So if I’m off the glucose meter for good eating habits, why am I drinking straight glucose, 8 grams per can? Subculture Ginger Beer. What a find. I’m talking about the can, but the content ain’t bad either. I might be a convert. It’s non-alcoholic, for those who don’t know.
Today was MLK Day, and I was exulting about cults in my journal entry, the day before, saying they (the subcultures) should showcase how to get along, echoing the Parliament of World Religions vibe (Cape Town, 1999, Urners present).
We all got along fine there, even if a few protestors sounded alarmed outside, suspicious that we weren’t at each others’ throats, like their role models.
My work as a World Game photographer took me to one of the protests, a smaller one as I’m boycotting the ICE part of town (no Old Spaghetti Factory for yours truly with gangs like that) and because my friends were among the organizers.
I’m talking about a tiny protest featuring die-hard oldsters, outside their campus, some of whom I know.
In the middle of it all, I bopped into Thai Kitchen, which I’d been curious about, for some Tom Yum. I had my man purse handy (as did one of the monks), and had the new bio of David Bowie along for bus reading. I plan to pass it along to fellow faculty (we have Bowie fans in our network, other dark stars).
My subculture is really into geometry, which explains a lot.
Mom and dad were living in Lesotho at the time (1999) and that’s where we went after the Parliament, experiencing New Years and the first day of 2000 in Maseru.
Dawn and I had flown with Tara from Miami and then Dawn went on by herself to Durban to experience a Dalai Lama training. She rejoined us at the home of the Deputy Defense Minister, a Friend (as in Quaker), formerly ANC: Nozizwe Madlala-Rutledge, also a family friend.
