Post’d: recursively delivered (while inclined) to Gifu & Greece w/ Zen

Postcards are scribbled, intentions pure, arrivals intermittent, thrilling nevertheless, as such, recursively documented in a situations and circumstances as possible, incomplete as expected.

where it starts & and where it ends is here

First, to a friend (who ive forgotten if met in real life or not, the coincidences are far more than coincidence after all) rowing through some turbulent tides yet radiates such gentle goodness – and a touch with curious scripted languages, meditatatuve practice, and love of typewriters. Sent him a talisman of good fortune right from the Zen source of the DT Suzuki museum in Kanazawa.

A very pleasant correspondent who shares, again, so many life touch points – but none within 3 m at the same time so far determined – replied back to a postcard of this very street corner, with a photo of him at this very street corner (the statue now toppled, the restaurant behind turned into 6 acres which was my secret hang out for sometime and where I did my “job interview” for what turned out to be my last job, kitty corner from One Alexander, Suite 420 where I spent another job and across another street – it’s a five street intersection – where wrote a snippet of prose about ‘three men in cowboy hats,’ one of which is seen in the background, at the “old Irish Heather” when the benches would still give you splinters). He replied with the following quote (& caption):

“Just as there are genres of skies, and car alarms, and many other things, so there are genres of the hangover. Tragic treatments, enriched with various amounts and shades of irony. The epic frame, which finds the hero, towards evening on the second day, still sitting there wiping his eyebrows with his fingertips and still saying to himself things like oh dear oh dear.”

— Martin Amis, ‘The Information’

“In a bad way in Gastown, summer 2005.”

This one found its recipient who replied (in amongst abandoned watermelons and possible pickling project) “Happy recipient up in the salty north!”

Well this was a digital postcard, hit the spot for my German friend visiting a Greek island where a Canadian poet once conversed with birds on a wire (and a well documented assortment of lovers)

Whatcha think?