Asides

Memo: why i do the archiving, scrapbooking etc

In reply to a tender correspondent:

Thanks for the sweet note. Sometimes I wonder what I do all the archiving for but a lot of the reason is because when the illness started ( #MECFS) In 2013, my “brain broke” and I sort of had to relearn how to do everything from writing into painting whatever so found that making scrapbooks, postcards and later “sort-ganizing” helped rebuild the neural pathways.

Scrapbook: in process, a pleasant way to pass the time, sitting in bed, with scissors, tape, glue and ephemera

When I went to India to the Ayurveda clinic, I can still remember the day the brain started sparking again and then I tried starting to write and paint. Was a little clumsy so I filed everything under “old man punk rock“ :) and made some drawings of the neighborhood and unforgiving oil pastels which quickly attracted a throng of fellas around me who I snapped with a Lomo camera (note: evidenced somewhere here in this archive).

I spend a lot of time in bed still so it’s kind of like playing a video game or puzzle or something for me… finding the right context for all the miscellanea. Imagining about containers in the bath and filling them with stories in all sorts of mediums, both in and out of my fog.

As for the handmade scrapbooks, comes from our mutual love of notebooks etc. – which I don’t keep near as orderly as you do – but now they’ve all sort of come full circle back to me, I’m enjoying transcribing the scribbles, putting checkmarks on the pages that are finished, and organizing on a semi-climate-controlled shelf. All shapes and sizes and formats, eras, all intertwined. Mostly (vaguely at least) inventoried.

Making whole buncha scrapbooks

My own handmade scrap journals are so much fun to make as it gives me that mixed media/interdisciplinary thrill of playing with tools and sharp objects and paper and the finished result is something that very few people understand the endless possibilities.

A page from Nagano to see the wizard

Anyhow, thanks for your kind words, honestly it’s been a really tough summer so far for me, I just can’t seem to bounce up so it’s nice to just be “seen”.

Pages from a journal for no particular trip or reason, just feeling with things that cheered me up

One of these days, I’ll hook you up with a scrap journal of your own if you would like. I know you’re very partial to your own specifications so I might go a little bit off script if that’s all right.

Collection: Scrapbooks, Journals and Notebooks (view 2)

Do you keep travel ephemera and other clippings, oddities, coasters, matchbox, ticket stubs etc.? What do you do with them all?

Scrapbook: assembly / stack of books (binding detail)

[i’ll about pasting of reply]

Memo: Poets and “Major Media”

In reply to someone’s “hot take” about how major media doesn’t give a shit about poetry (whatever)…. I replied: 

Do any poets give a shit about major media? 

Roll your own chap books, build your own culture, wander widely to find your audience, make *things* every day, stick poems to message boards in grocery stores & telephone poles next to lost cat flyers, mail 500 poetic postcards a year, find the renegade youth to mentor, transcribe stories from grandmothers, but every used great copy of poetry you come across for $3 and abandon them on buses with a note, go *everywhere* just to find coffee shops with a good table in the back corner and write so fast you’re inky pens run out.

Then paint poems on post boxes, make a painting of the poem on the post box and do an exhibit with other paintings of post boxes with poems (preferably at a goat farm in the country)…

Strangely, people show up, people ask questions, people want to be part of whatever it is that they’re doing even if you or them don’t understand it.

Doing these things, I find very little time for erstwhile mass media or even submissions to *highbrow* literary journals (plus rejection letters need a return address and well, I don’t always have one).

Poetry is for you to create and share with those who seek the goods. Carry on accordingly. 

Aside: Japan’s change in next 20 years

this kura (in Saidaiji), built in Meiji and now falling in in itself has witnessed so much cultural change – both in Japan and the world at large

Japan’s change in next 20 years

Somehow I feel like we’re going into a massively interesting time of transition in Japan. 

I keep in mind how Japan radically transformed culturally and societally a short period of time during the Meiji *restoration* and then again (under obviously very different circumstances) after the Pacific war. 

I think that when my little son (born Reiwa 2) is 20, Japan will be a very different place and a lot of this starts with a return to rural areas and traditional, sustainable living.  You may say I’m a dreamer but… well in i am 🙂

Memo: strange dreams (despite all the goodness)

wall of kura barn somehow the contrast makes sense

strange dreams (despite all the goodness)

So many weird dreams last night. Did nice “loving kindness“ meditation before sleep and tried to let all the natural disasters & human conundrums float into night sky but maybe it’s all getting to me a little bit.

Themes of not being able to catch up and do enough on “anything“.

Wishing peace and calm to all sentiment beings as possible.

So much wonderfulness in my life but sometimes well, the serotonin and dopamine or whatever just get a little out of whack… So much I want to do but I have to remember to roll it slow.

Everything is trucking along and yeah, reflecting on how much has happened in this last year under unusual circumstances.
I better just pick up the ukulele…

##

Ed says, “Seems to me u just might be overthinking the situation a little. Or, u just might be holding yourself to a higher standard than others expect from you. You’ve been doing great, accomplished one hell of a lot in a short period of time. Lighten up on yourself. Enjoy, just enjoy what you’ve got. Deep breath. Love ya.”

Kim says, ” This is my constant struggle! You’re doing a great job, just knowing you’re out there in the world really helps to keep me calm & inspired!” 

Memo: Pearls Before Swine

 Pearls before Swine (ps i love pigs)

Consider being careful about putting your precious ‘pearls before swine’, meaning that some people will never get *it* and if they haven’t figured *it* out already, they are unlikely to. There is possibly something in themselves that they have to fix before they can figure out how to give you the respect you deserve. It’s on them, not you.

You have wonderful things to share which you carefully consider before sharing (pearls) and you share with people who quickly skim-read and disregard or barely process.

You spend your precious time and spoons for little benefit because they (swines) don’t take the time to ponder, care, or respond in thoughtful manner or take action.

This is all optional unsolicited advice, govern yourself accordingly. 

Summer plans: Baritone Ukulele and writing hiragana / katakana

On my stated list of objectives for this year, I plan to:

1) Learn to play a song or 3 on baritone ukulele to amuse my baby boy. I’m up to 4 chords but strumming still clumsy. Sorta figured out tabs & even printed Early Morning Rain & Landslide & Wheat Kings.

Also

2) Learn to read/write Japanese characters *properly* since I live here, I figured it would be handy – ugh. Noting I’m much better at place name and personal name kanji characters that I am at phonetic kana – thank it’s the same misfiring neural synapse is that prevent me from memorizing the most basic of phone numbers #Dyscalculia

3) Probably something else but I’ll stick to those two.

PS (Really there’s a mighty long list of things to do for putting the house back together, fixing up yard & garden, as well as “life administration” tasks but file the above under personal improvement/enjoyment).

word: anemoia

anemoia – n. nostalgia for a time you’ve never known

{from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows}

Imagine stepping through the frame into a sepia-tinted haze, where you could sit on the side of the road and watch the locals passing by. Who lived and died before any of us arrived here, who sleep in some of the same houses we do, who look up at the same moon, who breathe the same air, feel the same blood in their veins—and live in a completely different world.

{think Kat Code turned me onto this vocab}