raybear | But I was just a boy, you were so much more.

I have a very visceral and primal adoration for Yoko Ono. It's the only way I can explain it. It's immune to any criticism or jokes or ridicule. Today I was thinking about a conversation in college from some friend of a friend who wrote a paper on how Ono being forgotten in discussion of "kick-ass women in rock" is due to racism. I didn't disagree with his thesis, but I remember being quite shocked that he'd thought of it and was so committed to the issue -- he was the least likely candidate in my mind since in the same breath he'd probably say something ignorant about someone non-Yoko.

I had a dream with her in it earlier this year where she was my lover. As much as I think and read and talk about celebrities, they're rarely in my dreams.

Today I did some research on the planet/comet/asteroid Chiron. Astrologists are weird. I also bought a new cell phone (my current one is being held together by a rubber band) and pondered how I'd feel if my unabridged journals got published thirty years after I died. I guess I wouldn't feel anything because I'd be dead. And now it's time to go home.