Drum Bridge at Meguro

 

I've got rhythm

Make yourself free from self at one stroke!
Like a sword be without trace of soft iron;
Like a steel mirror, scour off all rust with contrition.




In this fast and troubled world we sometimes lose our way
But I am never lost I feel this way because...

I got rhythm, I got music, I got my girl
Who could ask for anything more?
I've got good times, no more bad times
I've got my girl, who could ask for anything more?

Old man trouble I don't mind him
You won't find him around my door
I've got starlight, I've got sweet dreams
I've got my girl, who could ask for, who could ask for more?

Old man trouble, I don't mind him
You won't find, you're never gonna find him 'round my door
Oh, I've got rhythm, I've got music
I got my girl, who could ask for anything more?

I've got rhythm, I've got rhythm ...

The Winter Scenery

The way I miss pop culture is very silly. I mean, I don't really like it, so why do I miss it? Where does that urge come from? I willingly gave up my TV years ago and never looked back. When I was married, I had to let that monster (the TV, not the ex, although...) into my house, then into my bedroom. It was awful and I'm happy I don't have to live with that anymore. Well, I still do have a TV, but it is impossible to watch as I have no reception and refuse to pay for cable. That concept is too ridiculous for me. I mean, the whole purpose of that invention is to make sure that I become a brainless consumer... It's about selling me things, so why would I get cable in order for them to make me feel like there's something wrong with me.

It's true. "Psst," the TV seems to say "Pat! Over here. Honey, you're a great gal but look at you... You're teeth aren't white enough, you drive a shitty car, your hair don't smell good and your perfume is cheap! You gotta do something about the beer you like, because no one interesting and fun will want to hang out with you! I think you might be depressed, tried this pill or two, or three... Why are you sniveling? Allergies? Take better care of yourself girl, you stink! Haven't you heard of deodorant? Also, you could stand to lose a few pounds. Of course there's nothing wrong with your hair, but you're sure you wouldn't rather be blonde? Oooh! A nice vacation on the beach, that would be lovely! I bet if you asked your credit card company to give you a bigger credit margin you could fly away!"

I have enough insecurities, I don't need a TV to remind me of my ineptitude. But I do use the TV to watch movies. I don't have enough free time these days to do so, but I promise myself I will make the time. Maybe I should start listing the movies I've watched lately. I can't list music because I'm on a talk radio streak right now. I used to be a full-fledged nipper*, but ever since I went back to school, I'm too poor to answer their pledge drive pleas. I do listen to my local college radios. Well two in particular. They're great and keep me up to date musically.

Talking about music, you know what I've been longing for lately? It's so strange... Three Mustaphas Three. Their music is very difficult to describe... It's an eclectic bland of world beat: Balkan, North-African, tzigane, soca or even jazz... oh boy! They are a great live show to catch. They had everybody hopping and bopping! I don't know if they're still together or if they perform. Here's a link where you can get a taste.

I think I will try and get their CD. I will have to break down and pay the horrendous import price though. I think if you listened to them, you could fall in love with them (if you haven't already).

* nipper: person addicted to National Public Radio (NPR).



It is so very cold today. I did not leave the house and refused to shovel. I will pay for it tomorrow. But by then, it'll be another day.

Fuyugesiki

Oh, the boats are covered with white frost,
The rising sun clears the fog on the lake
The houses are still so calm on the coast,
though the water-birds are already singing.

The crows croak on top of the trees,
Under the sun, people stamp wheat in the fields
How warm and peaceful is today in winter!
The small flowers come back in full bloom.

Suddenly, a storm comes and a rain shower comes down.
So the darkness comes earlier and we know it is dusk.
If the lights go on in the small houses,
we know people live here in the country hamlet.

Dog Barking At The Moon

The routine is gently settling back to its usual lazy self. Lazy because unwilling to try and bend the rule every so slightly. I do not know if it will be possible for me to succeed in the various tasks that I am now enterprising. Most of all, I would like to go back to writing again. If not intensely, at least seriously and regularly. There is this fear which grips my heart whenever I think about committing myself to writing again. But I always wonder why? Why be afraid? Failure is a possibility, but so is pleasure... and even better, success. Writing makes me so happy, why deny myself the pleasure? That's so silly. As that character in Strictly Ballroom said "A life lived in fear, is a life half lived." Et vlan!



Neftalí take me away... embrace me with your rhymes and cover me with your sonnets... allow me to breathe the perfume of your poetry and transport me to a world where feelings can turn into words... words that can turn me into a soft mound of contentment... contentment that I wish will turn into happiness....

Oda a la luz encantada

La luz bajo los árboles,
la luz del alto cielo.
La luz
verde
enramada
que fulgura
en la hoja
y cae como fresca
arena blanca.

Una cigarra eleva
su son de aserradero
sobre la transparencia.

Es una copa llena
de agua
el mundo.



The weary one, orphan
of the masses, the self,
the crushed one, the one made of concrete,
the one without a country in crowded restaurants,
he who wanted to go far away, always farther away,
didn't know what to do there, whether he wanted
or didn't want to leave or remain on the island,
the hesitant one, the hybrid, entangled in himself,
had no place here: the straight-angled stone,
the infinite look of the granite prism,
the circular solitude all banished him:
he went somewhere else with his sorrows,
he returned to the agony of his native land,
to his indecisions, of winter and summer.

Tirade du nez

Ah ! non ! c’est un peu court, jeune homme !
On pouvait dire... Oh ! Dieu !... Bien des choses en somme.
En variant le ton, -par exemple, tenez :

Agressif : « Moi, monsieur, si j’avais un tel nez
Il faudrait sur-le-champ que je me l’amputasse ! »
Amical : « Mais il doit tremper dans votre tasse :
Pour boire, faites-vous fabriquer un Hanape ! »
Descriptif : « C’est un roc!... C’est un pic!... C’est un cap!...
Que dis-je, c’est un cap?... C’est une péninsule! »
Curieux : « De quoi sert cette oblongue capsule ?
D’écritoire, monsieur, ou de boîte à ciseaux ? »
Gracieux : « Aimez-vous à ce point les oiseaux
Que paternellement vous vous préoccupâtes
De tendre ce perchoir à leurs petites pattes? »
Truculent : « Ca, monsieur, lorsque vous pétunez,
La vapeur du tabac vous sort-elle du nez
Sans qu’un voisin ne crie au feu de cheminée ? »
Prévenant : « Gardez-vous, votre tête entraînée
Par ce poids, de tomber en avant sur le sol ! »
Tendre : « Faites-lui faire un petit parasol
De peur que sa couleur au soleil ne se fane ! »
Pédant : « L’animal seul, monsieur, qu’Aristophane
Appelle Hippocampéléphantocamélos
Dut avoir sous le front tant de chair sur tant d’os ! »
Cavalier : « Quoi, l’ami, ce croc est à la mode?
Pour pendre son chapeau, c’est vraiment très commode ! »
Emphatique : « Aucun vent ne peut, nez magistral,
T’enrhumer tout entier, excepté le mistral ! »
Dramatique : « C’est la mer Rouge quand il saigne ! »
Admiratif : « Pour un parfumeur, quelle enseigne ! »
Lyrique : « Est-ce une conque, êtes-vous un triton ? »
Naïf : « Ce monument, quand le visite-t-on ? »
Respectueux : « Souffrez, monsieur, qu’on vous salue,
C’est là ce qui s’appelle avoir pignon sur rue ! »
Campagnard : « Hé, ardé ! C’est-y un nez ? Nanain !
c’est queuqu’navet géant ou ben queuqu’melon nain ! »
Militaire : « Pointez contre cavalerie ! »
Pratique : « Voulez-vous le mettre en loterie ?
Assurément, monsieur, ce sera le gros lot ! »
Enfin parodiant Pyrame en un sanglot:
« Le voilà donc ce nez qui des traits de son maître
A détruit l’harmonie ! Il en rougit, le traître ! »

- Voila ce qu’à peu près, mon cher, vous m’auriez dit
Si vous aviez un peu de lettres et d’esprit :
Mais d’esprit, ô le plus lamentable des êtres,
Vous n’en eûtes jamais un atome, et de lettre
Vous n’avez que les trois qui forment le mot : sot !
Eussiez vous eu, d’ailleurs, l’invention qu’il faut
Pour pouvoir là, devant ces nobles galeries,
Me servir toutes ces folles plaisanteries,
Que vous n’en eussiez pas articulé le quart
De la moitié du commencement d’une, car
Je me les sers moi-même, avec assez de verve,
Mais je ne permet pas qu’un autre me les serve.

Splash

"Come on!" They urged, "You'll be fine!" How can I say this? I was afraid to look ... well, afraid. So I took a step, then two. "So far so good," I told myself while I tried to balance my weight properly on the tree trunk. Looking down, I could see the water rushing with great ardor. It looked cold. I looked up. Three more steps. One. Two. Three. I can't believe I made it!

Just when I was about to grab her hand, my foot slipped. I fell in the water and something hit my kidney really hard. "Oh shit," I thought. It didn't occur to me that the water was cold, as cold as the air. I needed to get up and out of these woods as soon as possible. All that occurred to me was a stabbing pain in my lower back, reminding me that in doubt I should always go for surety. Irie.

The walk back towards the parking lot was surreal. My clothes were wet, and my back was throbbing. The dogs were nervously running circles around me. "Come on grrls, let's go!" One more step, hon, just one more step. The thought reverberated inside my head like a Buddhist chant.

Oh irony, how I like to taste the sweet bitterness of your lips! In my basement, in 1000 little pieces scattered around the floor, lies my brand new weight bench... Next to it is my training plan, scribbled illegibly on a dirty piece of paper. Well here's the delay I was praying for.

Oh Henri...

Instinct must be thwarted just as one prunes the branches of a tree so that it will grow better."



Les toiles que tu m'as tissées

Réchauffe mes yeux, tel la braise qui m'attise

Chapter 1

There are ways but the Way is uncharted ...
There are ways but the Way is uncharted;
There are names but not nature in words:
Nameless indeed is the source of creation
But things have a mother and she has a name.

The secret waits for the insight
Of eyes unclouded by longing;
Those who are bound by desire
See only the outward container.

These two come paired but distinct
By there names.
Of all things profound,
Say that their pairing is deepest,
The gate to the root of the world.