autumn tactics

昨日も今日も頑張りました。自分には善くないことが多くて分かっていますが、自分に善いことも多くて分かります。心の中に、戦ってる人がいて、その人が勝つため応援している人外にもいる。この世には毎日偉大さの近い人が数億いるなのに、彼らはどのぐらい偉大さの近いにいるのは分かってるかな。僕みたいの大変眩しいな人、僕みたいの大変不完全である人、もちょっと頑張れる人…

ちょっとだけ温もりに近づくと自分の不完全さがつかの間でも納得できるの人…

その人になりたい。心の中に、何かを許せば、

その人を愛されようにさせて。

一時期に私は良い人間だったけど、どこかでだめなった。

Menthol cigarettes, chianti reserva, Miles Davis and sandalwood.

Sometimes life slows down, whether you really want it to or not. Maybe because you need it to. Maybe because that’s all you can take.

I rode my bicycle home, slowly, and took a shower. I rinsed out the cans in the sink and put on an undershirt. I slouched down into the sofa and got my deal handed to me straight by a Chinese girl. I’m attractive between my forehead and my mouth. I’m quiet.

I sat down at my desk and thought about modality, I sat down at my desk and thought about ego.

Why don’t I get a girlfriend? I cook sometimes, with spices. In China big televisions are cheap, but in Japan life is good. Work is good, the city is good. Lots of things are good.

The scales are blue and in a ten-measure cycle. My life is blue and in some kind of cycle.

Life is kind of blue.

考えています。言うまではあまり考えなかった。もっと正確に言えば、考えたくなかった。三十年この世に暮らして、意外と苦しみがそらせるように上手くなりました。最初から無意識に僕は愛するべきの気持ちを消しました。苦しみをそらすように。

でも自分の心から苦しみをそらすため、どこっかで、他の所へ流すのが必要だった。それが悪かった。最初から悪かった。僕への慈悲の気持ちが要るけど、自分の心がシェアできない。だから最悪のことした。大切な人の心に対する無頓着でした。

無頓着。最悪だった。

考えています。もっと考えたほうがいいけど。

何を感じたらいい？感じたい。

I’m wide awake
I’m wide awake
Wide awake
I’m not sleeping

So it’s 2010. In the end of December I went to Seattle on business and then a week later had my first live musical performance in roughly twenty years, and then a week later I went to Berlin and Amsterdam for my third European excursion. I have fifty pages of notes in my Kellogg’s journal, as well as seven rolls of film, but for that you’re just going to have to wait a little. In the meantime here are my new year resolutions.

The tangible:
1) I will have at least two photo exhibitions this year, one of which will be at a private showing
2) I will produce at least one EP length album of entirely new music produced

The intangible:
I will be more at peace with my decisions in life, both personal and professional, and towards this more honest with myself and others. To thine own self be true.

All things being equal, I should be content. In a sense perhaps I am, and I just don’t want to admit it. Very little is about wants and perhaps so much of what goes on is about needs. Needs are serviced in order of priority, with those for sustaining life coming fairly high up on the list… strike, no… there is something else I wanted to say. Oh well, no, there is… nevermind.

My heart is like a radio with flashes of static from varying signal strengths. It’s like living in one broadcast area and then moving just out of range into another. After some time you forget about the first, until one day you’re driving down the interstate out of your usual area and the signals start fighting halfway through the song you’ve been listening to off and on for the last several years. That old station crops up for a few seconds and you hear the chorus of your youth that you used to joyride around to. After growing used to a different kind of filter over your face, suddenly for a moment it’s torn away, pouring oxygen into your lungs which brings the fire, the adventure, and the excitement: they all come rushing back. Then in an instant it’s gone, and the big city station is back, the exhiliration rushes out of you so fast you feel disoriented and lost. What was that crackle? Who were you and there was something ou promised yourself… no… no, it’s gone.

Why did I come to Japan?
Why did I fall in love?
When did I stop remembering how to do these things, and why they were important?

…

There’s a Jeremy Piven movie on the plane. Jeremy Piven, the eternal best friend-sidekick. This reminds me of a number of moves, one of which is The Family Man. There’s a scene where Nicholas cage is in a state of shock and denial when he finds himself in an alternate history where he did end up marrying and having kids with his college sweetheart. Incredulous he consults with Jeremy, who tells him,

“Don’t screw up the best thing in your life just because you’re a little unsure about who you are.”

I’ve always really liked that line, but not until right now did I think to ask myself, what is the best thing in my life? Or more appropriately what was the best thing in my life. Was it Ai? Was it her and I threw that away? How many times can you forsake love and still expect it to give you another honest chance? And more importantly, should you as a human being really do that in the first place?

It’s one of those evenings where the autumn sun is so bright and low in the sky that the clouds hiding it gleam with sunbeams in start contrast to the lavender horizon.

I’ve been looking at these kind of skies and dreaming since high school. Is it that my life could always feel so inspired, or am I moved only in contrast to the leaden cloak I toil inside day in and out?

One thing I am sure of is that I’ll never grow out of this bittersweet heart. I’ve felt moved by life to the point I could go crazy since I was a teenager. I’ve worn mismatching socks every day for the last twelve years and never thought once about stopping. I still clumb up on curbs and low walls to walk an invisible balance beam. I catalogue scents and run my fingers over textured walls on the way home. I do none of these things just to sere as some superficial testament of my dedication to a fairytale god, I just do it because it’s who I am, and who I always will be.

Just the right amount…

Of daylight, waking at 5:20 to see the sun.

Of discomfort, to ride five hours on a local train reading Catcher in the Rye while watching suburban Japan peel off.

Of friendship, a balance of Miho’s zeal and hurrying to a certain place while I wait, and listen, to take a roll of photographs at the end.

Of alcohol, to be together enough to tell Dad when we’re done but gone enough to explain passionately how I feel about life and be well-received.

Of family, to do whatever I can to help Mom with the dishes and talk to Dad’s protege’ while bitching about Yakult and our perennial disappointment.

Of life, my body aches in numerous places for a myriad of reasons, but today was so fulfilling it nearly made me cry.

of standard train travel. That’s how long my trip is this morning. Starting at 5:45 am. I could have taken the shinkansen and been there in just over two hours, but somehow it just turned out this is the way I chose.

Inefficient by design.

Originally I planned to stay up in Minami Aizu in my tent last night, but typhoon William sufficently washed out those plans so to speak. So I spent Monday, my first day off in nearly a month, getting acquainted with FFXII, which I quickly became hooked on and spent most all day playing. I did, however, scurry out of my blanket and tatami combination long enough to get a fairly nice bit of closing time shopping done, picking up a Snow Peak mess kit to go with my compact gas stove that I received from Rodney, as well as much needed replacement cargo straps for my Ferrino hiking pack.

Black and white film, foma RC paper, and too much imported beer. Another warm chat with the always bright checkout girl at Yamaya.

Though it’s very nearly gone from my everyday life, there are times when the magic of first coming to Japan returns for a fleeting moment like a faded odor from a childhood jacket. I exit Akihabara station and having fifteen minutes to transfer, scan the area sleepily for a convenience store.

The montage of unfamiliar signs; the nearly empty streets of early morning; the lack of time being relevant… Like a drunken bee at dusk, I stumble down into an Am/Pm for some sandwiches and token omiyage. My groggy gaze lingers on the neatly presed-together legs of a girl reading a magazine.

Royal jelly. Beauty tea. Otsuka pharmaceuticals.

Entering into the subway for a minute I am uncannily lost. The mulitple branching stairwells lead to the same platform and remind me of Silent Hill 3.

There are times when Japan doesn’t feel like Japan, usually times without architecture. The majority of people on subways at six in the morning; it could be almost anywhere. Bums the world around have similiar mannerisms, free from the pall of ethnic strata, more or less. But it rises… oh how the rays fall so corn yellow on the sea of crescent-tiled rooves. It’s been so long since I’ve seen a morning, it’s almost foreign to me. Three hours on a single section express train. The low sun is so reserved and distant.

Power lines, ginkoes, and scaffolding. Wet streets and danchi.

Sister Charles used to say that the skies in October were the bluest all year. This always filled me with a senseless kind of pride, simply because I was born in October, even though this had little to do with me.

Today is October the 27th. In three days I am going to be thirty years old. I wanted to spend a lot of this month celebrating and reflecting on this, but things were busier at work than October usually is and I had no time for much of anything. However, leaving that aside this week will be quiet and mostly reserved. I’ve been thinking of life and how simply you can change it. I could still be with the same someone a number of someones, but that doesn’t suit me now. To be honest, I see others making those kinds of commitments and I wonder are we so much in charge of our happiness? I used to think that finding someone and falling in love was rare and magical, something to desperately dream of. But after twelve years of dating, cheating, and heartbreak, I’m not sure I believe in courtly love anymore. Only the inexperience of relationships can lead one to search and hope for love. Now more than anything, love feels like a choice, the driving forces of which outside of loneliness or security I can’t fathom. I don’t say this because I’m bitter, I say it because I really can’t see it any other way. If that is innate cynicism, then I am sad and forlon that I made an environment to change me this way.

In Japanese, koi and ai (love viewed from the perspective of fancy and devotion, respectively) are separate things. My senpai at work once described koi as a feeling/circumtance, whereas ai was an action. Maybe in experience I’ve lost the ability to feel koi, but I’ve learned in practice what ai takes.

Does anyone over the age of thirty fall in love? Why do people marry? Why do people choose to remain with one person? I think the answer must exist, and if I talk to enough people I’ll find out this is just like any other question of human behaviour. I just need more outside influences to help me find peace in myself. It’s not impossible, just too ill-defined a problem space.

Rain. Fields. Cool autumn wind.

The rain in Fukushima is steady but light. If my mother were here, she’d say it’s a good day for ducks. Even though the weather maes taking pictures difficult, the overwhelming power of the countryside buoys my spirits. Rows of vegetables run into crimson and yellow underbrush. Tractors and very plain utility shed dot the landscape. Terraced fields of cur rice build into hillsides, and carpets of wet leaves reflect the occasionally passing car.

Does something tribal call inside of you? Not as men and women but as boys and girls and something deeper than that. Like the fire that keeps you transfixed with drunken awe, some sort of primal power sits on your eyelids and jerks at your knees. Colors fall and repeat, noise rattles off of aluminum and quakes through mud. So stop and start relaizing those emotions rooted deep under the topsoil of your soul. This is the time to break free the soft flesh of youth inside of the yesterday you.

Lantern slep fall my heart,
skin splits open and breaks apart.
From inside another you,
moving back to whence it grew.

私は私の中にあります。どうやら一人に居る？
何を探してるを思いつかない。

Cosmos and stars aligned in curves my heart at peace. Would I feel so at peace in another world? Or would the lack of my suffering remvoe meaning from such a soothing balm? The Tao says without the lost there would be no way, so is the altruistic ideal only so gracious because of the voracious world? Is nature clean because the city is dirty? Do lovers love because haters hate? How alone must I feel for another to belong?

So much of beasts make us human.

Soft lights tender in my room. I lay on the sofa, half-earnestly trying to read a book on wisdom. So many dreams I should be chasing, but instead I stir the idle pot of tidiness to pass the time. Folded shirts and swept tatami, the rare evenings alone in both heart and body; the times I think about you thinking about me, or not…and how I’m only defined by my flaws and not finesse.

A cold glass with bourbon. Feathered tired hair and incense. Thankful for the time to think of us, for the chance to be thankful of thinking. Thankful for the chance to be flawed.

I get along without you very well
Of course, I do
Except when soft rains fall
And drip from leaves
Then I recall
The thrill of being sheltered in your arms
Of course, I do
But I get along without you very well

I get along without you very well
Of course, I do
Except perhaps in spring
But I should never think of spring
For that would surely break my heart in two
–Hoagy Carmichael

There is a point in your life, that you realize, if not literally then emotionally, that you are more less alone, and being with someone is like a hit of cocaine: a burst of hot yearning doused with satisfaction, but then still just another papered-over hole.

You can fill it with alcohol, sex, ego or a combination thereof, but every time satiated it slowly empties, substance quickly seeping away like a linen bucket. For a man of apparent success and obsession, there are an awful lot of facades you can come home to. You gamble on your career because it doesn’t ask anything of you emotionally, and in turn that’s what you end up with: ephmeral pleasure and seductive lies you take to bed. You keep telling yourself you really ought to stop and just fold, but in the end you’ll die at the tables– you can’t leave Las Vegas.

I planned on writing more in March, especially since I was on the road so much, but in the end the advent of a notebook that could compile made little else possible. Probably through stress more than anything, I’ve managed to run myself down to a lot less robust level than usual. I tire easily, waking up is a problem seven days a week, and there’s a constant blunt ache in my body. The weather has improved dramatically in recent weeks, however, and the sunshine and fair temperatures are starting to recharge me (like Superman).

Still, things are a mess all over and my priorities are all out of whack. My photography class starts tomorrow, I need to decide what kind of pictures I’m going to take with me to show since we’re supposed to start with that and self-introductions. I bought a license to FL Studio in February, but I haven’t made much use of it yet since I’ve been sucked into Resident Evil 4 (again), and seasons 10 and 11 of ER. I think that I need a schedule again for off-time, even though I don’t have any exhibitions on the horizon. I’ve let communication with too many important people slide in the name of short-term release. Thankfully, rave season starts in two weeks. A return to reflection, to sound and to quiet, and to good people all around.

So many twisted dreams going on now involving all the people I have issues with. ::sigh:: Work is never-ending and it’s nothing but responsibility I cannot manage without significant pain.

It’s reasonable to say that the changes to one’s personality over time are influenced by the environment one lives in. The people one interacts with on a daily basis, he absorbs their means of communicating and dealing with problems. It’s never a complete assimilation, but an intermediary interpolation, an annealing process.

I think in general as people grow older they become more calm and passive. It’s a matter of waiting, thinking, and responding. However, living in Japan may accelerate my evolution into this frame of mind. I undoubtedly have my opinions, and thoughts on events and dialogue, however as time has passed I’ve become more prone to listen quietly and reflect. It’s nothing astounding, it’s just a smooth mellowing that I’m conscious of and entertained by. Waiting is.

This morning when I awoke the air was damp, fresh, and slightly warm. Last night I went to Yoyogi park on the way home to practice guitar. I sat by the lake as a sprinkling rain began and fumbled through my standard repretoire. Tokyo has so much light pollution that in even the middle of night very few places are truly dark. Silhouettes of lovers and and homeless men are easy to pick out, silent and thoughtful.

Two months in the year have passed and I feel like I’ve accomplished little. It’s not often that I feel that time passes quickly, but I’ve been home so little this year, doing things without photographs it runs together. Parks, row boats, guitars, wine, skiing, and smokey bars. Ah, but it is life, sweet and ripe, even if feeling somewhat lost in it.