Monthly Archives: April 2010

Poetry of the night

This seems to be my most creative time. Here is an impromptu haiku.

Spring time with Kyoto and the tanka

grasses of green there
are of a deep succulence
by the sakura
removing them and myself
yielding a great displeasure.


post note – edited in the day–I guess I’m not as productive at night.. . . oh well.

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Kabuki Theatre in Kyoto

Kabuki is simply magical!

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Dreams and an Altered Reality

I am still unsure that my trip to Japan actually happened. It felt so surreal and funny, mixed with a little fear and euphoria. Good thing I took pictures to verify it was not a dream! Sorry, I am still jet lagged and probably do not make much sense right now. I might fix this entry at a later date because I have tons of things I want to put down but my finger said no so my thoughts will stay locked in my brain for a bit.

Well to get to the point– I am loosing steam – I am now engaged to the love of my life. I can’t believe it either. At any rate, I’ll leave you with a picture, but I will give a little background first. In Japan everyone must be expressionless to avoid making people feel uncomfortable, so when you smile it looks like your thinking something dirty or abnormal. THIS IS WHY MANZAI IS NEEDED! Manzai allows for the purging of the lack of emotion that the Japanese experience day in and day out. I’m starting to understand manzai my reader. HA HA! SO… My fiancée drew a picture of me breaking the unwritten rule of the expressionless face and other various things (grumble grumble  [-_-] …..)

Now that is true love! It reminds me of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130 so I’ll leave you as such and dedicate Shakespeare’s sonnet to my loving fiancée.

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
– William Shakespeare

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