Archive
Dispatch № 58: Meandering
If you find yourself at an intersection with a choice between roads that seem equal, choose your bath based on something specifically arbitrary. Choose the street with the sauntering cat, for example, or the one with the yellow house.
Dispatch № 57: Glitch
The world vibrated and sang for a brief time, and there was a sense of building pressure, as when one dives deep underwater.
Dispatch № 56: Music, Remembered
Music connects memories like a string of fairy lights that comes on when a song flips the switch of spontaneous recollection.
Dispatch № 55: Emergent Remains
Nothing stays buried forever. No matter how deep in the sand, eventually things emerge. What happens after that, though, is anyone’s guess.
Dispatch № 53: A Reliable Bubble
The same elevator music as ever. The same door chime. The same fluorescent light making everything shadowless and tinged slightly green.
Dispatch № 52: Abandoned
They are often easy to identify, especially those drowning in vegetation. This is particularly true of those engulfed in the same infamous kudzu that is so reviled in the American South. Whole properties disappear under draped green carpets.
Dispatch № 51: Communal Waters
Third places are important, but some are disappearing, public baths among them. This is one aspect of Japan’s declining social capital.
Dispatch № 49: Hushed
In relative terms, it’s a cacophony, and it seems so because it has otherwise been so tremendously quiet that minute sounds are magnified.
Dispatch № 48: Lineage
Long after the baby has grown into a man, he sits on a bench in a park in Japan, ten thousand kilometers and thirty-nine years from Lubbock.
Dispatch № 47: Still Smitten
I was single, but really didn’t want to be, and as we were leaving a while later, a thought bubbled up from my subconscious. Wouldn’t it be something if I wound up with her?