I could write all day.

So many thoughts have laced across my neurons lately; I've wanted to record them, to share them, but so many have slipped away.

Last night I had a rare girl's night and went to see Monsoon Wedding with three lovely ladies. The film was fantastic, and evocative of dozens of memories that have laid dormant for years.

A scar on the upper arm reminded me of Lev. Lev had been branded by a woman at the twilight of their relationship. He was moving to America from Germany. As he slept she warmed her star of David on the stove and burned it painfully into his arm. He touched his own scar lovingly, and I was taken with the idea. To leave you mark in a literal sense on someone was a revelation. I would have loved to have branded David -- but in reality I would never want intentionally hurt someone, to cause them pain. I left my mark in other ways.

Them marigolds reminded me of my childhood home. We used to grow marigolds in all their colorful profusion. Though they are quite edible, I've always found them much too bitter, especially to eat plain.

The images of life in India reminded me of Aurora whom I have just gotten back in touch with after being out of touch for a while. I thought of what it would be like to travel with her and her funny stories of the man who rested her head on her arm and left her with dozens of bug bites, and other such adventures. I thought of the necklace she always wore. I wonder what metal it is made out of. I wonder when I will see her next.

But most evocative were the glances. Each "love at first sight" encounter thrilled me. Have you seen The Lover (1992)? It is quite an exquisite film. The cinematography is stunning and I found it left a deep impression on me when I saw it in high school. There is a scene in it (if memory serves) in which a man tells a story about a woman he was in love with. He saw her once on a ferry and never spoke to her. I've had that experience.

I've had that experience. It was a warm high school day and I was in Malibu with Desirée getting frozen yogurt at some place off PCH. We were walking back to her, laughing about whatever amused us at the time, when I saw him. I even remarked on him. He was clearly a male model who had just finished a beach shoot. I was so young and awkward -- so self-conscious. But our eyes locked in that chemistry that needs no pheromones, nothing at all beyond the way you hold someone's gaze for a few seconds too long.

I wish I had scribbled my name and number on my napkin and walked over to him and handed it to him wordlessly. Oh, but walking all that distance through the parking lot with eyes burning holes through me was too much. So we left. And I learned the taste -- the unique flavor -- of regret.

Last night we exited the theatre bubbling with enthusiasm for the film, agreed to go out for Indian for dinner, and decided on cars. Dréa would go with Ana, her long lost friend from high school, and I would go with Jenny, who was born exactly one year before me, grew up in the Palisades, went to the junior high and high school where everyone from my hometown went, dated two guys I went to high school with, and also went to Berkeley ["it's a small world after all..."].

Jenny wanted to stop at 7-11 so we crossed the street. A man was barreling towards us in his black SUV and I didn't think he was going to stop but he did.

It happened again. Our eyes locked. I'm old enough not to give in to the urge to look away. He was beautiful. And then we had crossed, and he was flustered, still stopped at the stop sign, wanting to say something or do something but know what. How could I say through the glass, "You're so lovely, but I have a boyfriend..."? I believe in love at first sight, but it can happen a hundred times over. There's a look that says something and that makes you want someone. That look can be your universe if you let it...

Whomever you were, you really were delicious to behold. Thanks for letting me feast my eyes for a bit...