archival recording of the silent and kind- missing e-6

Miss, en inglés, implica “perder” tanto como “echar de menos.” Esas imágenes, unas cuantas de mas que mil que saqué con una vieja camera manual durante el atardecer de la fotografía analógica mientras estuve viviendo en las afueras de Nagoya, Japón, son las que quedan, ni desaparecidas ni perdidas. Estuve lejos no sólo de lo que conocía tanto como lo que pensaba que conocí, y lo que pensaba que conocí de Japón, como muchos, imaginaba que llegaría a un país todo moderno y pulcro con la tradicional cuidadosamente expuesta en una vitrina minimal. Sacar esas fotos fue para mí acto contra la añoranza y soledad que sentí en ese momento, cogería la camera en mis ratos libres para sacar fotos no de los grandes espectáculos ni tropos japoneses ni la multitud, sino cierta realidad propia que retratara a ese ambiente pos-industrial tanto misterioso como acogedor. Con los años han convertido en un hilo que me conecta a aquella época de mi vida, precisamente, que me permite echar de menos de justamente lo que me extrañó cuando justo llegue allí: el silencio, el no-saber si un alimento fuese dulce o salado en el momento de comprarlo, la insularidad de la vida social, las fachadas apenas brindadas con ventanas, los cables de la luz como las venas de un robot bordando cada esquina del cielo, y los contrastes inquietos de una sociedad hecha de nuevo tras un crisis moderno de dimensiones inconcebibles en el occidente.

opening

oolong hi is highly refined japanese moonshine mixed in equal parts with low grade dark oolong tea, typically of the pet-bottled variety. iced. a delicious travesty of both good liquor and promise proffered by oolong. but very drinkable. somehow metonomic. japan, velvet rut usa, both very drinkable, dericious even, accent on the r, but both, somehow, wasteful, riddled with holes and bottled in plastic. i meant to set up this blog a year ago to record some of the things i was emailing home from japan, but when i was there it refused to let me set it up in english. i plan on taking off sooner or later again. the middle tends towards the middle, except that now we're in the middle school pop-bottle experiment about emulsion, all being shaken.


oil and kool-aid lava-lamp. if i were better at working days than nights, i would probably go i love my sewing machine. and i'm still trying to figure out if witnessing is enough, if, as i suspect, that the most ethical path for some of us comes from a politics of the everyday and has as much to do with sightedness and not being an asshole as anything else. and voting.

why blog it? who doesn't want their diary published given that by some standards, the success of people in the arts is measured by our public access to their documents, their sketchbooks, matchbooks and the like.

funny how many consonant "l" words refer to bodily functions or negative actions- slog, slurp, blab, blather, slap, sly, slip, slop, blow. so for a while this will be running both retroactively and forward, as i sort through the last year's worth of writing, and continue.

part of this is also motivated by an obsession with the degree to which real experience is now being mirrored, -meta-ed, metastasized by the web. i don't believe in airconditioning, prefer vinyl, skirts, bone over plastic as it were

but i still find myself looking up the names of people i know late at night to see where they are, if they're mentioned, where they work. also, random strings of keywords, to see whether i or people i know have in some way been recorded or connected- red head teahouse waitress corset. sylph like new wave poetry live arts. do i exist in the meta world, as if it mattered

cape cod trailer park architecture school buddhist meditation. sexual cypher male wednesday adams. french-kissing contest charlottesville. hookah bar bad service. cryogenic indie rocker. failed phd motorcycle enthusiast.

i know a man who waxes his mustache. it seems to me that, with everything there, these things should exist again. more complete. occasionally i just look up my name (cordelia) but apparently, buffy the vampire slayer has sabotaged my parent's desire for their daughter to bear a unique and culturally loaded name. i find a lot of fan-fic. at least i never find the nudie pics. that's good i guess.