Tag Archives: wonder

Jumbo down! *Another* Nautical Disaster (maybe)

you take a little shuttle boat to the resto which has apparently amused notable guests

As it goes, legendary Jumbo floating restaurant in Hong Kong closed (c19 conundrums) and *apparently* capsized when towed out to sea – strangely in typhoon season in international waters in 1000 m of ocean –condition unknown as of this memo. Seems a bit odd.

tow it to Cambodia, what could go wrong?

You know as soon as the media articles quotes an international maritime insurance adjuster saying “this was definitely not anything to do with insurance malfeasance” you know it definitely is.

Anyway, here’s evidence of the time I went there and ate food like a mysterious spectre, in the missing and so much forgotten years.

^ Photos taken by my dining companion

I also recall meeting the France Ambassador to HK that evening and crashing a party for fancy French shoe maker, that and the usual endless food and dress-up snapshots.

If you are curious about floating barge restaurants capsizing in international ocean/sea with numerous disputed names, here’s a starting point for reading: NPR Hong Kong’s iconic Jumbo Floating Restaurant capsizes at sea.

Diary: 3 views + bus, en route to seitai

Diary: 3 views + bus, en route to seitai
Left house (Tsuchida, Okayama), rode Uno bus for taiheki / seitai (整体) treatment (i deal with #CFSME).
 
Observed 3 scenes:
  1. payphone box w/ green phone
  2. tiny bar (w/ Guinness, evidently)
  3. outdoor smoking section at an Indian resto
Evidence included.
End of Dispatch.
 

#daveo50 ~ 2016 / 50 years > days > photos

Dave Olson, 2016 #daveo50
#daveo50 ~ 2016 / for passport, visa, or other ID

Project: Upon turning 50 years old on August 16, 2020, Dave Olson (me, hello) is posting a photo (or maybe photos) a day / per year – starting with 1970 with intent of chronicling existence through various primary evidence sourced from studio portraits, class photos, ID / passport photos, or occasionally other “casual/group/random” shots when    the above don’t exist in my archive (note: not “artificial intelligence,” really me, pulled from shoeboxes, journals, wallets and whatnot – diligently scanned and dated via glasses and haircuts, lightly annotated).

Continue reading #daveo50 ~ 2016 / 50 years > days > photos

Bosphorus Float (poem in process)

Not Being There (for Rod) / notes

Not Being There (for Rod)

 

(page 3?

Not being there

Instead a mediocre duo

Plays “Forever Young” 

And “Fast Car”)

Third time this

Death whilst elsewhere

Occurred in the past 5 years

Austin, Auroville, Athens

 

Where are you now? 

“Fast enough to fly away”

Year is 1988 

We are invincible

Marauding Utah Valley

Making best of seemingly 

Inconsequential locale

 

I order a Dead Guy ale 

At sea

Such an act 

anathema to sensitivity 

 

Me and a disposable fountain pen

Alone

Scribbling as fast as you drive

In an inconsequential notepad

The glue snaps with each page turned

Crackle like broken bones

 

Your photo on my phone 

Plaid shirt, goatee 

(before *everyone* sported same)

Holding a child

Is the child the artist of the lad 

Who wandered to Diamond? 

 

How do they hold up? 

I asked Mikhael at 3AM

As though i expected 

A reasonable answer

 

Next song is about 

“Getting here anyway you can” 

Airplane, sailboat, across deserts

Everysong is for you

Do they know?

 

“Holding Mountains…”

Just get here how you can

Fck, I am not there. 

Not even close

Instead chasing pariahs 

Around Arabia

 

The beer comes from Oregon

The cruise ship guitar is anonymous

Could be Mike and Denise instead

 

A mosaic of flowers on the wall

Covering your box

I imagine your hair

“Across the desert by caravan”

This destroys me

I wasn’t there

 

Next they sing 

“Oceans apart”

Describing to you

Where i am 

“Wherever you go”

 

Sappy as a Quebec maple tree

But still i stifle

I don’t want to be asked

But can’t be alone

In my room

Feeling all of THIS

This lost potential

Memories yet to make

 

Marty wept

Mikhael quavered

Spreading the hardest news

 

“How will we survive” 

The answer is “we won’t” 

Life ends for all of us

No SHIT, i sip again

To tentative to clapping

 

You are so loved

Hundreds appeared

Lined in the rain

Legendary

X will dedicate songs for you

Children will learn of you

Your parents said good-bye to you

The worst occurrence conceivable

To we delicate beings

 

The others gone before you

From erstwhile tribe

Many tempted fate

Litany of poor decisions 

Dalliances and addictions

While you were simply 

Pure electricity

 

Now they sing

“You’re broken”

Yesterday i would hardly notice

Stroll by en route to a chat 

With an Indonesian waiter

Or Romanian photographer

 

Tonight the words burn incandescent

Others notice the lady is vaguely pretty

The guitarist rocks to seem engaged

And i drink and scribble to you

The people wonder about

The temperate “back home” 

A concept i lost along the way

I know the air is chilly is all

 

“Get your affairs in order”

Is sound advice

For a complex chronic wanderer

Prone to mishaps

To me likely

But, i am convinced

No one ever expected

This incident to be you

Whisked to canyon hot pots 

Just weeks before

 

Then “our last song is by our favorite band, the Eagles” 

My cue to leave

Hate the fcking Eagles

I pull Greek fisherman hat

(Which made me giggle hours ago)

Down more tightly

Step out onto deck

Into the wind 

Observe twinkling lights

From islands which 

I’ll never know the names

Time Traveler (for Rod)

Cobbled busy streets
Never felt so lonely and brave
So far away from any lover
Even further from your grave

Remember you on blue highways
See you in crowded bars
Feel you at desert campfires
Where we sing you name to stars

Steady on Time Traveler
We’ll see you in a decade past
Same way we saw you in a silent film
Organ playing far too fast

See you in Paris in the twenties
Drinks with Zelda and Fitz
Or in the Cavern in sixty-two
Lounging with Pete Best

Hot water sizzles in kettles
With black and white electricity
We’ll keep an eye on your kin
As though pleasant and obligatory

We’ll bore them with the stories
Of us – young, invincible and fine
Occasionally beautiful and convinced
We’d live to at least hundred and nine

Driving with your laughs
Talking with your hands
Swerving up forgotten backroads
To a reunion with unknown friends

Everyone’s champion

Tactility of Loss

Tactility of loss
A Pantheon of pals
Ash goes to ground
Ride on endless highways
From Timpanogos
To Olympus

Underway in the Aegean
Thoughts of Odysseus
And his compatriots
Most fond and trusted

Feeling so so alone
Along on a ship of celebrant retirees
And a smattering of newlyweds
Their future i’ll never know

A teleporter does me no good
Body buried and tears all shed
While In Aqaba pretending
To be Lawrence or Wilfred

I sit with futile cigars
And a bitter drink
And wonder
Why not me?
I can count six distinct times
In a four year stretch
Where i’ve fallen with no idea
Where i’d ever be buried
Buried and rotted without a sound

Oh Rod Howard, how grateful!
I was a man without a tribe
When i found you at the center
Of everything curious
Making bonfire look like a
Mere lighter flame

Everybody’s favorite
Never an unkind word
From or about you
Making magic
Never on time
But always worth the wait

Odysseus sailed here
According to Homer
Whose existence is debated
Escaping villains in caves
Out to scheme his way to
Kindly strangers
With flagons, actual skins,
Of undiluted wine

Your children, your joy
You had no need to run away like me
All your quests took you home
To parents who understood
Your heart, head and desire
To live
Full on

The chatter around me deafening
Who do i commiserate with when
No one knows your lofty heights
Your speed, your softness
You heard me hurt and came without hesitation
Late, but just on time

Rocky coastlines await me
In the coming hours
No helipad exit could
Provide ointment

I will arrive to sit
Perhaps a picnic
At your stone
Perhaps i’ll learn the origins
Of your middle name
Maybe you’ll join me
We’ll play X cassettes on a box covered in stickers
Tom Waits warbles and we’ll make a Jim Jarmusch film
To chronicle your days
From Sunset rock in Los Angeles
To sunset trips in desert canyons
Which still echo with your laugh

I wear a Greek fisherman’s cap
And blue woven shirt
Made as coarse as burlap
For shepherds and taxi drivers

Tear it off and scream
Why you? Why now? Why this?
But no answer impending
And frankly i’d be booted from the cafe

Not a hedonist glutton madman you
Taking corners fast because
You knew the limits of your tyres
Fine tuned for performance and attributes
No one else can define
Except those of us you wrested and cajoled
Invited next to you

These rocky headlands
Come into view
As the ship horn bellows a lament
Now as low as my sinking Mediterranean heart
The blue sea unworthy of my unholy
Reflections of me a mortal
Always running towards something you found
Right at home

I snap a photo of a saddest angler
Who never held a Rod
As sleek and strong as you
Held together glue, sounds
Cracking against the bluest sunset

##

Rod Ash 1969-2017
Big brother to us all

Towards the Yangtze (poem + pictogram)

Poem: Yangtze Morning, cards (handwritten)
Poem: Yangtze Morning, cards (handwritten)+

Towards the Yangtze

 

1

4AM Shanghai

Me, insomniatic as usual

Watching light rise 

Through pollution skies

To illuminate building designed

By a committee of Dr. Seuss, Salvador Dali and MC Escher

 

The ship pulls out through endless gauntlet 

of all the ships in the world

Each their own world

Tiny houses on giant barges, flags, cigarette and a wave

2

Yangtze River wide

As a sound

Cozy as an African watering hole

Herds of barges graze

Like wildebeests ready to fall into stampede

When hyena party boats of wedding revellers

disappear into dark, 

Moored behind elephant cruisers

The bulls wait  beyond the marsupial floating dry docks 

Holding wounded deer craft 

Under gaze of manicured obedient flocks

Of bobbing cranes

Feeding vibes into yawning hippos accustomed to melons

Catamaran racers lean into wind, puny sailors lean to balance for the watches and cameras 

As peacocks might 

Beneath windmills grindingly faraway wheat

3

The wagon trail of floaters

Parade through river intersections

Obeying crackled jargon appointing times-subject to change

From typhoons, tainted waters, tides and an abundance of caution

And negotiation

Then the dispatch arrives

And like preschoolers, holding a string

The horizon redefines with tankers

Containers, cruisers, scoopers, prospectors, fighters, seekers, and free radicals 

Bearing industrial names 

Referred by diligent tugs

Pilots breakwater boundaries

And the wake and buoys ahead

Soon they will diverge to transient paths 

Using similar charts 

And common codes

Spark’d

Sparking Beedies
through the strait of Hormuz
considering the children I keep employed
tying tiny green strings, next to elders
snug around dry, burly leaves

Piracy warnings
lights off on the decks
to pretend to confuse
thwart grappling hooks 
avoiding a dramatic turn

Maneuvering fast around
sheep, minarets and sand dunes
lanyards grant passage
indicated by satellite

I’ll hide in the solarium 
or perhaps the engine room,
next to acetylene tanks and Greek captains
with nautical miles unequaled to date

Radio tubes dicate
“1 point to port” 
to provide mathematicians a hobby
the statisticians a muse

Auctioneers work quicker than cartographers
and even faster than a bullet trains
who at least have the decency to stop
at stations from time to time
to allow the slow minds
needed moments to breathe

Ship to Shore Communiqué

The buoys past behind
Soon this seabirds surrender
Pilot boat gives way
To empty depths beyond

Muslim Minarets
and Portuguese forts
Equally fade to gray
Prayer calls too far away

Gangway long
Tucked in belly
Can’t lean over railing
With a foreign cigar
Due to Pirates seeking
A life of spoil