Matcha
Buddha and I,
Sharing the ocha,
Sharing a seat upon his lotus.
Lucid are we,
Laughing in Japan,
In America, in Iran.
Teach me a method,
Show me a path.
How might I engulf every people
With an equal generosity?
My sonorous voice,
Issued from these rusty fat copper chords,
Tolls rich lathered hymns,
Sinking foothills with their cream weight.
All ethnics in queue
Await this sappy balm,
Await the spring flow
Into valleys cut sharp,
Where matted damp creatures raise small heads;
A message of Intention? Awareness?
Foreseeing a judgment,
Quick-candor to my side,
Clamber for labels freely expired,
As tossing petals to upturned faces,
Countless destinies coating each one
Until only eyes shine forth,
while gratitude fills the soil.
Dreaming in a small place I wrote this.
Do you see me, unaided?
Miniscule man writes last will,
Scribbles notes with slender bamboo shoot,
Diaphanous green darts down,
Inking final conclusion dust;
One grain
Equals not one necessity
Equals not my longing ways.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
The power of fruits!
I'm sorry, but this train advertisement just about makes up for everything bad that has happened to me in Japan. Priceless combination of engrish and Japanese boy-band sexuality.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
sonnet for the end of this month
My Fondness; February
I looked up, and you were almost gone from sight.
Shortest month, carrier of snow and five-day work weeks.
What will I do without you, my surly ni-ga-tsu?
How I will miss riding my bike to school in freezing rain,
The bike you rusted and then tossed on its side overnight.
You made the seat soggy every morning,
so consistent and patient.
How I will miss seeing steam in the bathroom,
riding straight home in the twilight,
drinking alone and huddling for warmth,
positing upon possible reasons
for a complete lack of insulation in human habitats.
What reason is there now, to lug 18 liters of kerosene to my apartment?
What motivation can I find to pace up and down my train platform,
just to maintain feeling in my limbs?
And February! February! No longer will I mock those girls,
their skirts unmodified for sub-freezing temperatures,
with thighs the pale white of dying skin.
What has become of us February?
What did I do wrong?
I mean besides despising every single minute of your existence?
No relationship is perfect.
I will see you next year, secret passion.
Maybe sometime you will stick around for an extra day?
I thought so;
I know you February.
For I have felt your careless touch;
joined we are, by arctic whispers,
together, though separated now by my happiness.
I looked up, and you were almost gone from sight.
Shortest month, carrier of snow and five-day work weeks.
What will I do without you, my surly ni-ga-tsu?
How I will miss riding my bike to school in freezing rain,
The bike you rusted and then tossed on its side overnight.
You made the seat soggy every morning,
so consistent and patient.
How I will miss seeing steam in the bathroom,
riding straight home in the twilight,
drinking alone and huddling for warmth,
positing upon possible reasons
for a complete lack of insulation in human habitats.
What reason is there now, to lug 18 liters of kerosene to my apartment?
What motivation can I find to pace up and down my train platform,
just to maintain feeling in my limbs?
And February! February! No longer will I mock those girls,
their skirts unmodified for sub-freezing temperatures,
with thighs the pale white of dying skin.
What has become of us February?
What did I do wrong?
I mean besides despising every single minute of your existence?
No relationship is perfect.
I will see you next year, secret passion.
Maybe sometime you will stick around for an extra day?
I thought so;
I know you February.
For I have felt your careless touch;
joined we are, by arctic whispers,
together, though separated now by my happiness.
Monday, February 23, 2009
I heart Virginia Woolf
From one of her short story collections. Found this on Project Gutenberg Australia.
Monday or Tuesday
Lazy and indifferent, shaking space easily from his wings, knowing his
way, the heron passes over the church beneath the sky. White and distant,
absorbed in itself, endlessly the sky covers and uncovers, moves and
remains. A lake? Blot the shores of it out! A mountain? Oh, perfect--the
sun gold on its slopes. Down that falls. Ferns then, or white feathers,
for ever and ever--
Desiring truth, awaiting it, laboriously distilling a few words, for ever
desiring--(a cry starts to the left, another to the right. Wheels strike
divergently. Omnibuses conglomerate in conflict)--for ever desiring--(the
clock asseverates with twelve distinct strokes that it is midday; light
sheds gold scales; children swarm)--for ever desiring truth. Red is the
dome; coins hang on the trees; smoke trails from the chimneys; bark,
shout, cry "Iron for sale"--and truth?
Radiating to a point men's feet and women's feet, black or
gold-encrusted--(This foggy weather--Sugar? No, thank you--The
commonwealth of the future)--the firelight darting and making the room
red, save for the black figures and their bright eyes, while outside a
van discharges, Miss Thingummy drinks tea at her desk, and plate-glass
preserves fur coats--
Flaunted, leaf--light, drifting at corners, blown across the wheels,
silver-splashed, home or not home, gathered, scattered, squandered in
separate scales, swept up, down, torn, sunk, assembled--and truth?
Now to recollect by the fireside on the white square of marble. From
ivory depths words rising shed their blackness, blossom and penetrate.
Fallen the book; in the flame, in the smoke, in the momentary sparks--or
now voyaging, the marble square pendant, minarets beneath and the Indian
seas, while space rushes blue and stars glint--truth? content with
closeness?
Lazy and indifferent the heron returns; the sky veils her stars; then
bares them.
Monday or Tuesday
Lazy and indifferent, shaking space easily from his wings, knowing his
way, the heron passes over the church beneath the sky. White and distant,
absorbed in itself, endlessly the sky covers and uncovers, moves and
remains. A lake? Blot the shores of it out! A mountain? Oh, perfect--the
sun gold on its slopes. Down that falls. Ferns then, or white feathers,
for ever and ever--
Desiring truth, awaiting it, laboriously distilling a few words, for ever
desiring--(a cry starts to the left, another to the right. Wheels strike
divergently. Omnibuses conglomerate in conflict)--for ever desiring--(the
clock asseverates with twelve distinct strokes that it is midday; light
sheds gold scales; children swarm)--for ever desiring truth. Red is the
dome; coins hang on the trees; smoke trails from the chimneys; bark,
shout, cry "Iron for sale"--and truth?
Radiating to a point men's feet and women's feet, black or
gold-encrusted--(This foggy weather--Sugar? No, thank you--The
commonwealth of the future)--the firelight darting and making the room
red, save for the black figures and their bright eyes, while outside a
van discharges, Miss Thingummy drinks tea at her desk, and plate-glass
preserves fur coats--
Flaunted, leaf--light, drifting at corners, blown across the wheels,
silver-splashed, home or not home, gathered, scattered, squandered in
separate scales, swept up, down, torn, sunk, assembled--and truth?
Now to recollect by the fireside on the white square of marble. From
ivory depths words rising shed their blackness, blossom and penetrate.
Fallen the book; in the flame, in the smoke, in the momentary sparks--or
now voyaging, the marble square pendant, minarets beneath and the Indian
seas, while space rushes blue and stars glint--truth? content with
closeness?
Lazy and indifferent the heron returns; the sky veils her stars; then
bares them.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Poem written las summah.
Found this in costa rica
The elephant king emerges from arch, darkened and revealing. For little princes concerned, he brings with him a question of onyx, sealed from yesterday, too brave for tomorrow. Laden with promise, this question holds and enfolds the several thousand moments of enlightened perception, which each young child shows to their flaming blue center of curiousity; encrusted with this catharsis, their bodies turned from a dark biology to this insane treaty! Do you remember the document you signed brother, my friend in hostility waning down, widdling all our cherried and filial and damp desire. The memory of this confidence is complete and wondrous, without any need for clever postures and rallies unending in their patronizing. It is clear and decided; the promise is yours also, the king is your footstool.
His seal may be opened without breaking posterity. The promise is the burden of truth.
The elephant king emerges from arch, darkened and revealing. For little princes concerned, he brings with him a question of onyx, sealed from yesterday, too brave for tomorrow. Laden with promise, this question holds and enfolds the several thousand moments of enlightened perception, which each young child shows to their flaming blue center of curiousity; encrusted with this catharsis, their bodies turned from a dark biology to this insane treaty! Do you remember the document you signed brother, my friend in hostility waning down, widdling all our cherried and filial and damp desire. The memory of this confidence is complete and wondrous, without any need for clever postures and rallies unending in their patronizing. It is clear and decided; the promise is yours also, the king is your footstool.
His seal may be opened without breaking posterity. The promise is the burden of truth.
Ukimedo Lighthouse
This is part of a zen temple on the westside of Lake Biwa. The lighthouse used to guide boats across from the Eastside. Now it is a shrine. It was really cool to visit.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Technology
See these? Usually they are dormant, but when there is a storm they spray water to keep the roads clear. They also spray me as I ride on cleared roads, especially if the nozzle is clogged a little and the water pressure is up. Awesome; cold AND wet.
Daily Commute
I'm hoping this is the last winter storm because I am really tired of riding my bike into cold wind.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Nihon awesome
A friend pointed out this awesome bit of oddness. Look at the direction for North on this map of Osaka in the subway station. And guess what; it is different for every map! Ha ha! WTJ? (what the Japan?!)
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Mobile blogging
I'm trying to be more diligent with this blog, so I am attempting to send updates from my phone. Hopefully this works! Currently I am travelling to Osaka to meet up with the guys. Should be a fun night. I have not explored Osaka much and I am looking forward to experiencing a little of this metropolis!
Friday, February 6, 2009
February
February begins and the days are getting longer. People are saying the snow is worst in this month, but I am still hoping for a mild winter leading into March and Spring Break. I have been here six months, but it surely doesn't feel like it. We were asked to decide if we wanted to be a part of the JET Program for 09-10 and I decided to stay in Japan for another 18 months. If the first quarter is any indication, my time in a foreign country will only get better. I am just now adjusted to my schedule and lifestyle, and the financial benefits are very apparent, with Oregon trying to balance the budget and deciding if schools will even remain open until the scheduled summer break. It feels like the right decision, like I am truly buying into being an earnest expatriate.
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