GRIZZLY PEAR

written snapshots

Category: Poetries

  • 2023 Retrospective & 2024 Prospective

    I’m trying a new format where I just comment on things with three bullet points. Hopefully it will help me blow through the backlog of old blog drafts. Thought I’d try it out by looking at the year in review and the year to come.

    But you must read Andrei Atanasov’s No. 26 – Dancing In A Supermarket first! I don’t care if you make it back.

    ,
     

    2023

    My theme this year was “catching up”. I feel like I did just OK with the theme, but the more that I think about it, it was an eventful year as we started re-integrated back into society despite our pandemic caution.

    Highlights

    • Buying a House
    • Visiting San Diego (twice!)
    • Two great architects joined the Division

    Hobbies

    • Reading — Homer and Tarot
    • Substack — finding fellow wanderers on Notes
    • Fountain Pens — Sketching and Calligraphy

    Lowlights

    • Getting the house ready for move-in, renovations are still miserable.
    • Didn’t exercise nor eat well enough, gained weight.
    • Distractions, unfocused focused, especially the second half of this year.

    ,
     

    a year
    a life
    goodbye
    tomorrow
    smiles and
    sorrow
    hello

    When calligraphing, I have to be completely focused. This morning I chose John Coltrane’s Giant Steps instead of the usual Chicken and Dumplin’s by Bobby Timmons. That slight change was enough to add an extra O to the page. Fortunately, the early mistake kept me ultra-concentrated for the rest of the exercise.

    It’s been twenty years since hand drafting at the ground floor of Ron Bogley’s house. Small residential doesn’t pay well, but it was the most fun I’ve had as an architect. Graphite on vellum is a lot more forgiving so I would listen to the baseball games as I lettered.

    ,

    2024

    My theme for next year is “settling in”. For the new house and everywhere else. The first half of the year will be a mess between the house and the biennial cycle for my government job. Hopefully the second half will be a time of customizing the home to fit our needs, it’s been a decade of always thinking we’re moving soon.

    Settling In

    • At the new House
    • Returning to the Office (again)
    • Digital Places and Processes

    Practices

    • Sketching and Calligraphy
    • Exercising
    • Reading my repeating “little library” and pushing forward on the classics

    Tiny Targets (and goals)

    • Three deep breaths on a yoga mat every morning. (I’d love to do the 8 Brocades three times a week, but I’ll start tiny.)
    • Sit down and say a small mantra before eating anything, including snacks. (The big goal is to lose a couple of pounds a month, but the numerical goal failed spectacularly last year. Maybe instilling a mindfulness practice is the first step in the process.)
    • Do something with a pen every morning (It would be nice to finish my OPM Letters and clear out my pile of read books to be blogged.)

    ,
     

    new book
    new year
    new month
    new week
    new day
    Foundational Hand
    new font 

    I wrote this on 12/26 with a new-to-me font from The Art of Calligraphy by David Harris. I messed up the word order on the last line (working from bottom up) and kept it for the rest of the poem. But it sounds wrong so I went back to the original wording in the light blue scribbles.

    I’m not sure if I will stick with Foundational Hand for a long period (as I did with Uncial) but I’ll give it at least a week before exploring other fonts.

    This morning habit of writing a tiny poem for calligraphy practice has a highlight of this season to close out the year. Thanks to Beth Kempton and Nadia Gerassimenko for catalyzing the #tinypoem project! I just got Mary Oliver’s A Poetry Handbook — hopefully her wisdom will help me write gooder before I start publishing them in earnest.

    On to another 366 days of discovery in 2024!

    !

  • Merry Christmas!

    Woke up early.

    Checked my phone. Post a comment on a blog.

    Realize it’s Christmas!

    Wrote a tiny poem.
     

    I don’t
    believe
    in Baby
    Jesus
    no more
    so I
    Christmas
    all the
    Harder

    I grew up conservative Christian. And Asian-American. My parents left Hong Kong and Taiwan and met here in the States. With the clarity of immigrants, they sensed that Christmas was a frivolous, secular holiday.

    When my sister and I were teens, they gave in. We started exchanging small gifts. My mom added small decorations around to the house but never bothered with a tree.

    We still drove down to LA from the Bay Area on Christmas because traffic was lighter. We’d eat at my grandparent’s favorite dim sum place in Monterey Park. (My aunt suspected that they liked that spot because the tea was brewed extra strong.)

    We didn’t buck the holiday, but we never gave it religious significance. For a real Christian, every day is Christmas and Easter. Picking out holy-days still feels kind of pagan.

    I drifted away when I grew up. It didn’t do much for me emotionally, and I finally bailed when George W. Bush co-opted the religious establishment to support his optional war. Even so, I always planned on taking my kids to church on Christmas, so they could feel the religious origins of this season.

    That notion died with the election of the Trump. My wife (never religious) was so disgusted with white evangelicals that she didn’t want our kids anywhere near such cruel hypocrites nor be tempted by the pomp and circumstance of their celebration.

    Instead, every year I put up a plastic tree from Ikea on Thanksgiving, buy a few toys, wrap the last six months of library book sale finds in old architectural printouts, watch a Christmas movie, and clean everything up on New Year’s Day.

    Last year ago, I told my daughter the myth of Jesus. It blew her mind. I might as well have grown a third head (or narrated the nsfw story of Lot and his daughters).

    An all-powerful deity came down to this filthy planet to be born in horse shit, grow up as a carpenter, start a small cult as a wandering sage, only to be executed in excruciating fashion. All to pay the blood penalty for the evil committed by his own shithead creatures.

    So here I am, suddenly marveling at the magic of Christmas. Say what you will about the religion, that’s an awesome story.

  • In the dark

    In the dark

    an incline slab

    stomach to stomach

    chest to chest

    head to collar

    arms and legs, draped both sides

    his hair in my face

    squirming and squeaking

    until it slows

    and stills to

    a singular moment

    each night.

  • asian pear watermelon

    I dreamt of an asian pear.

    Stamped with the image of a watermelon.

    Red flesh, black seeds, green rind.

    A juicy bulbous slice.

  • swing

    Blue
    Dress
    Floating By.

    Swing
    Swing

    We were so sick of being trapped by the heat we ended up going to the park around 8pm or so. I played a little (actually a lot) with motion blur. The second shot of many turned out better than the rest.

  • spring in vegas

    waxing gibbous
    the lawn chair becomes a slide
    in the grey light

  • Apple

    outstretched hand
    a slice of apple
    feeding daddy

  • Stuff

    The decade

    Passed

    A blink

    Boxes

    Waiting in

    Mom’s shed.

  • diptych

    eating an apple
    she wails
    outstretched arm
    as daddy heads to work

    with a big grin
    she waves byebye
    and turns the corner
    around the blooming rosebush

  • 5:32

    Pigeon coos
    Baby squawks
    Computer hums

    in the gray dawn light