We all unearth our calendars and hunt a day. X works Saturdays, Y needs child care, Z still reserves time for practicing his religion. (Who but God has time to listen anymore?) This week is all meetings, that weekend we’re out of town, the weekend after is the 11th Annual, which we really ought to attend since we haven’t been able to make it since the 3rd. How about? Impossible? Or? Maybe after 4? Too late? The 17th? Sorry, I forgot. The week after? After that? No?
Who has time for this kind of frustration? Friends are simply chatty people you don’t have sex with. Who has time for them?
Monday, July 31, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Nagusami / 19
Years ago I read an article that coined a word: hypersensuality. Now I can’t find that article anywhere. An academic anthropological piece about a culture in – the Andamans? the Aleutians? the Appalachians? where men held each other and slept curled against each other night to night. Sex happened sometimes, or didn’t—it didn’t matter much. Tenderness was for these men a foundation of sanity and well-being. The missionaries came along, and outlawed touch, and the men were fractured into virtue. Crime, alcoholism and violence resulted more or less immediately.
I can’t find this article anywhere. If you find it, could you send it along? Perhaps we might yet scrape together enough clues to learn the practice.
I can’t find this article anywhere. If you find it, could you send it along? Perhaps we might yet scrape together enough clues to learn the practice.
Nagusami / 18
Somewhere I read (didn’t I?) that Tokyoites become near-sighted just because they have little or no opportunity to look into the distance. I believe this. Any chance I have to look far ahead gives me a rare and luxurious feeling.
We go blind from lack of practice seeing.
We could look up, I suppose, into the Tokyo haze, but then of course we’d bump into things.
We go blind from lack of practice seeing.
We could look up, I suppose, into the Tokyo haze, but then of course we’d bump into things.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Nagusami / 17
The word nagusami, my friend Yuuichiro kindly explains, is still in use in modern Japanese.
Nagusami has come to mean: distraction, [light] relief, hence--entertainment.
Nagusami has come to mean: distraction, [light] relief, hence--entertainment.
Nagusami / 16
(Tokyo, 2006)
When he’d filled the cup to the line as directed, he wrote his name with a thick black marker on the side. (Does that make it art? he wondered.) The cup he left by the sign Specimens Here but he still didn’t know what to do with the marker.
Leaving the bathroom, he tried to hand it to the nurse. She eyed it with terror.
“No, no,” she said. “In the bathroom.” And she followed him back and stood at the door and directed him. “Not there! No. To the left. On the shelf. Yes.”
Visibly relieved, she handed him the pristine paper packet. One tablet, twice a day after meals. She didn’t say anything else.
He thought it was unfair that nurses were immediately unfriendly once they learned the nature of the problem. After all, he could have gotten an infection entirely innocently. He hadn’t, but he could have.
The doctor had been curt, which is not to say condemnatory. “I bet you know all about urinary tract infections.” Which was not such a nice thing to say. It was, however, true.
When he’d filled the cup to the line as directed, he wrote his name with a thick black marker on the side. (Does that make it art? he wondered.) The cup he left by the sign Specimens Here but he still didn’t know what to do with the marker.
Leaving the bathroom, he tried to hand it to the nurse. She eyed it with terror.
“No, no,” she said. “In the bathroom.” And she followed him back and stood at the door and directed him. “Not there! No. To the left. On the shelf. Yes.”
Visibly relieved, she handed him the pristine paper packet. One tablet, twice a day after meals. She didn’t say anything else.
He thought it was unfair that nurses were immediately unfriendly once they learned the nature of the problem. After all, he could have gotten an infection entirely innocently. He hadn’t, but he could have.
The doctor had been curt, which is not to say condemnatory. “I bet you know all about urinary tract infections.” Which was not such a nice thing to say. It was, however, true.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Nagusami / 15
Sometimes I get one arm free, sometimes one leg. Sometimes I even get my head unstuck but not for very long.
Cozy snug in my silk dressing gown there’s not a lot of room to move. Sometimes she comes and carries me from one latitude to another. Let no one say I am not a traveler. What a joy it is, welcoming her with my eyes wide. My arms pinned to my side. Benefactress! She built everything you see before you; all tremble at her approach. Beneath her watchful eye we prosper and are provided for. This solid transparent world she unfurls from herself, her sturdy gossamer. Delicate. Fiercely adhesive.
Only rarely does it occur to me that I am hanging in the middle of the sky.
Cozy snug in my silk dressing gown there’s not a lot of room to move. Sometimes she comes and carries me from one latitude to another. Let no one say I am not a traveler. What a joy it is, welcoming her with my eyes wide. My arms pinned to my side. Benefactress! She built everything you see before you; all tremble at her approach. Beneath her watchful eye we prosper and are provided for. This solid transparent world she unfurls from herself, her sturdy gossamer. Delicate. Fiercely adhesive.
Only rarely does it occur to me that I am hanging in the middle of the sky.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Nagusami / 14
Cultivate places in the city that are entirely your own and go to them alone. Never mention those places to anyone--especially not to anyone you love. There are subway stops where you’ve never gotten off before—take advantage of them. I suggest drab, unlovely places. Anything lovely you’d be tempted to share. Your loved ones would track you down and exclaim, “Why didn’t you tell me before!” Your hidden-ness , your anonymity, will enliven the place even if it is McDonald’s. Disappearing for the afternoon is a human right. It ought to be. Make plans in secret. Survive this way.
Nagusami / 13
Note how the self inflates into bizarre gargantuan shapes until the eyes are dinner plates and the lips a black smudge on the horizon. Aren’t I good-looking? I am good-looking! I am! I am!
This absurd inflated creature—is the answer to keep it small, unobjectionable, sturdily rubberized--or is it better to let it inflate, become absurd, until it topples over, explodes or becomes something impossible to view without giggling?
This is dangerous, of course. Danger is a synonym for “something actually happens.”
This funhouse creature, grown unwieldy and huge, thin-skinned and vulnerable. Almost immediately one arm goes mushy, one bug-eye caves in.
Sitting in the dark waiting for the concert to begin, I note myself collapsing. I collapse often lately—it’s alarming. I find myself getting smaller. My voices caves in. I can no longer muster the energy to push out my sides.
When it goes fast, well, you’ve seen what happens. The balloon goes shooting round the room accompanied by a prolonged farting noise.
This absurd inflated creature—is the answer to keep it small, unobjectionable, sturdily rubberized--or is it better to let it inflate, become absurd, until it topples over, explodes or becomes something impossible to view without giggling?
This is dangerous, of course. Danger is a synonym for “something actually happens.”
This funhouse creature, grown unwieldy and huge, thin-skinned and vulnerable. Almost immediately one arm goes mushy, one bug-eye caves in.
Sitting in the dark waiting for the concert to begin, I note myself collapsing. I collapse often lately—it’s alarming. I find myself getting smaller. My voices caves in. I can no longer muster the energy to push out my sides.
When it goes fast, well, you’ve seen what happens. The balloon goes shooting round the room accompanied by a prolonged farting noise.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Nagusami / 11
I could explain but you wouldn’t understand any better. You’d only be standing there with a reason, a big clumsy reason like a huge pair of scissors made out of paper, as might decorate a salon. So tattered and clumsy--having a reason. Scissors that don’t cut anything.
Nagusami / 10
She said she was afraid of butterflies and went inside.
“How can anyone possibly be afraid of butterflies?” I said.
Now I’ve all afternoon I’ve sat here and watched the heavy butterflies thunking in the rafters.
“How can anyone possibly be afraid of butterflies?” I said.
Now I’ve all afternoon I’ve sat here and watched the heavy butterflies thunking in the rafters.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Nagusami / 9
(Tai An, 2005)
Of course I loved China and what I loved most, even more than the sights themselves, were the yellow triangular traffic signs which read simply:
!
Nagusami / 8
Make Your Own Space, the label promises.
Nagusami--in a box. That’s what I have in mind.
Ideal for Tokyoites, mothers, over-timers. A little origami something, smaller than a mobile phone. You put in on the ground, clap twice and bow—like visiting spirits at a Shinto shrine—and that paper would unfold, expand--but without taking up any room.
There’d be a soft whoosh of white noise – air conditioning? wings? and a door would appear and you could enter that space, a space where you were utterly allowed and could rest. Whatever you needed would be there – for example a pepperoni pizza, an herb garden or a rocket launcher. A bodyguard to protect your privacy – 6’8”, broad as an ox, hands like catcher’s mitts, black belt in everything, likes to snuggle, and at the same time unobtrusive.
Nagusami, nagusami, nagusami! Clap twice and bow.
Nagusami sounds to me like a name of god.
Nagusami--in a box. That’s what I have in mind.
Ideal for Tokyoites, mothers, over-timers. A little origami something, smaller than a mobile phone. You put in on the ground, clap twice and bow—like visiting spirits at a Shinto shrine—and that paper would unfold, expand--but without taking up any room.
There’d be a soft whoosh of white noise – air conditioning? wings? and a door would appear and you could enter that space, a space where you were utterly allowed and could rest. Whatever you needed would be there – for example a pepperoni pizza, an herb garden or a rocket launcher. A bodyguard to protect your privacy – 6’8”, broad as an ox, hands like catcher’s mitts, black belt in everything, likes to snuggle, and at the same time unobtrusive.
Nagusami, nagusami, nagusami! Clap twice and bow.
Nagusami sounds to me like a name of god.
Nagusami / 7
One has proper friends, upstanding people of quality. One must somehow put up with them, their Australian chardonnay. Then there are the other friends, humbler, less respectable, like lying dusty in a vast grassy field, content to leave accomplishment to grasshoppers.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Nagusami / 6
How lucky I am, I think, to not know when I’ll die.
In this way I hope to yet achieve some small victory over scheduling.
How terrible it would be to know exactly—imagine the appointments:
“I’m sorry, that’s impossible. I’m dropping dead today at 2.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that! How’s 1:15 then?”
In this way I hope to yet achieve some small victory over scheduling.
How terrible it would be to know exactly—imagine the appointments:
“I’m sorry, that’s impossible. I’m dropping dead today at 2.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that! How’s 1:15 then?”
Nagusami / 5
Of course there are days when I don’t know what I’ll do. There are no days, however, when I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.
Nagusami / 4
It’s even worse for me, I like to think, because I am epically clumsy and vastly apologetic, so that most days I reel from one accident to the next, sorry, sorry, sorrying as fast as I can talk.
Nagusami / 3
(Tokyo, 2006)
The city is where we go to be cramped. Shoved out the train, the crowd charges down a corridor into an elevator and through the ticket gates. And out is never out but only out into--an alley with pachinko parlors on both sides, dodging strollers, women with high heels, bumped shoulders and dirty looks, staircase under construction, eating lunch at a tiny table as a line of people wait for you to finish and bolt the train arrives on the dot. Four minutes to the office, seven before the bell, this kind of worker, this kind of husband, this kind of son, success. Here is the list of what you have to do and here is the list (entirely different) of what you must achieve for your life to matter even a little.
One-hundred-and-seventy-one piles of sand and somebody says, but none of them are so tall. . .
The city is where we go to be cramped. Shoved out the train, the crowd charges down a corridor into an elevator and through the ticket gates. And out is never out but only out into--an alley with pachinko parlors on both sides, dodging strollers, women with high heels, bumped shoulders and dirty looks, staircase under construction, eating lunch at a tiny table as a line of people wait for you to finish and bolt the train arrives on the dot. Four minutes to the office, seven before the bell, this kind of worker, this kind of husband, this kind of son, success. Here is the list of what you have to do and here is the list (entirely different) of what you must achieve for your life to matter even a little.
One-hundred-and-seventy-one piles of sand and somebody says, but none of them are so tall. . .
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Nagusami / 2
from Early Modern Japanese Literature 1600-1900, edited by Haruo Shirane
“From around the Genna era (1615-1624), the bakufu gave permission for the construction of particular licensed theaters, which led to the development of the two “bad places” (akusho): the theater district and the licensed pleasure quarters. The bakufu, whose first priority was to uphold the social order and public security, designated the “bad places” as spaces of controlled release (nagusami), where citizens’ excess energy could be channeled and where it was understood thate there would be no criticism of the existing order. Those who went into these “bad places” entered an intoxicating, out-of-the-ordinary, festival-like world where the line between reality and dream was blurred.”
Raise your hand if your immediate response was, please can we go there right now?
“From around the Genna era (1615-1624), the bakufu gave permission for the construction of particular licensed theaters, which led to the development of the two “bad places” (akusho): the theater district and the licensed pleasure quarters. The bakufu, whose first priority was to uphold the social order and public security, designated the “bad places” as spaces of controlled release (nagusami), where citizens’ excess energy could be channeled and where it was understood thate there would be no criticism of the existing order. Those who went into these “bad places” entered an intoxicating, out-of-the-ordinary, festival-like world where the line between reality and dream was blurred.”
Raise your hand if your immediate response was, please can we go there right now?
Nagusami / 1
At Mister Donut, a well-dressed madwoman, skinny as a flame, chain smokes, looks like an arrow headed everywhere at once. Caves in her cheeks, cigarettes disintegrate in three puffs. Talks out loud in an angry voice. Starts at every sound. Madwoman’s cleared out the smoking section.
Our donut shop is famous for its view of Fuji. Straight on, dead center, between the apartments and the telephone poles. It’s right there, heavy over the city, but the cold crisp mornings you can see it are increasingly rare.
Grab the clear skies while you can.
Hey, madwoman, what right do you have to be crazy in a comfortable country? Misery is for the poor. What's your excuse? Quiet, woman! They'll call you ungrateful. Call you a witch. Call you a spoiled little girl.
What right do you have to complain? Quiet, woman! They’ll call you insane!
Our donut shop is famous for its view of Fuji. Straight on, dead center, between the apartments and the telephone poles. It’s right there, heavy over the city, but the cold crisp mornings you can see it are increasingly rare.
Grab the clear skies while you can.
Hey, madwoman, what right do you have to be crazy in a comfortable country? Misery is for the poor. What's your excuse? Quiet, woman! They'll call you ungrateful. Call you a witch. Call you a spoiled little girl.
What right do you have to complain? Quiet, woman! They’ll call you insane!
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