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Memory (from Kenshi Yonezu's diary)

Occasionally I find that in my pocket is a lighter or a CD or an iPhone charger that isn't mine, and no doubt it's because someone gave it to me in drunkenness the night before, but since I don't have any memory of it, it's worrisome. I haven't personally had any experiences like getting so drunk I wake up next to tuna in Tsukiji Market, but when there are vestiges of a yesterday I just can't remember, I sometimes even worry if I really made it through the night safely. Maybe remembering things more strongly the more I want to forget them is a quirk of my own, or maybe it's inherent to humans themselves, I don't know. Those memories, made unnaturally absent like a scratched-up skipping record, somehow make me think that if I didn't even bother to remember them, they must have been fun. The feelings you have when you get sad or angry, those can just be made into music. That's what I've been making music for ten-odd years thinking, but I'm still not very certain about how to consistently keep a biorhythm between what I'm making and what I have to make. And thus, as I wander this way and that, I'm writing this now.

Wishing to be an adult is reserved for children, and adults would never wish it even if everything went topsy-turvy. That kind of thing is beautiful. They don't notice themselves how the harder they wish, the more they stand on tiptoe, the more cute and comical it makes them look. It's the fact they don't notice that makes them want to be adults, and if there's a rough boundary between adults and children, it might be the moment you lose the ignorance known as youthfulness. Things of that nature are simply irreversible; once you lose it, there's no getting it back, so oh well. But perhaps expressing something in art or music or words is like taking your now-hollow tiptoe-standing from those days and preserving it in formalin. What is it for me? I'll stop thinking about it.

There was once a part of me that couldn't understand people who took picture after picture of fun moments. But lately, I've realized that those people sincerely confront youthfulness, and because they understand it deeply, they're trying to preserve all their ephemeral minutes and seconds. Maybe it'd be neat to do a lot of that this year. To give things form and preserve them. A lighter, a CD, a charger.


Posted January 13th, 2017
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