Tag Archives: blue

Diary: “where i’m calling from” (re: creativity & endeavours + caramel apples)

* where I’m calling from *

{i} Diligently send out creative goodness all the time / is doing so a worthwhile endeavour? I mean I know “yes” but…

My point: I just hope items/musings/artifacts are enjoyed and care is noticed (so i don’t feel like the family who handmade caramel apples for Halloween just to have them all tossed out when kids return home from trick or treat).

Am i making sense? Didn’t think so

** Fck Stats, Give Inspiration

Ofuro bath at Tsuchida Cottage

Two notes:

1) The bath is the most sophisticated piece of equipment in our home… A click of a variety of button (there is more than one control panel for extra convenience) and you are transported to a temperature exactly of your choosing #42.

And yes, this is also a bath tub Time Machine which takes to various dispensations & destinations.

2) Very important to paint your toes to color coordinate with the bath tub and tile colours

Mementos: Pedicures, various

These days – what with the M.E.(cfs) and Fibro etc. – slowing me down, I find activities to get me out of the house which requires doing not much but sitting.

While pedicures may not seem like a medical therapy, and they’re certainly not, self-care is important part of my healing journey. Indeed, when feeling frustrated and early days of the illness, I made a list of things I can do which involves sitting down, but get me out of the house, and leave me with a feeling of satisfaction. These ideas include: making scrapbooks, watching matinée movies, sitting in parks under a tree, getting my beard professionally trimmed (rather than chopping at it myself), as well as enjoying pedicures.

As such, on all my healing journeys, I find pedicure places to massage and soothe my feet, trim up my nails, and leave with some colour to decorate. (Noting this predilection often elicits a strange response from the practitioners as painted toes aren’t as common for men as they are for women certainly, but I find this practice quite enjoyable nonetheless.)

In some cases, I paint my toes the colour of a local flag or other traditional local schemes (coconut trees, bamboo, waves…), otherwise I generally stick to shades of blue and green. For the record: Indonesia and Thailand definitely have the best pedicure practitioners (is that the proper term?), but I’m also eager to try pedicures in Vietnam as many manicurists in the USA, come from Vietnam.

In India especially, they thought my practice of painting toes was very strange, as such, i did myself (very poorly yet joyfully nonetheless). In Nepal, they were low on supplies but made do with some rugged polish which was moreorless impervious to removal. Once or twice, i enjoyed a pedicure whilst at sea.

I first started this practice at the advice of a remarkable lady who took me for a pedicure in Vancouver before going to Jamaica the first time at that time, I had Jamaican flags painted on my big toes (not sure i have a photo…). Sometimes i take photos of my toes, not all the time, here are some of mah big ole ugly feets. Sometimes i forget and just take snap of the old colour before replacing. No annotations since i don’t expect anyone will look or care, i mean really, its just photos of my feet – ewwww. Continue reading Mementos: Pedicures, various

Ease, Desired (Lie to Me) – poetry + pictogram (alt. 2)

Lie to Me, please (typed) v. 2


Somebody, kindly lie to me
Tell me I am “going to be OK”
Soon, life will be like driving down Laurel Canyon in 1973
In a Galaxie 500
Top down, radio up
Nothing but possibilities
That I will rest easy… like so many humans do with ease

Someone, kindly lie to me
Whisper I’ve done enough meditating, stretching, giving, therapies, effort
That soon,  I will sleep (!) and wake up (!) and every muscle, joint and nerve won’t be on fire
Please, kindly lie to me.

I promise to believe you (for now).

Ease, Desired (alt. 1)

Somebody, kindly lie to me
Tell me I am “going to be OK”
Soon, life will be like driving down Laurel Canyon in 1973
In a Galaxie 500
Top down, radio up
Nothing but possibilities

That I will rest easy… like so many humans do with ease

Someone, kindly lie to me
Whisper I’ve done enough meditating, stretching, giving, therapies, effort
That soon, I will sleep (!) and wake up (!) and every muscle, joint and nerve won’t be on fire
Please, kindly lie to me.

I promise to believe you (for now).

Cold Water Flat (song)

Wonder Hotel

Words by Dave uncleweed Olson (written in Pokhara, Nepal) with additions by Mikael Lewis

Music, vocals, guitars by Mikael Lewis (recorded in Utah, USA)


Cold Water Flat

Landlady’s always angry
So I keep strangers hours
Meditate to TV static
Decorate only with the freshest flowers

Use the payphone down the stairs
Still has that old rotary dial
Instant coffee in electric kettle
Takeaway leftovers wrapped up in foil

I will wait in this cold water flat
Rent paid out 3 months in advance
It’s lonely, but I’m not alone
I’ve got memories of you… for to keep me warm

Registered under a fake name
Though I’ve really nothing to fear
Endearment terms are always wide open
And your affections are always quite near

Hot water register yawns and moans
Damn thing either freezes or it burns
Three tarnished coins run the washing machine
Dirt spins round and around as I yearn

I’ll wait in this cold water flat
Yes I’ve mailed you a dark scribbled map
It’s lonely here, but I’m never alone
I’ve got memories of you…to torture my soul

Gave up on the smokes and the booze
I like to think I’ve paid all my dues
Now my addictions are much more complex
I just torture myself with my memory of you

Preserving the Wildflower – Postcard #69


What becomes of the seemingly ephemeral creations we leave behind? Especially in the analog-days?

Consider these in the context of missing cassette tapes made by a now departed poet/activist/scholar Foster and guitar-ing Mikael, who recorded spontaneous youthful riffs in parent’s basement in Utah. In this postcard, Mikael  Lewis sings “Wildflower (for Foster)” written by Dave in a clinic in Nepal, then adds some more verses, spiels and a poem called “Occasionally Free” – with lightning, rainstorm and crickets chiming along.

Catch lightning with Preserving the Wildflower – Postcard #69
(25MB, 14:22, mp3, stereo)

Continue reading Preserving the Wildflower – Postcard #69

Rome, Lonely – Items: Forgotten in Drawers (vol. 3)

Rome, Lonely – Items: Forgotten in Drawers
Rome, Lonely – Items: Forgotten in Drawers

Diary: Butterworth > Penang > Kathmandu #notes

I walked across the border, a confusing frontier, from Thailand to Malaysia and now sit at a train station – so alone – waiting to be whisked southwards – deliberately ignoring any detail, plan or expectation. Drifting, floating, swept away to elsewhere, savouring deliberate pages while stroking my beard with Viking oil.


Now in Penang, Malaysia… i came to there by a train to Butterworth (sadly devoid of pancakes), lurched by my boots aboard a ferry (which missed you mostly but i snapped the van Gogh green ceiling of metal paint), then wandered to a colonial outpost  — now a mix ethnicities and religions – skipped the temples and went to a dusty stationery store to acquire dried-out stamps with barely useful phrases, watercolour paper, scissors / glue, envelopes and and stamps / all so sumptuous.


Post office frolic and then early morning to Bangkok then to Kathmandu! Dream of my youth when in a tent reading exploits of mountaineers and Sherpa tigers and Yeti.


Now in a vast room with a balcony and yellow walls, i transcribe from journals so i can mail them elsewhere (though i do plan to return, i am not committed to t he plan) and lighten load (i am carrying 4 notebooks at this point).

Listening to Jerry Garcia and only missing one thing. No, i have tea so that’s not it. Guesses?

Journal: I think it crawls more like a vine…

“I think it crawls more like a vine – Meandering here in there, occasionally finding a place to connect again, seeking light, moving horizontal, not always vertical” (maybe me, maybe someone else)

Douglas Coupland “Everything is Everywhere” exhibit at Vancouver Art Gallery

Is it a weakness that when I feel blue, I want to stretch to a corner of the world I know nothing about to soak in new inspirations, find a new spark, glean inspiration from the soil, wisdom from the sweater and elders whether they be shamans or sheepherders? Is this cowardice our salvation? My dreams are alive locations but in reality, i’m hardly strong enough for a bus trip across town.

I’ve always felt invincible going to new countries with no language, knowledge, currency, friends plans etc. but now I resort to dreams – and postcards and scribbles – my brain, once a mighty tool of writing anything from expository essays to the finest press releases to true unadulterated freeverse poetry now allows me a running dialogue which I share unashamedly with you.

In the past days, my dreams were filled with pondering ideas including: 45 day Amtrak USA pass to slowly roll and visit friends I haven’t seen in sometime; Scotland’s remote & sparse Outer Hebrides (bring a sweater but steel cut oats are abundant), Thai healing retreat (not one that is very new agey, very expensive, requires hours of silent meditation, has Friday night pub crawls but just massage several times a day, healing energy, soaking and coconuts and soups and drinks, also mangoes and papayas; Romanian hotsprings – apparently there are thousands but I’m not sure if there undeveloped, remote, resorts, or what the deal is, however, I am intrigued about Transylvania; or back to japan in Okayama where plenty of hot springs, easy access to the leanly populated Shikoku island plus the magical Kurashiki galleries laden with impressionist art just down the road.

All of these are simply conjecture and imagination.

I am incapable of great journeys by myself without significant jeopardy. So I dream. I dream of rest and peace and days in which my muscles joints and bones don’t ache like I’ve been pounded into submission all night. I dream of long night sleep without medication, I dream of waking up one day and feeling refreshed and I live I dream of being able to read a book without my eyes getting boggled and my head turning migrained.

Blerg: I am truly bored of telling you about all these things but, you signed up for the ride and you’re welcome to get off at any time. This might mean you won’t get a postcard.

spend the rest of my life editing myself…

Yesterday, I was feeling the blues hard but I got out a bunch of artifacts from recent wanders and a stack of scrapbooks I’ve been filling up over the last year and a half since the onset of my illness.

Did a lot of gluing in cutting and bindering. So much content i produce & collect!

It occurs to me that I could spend the rest of my life editing myself, but I have so many more stories to tell and contextualize.

Love the thrill of finishing another unexpected project which combines art, culture, tech, history, & renegades–especially the forgotten ones.


Blue – this is all.

Update, Aug 26: 

Publishing the Blues away – So much goodness just needs a wee bit of love, then ready to share. Where’s good for sharing long form writing?