Early Summer Rainー 五月雨
On almost every afternoon that I find myself with nothing to do at work, I become unspeakably groggy. Some feeling envelops me, as though I am being swallowed whole by a leviathan that lurks somewhere in the dusty corners of the dead-silent staff room. Just now, I awakened to notice that someone was using the copy machine--and I thought to myself, "maybe I should do something today, maybe I should write down a thought or two on my blog, just to revive myself." Lately I have been away from this blog, opting for a pad and pen to share my thoughts with myself. That has been working, but I haven't. So it's back to this old junk...
Recently my life life in Japan has taken part in the following (of course in varying combinations): drinking almost every night, reading many novels at once (right now I am on "The Girl I Left Behind" by Shusaku Endo, "The Asian Mystique" by Sheridan Prasso, and "Robinson Crusoe"), writing more about things that provoke me--spiritually or merely superficially, going to a random train station in the countryside between Wakayama and Osaka for an unanticipatedly risque assignation, and, in the course of all this, losing any idea of what do at the end of the week.
I realize now how many of my high school students feel in class--this hebetude which weighs your head and heart (in Japanese it's just one word, 心) down to the floor. Every day I have the feeling that getting a Japanese high school class of 40 students to become active, enthusiastic, creative, etc. is like trying to light a water-soaked log on fire with a couple of stones. Maybe I underestimate my materials, but I am pretty much as nonflammble a spark as one can get. This cool and windy early summer day has brought on an effusion of recollections, so now I am wondering if I will remember what I had planned to do in the afternoon.
Back to the existential drawing board. What's on for tonight? Maybe a private English lesson for the two older ladies that I meet with once a week. Then, food, alcohol, tobacco, sleep. Maybe defecation will interrup this seemingly unbroken chain of consumption...
Recently my life life in Japan has taken part in the following (of course in varying combinations): drinking almost every night, reading many novels at once (right now I am on "The Girl I Left Behind" by Shusaku Endo, "The Asian Mystique" by Sheridan Prasso, and "Robinson Crusoe"), writing more about things that provoke me--spiritually or merely superficially, going to a random train station in the countryside between Wakayama and Osaka for an unanticipatedly risque assignation, and, in the course of all this, losing any idea of what do at the end of the week.
I realize now how many of my high school students feel in class--this hebetude which weighs your head and heart (in Japanese it's just one word, 心) down to the floor. Every day I have the feeling that getting a Japanese high school class of 40 students to become active, enthusiastic, creative, etc. is like trying to light a water-soaked log on fire with a couple of stones. Maybe I underestimate my materials, but I am pretty much as nonflammble a spark as one can get. This cool and windy early summer day has brought on an effusion of recollections, so now I am wondering if I will remember what I had planned to do in the afternoon.
Back to the existential drawing board. What's on for tonight? Maybe a private English lesson for the two older ladies that I meet with once a week. Then, food, alcohol, tobacco, sleep. Maybe defecation will interrup this seemingly unbroken chain of consumption...
posted by Jeffrey at 1:52 PM
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