Notes From Me
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Saturday, January 29, 2005
Last night was Alex's goodbye dinner and festivities. He's become a little brother to me. His three months are up so he's headed back to Wisconsin. We gave him a wooden torch, such as those carried by people running in the upcoming otomatsuri, only smaller (it's made for those who don't want to risk it on the mountain, but who still want to write their wishes/prayers for the new year (lunar timing) on their torch and burn it.) We wrote our sentiments and goodbyes on the gift torch. This morning from bed I heard bursts of wood flute music and spontaneous drumming, quite close and echoing off the mountain. It seemed I had unwittingly succeeded in traveling back in time. When I biked soon after to the corner store, I saw them--a group of 3 or 4 men in blue and white garb, one wearing a trailing, intricate headdress. There was a tall taiko stand holding its drum. Maybe they were the ones who had traveled the distance of time. Do you know (maybe you do, but I didn't) that if you join a homestay organization, you can stay with people all over the world for free? I joined two; one of them, I had to pay about fifty-five bucks for the lists of hosts, and I don't have to offer hosting in return. The other was free but I must offer at least to show people around when they come visit San Francisco, as I'll be living there. I am not obliged to offer accommodation. I just started contacting people, and so far I have a homestay in Thailand and one in Egypt. I'm also trying for China, Vietnam, Nepal, Tunisia and places in Europe. I'll also visit friends in France and Amsterdam. Whenever I pick up my guitar, it seems my fingers have been studying and strengthening in the interim since last time, but when I pick up my juggling balls it's back to day one, four months running now. |
The Journal
Define and Concur, wild like cloudlight The Writer
Wooden boats, musical instruments and fireworks are some of the best inventions. And cameras. I don't believe in following any one person or set of ideas. There are tiny satiations like orchids along the viny forest floor, blooming unseen, more gorgeous than some could keep from weeping over. Whenever I see the occasional sun rise the colors always surprise me like the flavor of tahini in Holland. Subway cars make great rhythm along the tracks, as does wind in treebranches, the sound pattern of running engines, and sometimes clothes in a dryer. I like Sumerian poetry. Archives
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