Vessel Log: 2009 08 10

: cold ramen lunch from 7-11; walk the purple ramp into the garden park I’ve walked by a hundred times; red footbridge, water lilies, cigarette filters stamped into gray gravel; water segregated by rock and boulder irrigation; vacuum the ripped and torn shreds of a willow branches; suddenly it doesn’t feel as crowded.

Vessel Log: 2009 08 09

: a refrigerator of condiments, champagne, sliced bread, and sake; passive aggressive notes has me worried about a note that’s an invitation and nowhere near passive aggressive; like beer bust but not; trains and accents, unintentional aphrodisiacs; slow stroll towards the park, iced coffee in hand; gots me red hat and sunglasses on; each block sectioned off for a major beer company; Suntory, Asahi, Kirin, Sapporo; we gather with a mini-keg, order okonomiyaki, edamame, yakisoba, etc; air thick with heat; the man who sings mellow gold; J., T. and I peruse Uni Qlo and Right On; “You’re really fast at changing pants”; why is it always the ones you want that never have your size?; the three of us for Seize the Day; a karai bump; feels like I’m looking at the clock wrong.

Vessel Log: 2009 08 08

: I look for my wallet out in the bike shed in my underwear;

* * *

cottonmouth; could’ve been a beer garden afternoon but I think I could sleep more; eggs and toast; even the cat won’t eat the processed fish semi-circle found in the 7-11 soba container; hot as; photos and flickr; playing catch up; Mos Burger for dinner; the cool evening; busloads of school girls leave the cultural center; squeals and laughter; a Takikawa bus rides by, some stand and they’re all eating; rewatch Citizen Ruth; the neighbors BBQ after midnight.

Vessel Log: 2009 08 07

: moths, their wings, dragonflies, bees motionless on the tar; carried away by janitorial ants; spiders the size of guilt if you were to murder them; heat and glare; walk the distance to Bombay Blue for lunch; pleasurable heat of a curry meal; walk the distance back through an archaeological drive and parking lot; 30 degrees now means hot instead of frigid; stop by city hall on my way home; omiyage for the office, squid-ink chocolate; a chat with J. about her back, etc; coated in shine; an early evening shower before the 5:56 express; meet T. in front of Daimaru; three stops too many on the subway; as the sun sets, the breeze picks up; this side of town is seagull territory, I wonder if the crows know this; K. in front of the shop; we’re given a small bag with a child’s drawing on the flap; a 2 hour lecture with short video and pictures about a small village in Cambodia, the building of a school and animism; not the izakaya and beer we were promised; scoff an onigiri in the 7-11 parking lot; meet L., T., and E. at Tlida; Hisashiburi!; then to a chain izakaya; since last month it’s been completely redesigned; no longer open and cruiseable; then karaoke at the box.

Vessel Log: 2009 08 06

: the 64th anniversary of the bombing at Hiroshima; on TV a young boy and girl take turns orating a memorized speech; is everyone wearing white?; camera view of the wrecked dome and piles of brick; yellow flowers and Aso-sama bowing before an archway; just make the train; assist students with pre-recitation contest for a school mini competition; F.-sensei and I talk about Hiroshima, how it is or isn’t taught in Japan and America; riding home a group of high school boys, tan on bikes, say hello; one of whom was maybe a former student but his hair is shaved and much thinner; tell B. about soup curry at Goyen; hot sunlight, movie trailers, folding laundry, washing dishes; the floor is littered in litter, dry cat food; conversation is loud; table for six is a table for eight; a prelude to the coming year.

Vessel Log: 2009 08 05

: this one is for the bird; popped against the school’s window; a ball of fluttering black and white feathers; vice-principle brings water to shock it back to flight; a drop on the fragile skull; its mouth open, panting, blinking eyelids; a curled and retracted twiggy leg; kowaiiso; we kill the flies and save the birds; read about Antony, eating lunch (salad, onigiri); Tonda, N.-sensei announces; the bird flies toward the windows; resting on a sill, staring inside, its mouth gaped open, its wings beating;

"As I was raised Catholic, I was raised with a very rigid sense of what had spiritual content, of what was valuable. Human beings had soul. The Earth didn't. This place was a holding cell for people to figure out their spirit value," says Antony. "There was this whole idea that we had separated from nature. I think that's all fallen down for me. As I've gotten older, I've returned more and more to my environment." – Antony Hegarty, August 4, 2009, article by Grayson Currin;

the stop motion animation of small and mid-sized shovel trucks; kinjiki, forbidden colors; the man with a farmers’ tan at the eyebrows; apples, Out, a nap under curtained window; meet B., the new neighbor; I worry about R.'s cat being seen; we walk to soba; the owner gives me box of canned coffee drinks as a thank you.

Book Review: The Procession of Mollusks

The Procession of Mollusks by Eric E. Olson

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
A Pacific Northwest, coastal town is seized by its passion for the phylum Mollusca as seen through the varying lucid eyes of an ex-reporter who believes he’s a reporter and a young boy coming-of-age in a docuphile society. Olson created a neapolitan tale; weaving magical realist happenings, noir scenes of a Lynchian motif, and science lessons had Timothy Leary teamed up with National Geographic.



I’m not ashamed to admit that this book gave me nightmares. Or feral dreams, rather. Olson convincingly sculpted a spiral illustration while tweaking the nerves that lead to those primal places once suppressed after agriculture and architecture were born. Stirring these neglected tidepools, left behind puddles teaming with its own isolated eco-system, disturbs some of the more unexpected imaginables. Olson explored this sticky territory and had the brass to record a map for others to find their way in and back out again.




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