16.3.2006

Jeffrey is outside
playing with my electronic equipment,
hopefully not breaking it.
Everything is outside.
On a sidewalk, in front of a supermarket,
separated from it
by a vast parking lot.
I am in Mom's room
asking her if she has fixed dinner
or if we should just forage.
She says we should forage.
I'm hungry.
I'm back out on the sidewalk.
It is night, and none of the people
look like they belong here.
Now I see people that I know,
from a distant land,
and many more that know me.
Jeffrey sets music blasting
on equipment I had not known was for music.
People pick up violins and violas
out of all the junk on the sidewalk
and start to play.
This causes commotion
among the passersby.

cow at home

bacon

We're going to the movies!  I go to pick up my friend, Albert, so we won't be late.   After I meet him we drive a short distance and park.  Albert is opposed to parking, and when we get out of the car I see why.  He is barefoot, and he's injured one leg.  But the walk is relatively short, taking some short cuts through residential yard, and we're there.  Albert is pleased, as am I.  But maybe we're too early.  The movie starts at one and it's only eleven thirty now.  There's a huge crown in front of the theatre.  Some people are wearing costume-like clothing, dressed as typical 1970's suburban television housewives.  A man says something, perhaps about expecting a great film.  His hands are apparent, and as I notice them the skin peels open as if made of clay and shapes itself into clay forks.  The forks break off from his arms and fall to the ground.  This happens to another man's hands as well.  I realize now that these two are truly great movie fans.  Nevertheless, there's something sick and macabre about them.  Strips of bacon are appearing on the ground, cooked soggy, not crisp.  I hate soggy bacon.  Women are picking up the bacon and eating it.  There are now many dogs lazily laying on the ground, on their stomachs, eating the bacon too.  A few of us are revulsed and spit on the ground.  Although I haven't eaten any of the bacon my mouth feels revolting, and I keep spitting, slowly allowing the spittle to drop to the ground rather than ejecting it forcefully.

26 october 2005

I am in Japan, again.  I make my way through Chofu station, out to Nishi Chofu, to the apartment where Kazu's mother and family now live.  I am obliged to stay with them.  I even remember the short cut through the dark restaurant.  It is crowded, and just as I remember it.
What I find remarkable is how immensely clean it all is.  Now I am outside and it is hilly.  I am looking down into clear aqua bays, a soft sandy bottom and coral outcroppings visible below, with apartment buildings built right up to the water's edge.
If I lived here, I could just open my window and jump in the water.  The air is cold.  But is the water?  It looks tropical; not a spot of trash.  But now I can't figure out how to go to Nishi Chofu.
How beautiful Tokyo is.

whale

I am floating in mid-air above a glacial bay, a vast table of flat rock exposed with the low tide. Monstrous whale-beasts rise out of the frozen sea and feral humans, clothed in animal skin run wild on shores which are strewn with massive impaled carcasses. Whale slaughter is in progress. I drop swiftly and plunge into icy depths.