Diary 36

08. 23. 23

Remember, our flesh is a gift for strangers
Let’s strip in front of our windows for the neighbors

Bear witness to the women who readily trust
but avert their gaze passing shadows in the alley

It’s true, we have soft skin
and we yearn for nothing

to bloody our knuckles on the white stone wall
or to fuck in all the dark corners of the house

We don’t need sympathy, just to sunbathe, to sleep
and dance behind the curtains for everyone but ourselves



08.12.23

01. makko + dark sandalwood + white oak + cinnamon + patchouli + water
02. knead
03. mold

Incense has historically been used to measure time— one device we discussed was an “alarm clock,” an incense rope lit between the toes before bed, would wake you up when it burned your skin



GRUTAS TOLANTONGO

In opposition to every instinct in my body, we swam against the current into the opaque tunnel, found our grip on a rope along the wall, and began pulling ourselves forward. From here, we depended on our sense of touch and sound to navigate: swimming hard, occasionally brushing against other wet bodies, following the muddled voices of people ahead of us. Gradually, we sensed the tunnel opening as the voices rose and echoed. And soon we’d made it past the current where the water was shallow, where we stood and were able to walk on our own, grazing our fingers along the cave wall for guidance.

We approached a man with a flashlight who lit up the large cave for us. In one corner, people gathered under three or four geysers gushing with hot, sulfurous water. Another corner was blocked off by a long rope, which we understood to be a deadly whirlpool. In the dark corners of the room where the flashlight didn’t reach, couples were holding each other, making out. Occasionally the man would illuminate the limestone walls and ceiling, revealing beautiful stalactites and flowstone.

I chose to amble towards the geysers, perched underneath one and let the water massage my back. When the flashlight drifted away from me, I relished sitting in the shadows. Something about being withdrawn, and hidden, pleased me.



ANALEPTIC

Barcelona doesn’t wake up until noon, so I’ve followed suit. Sleeping twelve hours, naked on top of a thin sheet, the windows open and the fan on. When the sun comes up I languidly turn towards the wall for shade. I didn’t know I needed this much sleep, but it’s definitely been restorative.



PRESENCE & MATERIAL INTELLIGENCE

Returned to an interview with Glenn Adamson discussing Japanese tea ceremonies, presence, and material intelligence—

”The tea ceremony is virtually unique in the world of craft in the sense that it’s not just multisensory, but all-sensory. It includes the smell of the tea; the taste of the tea; obviously, your vision, appreciating the tea bowl and all the other accoutrements; the sound of the implements striking the ceramic [vessels]; and, of course, paramount among them all, in some ways, touch… it insists on presence, and insists on the now. So it is a kind of slowing down.

In that moment that you hold, literally and figuratively, you also have this quality of complexity, because it’s shot through with association. It’s everything you’re bringing into that room, everything the potter brought into that object, everything your hosts might have had in mind when they prepared for your arrival. And that’s very referential, very subtle. It involves years of learning. It’s even esoteric—that’d be a good word for it. There might be a painting on the wall that, in some obscure, literary way, via the Tale of Genji, perhaps, refers to this place from which that tea bowl came, or where the tea itself was harvested. So it’s very layered. It’s very abstruse. That’s, I think, really important to insist on from the beginning, here in our conversation, that craft has this quality of simplicity, but often it’s a simplicity that’s derived from incredible learning.”