Rare hang out out in the kura barn (while wife’s band rehearses inside so a bit too much commotion for me) So instead, I’m putting away books and *trying to* tidy up stacks of scrapbook materials, ephemera, maps, passports, other treats / so much goodness! But first need space on the…
What follows are artifacts, mildly documented, in situ, with brief annotations.
Three important book, of various kinds and origins.
1) Taisho/early Showa era commercial art about which I am quite fascinated – plus, the cover reminds me of my wife // this era of Japan before militarism took over and there was for a brief golden time with a burgeoning international mindset, a “jazz age” of sorts, s3xual opennesses and class conventions dissolving. Curious to peruse the book further
2) “Confidential” one of the many journals, scrapbooks, scribble books, diaries etc. I filled up this year with words of course, but also items, dried flowers, artifacts and memos… Reminding myself that I didn’t “publish” a lot beyond my own channels, yet I created a lot of material, it’s just confidential for now // ps seen behind is the Shawn Parkinson designed print issue of Narwhal from Vancouver
3) 70 from my dear sensei Larry Harper who introduced a 17-year-old high school dropout at the community college that creative writing is a noble endeavor and life pursuit. This is his book “70” with appropriately, 70 different components including short plays, poems (long and short), stories of various lengths, and lists – it’s very punk rock as there is no ISBN, UPC barcode, not available on that major international book reseller. And yes, there’s shades of me in here, including a blurb, a riff and an inscription
Lists 2. Of 3. Note.
(for Karina, Billy and Danny)
//
As seen under a mosquito net in a cottage in provincial Japan – with
Wade Davis' "into the silence"
and
RickRubin's "creative act"
&
notebook/pen for scribbling musings, freeverse and of course, lists
+
{kerchief from India}
Note: Shaun Usher has curated/compiled/edited a remarkable series of beautifully designed oversized hardback books containing “letters of note” and in this case “lists of note”.
So very highly recommended for the obsessive and curious. I understand there are even performances with actors on stage reading some of the letters but I don’t really know the details.
For “the man who walks among the stars” the great poet Gord Downia on anniversary of his untimely passing with brief soliloquy about the importance of supporting the indigenous peoples of the land colloquially known as Canada.
And special appreciation for my favorite album/book “Coke Machine Glow” + special regards to survive in the band mates of The Tragically Hip who are telling stories, making songs and re-issuing albums (tyvm).
Yeah, just waking up, in bed under a mosquito net (with adorable pajamas) in a cottage in provincial #Japan with apologies for mediocre unrehearsed baritone #ukulele playing and marginally acceptable “singing” / croaking. It’s the sincerity that counts, right? Right.
Please donate to the Downie Wenjack fund {https://downiewenjack.ca/} and write your own poems to share your story.
Fondly, dvo/uw
A step behind for #WorldPostcardDay but hey, grapes and turmeric tea on a bamboo bed desk, scribbling up handmade/printed Postcards to pals (met and not yet) in Sussex UK, Torrey (Utah), St John’s (AZ not NL), and various points around the region currently known as British Columbia.
Yes, that’s me with the beard, Richard Brautigan’s book of poetry, my own poetry postbox, and Don Mee dim sum in Victoria.
So very fondly, sent with affection (and decorated with inky & postal stamps)
I’m always filling up notebooks: sometimes there’s a “system” where I have one that’s like a diary, another a scrapbook of a ephemera stuck in with tape and glue, another for logistical annotations, another for *pure poetry endeavors* or sometimes – well usually – the books of all sizes and shapes all kind of get smashed together.
So here we are, keep your expectations and chat, i certainly have.
Some other writers, documenters or general scribblers keep their notebooks well organized: labeled, chronological, even weighed or at least dated / whereas mine are scattered everywhere, sometimes spanning years/decades… opened to random pages, with undated riffs and what have you.
Especially recently with my delightful barn studio, endeavored to transcribe the often-illegible pages and sometimes i come across snapshots taken of a book which I’m not quite sure where it is or why I took the snaps but i can only surmise the pics are a message to my “future self” (meaning now) to put these pages somewhere where won’t lose the words – as insignificant as they may appear at first blush.
Really all im trying to do is {simply} combine post & poetry into mystery & kindness. That’s enough.
Here are some “Items, Forgotten” series (there are several volumes of this series constructed all over the world, quite literally) and nicks cut and paste poetry on various substrates usually with some sort of postal origin.
Fresh out of defiant slogans
Too exhausted to scowl
Done with rhetoric and angst
Given up on raised firsts
Just my eyebrows for now
I run but slowly
On the hamster wheel
Stroll languid towards oblivion
Lay flat, do little
Let the system squander and powers collapse among
Hubris, greed bah!
“i’ll Take apathy to go”
With a side of indifference
##
Ephemera, snapshots, stamps of all kinds, snippets of poetry, forgotten claim checks, former “safe house” addresses, secret compartments and whatnot all conspire to create a passport – with decoder book not included (consider Lamb’s edition of Shakespeare, without the poetry)
Everything is significant, coincidence is futile
sometimes words aren’t needed, just stamps (postal & inky) and strategic bits of washi tape
“The present is an (un)finished #postcard… ergo: added a few more decorations before finally went into the box (created while holding my sleeping toddler in lap at a coffee shop)
This one went off to Vancouver to be delivered to someone who is sitting next to me at the time at gloss coffee shop and gallery.
Accompanied in the mail drop (i arrived at the postbox just as the pick-up was happening like some kind of fortuitous timing) along with a few to mutual friends and one to our own house (yes I do that frequently for ¥70 of thrills).
