| i remember ... my dad cooking a bear paw |
[08 Nov 2009|06:15pm] |
he brought it home one day when i was in high school, perhaps junior high. he said his coworker, who was big into hunting with a cross bow, took it out when it came in his yard.
he braised it in his specialty sauce of soy sauce, cooking wine and sugar. i had my doubts about it, but it was really delicious. that was the one and only time i ever et bear. ive looked forward to eating bear paw again, but as fate would have it, there has been no re-occurance of happenstance .
perhaps in 2012 when all things shall come to pass, we shall meet again.
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| fake polaroid (www.polaroid.net) |
[03 Oct 2009|06:07pm] |
haha, great idea!
taking the ferry from jersey city to wall st.
abandoned quarry in verplanck. they were digging one day and hit water; it came up so fast they had to abandon cars. a few buildings stand submerged in the vibrantly blue water (its hard to tell how blue that water is from that pic, but you can see it in the video)
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| old videos, cor now. |
[23 Sep 2009|09:47pm] |
kyoto, daimonji
osaka shanghai ferry - straits between honshu and kyushu
transmongolian train
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| Thor's Day |
[17 Sep 2009|09:15pm] |
when you think that we were watching aeon flux as kids and kids now, gosh, what the fuck do they even watch now?
oh ye, this is all i can proffer today, the day of Thor.
sorry sorry
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| oi poutine |
[15 Sep 2009|09:35pm] |
an empty lot exploded just as i was walking home. i heard this poof and all of a sudden a puff of orange and smoke rose out behind the ramshakle wooden fence. the hasids were in a frenzy, on the phone, "harrison and union!" -- the young ones rushing to the scene. the fire department came over and put it out in no time. i rushed up to the roof to examine the scene from above and the trucks were getting ready to leave
today is some kind of local assembly primary, the hasidic political machine is at full steam, trucks with loudspeakers exhorting the neighborhood at full volumed yiddish.
been watching vhs taped from 15 years ago. kfc used to have a quarter chicken mean with a biscuit and corn for $1.99 -- yes they did. its nice and comforting. the early 90s weren't bad -- and in hindsight, they were downright beautiful. i was listening to coolio and playing vampire the masquerade back then, nachoes and lipton ice teas. once in a while, we felt extravagant and would spill out the cash for pizzas. or maybe someones parents owuld order one --
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| swayze rip |
[15 Sep 2009|12:02am] |
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g'night sweet fucking prince
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| dersu uzala breaks my heart |
[11 Sep 2009|08:55pm] |
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perhaps this is the height of melodrama, but when dersu leaves the captain, it just rips my soul out!
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| central asia, ho. |
[10 Sep 2009|09:50pm] |
oh these huge green adverts for some video console -- how you have fallen, livejournal, since your spunky, idealistic beginnings. and its been 10 years? how time flies. i suppose i wasn't an early adopter (i was close, perhaps?). but who cares for those antediluveans anyway.
im making goulash on the stove -- thinking of mongolia and thinking its about time to go again, see whats new in those parts. that ian frazier new yorker article is still with me. a friend and i are going to ulrike ottingers' 8-hour mongolian tour de force Taiga goulash and caramelized home strained cheese in hand.
time passes fast, life is weird; living in new york, i feel like rarely stop to consider this most obvious of observations. glenn gould had it right, living in that cabin by the lake(or was it a river?), lost in a world of bach, and other b's, humming to himself -- or perhaps he was just as lost as anyone, in labyrinthes of contrapuntal style.
borges writes that chesterton wrote that there is nothing as terrifying as a "labyrinth without a centre" -- although i can find no verification that chesterton ever wrote any such thing, as much as i google. i'll quote the same borges any time, every time, with no shame; im a bit retarded in this regard. im sure i've mentioned the above before.
just put the potatoes in the goulash, i wish i had a chicken or a hog to feed kitchen scrap to
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| dreams |
[09 Sep 2009|08:58pm] |
lucid dream last night: we were hemmed in a building, the teenagers had all turned into zombies. with guns. we had the tables stacked up; i was sniping at them out of the windows in the dead of night. a few street lights and the moon illuminated the pitch and grey. as the night progressed they became increasingly indestructable -- i noticed, for instance, that it took more bullets to take them down. we decided to leave our building and try to make a break for it.
we got out the back door and drove out in a jeep. the teenager zombies had started fight each other and we were able to sneak away a good bit. the tragedy of the situation was soon apparent, however. the zombie constitution had become such that even as they tore into each other with bats and machetes, they did no damage, rather a sysiphian act of futile violence. the battles would be infinite and go on for all time & space.
we slunk back to the building and awaited our deaths. then a mosquito flew into my ear and i woke up. i had a headache from grinding my teeth all night.
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this is a great blog: http://assemblyman-eph.blogspot.com/
they have movie posters form ghana, lookit this shit:
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[07 Sep 2009|08:27pm] |
things turn very quickly in life sometimes; my roommate was jumped the other day -- it was just a mistake. he was selling a bike on craigslist and they thought it was a bike that had been stolen from them. they met in a shadowy part of town (my roommates mistake for agree-ing to meet there) -- a tv on the radio-esque fellow rode his bike in from the shadows and knocked him down while two others who had been creeping behind him came up, ready to enact a cowardly (is any other kind) 3 on 1 suprise ass whupping when the realised it wasn't the bike they were looking for. they scrammed. my roommate was amazed by the speed and stupidity of it all.
today i went over my handle bars. i was riding back from a bbq, tearing up the streets from carroll gardens, through fort greene. i was feeling good, riding fast, flowing through the traffic, mind well attuned to lumbering traffic. we hit a bit of a flat way and started to speed a bit, the cadence of my legs steadily increasing, when my roommate (who was leading the way) made a quick right on willoughby. caught off guard, just a bit, i tried to slow down and turn hard, but unfamiliar with the strength of the front breaks, i heard sharp squeeze of the breaks and felt the rear of the bike rise sharply -- it ejected me cleanly over the handle bars. the shock of impact was almost too quick to consider, i rolled around with my wind knocked out, crawled about, grunted a bunch, staggered onto the side walk dazed. a woman who lived on the corner asked me if i was ok and needed anything. "cold compress please" -- i felt a big fogged up, the surprise of physics suddenly upturning my world mixed with the zen like singled minded focus of the ride.
ive only gone over my handle bars a few times in my adult life. twice before was in japan. one time it was because my front handle bars were loose and basically came off. the tired turned perpendicular to my velocity vector and i went over on the path next to the kamogawa. i skidded a bit and looked around to see if anyone saw me. phew. the 2nd time i was tearing up teramachi street as fast as i could on a bike i'd stolen earlier that night, drunk off my ass from a wild night in shijou. something happened and i went over and tore off my palm. it hurt like shit and i couldn't breath for minutes, but i as soon i caught my breadth i started to laugh and laugh. my friends came over and asked if i was ok and i kept saying, "tama ni jibun on chi wo minai to ikan da zo, hahahahaha"
after the picture i put on some bandages and drank and smoked a good deal. mostly i remember watching battleship yamato and being quite amazed by the robot on the ship.
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| sleep is wrong |
[07 Sep 2009|05:46am] |
woken up by post bbq heart burn, a combination of scorched chicken and too much beer; i overheat when i go to bed drunk; i'll wake up breathing fast, almost like a dog on a hot day. it never used to happen.
now im vacillating between going back to sleep or waiting for the dawn on the roof.
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[02 Sep 2009|08:35pm] |
so here is my attempt to write something everyday -- everyday figuratively, just an allusion to consistancy. mostly likely, it will be just every once in a while. ive always vaguely wanted to be a writer, and a truck driver. its purely a result of dear mr. henshaw. that book was significant in my life. i think it was the first book that i considered 'real'.
i suppose i wanted to be a truck driver more than a writer really. the young protagonist's (a sapling of an aspiring author) often absent father was a truck driver. i imagined, in vivid colors, along with him, the father driving through miles of nothing punctuated by truck stops of hot dogs and arcade games. arcades used to be just one quarter and i though the world would be complete if i just had five bux of dispensible cash.
a few weeks back i went up to martha's vineyard with my roommates. it was high times, sailing, swimming on the beach, seals and shit.
spiders webs at dawn
some vivid dreams lately, ah. life.
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| siberia |
[01 Sep 2009|08:20pm] |
everyone with a new yorker's subscription should read ian fraziers "traveis in siberia" parts one and two. the latter portion just came out in the august edition. and if you don't have a subscription to the new yorker, well, shit, what are you waiting for? the post apoc cummeth. its hard to describe the charm of siberia -- well actually, not that hard. the charm is the immense desolation; but i know not why vast expanses of nothing should strike such a chord twixt string o my heart. desolation and adventure; quiet staticity punctuated by breath taking, moments of bachanalian headiness. ah
and when you finish the article, read "tent life in siberia". its cheap, and the full text is on gutenburg and google books.
and while you are at it, watch kurosawa's "dersu uzala"; its a masterpiece, although begrudgingly, i can't say its one of his better works. theres something missing from his direction, but the story is compelling.
i've been reading a lot more. and its pretty heartening, its changing my brain a bit, reverting it back to the way it used to be. Feel as if the last few years have taken a toll, chipping my attention, bifurcating and diverting my thought processes until my mind and will is dissapated. i blame the internet. its is the wyrm of midgard; but, perhaps, i have begun to reclaim some of myself.
the mosquitoes are out in droves. its been a mild summer, i wonder if it will be harsh winter. should i i get slanket?
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| snapshot of kyoto in 2003 |
[26 Aug 2009|11:24pm] |
feel like i've reached a point in my life when reading old things is more interesting than embarrassing, not that some portions are no painful. i just realised that i've basically lived my entire life barely able to spell correctly. i recently found a short essay i wrote on living in kyoto from '03; a solid 5 years ago. how much i've changed since then. but then again, the core, perhaps, remains the same:
"The house has gotten a comfortable chaotic non-order to it, with solid old wooden furniture scattered about. On sunny morning the sun streams in all limpid like; at dusk there is a nostalgic gist to the staircase.
The house is situated in the best part of Kyoto, fairly northerly, sandwiched between the Imperial Palace Park and a large Buddhist temple. It is the rich part of Kyoto, full of shrines, temples, and old wooden houses hidden by walls and foliage. It feels more like a town than a city and contrasts with the relative urbanity of southern Kyoto.
Walk down this street and there is a grease pit of a teishoku that will let you eat as much as you like for 30 minutes of dish washing. Go that way and there is a mochi shop whose reputation is described by the folds and turns in its lines. It’s about a 15-minute stroll from the banks of the Kamo River, where one can stretch out in languorous afternoon naps."
...
"It has been exactly three months in Kyoto and I feel like things have settled, more or less, into the usual chaotic rhythms of a life described by scale independent ups and downs, turns and bifurcations. But I do look back with fondness at my first month here when things were not so established and the bright sheen of novelty laminated everything.
I live my life comfortably and have been at the mercy of my own whims. Recently I have tried to impose a bit of discipline to achieve some of things I had set out to do. It has been gradually successful and some point equilibrium between fancy and control will be reached. In addition to the fellow’s basic requirements, I have a part time job teaching English at a local elementary school. It’s cheering to observe the bliss with which Japanese grade school children go about their days. However, it is sometimes very tiring to keep up with their vivacity. I’ve recorded some songs and shot off a few watercolors, but I can’t say I’m terribly happy with the results too far. I seem to be missing two diametrically opposed ingredients that I’ve found necessary in the past: grand inspiration and/or extreme boredom." ...
"More than once I have basked on the sunny bank of the Kamo river, -- with the pitch ravens whooshing o’er head, the clouds rushing through with some urgency, and the sun glinting through my squinting eyes -- thinking that it would be no great injustice to live in that instant forever."
pretty indulgent writing, but some parts ring profound nostaglic heart strings. the last bit especially.
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| bb brbb rbbrbrbrrrbbb rrrrbrbbrr rhubarb rhurh bbb bb b rhrhuuh |
[07 May 2009|12:06am] |
i have this recurring dream of limpid bodies of water and fish and others (turtles, for example) gamboling within -- its not so much a recurring dream, but a motif which somehow appears with great frequency. i will look out a window, and be captivated by the pellucidity and clarity of the water and the great hidden submerged universe, now revealed.
i remember looking down at lake khovsgol in mongolia, one of the cleanest, most limpid lakes in the world, peering down at the giant stones on the bottom. it kind of gave me the chills.
i had this fishing dream right before i was jumped. its was pretty dark, stunk of death. the fish were half decomposing. the sea was not limpid in this case. there were crows, also decomposing, sitting in the rigging of a mast which protruded out the middle of the dock.
i think i want to make music for movies/documentaries/bits of footage. i want for there to be subconcious and subdermal synergy; oh, this is what i want. yes.
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| in san fran |
[23 Apr 2009|11:52am] |
being here with only my macbook has finally made me go on google and start learning how to use this thing. i guess its not the piece of shit i made it out to be. ha. ive had this thing for a year and jerked myself off by putting window xp on it (which i recently took off to put on another computer)
i guess im kind of glad im good at computers -- its good to be able to tinker with something although these days i kind of wish i was more of like an electrician or mechanic type, putting together old motorcycles with side cars, or lake boats with fine upholstery(i hate this word) and well lacquered wood.
everything is so nice here. i feel like people from nyc must come here and just dominate natives in terms of sheer aggro-ness. actually, i wonder how many people here were originally from ny.
sitting in a cafe by the park with my macbook, sipping coffee -- it all just makes me feel like someone else. i think im gonna go climb twin peaks starting from dolores park show that imma rough ass.
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| ummmmmmmm;lmsld |
[12 Apr 2009|12:38am] |
a few weeks ago i got jumped in bushwick by 5 big dudes who kicked my face in = new bionic jaw w/ titanium screws :( ... it was weird, waking up in the ER, and the only thing I could babble about was the documentary "touching the void", i felt i was immersed in some lucid dream set in transparent bakelite.
but there's some upside as well -- the friends, the presents, i've gotten crazy straws (in case my jaw had to be wired shut) to video games. also i've gotten 6 weeks off from work which gives me all kinds of time in the recording studio. (here's a recent example["lorelei"])
the first few days post surgery were pretty bad, although the pain killers blurred through that experience like so much tapioca. not being able to chew and eat was pretty brutal, but I can handle mushy/chunkier stuff now. howeever, no steaks or pizzas god damn you.
i've lost 10+ lbs, which puts me in at like early college weight. the convalescence makes look like i'm 15 these days. but i am on the mend, nothing a little cytoplasmic magic can't remedy, 'spose.
in my new suit.
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| meh |
[24 Feb 2009|05:38pm] |
a poor winter for health; a month ago i went to a doc for the first time in perhaps 5-6 years? i suppose i haven't had proper check up since duodenal ulcer, an ulcer which spurred a short and intense obsession with broccoli (and broccoli sprouts).
the doctor was highly recommended, he breezed into the office and in 5 minutes ordered a full phalanx of tests --- apparently ive had dengue and lyme disease, all without me noticing. and here am i, this weakened present i, whining about a few colds, the past i could give two shits about organ liquifiying fevers.
for just a few visits and tests, my insurance had to pony up close to 3K. no wonder no one has health care.
the loft seems so cold on these days. even though its quite warm, actually, for feburary; ive seen much worse. at present theres a full sunset pouring in, the decling sun reflecting off the ridiculous manhatten buildings; the conrete radiates vague warmth that its been father all afternoon. its a beaut.
the orchid is beginning to flower -- it must be confused. its winter. THIS IS EARTH MAN!
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hiroprotagonist's journal
