THE LAST MEAL

This year's Last Meal was one of the best yet.

The Last Meal fire was started with newspapers filled with 2018 news, which went up in flames and smoke. Steak was seasoned with black pepper, Salish alderwood smoked sea salt, and fresh rosemary from the herb garden. It was grilled/smoked over charcoal, black walnut, Italian prune, and a handful of cedar leaves, which imparted a wonderful smoky and peppery flavors to the meat.

The Wife enjoyed Dungeness crab. The Child enjoyed carrots and peas, pasta and cheese "casserole." TWT enjoyed Pelican Brewing "Bad Santa" Cascadian Dark Ale.

After the cleansing fire and our Last Meal of the year, we played some board games—Azul and Rumis.

PRAYER for VAN GOGH

"Prayer for Van Gogh." Corkscrew willow, Puyallup Riverwalk Trail, Puyallup, Washington.

AMERICA

America. (Seaside, Oregon.)

AT ETERNITY'S GATE

At Eternity's Gate at The Grand Cinema, Tacoma.

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This is the movie I needed right now, even though it "hit a little too close to home." I could too well relate to Vincent's depression, anxiety, and madness. There were plenty of shots of the camera staring up into the canopies of the trees and the leaves, branches, and sunlight up above, something that I have found myself doing with my "prayer" series of photographs of trees.

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Willem Dafoe's performance as Vincent is spectacular. The camera work is intimate. The switch between third person and first person perspectives in cinematography is intriguing and inviting, as much as it is also jarring and distancing. The liminal space between is what I found compelling. Likewise with the soundtrack, with sound and music occasionally stopping, starting, or just dropping off for a bit of time longer than expected. And the use of doubling up of images and/or dialogue to convey the difference between "our" "reality" and Vincent's "reality" is a trick that only works in a medium such as film.

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Director Julian Schnabel brings a painter's eye to the film, being a painter himself, and uses the screen as a canvas of sorts.

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This is a film that I'll definitely be thinking about for some time, especially with its ruminations on art, religion, mortality, and existence.

PRAYER in MAPLE

"Prayer in Maple." Brownsville, Washington.

CHRISTMAS PRAYER

"Christmas Prayer." Italian prune, Puyallup River Valley, Puyallup, Washington.

LONGEST NIGHT

"Prayer of the Longest Night." Negative mirrored image. Riverwalk Trail, Puyallup, Washington.

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LONGEST NIGHT

3 o’clock. Afternoon. The sky already listing twilight.
The color of dead salmon in the shallows. Near the riverbank.
Silvered skin. Flesh once pink gone gray. Now sky.

Then the rain. More rain. Rain and rain upon rain.
Torrents from the sky. Rising river. Turbid water.

Many were worried about me. How could I tell them?

I didn’t wish to be dead.
I was certain I already numbered amongst the dead.

Murder of crows sat in the cottonwoods.
Cackling at me. Teasing. Taunting.
Little did they know I was their cousin. Raven.
I cried back. Deep throaty caw. Fanned my black feathers.
Spread my arms into wings.

Lifted into the sky. The salmon sky. The river sky.
The bruised night sky. Into the silence of the crows.

Copyright © 2018 by Troy's Work Table.

—

Other Longest Nights.

BOTANICAL PRAYER

"Botanical Prayer." W. W. Seymour Botanical Conservatory, Wright Park, Tacoma, Washington.

Residing amidst all of the poinsettias, the permanent collection tropical plants lift up their prayers to the glass dome and the heavens beyond.

WIND PRAYER

"Wind Prayer." North Hill, Puyallup, Washington.

Dusk approaches and these trees are finally still. Earlier in the day, during huge gusts of wind, they were bending at 45º about halfway up their trunks.

SEVEN DREAMS

For quite some time I've thought of pursuing a "Cutting In" reading project focused upon some of the work of William T. Vollmann. But Vollmann is so verbose and encyclopedic that the thought of such a reading project is daunting.

However, I recently started reading The Dying Grass, the fifth dream of his Seven Dreams: A Book of North American Landscapes series of historical novels. I think this is the starting point for whatever form this Vollmann version of Cutting In ultimately takes.

I've read the other four dreams that have been published to date—one, two, six, and three—and will likely read them again. I tried to start The Dying Grass when it was first published, but got distracted and quit about 100 pages into its 1200 pages of fictionalized narrative of the Nez Perce War. This time, with the notion of cutting in to the text, I caught my rhythm about 80 pages in and have made it deeper into the tale than before. I also have a follow-up book when I complete this initial reading; Thunder in the Mountains: Chief Joseph, Oliver Otis Howard, and the Nez Perce War will be next.

Beyond that, the plan is a bit loose at this point. Perhaps poetry by indigenous writers. Perhaps additional material on the Nez Perce War. Perhaps a field trip or two to areas in the Pacific Northwest where the historical events occurred.

In the immediate, though, there is The Dying Grass that longs to be read. There is its experimental layout. There is its slightly off-kilter presentation of voices that overlap. There is its length and its breadth. I am ready. I am excited. I am cutting in.

PRAYER in CEDAR

"Prayer in (Alaskan Yellow) Cedar." North Hill, Puyallup, Washington.

PRAYER in CHESTNUT

"Prayer in Chestnut." North Hill, Puyallup, Washington.

PRAYER in WILLOW

"Prayer in Willow." Riverwalk Trail, Puyallup, Washington.

PRAYER in COTTONWOOD

"Prayer in Cottonwood." Riverwalk Trail, Puyallup, Washington.

PRAYER in WALNUT

"Prayer in Walnut." Puyallup River Valley, Puyallup, Washington.

PRAYER in SILVER

"Prayer in Silver." Riverwalk Trail, Puyallup, Washington.

PRAYER in BLUE

"Prayer in Blue." North Hill, Puyallup, Washington.

JEWBELATION 21

21st Anniversary Jewbelation, an American Strong Ale by Shmaltz Brewing Company.

22 ounce bottle served in Jewbelation Sweet 16 glass.

12.1 % abv.

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Jewbelation is one of the beers whose release I look forward to each year. Somehow I missed last year's release. But I stumbled upon a bottle on the shelves and snatched it up.

The pour presents a dark body that is a clear ruby red when held up to the light. There is almost no head, just a thin ring around the glass.

The nose is boozy, earthy, figgy, and dark fruits. This ale even smells thick.

The tongue is likewise boozy, earth, and figgy. There are notes of honey and licorice, peat and tobacco, chocolate and vanilla.

The mouthfeel is relatively thick and slightly oily. The finish is long, with the booze slowing fading and leaving malty, peaty, earthy notes to linger.

Each year they add another ingredient. For the 21st year, there are 10 malts and 11 hops included.  I'm always amazed that with so many different flavors that they produce a balanced beer.

The alcohol by volume is 12.1% but the alcohol sneaks up on the drinker.

Highly enjoyable!

EMMANUEL and WITH-NESS

The Jesse Tree in the Sanctuary of Christ Episcopal Church, Tacoma, Washington.

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This morning I participated in "Come to the Light," the 2018 Advent Quiet Morning at Christ Episcopal Church of Tacoma, Washington. It was a morning of worship with Holy Communion, followed by three priest-led devotions on the O Antiphons with time for mediation, reflection, and prayer after each devotion.

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The third devotion began with some explication on the O Antiphons and their relationship to the song of Mary, the Magnificat of Luke 1. We moved from the general Os to meeting Adonai of the second Antiphon and now to Emmanuel of the seventh and culminating Antiphon. Emmanuel, "God with us," God present, was defined in opposition to the distant capricious Gods of the Roman Empire who reveled in bloodsport and violence. We reflected on how different the Christian expression of God is from the Roman divinities.

—

We focused upon the preposition of with. We focused upon the notion of community.

With us. Among us. In Him. For us.

We heard from the poetry of T.S. Eliot in "Choruses from 'The Rock'" and Malcolm Guite from Waiting on the Word.

—

We were turned loose for our final time of reflection, meditation, and prayer. I chose to not write. To not take photos. But to simply sit in the Sanctuary and think about what community means to me.

The beauty of the Spirit's work, if I'm actually paying attention, is that community was right there. Even though I didn't speak to anyone once the quiet of Advent Quiet Morning started (except during the "Sharing of the Peace" in worship) I felt a part of those gathered; in our individual concerns we prayed, reflected, and meditated as one entity. I watched a couple of participants who were members of the congregation work in the Sanctuary during the time of quiet reflection. One woman spent time adding evergreen branches and cones to the Advent wreath. (There's that tree again!) Another woman was polishing up candle brass. I thought of the work of similar servants in my own congregation.

I thought of the priests telling us earlier that we yearn for a community. And God in that community, with us.

—

As the bell rang for the third and final time, there in one of the corners of the Sanctuary was a Jesse Tree (pictured above). We returned the Chapel, gathered for a final word from the priest, and departed.

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My soul was filled.

—

I returned to the Sanctuary at the conclusion in order to take the above photograph. Then departed home in peace.

BIBLIA PAUPERUM and the BURNING BUSH

Meditation/study on the O Antiphons in the Library of Christ Episcopal Church, Tacoma, Washington.

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This morning I participated in "Come to the Light," the 2018 Advent Quiet Morning at Christ Episcopal Church of Tacoma, Washington. It was a morning of worship with Holy Communion, followed by three priest-led devotions on the O Antiphons with time for mediation, reflection, and prayer after each devotion.

—

The second devotion was on one of the pages of the Biblia Pauperum (Bible of the Poor). The central image was of the manger of the Nativity, with Moses encountering God/Christ speaking from the burning bush on the left and priests lifting up prayers to God via incense on the right. We heard of O Adonai. We learned of the Orthodox Church believing unburnt bush as a symbol of the Theotokos, Mary, the mother of God. We heard lines of poetry from (Saint) Emily Dickinson* and Malcolm Guite.

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*The designation of Emily as saint drew uncharacteristic laughter, loud and long, from those of us gathered, who were otherwise mostly silent.

—

The burning bush of Exodus 3 and 4 reminded me of the words we heard earlier in the mornings worship from Isaiah 41:19-20—where God places "in the wilderness the cedar, the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive" and sets "in the desert the cypress, the plane and the pine together." With premonitions/echoes of the tree of the Cross (since the God of all time has collapsed time within God) as well as the Jesse Tree I would discover later in the morning.

—

I headed off to the church's Library for a number of reasons. First, I wanted to look up a couple of passages in a Bible. Second, we were told that the Library was much warmer than some of the other spaces. Third, I needed to be in a different space than the Sanctuary since I knew I would likely be returning to it later.

—

I looked up Bible passages. I peeked through a couple of other books. I meditated upon the woody and the vegetal: burning bushes, trees, berries and cones, life locked within these seed forms, full trees yet to be realized. And, if I thought of Rilke during the first session, Goethe and his The Metamorphosis of Plants was near of mind.

—

The second ringing of the bell called me back from reflection and back to the Chapel.

MEDITATION on O

"Meditation on 'O'" by Troy's Work Table. Sanctuary of Christ Episcopal Church, Tacoma, Washington.

—

This morning I participated in "Come to the Light," the 2018 Advent Quiet Morning at Christ Episcopal Church of Tacoma, Washington. It was a morning of worship with Holy Communion, followed by three priest-led devotions on the O Antiphons with time for mediation, reflection, and prayer after each devotion.

—

I so needed this. Right now. This morning.

It was a time and place of quiet and stillness. A time of poetry and prayer. A place of counterculture carved out in the midst of capitalism and chaos.

—

The first devotion was on the letter "O" as both exclamation and as simple letter. It was about the O of yearning. The notion expressed in the German term Sehnsucht. The knowledge that we are created with the capacity to yearn and that we yearn for communion with God, the divine, our Creator.

In the midst of distractions, we seek, yearn, long. We engage in a refusal of manufacture happiness.

The first devotion ended in a lectio divina reading of a poem from Malcolm Guite's book Waiting on the Word: A Poem a Day for Advent, Christmas, Epiphany.

"O Memory of time, reminding me, / My Ground of Being, always grounding me / ... / Come to me now, disguised as everything."

—

I spent the time after the first devotions taking photographs of Os and circles I found in the Sanctuary. They were present in the racking of overhead lights, in stained glass windows, in offering plates, in loaves of communion bread. I also wrote poems based upon the notion of O, the antiphons, the yearning of Sehnsucht, the death of pets. Rilke's Duino Elegies were never far from my thoughts.

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For me, it was a time of devotion and meditation upon image.

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Then the priest arrived and rang the bell calling us back to the Chapel.

CHOWDER

The Wife's spectacular fish chowder + Jubelale + a rowsing dinnertime table reading of chapter 15, "Chowder," of MOBY-DICK.

Perhaps stretching the "red" a bit, but it's there: in the rim of the bowl and the bacon.

RED X

A week ago, these trees traded all of their leaves for brilliant berries.

Grayland Park, Puyallup, Washington.

RED IX

Afternoon. Riverwalk Trail, Puyallup, Washington.

Moment of mindfulness. Seeking red amongst the umber, ochre, olive, and tan leaves.

Not only was this leaf red, but it was also a rare maple leaf in the midst of mostly cottonwood leaves.

RED VIII

Late afternoon. North Hill, Puyallup, Washington.

A glass of cool refreshing water awaits me upon the cherry wood of my desk at work.

RED VII

Mid-afternoon. Puyallup River Valley, Puyallup, Washington.

The holly berries are brilliant and ready. Not seen in this photo (since they it is "off stage") is the raucous flock of robins in the middle of this holly tree, feasting on berries, their own red breasts an additional splash of red against the dark waxy green.

RED VI

Mid-afternoon. Puyallup River Valley, Puyallup, Washington

This trike is nearly as old as its original rider, weathered and feeling its age, in addition to serving decades and generations of children. It casts a long shadow even when the sun isn't low in the sky.

RED V

Noonish. Puyallup River Valley, Puyallup, Washington.

RED IV

An hour or so after sunrise. North Hill, Puyallup, Washington.

RED III

An hour or so after sunrise. North Hill, Puyallup, Washington.

THOUGHTS on a POMEGRANATE

"Thoughts on a Pomegranate, i"


"Thoughts on a Pomegranate, iii"


"Thoughts on a Pomegranate, iv"
Troy's Work Table + deep-styling AI.


"Thoughts on a Pomegranate, v"
Troy's Work Table + deep-styling AI.

RED II

About midday. North Hill, Puyallup, Washington.

RED

An hour or so before sunset. North Hill, Puyallup, Washington.

ALASKAN CRANBERRY TART

Cranberry Tart, a Fruit Beer by Alaskan Brewing Company.

12 ounce bottle served in Lagunitas glass.

5.8 % abv.

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The pour presents a clear orange body and a half-finger thick of white head that hangs around for quite some time. There is very little carbonation.

The nose is fruity, floral, sour, and rather grainy.

The tongue is cranberry, wheat/grain, and spruce. The mouthfeel is light to medium. The finish is moderately dry.

The is a good beer and sessionable. It is neither as tart as a sour nor as piney/bitter as some evergreen-flavored ales.

I rather like it. 

JABBERWOCK

For trunk-or-treating, we turned our trunk into the Jabberwock.

PUNK'NOCCHIO

Punk'nocchio. He just wants to be a real boy so he can go trick-or-treating.

MINDFULNESS

I was challenged by my therapist to practice mindfulness. Be more attentive to the world around me when I walk each day. Engage my senses.

I decided to put a constraint on the first walk. I would focus on the scents and smells I encountered (in order) as The Dog and I walked the neighborhood this evening.

Sweet and sour sauce.
Laundry dryer sheets.
Lightly grilled dates and figs.
Burnt toast.
Campfire of pine wood.
Marijuana smoke.
Gas fumes/exhaust from a leaky muffler.
Wet leaves.
Red licorice.
Waffle cones.
Teak.
Burnt match.
Candle wick.
Burnt cedar leaves.
Black walnut rinds.

All while walking the dark sidewalks and streets, illuminated here and there by the amber light of porch lights and windows, the blue light of enormous flat screen televisions. Beneath a nearly full moon trying to peek through the insistent clouds.

SOME AUTUMNAL READING

Some autumnal reading.

The Soul of America: The Battle for Our Better Angels by John Meacham.

The October 2018 issue of Poetry magazine.

White Jacket, or The World in a Man-of-War by Herman Melville.

Tales from Ovid by Ted Hughes.

Beast by Paul Kingsnorth.

OLYMPIA ZINE FEST

Olympia Zine Fest.

PUYALLUP FESTIVAL of BOOKS

Troy's Work Table reads from new poetry mini-zine Cape Disappointment. At Puyallup Festival of Books.

CASKCADES

Background, left to right: 5 ounce taster of Deschutes The Abyss Imperial Stout and 12 ounce tulip of Georgetown Brewing Company Cherry Picker Belgian Dubbel. Foreground: Chicago-style vegan dog at CaskCades.

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Georgetown Brewing Company Cherry Picker Belgian Dubbel. Served in 12 ounce tulip glass. 7.9% abv.

The pour is a clear bodied ale that ranges from orange-red to ruby red, depending on where it sits in the glass. There is the thinnest of ivory heads.

The nose is sour cherry and a hint of yeast. As it warms, there is an airiness and cleanness (as though following a rainstorm after a long absence of precipitation).

The tongue is sour cherry with a bit of marker, fruitiness, flower petals, and faint orange peel. The mouthfeel is medium. The finish starts out as cherry and leads toward marker, alcohol, and yeast.

I like this beer a lot.

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Deschutes Brewing Company The Abyss Imperial Stout (2017). Served in a 5 ounce taster glass. 11.4% abv.

The pour is a finger-thick tan head resting upon a black body.

The nose is coffee/espresso, roasted malts, and dark chocolate.

The tongue is roasted malts (almost like a burnt campfire log), dark chocolate, espresso, black licorice, and biscuits. The mouthfeel is thick and oily. This is excellent as always, but would be better served by being cellared for a couple of years to allow the flavors to settle and become a bit more nuanced.

SHIMMERING

"[W]e call the whole shimmering mess 'color.' You might even say that it is the business of the eye to make colored forms out of what is essentially shimmering. This is how we 'get around' in the world. Some might also call it the source of our suffering."

—page 20, Bluets by Maggie Nelson

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Also: brilliance, shimmer, shining, glimmer. The ancient Greek color experience as more than just "pigment."

"The Sea Was Never Blue: The Greek Colour Experience Was Made of Movement and Shimmer. Can We Ever Glimpse What They Saw When Gazing Out to Sea?"

DIVINE DARKNESS

"In the Gospel accounts of the Transfiguration—ground zero, as it were, for the onset of this "bright cloud" of agnosia—the cloud is shadow, Jesus's raiment a "glistering white." Yet for the the past two thousand years, in mosaic after mosaic, painting after painting, Jesus stands transfigured before his witnesses in the mouth of a glowing blue mandorla—a blue almond, or vesica piscus, the shape that, in pagan times,unabashedly symbolized Venus and the vulva."

—page 64, Bluets by Maggie Nelson

MUSE, HOMER, ODYSSEUS

Poseidon mural. Downtown Ilwaco, Washington.

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"This triplicity of authorship—Muse, Homer, Odysseus—together with the duplicity of the chief actor, makes the Odyssey the most complexly told tale I know. It is complicated though not bottomless, but rather clear and decodable. The abysmal infinities of romantic irony are not the Muses' way."

—page 120, "The Poet of the Odyssey," Homeric Moments: Clues to Delight in Reading the Odyssey and the Iliad by Eva Brann

WAVES

We were done almost as soon as we arrived.
Sunken vessel. Willapa Bay, Bay Center.


The final wave swept us out.
Sunrise. Willapa Bay at low tide.

We were never to return. We were always to return.

Another wave crashed against the shore.

We stood there again. Watching. Waiting.

THIS LAND IS YOUR LAND

This land is my land.
US Government Property (US Coast Guard). No trespassing. On the trail to the Cape Disappointment Lighthouse.


This land is your land.
Driftwood post. Erected by anonymous on Benson Beach, Cape Disappointment.

Who can own the ocean? Who can own the sea?

Can the kikwəli-smuk (Chinuk Wawa for "fog") embrace it in its ghost arms?

Can the blue crab catch it in the pincer of its dominant claw?