Dan couldn't see this because he had his eyes coolly shut, sitting like Budha on my living room floor with a five foot instrument jutting out of his mouth as if he were talking through the trunk of a tree.