This tree had an eagle (the snag in the middle, a branch halfway down).
[daily log: walking, 3km; dogwalking, 3km]
Month: June 2023
Caveat: Poem #2522 “Illusion”
ㅁ Light comes down from the clouds as it were real; the trees perpetuate the illusion.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Tree #1615 “Daisies”
This tree was upstaged by daisies.
[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km]
Caveat: Poem #2521 “A song for the ages”
ㅁ Art requires a kind of pretentiousness. Please accept my apologies for this.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Tree #1614 “Before the dawn”
This tree attempted to block a view of the early morning sky at around 445 this morning.
[daily log: walking, 6km; retailing, 6hr]
Caveat: Poem #2520 “Retrospective”
ㅁ Never reconsider impulsive decisions; you might end up feeling there'd been... mistakes.
– a cinquain.
Caveat: Tree #1613 “The old pussy-willow”
This tree is an old pussy-willow tree that lives at 8.5 mile, across from the pond.
[daily log: walking, 5.5km; retailing, 8hr]
Caveat: summer’s blood was in it
Blackberry-Picking for Philip Hobsbaum Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots. Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills We trekked and picked until the cans were full, Until the tinkling bottom had been covered With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's. We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre. But when the bath was filled we found a fur, A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache. The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour. I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot. Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not. - Seamus Heaney (Irish poet, 1939-2013)
Caveat: Poem #2519 “Gravity”
ㅁ drizzle flavored the day, like a mist so heavy that it was drawn to the earth's stones: strong clouds
– a cinquain.
Caveat: Tree #1612 “보문사”
This tree is yet another guest tree from my past. It’s in the courtyard of a Buddhist temple called Bomunsa (보문사) which is on an island west of Seoul. I visited the temple during an excursion in August, 2013.
[daily log: walking, 2km;]
Caveat: Poem #2518 “Trip on a rock”
ㅁ with the stream of time you try to just jump across but then you get wet
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Tree #1611 “Leaning northward”
This tree is viewable outside our north-facing window.
[daily log: walking, 1.5km;]
Caveat: 주인 보태줄 나그네 없다
I found this aphorism in my book of Korean aphorisms.
주인 보태줄 나그네 없다
ju.in bo.tae.jul na.geu.ne eops.da
master support-give-FUTPART traveler not-exist-PRES
The supportive guest does not exist.
All guests become a liability to their host. This seems similar in meaning to the aphorism attribed to Ben Franklin, “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.”
Caveat: Poem #2517 “A dog’s meditation”
ㅁ I walked the dog along the road, she peed upon the grass; and then she turned and ate those plants: "It tastes just like my ass!"
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
Caveat: Tree #1610 “A very flat place”
This tree is another guest tree from my past. I took this picture of a tree at sunset in a very flat place, just south of Winnipeg in late 2009. I was already living in South Korea at that time, but I’d returned to North America to do a road trip and visit friends and relatives.
Yesterday and today I’ve been struggling with a problem with some backup processes on my blog server. So I’ve been working on that, and my outdoor projects have been on hold. The issue is still not entirely within my understanding. So I’m still working on it.
[daily log: walking, 2km;]
Caveat: 10 years ago today, I was diagnosed with cancer
I wrote about it on this blog at that time. I wrote:
The doctor said: “You have cancer.” Well. No ambiguity, there.
It was stage 3 cancer of the tongue, with possible metastasis in lymphs of the neck. The metastasis on the left side of my neck was confirmed after surgery, though pre-surgery, diagnosis had been more optimistic. Anyway, lymphs were removed, along with the tumor at the base of my tongue. My tongue was reconstructed with spare parts from other parts of my body – I have a weird bioengineered transhumanist tongue.
The statistics at the time of diagnosis was about a 65% survival rate. That later dropped to around 40% survival rate, due to the additional complications during and after my procedure in the hospital. I beat those odds. I had a 9 hour surgery. I was in the hospital for almost a month. I underwent 6 weeks of radiation a few months later, which I discovered is an amazing weight-loss program. Would recommend.
I’m still alive. Presumably, cancer-free. Either that, or I’m a ghost with a very convincing schtick.
Caveat: Poem #2516 “Controversial statement”
ㅁ Ghosts pretend that the world is not only made up of others who are also ghostly. They obsess over perceived living creatures with jealousy, denying their shared ontology.
– a reverse nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1609 “Looking out”
This tree is outside a newly added glass window on my treehouse. At this rate, I’ll have the treehouse windows completed sometime around the summer of 2030.
[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 4.5km]
Caveat: Grants-Hogarth University and surrounds
[This is a cross-post from my other blog.]
My low-effort brag-post for this week is the neighborhood around Grants-Hogarth University, in the imaginary city of Ohunkagan (including an enclave jurisdiction called University Village). The mapping is currently in a time-warp, not yet having reached 1920, and it’s not really complete, but I’m running out of things to post. There are some easter-egg type jokes in the map, including “Chomsky Hall” near the intersection of Government Avenue and Binding Road, thus near the Government & Binding station on the elevated railway.
This neighborhood is found on the opengeofiction map here: https://opengeofiction.net/#map=16/-42.3298/146.0850&layers=B
Caveat: Poem #2515 “A line”
ㅁ Fog and clouds, grasp mountains, conceal the sky: The morning's a line between sea and mist.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Tree #1608 “경기도 고양시 정밠산공원”
This tree is a guest tree from my past. There’s a tree and a magpie on a rope fence. I took this photo almost exactly 10 years ago, in June, 2013. It’s in the park on the hill a few blocks from my apartment in Ilsan (Goyang City), South Korea (경기도 고양시 정밠산공원).
[daily log: walking, 6.5km; dogwalking, 3.5km]
Caveat: Poem #2514 “Under cover of darkness”
ㅁ The sun departed for a short while. In the night, the grass grew fiercely. The birds prepared some new songs, not unlike their old songs. Dreams were passed around, like currency: diurnal creatures slept.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1607 “Morning sun”
This tree caught some morning sun, down near the treehouse.
[daily log: walking, 4km; retailing, 8hr]
Caveat: Poem #2513 “Geology”
ㅁ rocks pile up take up space form continents move around over very long time-scales
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Tree #1606 “Along the way to the treehouse”
This tree was about 50 feet from our house, along the trail over to the treehouse.
[daily log: walking, 5km; retailing, 8hr]
Caveat: me deba entonces a los manicomios
EL GRAN DESPECHO País mío no existes sólo eres una mala silueta mía una palabra que le creí al enemigo antes creía que solamente eras muy chico que no alcanzabas a tener de una vez Norte y Sur pero ahora sé que no existes y que además parece que nadie te necesita no se oye hablar a ninguna madre de tí Ello me alegra porque prueba que me inventé un país aunque me deba entonces a los manicomios soy pues un diocesillo a tu costa (Quiero decir: por expatriado yo tú eres ex patria) - Roque Dalton (poeta salvadoreño, 1935-1975)
Caveat: Poem #2512 “Solar regret”
ㅁ Sun arrived, dried things out, awoke the trees - but it always makes me feel my home's lost.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Tree #1605 “A migratory tablesaw”
This tree (probably the one kind of barely visible on the right) was there when I finally got the tablesaw moved over from my treehouse to my greenhouse-shed-thing. It was quite difficult to move – too heavy to carry and not able to fit through the treehouse door without extensive disassembly – but I moved it and reassembled it successfully.
You might wonder why I had the tablesaw in the treehouse. I’d put it up there a few years ago because a) I was working on the treehouse a lot and it was handy, but more importantly, b) because I was terrified Arthur would do something with the tablesaw under one of his sudden compulsions to be “handy” but where he doesn’t remember how to operate it safely.
Art and I spent a very long, tedious afternoon at the clinic. He had an appointment – it was just a follow up on the lab tests from before – but the doctor was running behind and so we had to sit around a lot.
[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3.5km]
Caveat: Poem #2511 “Life imitates art”
ㅁ Then stories coalesced, became concrete; and fiction was re-rendered into fact.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Tree #1604 “Starting engines”
This tree (the one out across the water, I guess) was there while I got the engines started on the boat for the first time. We’re not going out in the boat yet, I’m just doing maintenance on a sunny day, since those are pretty rare.
[daily log: walking, 6km; dogwalking, 3km]
Caveat: 금년 새다리가 명년 쇠다리 보다 낫다
I found this aphorism in my book of Korean aphorisms.
금년 새다리가 명년 쇠다리 보다 낫다
[keum.nyeon sae.da.ri.ga myeong.nyeon soe.da.ri bo.da nas.da]
this-year bird-leg-SUBJ next-year cow-leg MORE-THAN is-better-PRES
A bird’s leg this year is better than a cow’s leg next year.
This has an easy equivalent in English’s aphorism, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush” and such variants.
Caveat: Poem #2510 “Seventy-second stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon dreamed that the mountains had crashed stones tumbling down so the road was all smashed; workers had come to repair what they could. Dawn showed its hand: gravel fill, shattered wood.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
Caveat: Tree #1603 “Secret pond”
This tree is hiding.
I ran across an unrelated, but humorous, alarming expression (courtesy of the internet): “Happier than a greased alligator at a family water park.”
Maybe there’s an Alaskan alligator in that pond?
[daily log: walking, 4.5km; dogwalking, 4km]