Time Was Away and Somewhere Else

I was pretty feverish today, so I ended up leaving work early and sleeping fitfully in the afternoon heat. But I have 2 more photos of my trip to Japan (the trip that never made it to the blog) here, and a poem I read that I really liked. I don't have any further clarity on my current woes, but the good news is that sitting up and striving to explain myself - in that wonderful, lacerating way - really served to suck me dry of any residual energy. It seems easier to cope with the shambles when you're incapable of thinking or feeling too deeply.



Shocked by the leek situation at Daimoru.



Ahem. In the company of Messieurs Spice and Lloyd.

And now, as is the title of the book, an homage to eros. There isn't anything terribly profound about this poem, but the sentiment is simple and liltingly composed. I like the lines "They planned to portion out the stars and dates" -- it just seems such a foolish but romantic idea. I love the notion of portioning out the stars, as if we could even begin to claim proprietorship of the firmament.

Meeting point

Time was away and somewhere else,
There were two glasses and two chairs
And two people with the one pulse
(Somebody stopped the moving stairs)
Time was away and somewhere else.

And they were neither up nor down;
The stream's music did not stop
Flowing through heather, limpid brown,
Although they sat in a coffee shop
And they were neither up nor down.

The bell was silent in the air
Holding its inverted poise -
Between the clang and clang a flower,
A brazen calyx of no noise:
The bell was silent in the air.

The camels crossed the miles of sand
That stretched around the cups and plates;
The desert was their own, they planned
To portion out the stars and dates:
The camels crossed the miles of sand.

Time was away and somewhere else.
The waiter did not come, the clock
Forgot them and the radio waltz
Came out like water from a rock:
Time was away and somewhere else.

Her fingers flicked away the ash
That bloomed again in tropic trees:
Not caring if the markets crash
When they had forests such as these,
Her fingers flicked away the ash.

God or whatever means the Good
Be praised that time can stop like this,
That what the heart has understood
Can verify in the body's peace
God or whatever means the Good.

Time was away and she was here
And life no longer what it was,
The bell was silent in the air
And all the room one glow because
Time was away and she was here.

Juncture

I'm feeling kind of sad right now (why else would one be up at 5 am? I'm definitely more of a sunrise than a sunset kind of girl, but still...), so I figured I'd post a little. At 3:21 this morning I suffered a moment of panic and wondered if I'm having some kind of nervous breakdown. I have a rash, my knee hurts (all psychosymptomatic, I'm convinced), and the past few weeks have essentially found me feeling extraordinarily high and low at once, oscillating between glee and bitter depression. How dramatic. Mostly I feel young -- horribly young, with all the baggage of being inexperienced in life and clueless about how to interact with others. All my life I've been told how precocious I was, how mature for my age, that I practically had the wisdom of a 40-year-old. So much for that. 

Lately I've sensed that I'm somewhere between 5 and 40, erring towards the formative rather than developed end of the spectrum. I know you'll think I'm absurd for referencing this, but, well, Geminis are supposed to be eternally youthful. The children of the astrological galaxy or whatever. The thing is, I'm beginning to understand the downfalls of being so young and immature, of bringing both innocence and duplicity (because let's face it, children are not entirely guileless) to every point of engagement I have with others. And it hurts my ability to be a good person - a good friend, a good listener, a loyal and discreet human being. 

The more I move away from college and from being in a space that essentially sanctified youth and youthful mannerisms, the more I feel accountable for my decisions and actions, for the way I treat people and the way I seem to wilfully please and hurt them. This post isn't going anywhere. I guess I'm just overwhelmed with feeling that I'm either an emotionally backward twit who can't be honest with other people, or that I'm a brilliant thespian who should consider public performance as a career alternative. 

We have this book coming out at work that discusses the art of immaturity. And boy am I an exemplar. Because mature people aren't as naive or as bound to introduce chaos into their lives. They don't exalt the idea of youth, only to discover that in having done so, they misjudged and abused their real values. A friend told me to draft some wishes for the year ahead. I've been negligent on this head, but I think it's due time to re-evaluate the state of my emotions and intellect (there's currently no synergy between the two!) and to figure out some personal stuff. 

Over the past month I let myself fall into a giddy - but ultimately dissatisfying - morass of superficiality. The thing is, it's sort of heartbreaking to wake up and feel disgusted with yourself, to realize that you let go of substance in constantly seeking novelty and stimulation. I turned 23 this weekend, but I don't think I deserved all the kindness or affection I encountered from so many people. The irony of being in the presence of friends who are so genuine and dear is that it throws into sharp relief your own inadequacies, your own destructive capability. I hope that 23 finds me a more truthful person, more representative of the sincerity I expect in others -- a quality that seems to be so utterly lacking when I jolt awake at 3am and face only myself in this dark room.

Hot Date

Tonight I was taken out to one of my favourite restaurants in Princeton, cajoled into drinking two glasses of chianti, and then squired to ice-cream at another local franchise. What with the wine, thoughtful invitation, and "celebrate you being the beguiling creature you are!" atmosphere, I blushed a lot. It was one of the nicest dinner dates I've had in a while. Too bad the person brushing my knees and toasting me was a fellow sheepish feminist. It's like that short story by Paul Gallico, in which he sets up this elaborate domestic scene between a male and a female character -- only at the end it turns out they're two cats. We didn't quite purr together when I got home - next time, for sure - but she did let me kiss her and take a polaroid to add to my "unexpected evenings" collection. Whereupon I said "goodnight, Carrie dearest," and shamelessly swaggered the three feet to my bedroom.

Tripping the Light Fantastic

So, because I've been besieged with requests for these things (flattery gets you everywhere), I'm posting some pictures of my time in Japan. So much for those poetic, insightful entries I hoped for. Somehow the past few days have been terribly hectic, despite my achieving a total of absolute zero. Therefore, no posts. But I did get about half my film developed, so fasten your seatbelts.


Kana and Katy in the gardens adjacent to Himeji-jo.


Katy with her chu-hai in Nara at a superb okonomiyaki dinner.


Your humble servant.


Japanese schoolgirls are my heroes. I figure it's just a matter of time before I transform into one of them, especially since I put in some major practice time on my bashful yet shrieking laugh.


Maple trees looking absolutely stunning. When Katy and I went to the Daitoku-ji temple complex, they had this one small temple with an entire maple grove. Plus I love taking shots while lying under trees.


A Buddhist graveyard tucked quietly behind the Nanzen-ji temple complex. More on this later -- it was one of my favourite memories from Japan. A truly spiritual space.


This is the green-tea churning machine in Uji. You would not believe the fragrance!


Todaiji in Nara. They had a festival the day that I visited, replete with a grand pavilion and men in traditional costume performing some kind of dance with swords.

Except for that Night in Kyoto

Things have been kind of lousy this week. The jetlag got really intense since I returned, with the result that I’ve spent almost every day staring abstractly at the sandpaper that coats the walls of my cubicle. If I weren’t so gratified by blowing on the dandelions in the backyard, I think I could make for quite a good modern-day Sartre. Sadly, I’m riveted by the dandelions, so there’s another dream denied.

I think I’m just feeling dismal about what the upcoming year is going to look like; neither my living nor work situation seems to be terribly promising right now. Last night I was either going to start freaking out in my room or in a public space, so I chose option B and pelted back to the office to take Bob hostage. Bob is a kindly soul because he bears well with me when I’m in a foul mood. Especially since my foul moods entail me coaxing my limbs into uncomfortable seated positions and interjecting the phrases “fucking asshole” and “dickish” into every sentence. We closed the evening by singing karaoke - “You Spin Me Round” - with Jeremy at the Ivy. Dead or Alive never sounded so good. Oh right, except for that night in Kyoto. 

On nights like that, I really miss the city. There’s something reassuring about walking along Broadway in the cold rain. It forces you to confront yourself about why you took the walk in the first place. And I miss Low steps.

Where We Left Off

My first real day in Japan, Katy, Kana and I took a day trip to this charming town in the Kyoto prefecture called Uji. This day stands out as an all-time high from my trip, because Uji is famous for its green tea and for Byodo-in, a gorgeous temple complex with a phoenix-hall situated on its central pond. 

The reason I liked Uji so much is because it affords a truly multisensory experience. We turned down the main road leading to Byodo-in, and suddenly Kana said, “smell the matcha (green tea)!!” and there it was, perfuming the entire street. Little vendors held out cups of fresh, fragrant tea, and there was even a weird whirling machine that churned out tea leaves ready to be packaged. Everything smelt and tasted like green tea, which was kind of intoxicating; I tried the matcha mochi (pounded rice flavoured with green tea), which was gooey and delicious. Needless to say, we made very slow progress towards the temple grounds.

Byodo-in was apparently built around 1052. As we entered, the first thing we noticed were the stunning purple flowers dangling from a wooden trellis. One of the nicest things about the Japanese is that they appreciate their own nature; aside from all the tourists, we were mostly jostling with locals to get a good shot under the vines. The main structure in Byodo-in is called “Amida Hall,” or the Phoenix Hall. It’s situated right in the middle of a small body of water, and is stunning from every vantage point. At the very top stand two phoenixes, each poised as if caught in the moment before flight. There additionally used to be a frieze featuring about 52 (I think!) bodhisattvas, but they’ve now relocated these to the adjoining museum. The gardens, the architecture, the residue of matcha in the air; it really made me feel for the first time, how far removed I was from home. In a gladdening way. On the way back, we ate these amazing matcha parfaits (green tea ice cream, mochi, and anko (red bean paste)), which convinced me that I had died and gone to paradise. Because, holy trinity and whatnot aside, it just doesn’t get better than this triumferate.

The Tale of AK in Nihon, told in parts

Music: Global Lounge Sessions

I currently feel like one of those good people who back out of having sex by “getting a headache” and who roll over in bed like beached seals. This is probably because I spent all day having an awful revelation about the fact that I create drama in my life since it’s otherwise lacking in excitement. That makes me feel like such a tool. And yet, I petted Balu tonight since he was lonely and miaowing pitifully. So good does triumph over evil, the day is salvaged! Whatever, I sound nuts.

Anyway, there isn’t a good way of documenting my time in Japan, and it would be silly to try to say everything at once. So I’m just going to pinpoint a few experiences, day by day, that I found particularly moving, absurd, or just noteworthy. This is going to take a few posts.

You’d think it would be difficult to navigate a country with the use of only three brief phrases. Not so, my friends. I proved my worth as a culture whore by single-handedly winning over the Japanese race by alternating between saying “hello, excuse me, and thank you very much!” in their native tongue. Katy thought it was hilarious that I put so much relish and gusto into each of my exchanges, and I suppose I was terribly vehement in my desire to assimilate in 8.5 days. Visiting Japan is something that you can only imagine about 10% of. I had seen temples in postcards, Mount Fuji is emblazoned on every possible surface, and I had vague ideas about what a Japanese garden would resemble.

But the first thing I noticed when I landed in Kansai International (a very cool airport, by the way; it’s located on an island of its own, and you have to take a train that crosses over these grey, rippling waters) and boarded the first of many trains, were all the roofs. Blue roofs, red roofs, even black roofs, but almost all were composed of glossy, carved tiles. While the fashionable gentleman to my right (crocodile sandals, rockstar hair) dozed off, I couldn’t stop staring at these roofs. I never suspected that the houses would be built in such a traditional manner; that the Japanese domestic landscape wouldn’t echo everything I just left in America. So much for that grand global understanding I thought I possessed.

Where AK meets a kindred spirit: Katy and I took the train to Kyoto Station (futuristic architecture, very neat) and met up with Kana. Kana is Katy’s best pal in the JET Program, and it’s easy to see why. Kana’s outspoken and says “asshole” like it’s going out of style, without ever being vulgar. She obviously despises any and all kinds of elitism except when it comes to musical taste, and is the kind of person you want standing behind you when you play that weird game in America where people tell you to close your eyes and fall back. Because Kana will catch you, even if it means that her extraordinarily chic sunglasses are liable to break. If this doesn't make her a gem, then I'll throw up my hands and sputter hopelessly.

Soon to come: Where AK visits Uji and eats green-tea ice cream. Music: Nick Drake.

Baby Got Back

So yours truly rolled back into town less than an hour ago. Japan was pretty glorious. And that's all I have to say about it...

...Obviously this is not all I have to say about it. But I have to get into work early tomorrow (repulsive thought) and additionally have to process everything that transpired in the past week. So I'll post soon, though I doubt I'll figure out the best way to synthesize my time there. Hard to find words for it all -- bathrooms, alcohol, Stuart Spice. There's definitely more to come.