As I mentioned, today is the first day I’ve had off in a long time, and to be honest it’s never been truer that I don’t know how to take it easy. I can’t stand feeling like I’m wasting my body, my time, my life. I’ve watched a couple episodes of Quantum Leap and old E.R., but aside from that I’ve sorted the past months photographs, read some of The Negative, had a healthy fish dinner, and straightened up my desk. I’m too groggy to clean, sick of tv, and I have my console memory cards interred with an acquaintance. I can’t go to bed yet but I can’t waste any more time… reading a book would put me to sleep so I guess I’ll do some more studying with the internet. Fortunately etn is always there to give me a fresh stream of trance to keep my spirits up. There are so many things to do, some many ways to grow, so much to produce. There is a never-ending supply of liquid coal running through my veins, and my body is pulsing craton heated by the fire in my soul. I will not let this life expire unused.
Today is the first day I have been able to rest in over two months. Last night we delivered another build; all the milestones have run together like watercolor, and then proceeded to pack the company for moving on Sunday. When I left at 11:30, everyone got together and went to eat yakiniku, but meals centered around meat have become like strolls down the cheap whiskey aisle the morning after an all-weekend bender… my mind and my stomach are in complete unison in their revulsion towards slabs of red animal protein. So I dropped back to the tail of the procession and politely excused myself.
I came home and had a glorious three-quarter pint of Kilkenny’s, and fell asleep in front of the TV with the screen door open to the chilling drizzle. Luckily, the bitter cold got me up on time for my lunch with Yamamoto-san. In the process I actually managed to look half respectable in a button down with my new haircut and a fresh shave. We talked about pedestrian things: friends and family, the yen’s legacy of being pegged to the dollar, and the price of butter. After waving goodbye I stood in front of the Tokyu Plaza and my mind drifted for a few minutes. The breeze carried the mist in waves through the canopy of umbrellas in Shibuya, but I decided to stop at Omotesando and walk home through the Meiji shrine inner gardens.
I am so taut and bristling with verve. Yet my body has learned not to fight my spirit in fatigue and instead simply acquiesce, being led along at the hand like a bemused parent to a child’s string of sensuous wonders on Saturday.
Sixteen hours open to the public.
Three and a half for installation.
Thirty minutes striking the set.
+300 visitors to the booth.
Six times asked if I was a professional photographer.
One conversation with an art magazine.
One potential hire for band publicity photos.
6400 yen in sales.
5000 in contributions from benefactors.
One hell of a time.
Do you remember my eyes? How they shift between blue and grey depending on the weather? The amber ring in the center that catches the sunlight?
Yes, the circumstances have changed, but my eyes and the soul behind them are still the same.