Powderbum75

@powderbum75.bsky.social

589 Followers 201 Following

Vermont. Queens. Westhampton Beach. London. Hangzhou. Tokyo. Nikko. And others receiving votes. Living a life with warning-track power. In Japan. But not an On Japan account. (Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.)

“Letters from the End of the World”
Those summer showers and the relief they bring. Unless there were fireworks scheduled. Then that’s something of a bummer.
Woman wears comfortably loose-fitting clothing under her outer layers. Let’s be honest, it will look better on her so perhaps everyone wins here.
“Oh, actually, they fit me nicely now.” Uh-huh. As I, a citizen of a dryer-using country, gently pleaded my case to her, a citizen of a non-dryer using country. “Don’t worry.” Life goes on. The switch from His Closet to Her Closet is as easy the slide of a hanger.
“I bought ice cream.” “Oh, good.” Opens box. “Oh, very good.”
“What does the way you speak say about where you're from? Answer all the questions below to see your personal dialect map.”
Crossing a bridge. Sort of a metaphor, and it also keeps your boots dry.
Nate Lavender. That's a nice name. I have not spoken to him, but I will go out on a limb and say that's the best moment in his day.
Nobody's fault but my own, but in an attempt to further understand the new guidelines and requirements regarding permanent residency, I briefly logged onto a different platform, the one I used to use, to read only, the first time having done so in quite some time. My own naïveté, admittedly, but I'd entirely forgotten that world in which people go out of their way to shit on others. It was a brief scroll, perhaps twenty minutes, but it saddened and bothered me in a way I can't quite articulate. And to add: anyone who delights in someone’s life being uprooted by stricter requirements can not conceive of themselves not being part of that in-group. Until, of course, one day they no longer are. So extend empathy and compassion to everyone, which always makes unfortunate situations slightly more tolerable.
🎼 Santa's got a little friend, his name is Dominick The cutest little donkey, you never see him kick When Santa visits his Paesans with Dominick he'll be Because the reindeer cannot climb the hills of Italy 🎶
There used to be a wonderful bar called October in Koenji. One night, or was it early morning, after being given tequila when the master learned we would be stamping our marriage registration the next day, that very song played. The otherwise entirely quiet Japanese man who had been sitting next to me, turned his head, nodded, and said "Breeders." It was a good night.
"Every girl child peers up from her crib, sees her old man, and thinks, 'Sucker."
Current situation. August 1st. 17:17.
August and Everything After
When out of novel ideas, revisit old ones.
August and everything after.
The voice, in fact, was my wife’s. Thus ramen.
The moon. As seen through a side street in Tokyo.
In theory, an “end of summer” event. Something to look forward to. And, just perhaps, the cooling that comes at some point thereafter.
The Japan Meteorological Agency’s display. The Weather Shrine. Koenji, Tokyo.
Christian Scott facing off against Chris Sale on Christmas in July Night.
“To turn around that close to the summit ….” Hall mused with a shake of his head on May 6 as Kropp plodded past Camp Two on his way down the mountain.“ That showed incredibly good judgment on young Göran’s part. I’m impressed—considerably more impressed, actually, than if he’d continued climbing and made the top.” Over the previous month, Rob had lectured us repeatedly about the importance of having a predetermined turn-around time on our summit day—in our case it would probably be 1:00 P.M., or 2:00 at the very latest—and abiding by it no matter how close we were to the top. “With enough determination, any bloody idiot can get up this hill,” Hall observed. “The trick is to get back down alive.”
Nobody’s fault but my own, but in an attempt to further understand the new guidelines and requirements regarding permanent residency, I briefly logged onto a different platform, the one I used to use, to read only, the first time having done so in quite some time. My own naïveté, admittedly, but I’d entirely forgotten that world in which people go out of their way to shit on others. It was a brief scroll, perhaps twenty minutes, but it saddened and bothered me in a way I can’t quite articulate. I don’t believe such people to be the majority, but they are surely the loudest, the most online, the most intentionally abrasive, staining everything to such a degree that there is a sudden and overwhelming urge to withdraw from everything and everyone. I respect and admire the good individuals who continue to go out of their way to share good things and be good towards others, but as a collective, I must be honest that it’s something I am not sure I can willingly participate in. Social media. Society. Life. I am not sure where on that scale I refer to. This feeling will pass. It always does. But to willingly take part feels wrong, something without salvation. To continue to share trivialities somehow feels wrong. To attempt to share things of consequence which are, largely ignored, is deflating. My apologies to the Good People. You know who you are. Thankfully nobody really reads the alt-text.
Candles. At a temple. On a different Sunday. Say a prayer for those who may not have it as good as you do. And everyone else just the same. Also, have some ice cream. It’s summer.
You put the hay and herbs in a blender, fill that with water. Don’t overblend it, you want to keep some structure and texture. Strain the liquid and reserve it. The scent will stimulate your rabbit’s appetite. He keeps eating and keeps living and stays happy. Because you can’t always do it by yourself. Opposable thumbs and whatnot.
According to a recent Asahi Shimbun Article on Permanent Residency Requirements, Japan's Immigration Services Agency is tightening permanent residency guidelines to require an expected pension payout equivalent to 30 years of Employees' Pension (Kosei Nenkin) participation at an income level exceeding the average Japanese household.
This temple also holds a small festival, the last Sunday in every July, starting at 6:00 in the evening. There is music and food. Balinese music, as I recall, from some years. The states are lit with candles and, notably, photography is allowed that one day of the year. If you happen to be in the area, it is worth your time.
Who doesn't like a nice storehouse entrance? (Well, perhaps, the person who has to maintain it. But if you really loved it, so be it. I guess.)
The little hero that you need.
Hey, look, a new knife. Actually, an old knife.
“Who carries around knives in the off chance they may happen upon someone offering such a service?”
A chicken sandwich. What once was.
Package miso soup before bed. The weather sure has been nice. As far as rainy seasons go.
We do, in fact, both have freakin axents. Though tempered by time.
Disclaimer: have never seen it. Can’t confirm the tagline.
The living room of an old home near Wadabori Park, Koenji, Tokyo. Easy to look out at the green. Or inside, towards the all-white interior.
A balcony in Koenji. The last Saturday in June. They pick up dead leaves and then open wine.
From Friday, June 26th. Merry Xmas.
“And that is just the point: how the world, moist and bountiful, calls to each of us to make a new and serious response. That’s the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. ‘Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?’”
“…arms wide, eyes blazing, voice booming in terrible rage: ‘I AM THE DREAD PIRATE ROBERTS AND THERE WILL BE NO SURVIVORS.’”
All the best in their pizza making endeavors. Though I haven’t the heart to tell them how many businesses have gone under at that particular location.
A high of 35.5° For observational purposes only.
In which they ate ice cream. It you prefer pompous active voice.
A bit heavy for a standard issue Holland Lop.
Words about what you both love and what you both fear and what you both dream of and what you both hope will never happen. And chocolate. Mostly chocolate.
A rooftop in Koenji. The last Saturday in May.
The carpet corridors traversing the apartment does make things easier. There is still time and room to cause trouble.
Being able to sleep anywhere opens up a world of possibilities.
Though, presumably, you will not have slippery soft bunny feet on slippery hardwood floors.
With proper credit to Joseph Conrad for the verbal inspiration. To think he did not learn English until he was 21 yet penned this, well, that gives me hope for a great number of things. “Only once in all that time he had again the glimpse of the earnestness in the anger of the sea. That truth is not so often made apparent as people might think. There are many shades in the danger of adventures and gales, and it is only now and then that there appears on the face of facts a sinister violence of intention—that indefinable something which forces it upon the mind and the heart of a man, that this complication of accidents or these elemental furies are coming at him with a purpose of malice, with a strength beyond control, with an unbridled cruelty that means to tear out of him his hope and his fear, the pain of his fatigue and his longing for rest: which means to smash, to destroy, to annihilate all he had seen, known, loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is priceless and necessary—the sunshine, the memories, the future,—which means to sweep the whole precious world utterly away from his sight by the simple and appalling act of taking his life.”