Sunday, July 16, 2006

7.16.05, As the Week

As the week starts, sunshine, I am borrowing space in a large house, in an overstuffed Modernist Chair, an actual divan sits across the room. There would be space if a nap happened. Four cats come in an out. It all brings the Franky Scale to 7; and other numbers. It's 78 in Seattle. Three people in the house to the four cats. Around 4:20 pm, always around 4:20 — when you listen to NPR, too, they always tell you when it's 4:20, has anyone noticed this? (Some kind of silly drug joke they do?)

In case it's of interest, I still have all my hair, but I also notice a case of acne or some similar reaction on my scalp, so that if I do lose my hair I may be spotted like a leopard. My fingers are also experiencing some neuropathy during this week: mostly right hand, mostly greatest at the thumb and then radiating to a lesser degree as you move from the thumb to pinky. There is some left-over nausea though almost none compared to how I usually feel on Thursdays, Fridays, during the active chemo treatments.

I have about seven or ten blog options sitting on my harddrive, all nearly done, drafted, sitting, awaiting attention like on the Island of Misfit Toys. So be it. Today I'm engrossed in an older project dealing with the work of poet Hwang Jiwoo and the aesthetics of commodity fetishism, there's an unexpected theoretical homology between Marxism (especially aesthetic theory as presented in Capital, vol. 1) and the Hwa-yen School of Buddhism. Trust me, it's much to explain, but it's there.

- - -

Here is one of Hwang Jiwoo's poems, from the book Young-jun Lee and I translated, for the hell of it, the poem, that is, called "Temptation" (and this one's copyrighted, please do not cite w/o permission):


All summer long the glass cages boast a coating of zinnias —
a single hornet enters by mistake
whirs, turns, and buzzes against the screen of glass
beating its steel wings against the illusion

Huh? If that’s the outside, why can’t I get out?


but I can actually see the outside, can’t I?
huh, gotta try and get to the outside, don’t you?

ah, all I want is to cry — it doesn’t work even dealing with transparency

like that winter, when the blizzard advanced on the all-glass cage
and all I wanted was to strip buck naked and run
to disappear inside the swarm of white bees.


david said...

78 in Sea, 98 in Bos, r (Bi, or Pi), in Seo.

'Rain' seems to be both a commodity and a fetish.

But what to make of 'an overstuffed Modernist Chair'?

pinky to thumb! Back!

tossing salads said...

well brother dear, im finally able to comment. its been a hell of week. the heat here is unbelieveable. im outside most of the day running, actually running and thinking that when i get in the car i may pass out and my hands adhere to the steering wheel, its that hot. ive been trying to recooperate for monday when it starts all over again. so sorry for the mia status. even when not commenting im reading and thinking of you always, k? the spots you are seeing, feeling are "normal". i see them all the time, since its easier to see it when they have no hair. and im looking at the back of the patients heads while pushing their wheelchairs. sometimes they look like leopards. so... if that helps.

Slarry said...

Monday July 17th 2006

Hey Mr. J:
I think it was a month ago today, that Lefty and I made our trek to Seattle to visit you.
I can’t believe how fast the time goes. I am still in shock that it is July.
Nice to know that tossing salads is still around. We thought she had moved
or something. : )

Two extraordinary events took place on our trip to Seattle.
First, the most obvious, is we got to see and be with you. And second,
I was cured of my fear of flying. For whatever reason, the drive to Seattle from Salt Lake is ridiculously arduous and hard. ( you probably thought I was going
to say I got a new fountain pen as one of my events. ) : ) That,
or the neighborhood Vietnamese soup or the yummy dinner time with Ms. G.
or just hanging out with you in your own digs with the cats.

Now about these spots-- maybe it will be ok since your weird sisters seem
to call and refer to you as SPOT. But to tell you the truth, I have never pictured you as a leopard. I sometimes call you Monkey Man-- but that is just a term of endearment, like Spot.
I think the animal you most remind me of is a Gazelle--- probably because of your running
and your surgeon like hands.

BTW We didn’t get to go to a house with four cats when we came to visit you.
Though your friends graciously allowed us to stay in their home while they
were out of town. Very nice by the way. I don’t think Steph and I have
friends like that. : ) I think that is why we are considering moving.

Not much else to say-- enjoyed the poem. I like the word opacity very much.
Would also like to read one of the
blogs you're hiding on your hard drive. A peek at least.

Love from the desert, TRULY, ( I could fry an egg on Mike’s forehead ) : )
Can’t wait to hear if your mysterious letter ever finds it way to you.

Your favorite sister, ( at least in my pathetic and needy mind )