Week 11-23 - Haibuno

13 March 2023

Stasis while turning
another gray hair stands taut
plucky potential

Seem to catch up, and then backslide again. Kind of like spring keeps backsliding into winter. It seems the weather is improving, and then the cold and wind rush back in to say ‘nope, not yet fools!’. At least the sun is shining again, and we can all take a deep breath of the ultra cold air, and smile. A little. A lot. Somewhere in-between winter and spring, waiting.

14 March 2023

Two women, power
tools, to send the dish flying
from space to grounded

When it fell she screamed at the top of her lungs. We did that! We are not messing around! We take NO BS! And maybe some swear words thrown in for good measure. ‘Wow, that looks so good’ - the empty spot where it had been tethered to the house. The dish. The life-sucking device of 500 channels and no value. Sometimes it feels like we are aliens, living on a planet full of people staring at screens. Sometimes we binge and become human again. We seem to have this notion that to produce something > consuming something. But is it? Is it really? We will stare off into empty space, and contemplate this for a while.

15 March 2023

Another jumper
means taking the long way round
no easy answers

There are at least two good choices that could fix the easier problem to fix. There are fences, and there are nets. There are statistics that illustrate the efficacy of either choice. There are arguments, and there are memorials, and there is dithering, and there is impatience, and there is nothing that ends up done. Except the life that is over.

16 March 2023

A bluebird blizzard
a robin interloper
curses and delights

The snow slammed in unexpectedly bringing a blizzard of mountain bluebirds, and one lone robin. They swayed on tree branches, sheltered under the eaves, clung to fence posts, and scurried under trees. The next day they blew away with the passing of the storm just as suddenly as they appeared. The die-hard birders thought nothing of the invasion, just like they thought nothing of the sandhill cranes who circled over the gorge acting confused during the last storm. Maybe these tiny alterations really aren’t anything special. But maybe they are, and at least two people were paying attention.

17 March 2023

Unexpected snow
rankles, exhausts, enraptures
crisp crackle of Fir

There isn’t enough coffee to erase the bitter taste of fraud and predatory tactics. As if there isn’t enough to worry about. As if there isn’t enough to be angry about. Pass the carafe, I got bitter business to unscramble.

18 March 2023

Dough experiments
what worked: crunch, texture, and chew
what didn’t: bland taste

It was the jiggle that tempted me. The soft bounce. The delicate hands manipulating delicately. The turn. The press. The softness. Yes, it was sort of erotic. Yes, it was sort of experimental. Alchemy, yes. Chemistry, yes. Quintessence, yes. But where is the line drawn between creation and emulation? I could don a cottage core muslin dress, get out the egg beater hand blender from 1952, and try to dive deeply into the psyche of influencer baking. Or not. I saw this in a reel and had a hard stop.

19 March 2023

Creeping car lingers
on the edge of our senses
pan fried noodle haze

At some point I’m going to tire of this, and take proper action to stop it completely.

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Jamie Larson