May 27th through 31st Hotaru, Chiropractor, Boredom, Sashi in 2016

On the 27th, I ended up requesting medical leave to go to a chiropractor. It was granted. Sadly, the chiropractors in Japan are . . . gentle. Rather than the ripping and tearing and popping, they caress and massage and soothe. Not what I go to a chiropractor for. In the end, a fifty minute drive both ways, the embarrassment of medical leave, and returning back on a Friday afternoon (just so that nobody’d think I was trying to start the weekend early) was a big waste of $40. So, yeah.
After that came the firefly boat. I was worried, at first, that the whole thing may be canceled. The rain kept coming and going all day (no migraine, though). It started two hours before departure, but it let off again in time.
Sam and I rode together. His date had canceled, and, instead, he was going with an elementary teacher from Eikaiwa whose name I should know (she’s another cute Baachan). We got there a bit closer to departure time than I’d have liked, but sunset was a bit later than anticipated, so it worked out. While in line for our tickets (get in line to register that you’re there, then get in line for tickets, then get in line for lifejackets) I bumped into a teacher from Eshin. She’s the cuteish young one. She was with her parents, which would bode well if I had any interest. There were some beautiful art items for sale, none of which I bought. Lots of kappa merchandise, and I tend to love kappas. Nothing to be done: money is tight at the moment.
A charter bus took us from the meeting place to the launching place some distance upstream. I ended up sitting next to an old couple from Kobe. I’m ashamed that I didn’t recognize their accents right away. I can always tell it’s Kansai AFTER it’s pointed out. Well, live and learn, I guess. The bus had seats that would fold down in the row between the seats, sealing everybody in the bus. It was a bit frightening as a wary cigarette could murder us all, but, there was nothing to be done. I don’t know if US busses have those aisle seats. I know that I’ve encountered them before, but in which country I’ve no notion.
We walked down a lovely dark path decorated with bamboo carvings, lit up from within. There were men with beautiful paper lanterns on sticks (flashlights inside, sadly) to add to the atmosphere of the event. The air was misty, which added a feeling of mystery that I really enjoyed.
We loaded up on the boats. They were smaller than the Yamasaki boats. They were also poled by two men as opposed to using motors. It really made everything even lovelier. The rain was back, but only as a drizzle, and, frankly, I didn’t much mind. It was easier to focus this time, for whatever reason (maybe sleep) and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. The river here was wilder. We went through some minor rapids. There were shining red beacons on some of the harder to spot rocks in the calm portions of the river. It astonished me how fast the current went and how quickly we moved.
Along one patch of river, I heard a faint chant of, “Ho-ho-hotaru-ho.” A group of children were singing a traditional firefly song to us. It was just so sweet and so adorable. I couldn’t even see the kids, and I wanted to adopt the lot of them. There was an exchange between them and the boatmen that seemed a little scripted, but was still wonderful. Then, the boat (us) said some things, and they replied in unison as well. It was just too cute for words.
We drifted further down the river and under a bridge (the one way in which this was inferior to Yamasaki (other than Yamasaki’s beautiful moon) was the presence of streetlights an headlights along certain portions near the road) where I saw a group watching us go by. I was a bit worried at first. I was wondering if it was teenagers ready to spit or drop something. I needn’t have worried. It was just some local Baachan who wanted to watch the boats as the boats watched the fireflies and the fireflies watched each other.
The trip finished downstream back at the meeting place where we’d gotten on the bus. After tarrying a little bit, we went home.
For reasons which are unclear to me at present, I chatted online or did something on my computer until a bit late. Then I went to bed.
I got up at a reasonable time on Saturday. There was no music rehearsal (break this week) and I’d canceled D&D thinking that I had an event at 11. So, I rested. I wanted to go on a walk, but my back wouldn’t allow such frivolities. Instead, I just waited around (refusing to eat anything to save calories for later) and killed time until the reading.
The event that I thought was at 11 was, in fact, as 2. I’d been told the wrong time initially. I had to arrive at 1:30 to select a book. My job was to read a story to small children at the library. I was going to do The Tongue Cut Sparrow (which I like), but then I saw that they had a bilingual version of Urashima Taro. I’ve got a soft spot in my heart for that story because it’s a LOT like an Irish fairy tale I read growing up. Urashima Taro was a fisherman who saw some kids hurting a turtle, and he can’t make them stop, so he buys the turtle to set it free. Then, when he is out fishing, the turtle returns, and takes him under the sea where he meets and marries/bangs/makes friends with the princess/queen of the kingdom. He stays for three days/weeks/months/years, and then gets lonely and wanted to go home/just visit his family for a moment. The Princess/queen agrees and sends him with a box that he must never open. When he goes back home, he doesn’t recognize anything, and asks about Urashima Taro. Nobody has heard of him. Eventually the oldest man in town remembers a very old story about a man by that name who was lost at sea 300 years ago. Urashima Taro then opens up the box, for various reasons, and all the years of his age come at him at once and he becomes a very old man/turns to dust/chooses his Grail cup unwisely.
Anyway, Sam read his story all in English. Then the library lady read the same story in Japanese. Sam isn’t really much of a performer. I did voices and gestures and tried to do what I could remember from Rakugo. The kids (and adults) loved it. I had a blast. After that, I stuck around and played with the kids and talked with the parents/baachan. It was a lovely time. After that, if memory serves, I went to the hospital. I’d planned on going to Kagoshima-shi to try to get my back healed. A friend of mine, in town, had told me about a place I could go to, but, the place in Satsuma is next to the grocery store AND covered by insurance. So, I figured that I’d try that first. So, I postponed my guitar lesson and went to the hospital. I got two treatments on an electroshock massage machine, one treatment on an electroshock suction massage machine, sitting in front of two machines that . . . warm me? No idea. Then there’s a massage table and an actual massage. I also got my back taped up and cold packs stuck on it. It wasn’t as good as a chiropractor, but it worked well enough for me to get some sleep. The rest of Saturday was kind of a wash. I got ramen and gyoza as my meal of the day (having trouble with some things and thought spice would help).
On Sunday, I woke up relatively early again and was more or less at a loss as to how I should spend the day. I had a guitar lesson, but beyond that . . . I was a prisoner of my back. However, I did help Simona get air tickets to Detroit. She’ll be coming in on the 8th. I had asked mum the night before about if she wanted to be part of the process of buying, she said no, and then made some passive aggressive remarks about she and I coming in on the same day and how long Simona’d be staying even though mum said that anything under 2 weeks is fine and that she didn’t care when Simona came in/left. The big issue was that prices jumped nearly 500 euros between Saturday and Sunday, which killed her plans to go to NYC or Chicago. Add to this lack of transit within the US and . . . yeah.
For dinner (no breakfast or lunch) I went to a ramen place I’d never been to. Bugs in the gyoza oil. Bad gyoza. Ramen more notable for its obscene size than any culinary merit. It was pretty awful, and, worse, caloric while not bringing on the benefit I’d hoped to gain from eating that kind of spicy food. Complicating it even further, my stomach was so upset I ended up eating more to settle it and STILL barely got any result. It was not a great night. However, I believe that it was Sunday night where I signed up for a Rakugo class! So cool! I’m excited for that, at least.
Monday was Sashi. For whatever reason, it’s the school where I seem to teach the last. I’ve been to even Ruisui twice this semester, but this was my first time over at Sashi. The kids are/were adorable. The third grade class as Sashi is my favorite group of kids in the universe. Sadly, it wasn’t great for a guy with a bad back as they express their love by using me as a jungle gym. I tried to teach them the game Wax Museum at recess because tag is agonizing and hide and seek is boring. I got to sing a lot and I got to meet the 1st and 2nd graders. They’re amazing. I was also shocked that I hadn’t introduced the Handsome President Oz personality there, yet. It doesn’t seem to be catching on. I’m looking forward to next year at Miyachu where 2/3rds of the kids will be familiar with the concept. Two months into the new semester, the first year middle school students have stopped calling me Handsome President. Hopefully next year’s first years at Miyachu will reinspire the by-then-second-years.
Finishing Sashi, I went to Eikaiwa (which was singularly dull) and then the hospital. I seem to be getting diminished returns on my back. Well, we’ll see what happens. Sadly, it completely destroyed (I think) my sleep pattern. At least, I think it did. For yesterday at least. I kept dozing off when they were electrocuting me. It was nice to relax, I haven’t been doing much of that lately. Playing videogames on the floor isn’t relaxing. It’s killing time.
Today, I’ve likely got little if anything to do. It’s first period (my first free period is when I write this) and Ebihara Sensei is teaching. Seeing as she can have a maximum of four classes in a day (3 regular and 1 special) my maximum class load is three. But she never uses me. At least, almost never. And when she does, it’s often for under ten minutes. Tateishi Sensei just went out with a bad back. He’s going to try the chiropractor in Kagoshima that my friend Masami suggested. On the one hand, I feel bad for him because he’s a great guy and I don’t wish him any suffering. On the other hand, he kind of makes me feel like less of a loser. So, there’s that. Anyway, it works out nicely. I kind of feel like actually writing. Part of it is a desire to express things, part of it was my writing being complimented yesterday, and art of it was reading about Norton Juster’s exploits writing while in a dull military job. (Incidentally, he also invented a magazine that didn’t exist as an excuse to interview attractive women).
There’s a feminist on my Facebook feed whose posts I really enjoy. Specifically, I like to reply to them with articles debunking her articles or with macros of the specific logical fallacies she uses. I have started to get occasional positive reactions. That’s a good feeling. One guy and I have started talking, and it’s been really interesting to talk to him. I’ve taken to doing more posting of political stuff on Facebook. I think that, on many issues, I’m educated enough to just poke holes in the other person’s argument without having to take any stance myself. It’s nice to be able to be vague, but, at the same time, I don’t really have a lot of firm stances on a lot of things. My belief generally tends to be that we need to work things out for ourselves the best we can in most social interaction. Those seeking change have the benefit of initiative. However, we have the benefit of mockery.
I’ve listened to some of the conflict between Rationalism and Empiricism. It’s an interesting distinction that I wasn’t aware of. I’m still not sure I understand it (in fact, I’m pretty sure that I don’t), but it’s an interesting field of discussion. Sargon of Akkad has a video about it, but it’s a rambly livestream. I don’t like livestreams, as a general rule.
Oh, I forgot to mention, I bumped into my monk friend. I asked about his schedule about a time to meet up and to discuss finding some kind of calm and peace. I need to follow up on that.
So, the earlier description of the fireflies left a lot to be desired, and it’s gotten me to thinking: I’ve lost my ability to describe scenes (if I ever had it). Purple prose I can still kind of do, but to simply describe something? I don’t know if I can do it elegantly anymore. Maybe it’s lack of practice. Maybe it’s lack of appreciation. Maybe it’s a lack of vocabulary (literal and figurative) to describe beauty. I don’t read anything that extols anything beautiful anymore. Just history. I’m amazed at the advice of Adams and Jefferson to EVERYBODY in their lives: Read poetry, dammit! For whatever reason, I just can’t. I think part of it is just an inability to handle strong feelings. I remember that I liked to read Emily Dickinson when I was in 10th grade. I don’t remember reading almost any poetry after that.
Either today or tomorrow, if all goes well, this diary will reach one hundred and twenty thousand words. That’s two novels. I’m, frankly, astounded. It boggles the mind that I can write so much about so very little. It’s also amazing to think about what I could do if I had the dedication to actually write fiction.
It’s harder and harder to imagine characters. To connect to them. To feel that things are real. I think back on old emotions and am mostly embarrassed by their intensity. It’s getting harder and harder to even mourn for things that I once felt and now don’t under the weight of being just embarrassed about feeling. I wonder if this happens to everybody, if Rachael poisoned the well, or if more is going on. I just really don’t know, and I don’t know how to find/figure out. I think it’s probably better to be as I am now, but I miss having a reverence for the beautiful. I was baroque, then I was romantic, and I seem to have stabilized somewhere in classical. I wonder if it’s just the world that I’m immersing myself in. However, what was it that drew me to this world? What was it that drew me to a rather Vulcan existence?
Maybe it’s the sense that I never really understood how to express beauty?
Probably not, but that idea has been coming up again and again. I think that there’s a dramatic appreciation of beauty, and a real one. The dramatic, I was good at. Drama was my forte. But sincerity is always difficult, and especially for me. Maybe there came a time when I was sick of kidding myself and drained the bathwater and the baby went down, too.
Well, a bit over five hundred words left, looks like I’ll finish the second novel tomorrow. I don’t really have much more to talk about that’s coming to my mind coherently. Still haven’t smoked. The temptation has come, but I’ve thus far been able to remind myself that it’s NEVER as good as I imagine it to be. I weighed myself this morning, and I had gained a kilo. Part of that is probably due to all of the salt I’m eating and what I haven’t been doing lately. Going to the pharmacy tonight, hopefully. I’ve got to rush from Miyachu to the bank and then to the town office to pay some bill that 7-11 can’t handle for me (no idea what it is, but it’s about $60). I feel like writing more, but, there’s remarkably little to say, and I’ve already spent far, FAR, much time saying it.