Chewing Sand (from Kenshi Yonezu's diary)

The year's begun, and my countrywide tour ended. I don't have any particular enthusiastic goals I can vocalize about what kind of year I want this to be, but for now, I'd like to at least start with "don't sleep on the sofa." To me, there's "sleeping to heal my physical and mental fatigue," and "sleeping to ignore things." As time passes me by, as pressing topics tumble beside me, I ignore them for now and close my eyes. Maintaining a vague state of maybe being in a dream, maybe not, I warp to the next day. Dali apparently tried to capture his dreams by keeping a spoon between his fingers, but I don't really care about painting in them or anything - I just feel like dreaming forever. After such feelings lead me to warp to the next morning, my reaction is usually identical to the worst kind of "person wakes up from cold sleep in a sci-fi movie," and so I begin the day with body and soul both exhausted.

When I was in grade school, I started hearing whispers that the Earth would be destroyed on a certain day as if that were definite; I think people were seriously idiotic back then. Of course, grade-schoolers are even moreso, so I vaguely remember observing my classmates despairing and spending all their allowances, while myself sitting there thinking "hmm, so it's gonna end." Fearing something no one's ever seen is a physiological phenomenon, so back at the end of the century, tomorrow itself was terrifying, and there weren't many who could stop immoral sellers from taking advantage of frightened people.

Humans aren't strong enough to live solely for themselves, and I think we want our selves to have a clear meaning with which to forget the terror of death. I want to encounter a hideously beautiful day that'll make me collapse in a heap. I remember my classmates, spending all their allowance, yet upon finding they were still alive anyway, looking deeply regretful.

Posted January 16th, 2018


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