Aug 14 2004
It is nearly five in the morning and the dawn light is filtering through the curtains. For an hour I have been up, after having been woken by some clowns who decided to have some fireworks fun outside my window. All is tranquil again, though, and the air is ringing with the orchestra of crickets, winding down the finale of the night. The trees are so still I can feel the soil breathe.
Aug 12 2004
I’ve been avoiding writing in the blog these last few days because I’ve been in a funk and I can’t seem to find anything worthwhile to write about without sounding like I’m whining or taking the world for granted.
Aug 01 2004
Oh God, this is unbearable. It has totally ruined my day. Is no one going to put a stop to the madness and take all those responsible to task?
Aug 01 2004
Raindrops on a Japonica leaf in my garden, Tokyo, Japan, April 2004
Fast becoming one of my favorite blogs Journal of a Writing Man, there is something disarming and undeniably charming about Old Grey Poet’s daily stories. The fact that he focuses on the details of his daily life, peppering the anecdotes with bytes of such [...]
A German/ Filipino/ African-American who grew up in Japan, it's not really my genes that matter to me, but the timbre of place and kinship. If there is anything I would rather be doing, that would be a long walk in the hills, be it alone with my camera and sketchbook, or with a good, like-minded friend.
