Week 3-23 - Haibuno
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16 January 2023
Swing of things delayed
everyone is floundering
back on track a myth
Amongst the flux of a pandemic of advertisement - a vision of utopia for $9.99. No questions asked, no questions answered. We’ll match you with the best our algorithm can decide for you, only it is dumb, and doesn’t know you’re allergic to tofu. I’m reporting every ad as offensive, because I’m on the defensive for space, time, energy, and mental free rein. I’m taking a step back and deeply examining our current state of things. A sudden wave of ‘what the hell am I doing here’ takes over. It seeps into the in-between spaces where self-doubt, and need duke it out to define ‘success’. The myth. The one myth to rule them all. And then a clarion call of reason steps in, and trumpets ‘did you enjoy it, did you really enjoy it? That’s all you need!’.
17 January 2023
Irritating calls
agreeable art form lost
providing service
He said that the last half hour is a lagniappe, but it is really a lie. A tiny white lie, because he believes it is a lagniappe. I will slather the toast to make it go smoother. This is the land of buttering up, and pretending it’s part of the price of doing business. It is. And it isn’t. This relationship is definitely labeled ‘It’s Complicated’. Favors given that aren’t really favors at all. Simply slather and gather your things and leave things well under the table. We will see you next time!
18 January 2023
Two new steps forward
bleeding cash to save more cash
feeling winter squeeze
The art of writing when you have nothing to say.
19 January 2023
Fluffy powder day
swooshing through moguls, woohoo!
recovery beer
4 degrees in the morning, a cup of coffee in hand and a solid determination to get the vacuuming done today. Blisters on the back of both ankles are putting a damper on downhill activities for the moment. There is a certain antsy in the air. It might be related to looming frustrations, but is more likely due to simply being sick and tired of waiting. For everything. And I have more patience than most. A lot more... C’est la vie! It’s a strange tension that has me sitting staring off into space frequently. What can be done, nothing can be done, so do something else. A constant ‘find alternatives’ lifestyle. Sometimes I just want the normal slow and steady of familiar. Sometimes I only want to sit down and binge watch science fiction.
20 January 2023
Completed survey
satisfying dump run done
the GO feels soupy
We know better than to add the peas, but we do it anyway. There is a certain darkness, a certain coldness, and all we want is soup, stew, chowder, warm and toasty goodness. Fire is a kind of focus, the heart in the hearth deeply cozy. The brain goes off the rails, one minute excited, the next minute in slumber. There is something to be said for purposefully constricted. There is something to be said for infinitely roaming. Holding all these modes at once, in a motionless dance. I’m surprised there isn’t more running outside and howling at the moon.
21 January 2023
Llamas on road side
tracks of animals and skis
traces of traipsing
She walked over to the large ponderosa pine, leaned in, and inhaled deeply. She surmises that when it is below freezing you can’t smell them. The pitch frozen in time. One late spring we pitch hammocks under a grove of white pine. Their medicinal gum sap is sweet smelling and chewable in the afternoon heat. The rising ones whisper their secrets in the afternoon breeze. I step on a cone getting out of the hammock and swat a fly off my shoulder. I reach for a wad of gum, stick it tentatively in my mouth, and suck it gently. Sweet, resinous, ‘not too bad’. At that time, pandemic raging time, a ‘not too bad’ was an extraordinary. I remember that the dog couldn’t settle on the blanket spread beneath the hammocks. I remember trying to read, but it was hot and buggy. I remember the nighthawks swooping in the waning light. Nighthawks are also known as goatsuckers. There were no goats about to test that name. I remember standing around the fire, and making out in the backseat when it started to rain. The traces of secrets traipse through my memory leaving tracks that weave tightly together.
22 January 2023
Rafter of turkeys
procession through gambal oak
harem on the move
We’re driving down the road to the secret stash and come across a rafter of wild turkeys marching along side. They catch my attention with a golden reflection and a flick of the wrist and gesture for us to follow. They are part of a faction of radical feminists on the move speaking in waddle and determined to raise a ruckus. They scoff at my attempts to ‘gobble, gobble’ and tell me that up the hill beyond the ridge is nirvana. I put the truck in 4H and stomp on the gas to climb the hill. It isn’t steep but the snow is partially melted and slippery and the truck stumbles and grunts. The turkeys march on undeterred, ‘get out fools, walk like us, lean into it, don’t be such a turkey!’