Live the dream young writer.

Live the 12 hour days, live the 10 minute lunches, live the 5 minute naps in a cold toilet stall,

Live with the shuffle on grey carpet, live between a shoulder of space, live with the sniff crackle cough shout of other dreamers,

Live the dream young writer,

Live the dream.

Hello,

I have found a job.

It towers over me, somewhat like these silent mystical monsters, their heavy bodies threatening to smother and nourish me at the same time.

&plentymore Festive Hongbaos from andplentymore on Vimeo.

Served up by five local designers, these delectable red packets, or ang pows in local parlance, will definitely sweeten your Chinese New Year. Check out these whimsical designs by design unit &plentymore.

visit them at &plentymore.com
&
their facebook page

The Hiraizumi complex of temples, namely the Chuzon-ji (Chuzon temple), was recently admitted into World Heritage Site lists, was part of our morning tour. Sleepy and bleary eyed, we clambered onto the buses (“Ohayou gozaimasu,” we chirped at our bus-driver, Akiyama) that brought us to temples hours away.

The months and days are the travelers of eternity. The years that come and go are also voyagers. Those who float away their lives on ships or who grow old leading horses are forever journeying, and their homes are wherever their travels take them. Many of the men of old died on the road, and I too for years past have been stirred by the sight of a solitary cloud drifting with the wind to ceaseless thoughts of roaming.
Last year I spent wandering along the coast. In autumn I returned to my cottage on the river and swept away the cobwebs. Gradually the year drew to its close. When spring came and there was mist in the air, I thought of crossing the Barrier of Shirakawa into Oku. I seemed to be possessed by the spirits of wanderlust, and they all deprived me of my senses. The guardian spirits of the road beckoned, and I could not settle down to work.
I patched my torn trousers and changed the cord on my bamboo hat. To strengthen my legs for the journey I had moxa burned on my shins. By then I could think of nothing but the moon at Matsushima. When I sold my cottage and moved to Sampû’s villa, to stay until I started on my journey, I hung this poem on a post in my hut:

kusa no to mo
sumikawaru yo zo
hina no ie

Even a thatched hut
May change with a new owner
Into a doll’s house.

Translated by Donald Keene (The Narrow Road to Oku, 1996)
(An earlier and slightly different partial translation appeared in Keene’s Anthology of Japanese Literature, 1955.)

I had forgotten about Basho’s journey to the north. We had studied it in our haiku class back in Waseda, under the learned Professor Pinnington (I can only hope to be only a little be like Pinnington one day, because his mind is cavernous and full of deep knowledge) and I had written a paper on Basho. Seeing the statue, and the monument dedicated to him, reminded me of sleepy classrooms suddenly snapping to attention.

The air was cool at Chuzon-ji, and after trekking about in the forests, it started to drizzle. We ducked under coniferous trees and errant, too-large umbrellas.

Breakfast. At Appi.

My mum sat in the massage chair (it is nearly 10 years old now, and I remember being excited when the delivery men brought it over.) and asked me what I wanted to do after I graduated.

Graduation happens this November.

Officially, I won’t be free from this school until next July when I collect my scroll and wear my robes, but this November I’ll have to start on the next part of my life, whether I like it or not. Which is rather ironic, because 23 years ago I had to start my life whether I wanted to or not. It’s surreal having to embark on another journey on my birth month. I’m terrified because I want to work as a photographer, as a writer, as a creative something but I don’t now how to go about doing it. I’m groping about in the dark, literally because my eyes are clouded with this dream and I don’t want to fail because that would mean a thirty year old me teaching MacBeth in a classroom full of wide-eyed and bushy-tailed kids who know nothing about failing in life.

I don’t want to disappoint my parents, who have already faced so many in their life. But somehow or other, I know that I will disappoint them; I already have but they’ve taken it in their stride and let me carry on in my own flumbustered way. So it terrifies me that I will continue on this lifetime of disappointment if I’m not careful.

When I was at Rikuzentakata a week ago, I stood at the site where two houses were completely razed to the ground, and I thought, “I could live here.”

It was a strange thought to have, with everyone working around me.

I should put up the photos I took with my iPhone. I have a roll of film. I’m not sure how they’ll turn out because my compact C1 refused to rewind the film up properly. I had to manually pry the negatives out in the bathroom while my roommate was away. I hope they survived the bathroom jaunt.

I’m hungry.

So imagine my utter joy and delight (I actually bounced on the balls of my feet) when I stumbled upon the otokurage earphones at Bic Camera.

This led me to visit elecom’s website, where they have an entire page dedicated to their collaboration with design house nendo.

The tails are the bluetooth/wireless transmitter! How cute is that!?

These iPhone/iPad stands are ingenious. I want them both!

And one of their compact USB drives. I’m afraid that I might lose it though…

(Images from Elecom’s official website.)

When I’m feeling down and out, I used to think about making things.

Today I actually made something.

In other news, I made a tumblr for my photography.

I don’t really know what to do about my portfolio site.

Hope you take a look anyway.

ありがとう。