Deeply (from Kenshi Yonezu's diary)
One more Festival left this year. It's like half of summer had passed before I knew it. There's been a lot to do in August, but it's gradually calming down, and now I'm having some peaceful time. When I'm busy, I don't have to think about anything, so it's easy. I can move my body and focus only on the problems in front of me. The busier life is, the calmer your feelings are, and the calmer life is, the busier your feelings are. In these boundary periods, I'm always unsure which way to put myself, and both body and mind become awkward. I come to forget what those peaceful days off I'd been so looking forward to are actually like. It feels kind of unpleasant having plans one after another, but thinking about it more, with no plans, I have nothing to do. I think it's fine if nothing happens. Both extremely bad things, or extremely good things. Just letting the sun sluggishly set in a cramped space framed by concrete walls is fine. Uniformity is comfortable. Gentleness is pleasing.
Yesterday, I talked to Jin. He's a pure-and-simple guitar kid, in a good way, and I honestly respect that. At the same time, he's incredibly clever, so he gives me a lot of stimulation. He showed me some super cool guitar. Real grateful for that.
I've been listening nonstop to the new Frank Ocean album. I wonder where this delicate nuance came from? It seems in music, or in any kind of creative work for that matter, there are no small number of people who feel that authors and their work should be thought of separately. But personally, I feel music carries with it aspects of "who made it." It's more fun that way. I can understand the potential danger: no matter how beautiful the music is, if you don't like the author's personality, it can impact your impression of the music itself. However, perhaps an illusion that's carelessly trampled upon and crumbled is part of music. Having risks makes it interesting. Being troublesome is interesting. Having dynamism is interesting. Music that makes you forget you said the exact opposite thing just a moment ago is interesting.
I'm grateful for being able to forget anger and sadness. Very grateful. If, for instance, I had clear memories from the moment I was born in the delivery room, and I could remember anything at any time no matter what, would cheerful memories truly win out over darker ones? If I could hear every word people said in crowds at Shibuya or Shinjuku, would I be able to avoid crying at all that noise? Forgetting our memories in order starting from the older ones is a cute aspect and a strength of living things, so if God implemented that as an initial feature, I think he must be pretty nice. I'm grateful.
I hope I enjoy the Festival this weekend too. I want to find amusement with more things. I want to go afar.