the bundok blues

Not much time to read and think about poetry lately (although I am reading Dion Farquhar’s Feet First in order to write a response); been doing freelance work, and a lot of energy has also been spent on building a non-fiction writing portfolio, so that all my freelance is not caught up in editing work only. I live in a beautiful area, in a sweet little house, and have met some good people here; but there aren’t many resources (read: jobs) here, unless I want to go back to working in a cubicle, or teaching in a college that doesn’t have a constituency or support for the subject I’d like to focus on. Plus I’m a little disillusioned about things like the fact that my allergies are much worse; and then there’s “valley fever,” methyl iodide pesticide drift, and air polluted from the annual fire season. And while I can’t say I’m exactly hopeful, the big city is looking more…optimal.

boondocks (American slang) / bundok (Pilipino for rural area, wilderness, the “woods”)

…At the moment, however (as I browse the internet news), my puny concerns pale compared to the problems the Japanese are facing in Sendai and areas affected by the 8.9 earthquake.