Brown (from Kenshi Yonezu's diary)

[Written July 28th, 2015 in response to the news of Powapowa-P having died on July 23rd.]

It seems a friend has left us.

I wasn't particularly acquainted with him, enough that I hesitate before calling him a friend. And outside of online interaction, we only met and spoke once. But he was someone who had somehow long caught my interest. I recall how when I first met him online, he was in middle school, and the fact that he made such good songs regardless surprised me greatly. I could associate with the fact that he both drew and made music, and thought he rather resembled me both in the way he felt unease and discontent and the way he let those things out. So I felt that he was no stranger, and thought it obvious that he would go on becoming an even more amazing person. Just what sights did he see? It's impossible for another to imagine, and it's sad indeed that we will hear no more music born from said sights. But this is just a thing that can happen, I suppose.

As I think about these things, I'm suddenly reminded of something from my past. In high school, I rode a bike to school, but I would sometimes take the bus on a whim. I wasn't a very serious student, so I would often slip away from class to go home around noon, and would wait at the deserted bus stop, sparse of people in the middle of the day. This was one of those times. While they were few, the people waiting for buses with me would gradually leave, getting on the buses to their respective destinations. It was primarily old men and old ladies, and as I watched them from behind, I faintly felt like I might never meet these people again. Perhaps I felt that only because the old men and ladies waiting at the quiet, deserted, midday bus stop did somehow have the smell of death on them.

Whenever you have the experience of leaving someone with the assumption that you'll meet again soon, and it never coming to pass, you look at the people in front of you and strongly wonder whether this might be the last time you see their faces. But a friend's death can seem like a bizarrely sudden parting to you, while to the deceased, it seems like the most inevitable thing there could be. I didn't know him enough to regret not taking part in him living on, and I do feel like this might be a little impudent. But I just had some personal thoughts, so I wrote them in words. Thank you for making good music.

Posted July 28th, 2015


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