Vessel Log: 2009 02 26

: in the post office the clerk brings out a thick Japanese/English dictionary for situations like mine. She writes down “proscribe” then “arms” then “toys”. “Ah! ‘Arms’ じゃない。The last of the Christmas presents, Year of the Cow arrows, artifacts sent to America. E. and I walk the traffic loud rte. 12 to Victoria Station. “I need my salad bar fix,” swapping cultural stencils; New Zealand and the U.S. Talk boils down to death over garlic sauce, pasta salad, fried onion bits, cucumber, and cherry tomatoes from Korea. When tired it’s always one of three topics; God, death, or aliens. “I mean, they’ve had their time and I’m glad to have known them.” “You can imagine to a point before you rely on convenient crutches.” “Everyone does it, everyone has for what, maybe 200,000 years or more? As a species.” “They say I’ll see them again, that we’ll be together again.”