Step thru, to another side. Not saying better, worse or whatever, but times change and time changes, thus making forward momentum mostly mandatory.
Tag Archives: notes
Notebook snippets: various ink stamps in Japan (featuring Lafcadio Hearn)
Museums and galleries in Japan, as well as various temples/shrines and assorted other places of note, often offer inky stamps to collect and stamp in one’s own notebook – or if forgotten, on slips of provided paper. These are usually rather large and sometimes the ink pads are a bit worn out. Nevertheless, i seek these out and stamp in my ever-present scrapjournals.
This collection is collected on a ramble around Matsue, Shimane-ken at the Lafcadio Hearn (Koizumi Yakomo) museum and later, at various galleries around Kurashiki, Okayama-ken.
Continue reading Notebook snippets: various ink stamps in Japan (featuring Lafcadio Hearn)
Collection: Journals (variety), vol. 3
Explaining the obvious: I fill notebooks/journals of poetry, notes and musings (as well as scrapjournals which contain paper ephemera) and then transcribe (which no editing), then stash them into old-timey suitcase, which usually live in a storage locker faraway from where i physically exist.
I snap lil snaps of the covers before their hibernation to remind myself of these tomes which in turn remind me of where i was when the words were scribbled.
To prevent the snaps from vanishing into a folder (digital shoebox as it were), compilations ensue -placed into the this archive for my reference, and for you to peek at if you have a notion.
Collection: Journals (variety), vol. 2
Explaining the obvious: I fill notebooks of poetry, notes and musings (as well as scrapjournals which contain paper ephemera) and then transcribe, then send them into old-timey suitcase which live in a storage locker faraway from where i physically exist. I snap snaps of the cover before hibernation to remind myself of these lil tomes which remind me so much of where i was when the words were scribbled.
To prevent the snaps from vanishing into a folder (digital shoebox as it were), compilations ensue, placed into the this archive for my reference and for you to peek at if you have a notion.
Collection: Journals (variety), vol. 1
Explaining the obvious: I fill notebooks of poetry, notes and musings (as well as scrapjournals which contain paper ephemera) and then transcribe, then send them into old-timey suitcase which live in a storage locker faraway from where i physically exist. I snap snaps of the cover before hibernation to remind myself of these lil tomes which remind me so much of where i was when the words were scribbled.
To prevent the snaps from vanishing into a folder (digital shoebox as it were), compilations ensue, placed into the this archive for my reference and for you to peek at if you have a notion.
No hometown means…
I’m like a “guest walk-on character” into other peoples tv show lives.
Auspicious day
9 years ago today, I presented “fuck stats make art” to a full house at SXSW, scored hash brownies and MDMA in Austin, drank whiskey backstage with the black angels. 11 years ago, signed up for Twitter. Also brother Bob’s birthday.
These days, a challenge to just get out of bed for a cup of tea… I’m really trying to “move on”, find “acceptance” and “close the book on old life” but it sure the fck ain’t easy with such wild & fulfilling actions in my past
#thanksforlistening #nosympathy #freehugs #trying
Declaration: upon waking up
I wrote this declaration upon waking up…
This past summer, after literally losing my mind, I decided to step into the abyss… Bravely, intrepidly and without compromise.
Holed up at a mountain cabin while chaos swirled around my lives, I listened to the message from records from decades ago, I hot boxed my beloved bus were so many happy memories happened, I reunited with charming characters from my past and even better, met their children who are adults (moreso than me anyway), then with a solid head of mushrooms and MDMA, this plan came to me.
On a psychedelic carpet, i clicked enough buttons on the Internet, to purchase an abstract variety of plane tickets to send me a round like a manic boardgame in search of a new flavour of truth and reality.
Salt Lake to Las Vegas to Pacifica to Chaing Mai and now to this anonymous city where I’m practically the only foreigner in a city mourning the death of their beloved King, I’m finding comfort and solace and healing.
In scant days, I will leave again into uncharted territory, beyond what science and reason says is capable of this haggard body but I refuse to except anything but finding some sense of joy.
I can live with pain I accept, but I cannot accept living without my brain and without my heart and soul. I am born to give, exist to share, and I am empty without those.
Without a safety net, without and emergency escape route, without language skills, without the strength to punch my way out of a wet paper bag, I have built a tiny universe and painted the walls just the colour I chose.
Who will return to the West Coast on December 6? what will I look like? Who will I be? I am indifferent to all of these questions as the destination is simply a byproduct of the journey.
The journey is me and I am the journey. Brick by brick, I will gently apply the mortar to rebuild, to renew, to replenish and regenerate from the very mitochondrial cells outwards.
What ever the result, it will be me.
Old vs New (notes re: self)
Renegade adventurer v. Eccentric gentleman
Remote and natural v. Walkable villages
Ragged beards v. Straight razor shaves and mustache
Hiking shorts and rock t-s v. Tailored suits and fitted shirts
Free conference pens v. Disposable fountain pens
Craft beer v. Water and tea
Fat doobies v. Unfiltered cigarillos
Freeverse v. Lyrics
DIY repairs v. Takeout mending
Self-service v. Delegate
Wash n wear v. Laundry service
Late night rock v. Early acoustic
Take away street food v. Long patio lunches
Midnight movies v. B&W documentaries / matinées
Waiting…
Challenges of healing include crazy wait times for referrals to specialists and clinics. Called a major specific clinic in Vancouver today to check in on progress:
them “when did you submit referral?”
me “oh more than a year ago”
<hold>
“we found you, yes you were referred May 2015, so that means we’ll be able to see you in…. let me see… May 2017.”
“um thanks”
“we’ll call you then”
#optimism #challenge
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Comments and annotations:
to Scott Orr: each province runs it slightly differently but, one of the biggest problems is lack of Drs as they can probably make more elsewhere the problem starts there. There are many more efficiencies in the care now (shared xrays and digitized records) for “normal” stuff (breaking a bone) and great programs for critical illness (cancer centres) but i am an odd case and odd cases often slip between cracks. in this case, its a new chronic and complex clinic inside a hospital so its an odd situation all over. The other critical solution is integrated care where mental and physical are not treated entirely differently. Also respect for alternative therapies… but like i said, you break and bone and dang its easy and no cost. But i am weird in more ways than normal :)
to Tristan Schon: truth man, my first year or two of treatment for this conundrum (ME/Fibro/CFS/etc) was all medications which just about turned me to jello, and group cognitive behaviour therapy which managed to freak me out more. The best results ive had (meaning relieving pain and making a bit of brain fog go away) is soaking hot mineral springs and getting Thai massgae where they bend and twist ya. Otherwise, phoenix tears (rick simpson thc oil) and CBD capsules sorta maintain me (though i’ll admit to the occasional diaxapram when i cannot leave the house due to anxiety) – its the last vestige of a formerly absurd scrip roster.
Also, if i’ve learned anything medically through this it is: the brain, gut run the show and the body mostly follows along. You can patch up the body way easier than the fixing gut and/or brain. As a result of the weakness and fogginess from the Fibro and scrips, i’v fainted full out a few times with 3-4 significant head traumas which just complicate the whole thing. Like makes harder to separate what’s what and Dr’s (kinda understandably) cant be awesome at everything.
Etc: Just a note to say, “dont worry about me” i am stick handling the medical system with frustration and annoyance but im happy to be alive and realize how far i’ve come. I live in constant pain and brain/cognitive fog and i require lots of rest but my illness is “weird” and not as easy to fix as a broken bone. Sometimes, i just need to holla aloud and each of you are very kind for checking in and offering support and advice.