pure sabi-wabi

“The tea room itself, for example, embodies pure sabi-wabi:

‘The tea hut is extremely bare and almost devoid of color. IF a flower is arranged in a vase, it is usually a single, small blossom of some quiet hue or white. The tea utensisls are not of exauisite porcelain but of coarse pottery, often a dull brwon or black and imperfectly formed. The dettle may be a little rusty. Yet from these objects we receive an impression not of gloominess or shappiness but one of quet harmony and peace. . . .’”

—Dorinne Kondo, in the endnotes of The Way of Tea: A Symbolic Analysis, quoting Sources of Japanese Tradition, 1958; from Empire of the Senses: The Sensual Culture Reader, edited by David Howes, 2005.

one phrase not yet burned

“Under the bed I discovered a whole shoebox full of love letters from the blond majorette from Belle Prairie Plantation; I took them in the back yard, arranged them in a neat pile near the place where my dog Skip was buried . . . and put a match to them, gazing down at one phrase not yet burned: ‘I’ll meet you in front of the drugstore at 7:30 in my green sweater.’”

—Willie Morris, North Toward Home, 1967.

XTT Part 2: Anatomy of a Letterform

Lynda Barry

the most pictures of Jesus I have ever seen in one place

“The chairs at the kitchen table don’t match and there are pictures of people taped everywhere on the walls, also, the most pictures of Jesus I have ever seen in one place. I want to ask him does your mother collect Jesus but I figure he would slap me silly. To some people ‘your mother’ is a swear word.”

—Lynda Barry, The Good Times are Killing Me, 1988.

the last two pure perfect white families

“‘Our street has officially gone to Hell,’ my mother said when the last two pure perfect white families moved out the same week. ‘I don’t know why I bother working on the yard anymore.’”

—Lynda Barry, The Good Times are Killing Me, 1988.

the difference between God and a street light

“My little sister Lucy told me one time that she used to think that street light was in reality God. I don’t see how she can even stand to admit that. Nine. You can’t get much dumber than when you’re nine. She’s a lot different than me and it’s not just because I’m older. I could always tell the difference between God and a street light.”

—Lynda Barry, The Good Times are Killing Me, 1988.

XTT Part 1: The Detection of Types

The Yellow Jade Mushroom

“The Yellow Jade Mushroom grows on Mount Penglai. Its color is yellow, and its taste bitter. Dongwanggong ate it and became immortal, and lived for 90,000 years. The yellow tiger and yellow fish guard it. It consists of three levels; the lower level has three branches.”

Christianity by fear and by rote

“Miss Abbott’s religion was Christianity by fear and by rote—so tenacious it got you by the extremities and never let go; it was a thing of interminable monologues, crazed soliloquies; she wanted you to believe she herself was in radio contact with the Deity, and had hung the moon for Him on day number six. . . .
    [A]t Christmastime one year, when my feeling against Miss Abbott were running strongest, I went looking for the biggest, darkest, foulest dog turd I could find. I took it home in a paper sack, and when no one was around I put it in a small box and gift-wrapped it in beautiful red paper. I put the box, containing its Christmas cheer, in a larger box and gift-wrapped that one, in fine green and white paper—then a larger box still, then two or three others, each one more elaborately wrapped and ribboned. When I had finished, I put all the six boxes in wrapping paper and, using my left hand, I wrote out Miss Abbott’s address. Then I took the parcel to the post office and mailed it. I felt good for days.”

—Willie Morris, recalling his Yazoo City, Mississippi childhood in North Toward Home, 1967.