Somewhere in Japan

Dispatch № 104: Possibility

With less than a week left in the year, and with less than a week left for me in my thirties, I am feeling an uncharacteristic sense of hope and optimism.

Dispatch № 102: You’re Doing Me a Favor

Already, I’ve given away a half dozen old film cameras, a flash, a tripod head, two avocado trees, a couple old messenger bags, the fountain pen and ink, and a small variety of other things.

Dispatch № 100: Going Deep

Mounds of burnable garbage, bundles of cardboard, stacks of old clothes bound with twine, old furniture broken down into pieces, sandwich bags full of old batteries—just about anything you can imagine, really, and the volume increases strikingly as December’s days run out and the new year approaches.

Dispatch № 97: So Much Shouting

Meanwhile, in the library on the eighth floor of the mall, a place that is usually a quiet and happy refuge, I could still hear him bellowing down below.

Dispatch № 95: The Distance

It wasn’t about the cat vomiting behind the couch or the flat tire on the way to work, either. It wasn’t about the spilled water, the broken flowerpot, or the burned toast.