Jiro Taniguchi

in
"Taniguchi’s works are characterized by his use of simple lines, his ability to capture expressions and his attention to detail. His body of work traverses genres from historical and crime to science fiction and even fantasy. As a storyteller, he creates Zen-like introspective heroes who don’t make for splashy covers or collectible figurines but are modern-day portraits of humans."

mon/20211108

Found a broken mirror in the road on yesterday's run which, I suppose, was a useful foreshadowing of the soul-sucking quality of Sunday visits. I want to not be so exhausted by those, but it's become an inescapable truth of the week. On path towards refilling the well – though Monday is always a bit helter-skelter as the reorganization of self towards beloved solitude and away from loneliness around others requires more than a bit of manual rewiring, rewiring in process, at present, to the sound of screaming children on either side as parental units let the air out of the hyper-balloon before shuffling them off to school.

I'm making myself not write about work in this Morning space. Prefer to give you some weird impressions of the sights and sounds jangling about in my brain. Might report back on whether the broken mirror is still on the road or maybe not given that it's highly likely I'll forget to look.

The day awaits.

On finding a grip

In my ongoing self-reeducation in the art of drumming – now out of pure enjoyment rather than of perceived means of locative escape – I'm re-learning everything with traditional grip instead of with the matched grip I learned in my first, institutional(ized) incarnation all those years ago: it's my way of proving to myself that I'm doing this the way I want to do this and that I’m doing it for myself for the first time in far too long. (I will vanquish you, flamacue.)