Contemplations of a Closet Curmudgeon

Since it's not a bad distance away, I drove over to Dharma Trading in San Rafael this morning as I needed some gold paint and some dye for my Twelfth Night projects. My genius idea of using a commercial resist on the silk jacquard isn't going to work because the resists are designed to work with paint-on dyes. No biggie and I'm glad I got to find out about it before I tried it and had it not work.  I may simply "reserve" the roundels on the karaginu in white by using thinned white paint for a subtle, washy effect. I also found out that they're hosting a workshop on indigo dyeing with Yoshiko Wada, Sunday 11/13. If I day-trip Cynagua Mists War, I could do that. (Indigo dyeing is just not gonna happen at the 2065 Club because I do not have the space to do it for real, but I'd be interested to go and maybe ask Ms. Wada to sign my copy of her shibori book.)  EDIT: I just called to register and the lady at Dharma said they may have to change the date, so she's supposed to call me back once she knows. I'll share the info in case anyone else local is interested.

Hit Black Oak Books on my way back south - while not as disorganized as it was when it first opened, it's still not terribly organized (WHAT, I ask you are The Canterbury Tales doing in the Mythology/Folklore section?). That said, I found a nice little hardcover book on Gagaku from the 1970s with lots of photos of costumes, musical instruments and so forth and a lovely poetry anthology from Shambhala Press called Only Companion: Japanese Poems of Love and Longing.  Why yes, I did take the opportunity to mention it on the Tousando. Why no, I did not scan a minimum of 20 pages out of it and gush about it being a must for one's collection. But that's just me. I will, however, repeat the Izumi Shikibu quote here because it's so evocative.

My black hair tangled
As my own tangled thoughts,
I lie here alone,
Dreaming of one who has gone,
Who stroked my hair till it shone.

And then there's this gem by Socho:

Now what can I do?
My writing hand in a cast
Is useless--
Can't manipulate chopsticks,
Can't even wipe my ass!

Now for a bite of lunch, then I should work on my class notes for a bit.

Beneath the willow
He laments his loneliness
To the summer moon.
Alone too, I lie sleepless
All because of a bullfrog.

Poised elegantly
On one fragile leg, a crane
Waits near a dawn lake.
The rest of us flail and lean
Striving to find our balance.

Incense burns, heedless
Of the falling rain, or are
Those a thousand tears?
Memories like candle flame
Warm a chill autumn evening.

He: "The teeth now blackened
soft faces powdered whitely
to go moon viewing
Cherry blossoms all but gone
yet lingering for the moon"

Me: "She needs no powder
To dazzle a watcher's eye,
Nor garish garments.
The moon reduces her to
A wan child playing dress-up."

He: "Bright moon gazing, full,
resplendent in its glory,
can but turn away-
squinting at the lovely one
who sits on that porch, watching"

Me: "Once more, misty clouds
Conceal moon and stars alike
From her searching gaze.
With no earthly suitor
There's no point in sitting up".

I've missed this. I've missed HIM. That Guy.The one I've never actually met in person, but who has, upon occasion, collaborated on an in-persona poetic courtship that has been a great deal of fun. Suffice to say, he's been off in the Provinces battling attacks of Real Life instead of brushing poems to a certain lady who doesn't duck behind the blinds with quite as much alacrity as is seemly.

If nothing else, his timing provides me with some excellent practice before my class at A&S.

(Do keep him and his family in your prayers. His mother is very ill.)

To the east, the hills
Glow golden in the sunset,
Roof tiles gleam like gems.
What lies beyond lambent slopes
In places where she is not?

Fog veiling her cheeks
The sun abjures this dewdrop
Life and dons drab robes.
The mist's chill embrace gives no
Solace to one in exile.



I have infected a number of SCA lists, both bardic and non-bardic with this Japanese poetic form. I was simultaneously pleased and frustrated this week when the folks on the Outlands Bardic list started a tanka chain on winter themes. Pleased because they started it without my instigation, frustrated because they were all writing about snow and I just wasn't feeling inspired enough to jump in.

Then I went out on my break this morning for a walk around the block. It was cold, it was dank, the sun was hiding, and suddenly I had my image.....