From my town's monthly English newsletter:
Be Cautious of Behavior of Crows in Their Breeding Season!
During the period of March-May for their breeding season, crows make their nests gathering withered twigs and piling them up on the tall trees in the parks, or trees lining a street and also on the telegraph poles. Their fierce caws like "Quwak Quwak" in this period are acts of threatening because they are brooding or raising baby birds. You had better part from them instantly, for they may assault you on the head in some occasions. When you are forced to pass near by, wearing a hat or using an umbrella will be helpful in lessening the damage.
Food for doves causes increase of crow individuals, so please do not leave the dove food, nor feed the crows.
Never Feed Wild Boars or Doves!
Wild boars make frequent appearances in populated areas during the night or early morning looking for garbage left for collection or food given to the homeless cats. They often run after people, dig the garden or flower beds over, and even break gates or fences, in serious cases. To prevent them from damaging, please put the garbage in the appointed collection station at the appointed time, and do not feed wild animals and birds like boars or doves.
Just finished reading: "Kafka on the Shore," by Haruki Murakami
Now playing: Frank Sinatra: The Complete Collection, 1943-1952
Friday, May 12, 2006
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Cacophonous Bleating: Hack on Hack
Warning: Overly self-analytical psycho-babble may be contained in the following post.
Last week I had a day, actually just an evening, where it was nearly impossible to look at things positively. For a number of hours, no matter what happened, some dark childish monster inside me was spinning negativity into all my thoughts. Ok, that might be a bit passive, like I don't claim responsibility for it myself. But I let the monster out. "I" being, I suppose, the rational being, allowing emotions to have a joyride and ignore all the traffic signals. I have the driver's license, but at some point I let the DCM take the wheel. I just kind of watched.
I never talk on the phone. Well, rarely. But for some reason that night I talked to four different people on the phone. Gradually that helped me get back in the driver's seat. That, a stupid but humorous movie (the first 30 minutes of it, anyway), and a good book. By the time I went to bed I was feeling much better, but not before having a few collisions.
I am relatively certain that I am relatively normal. But I am open to debate. Does anyone else feel like there is a veritable herd of 'animals' inside, various manifestations of emotional energy, all in need of constant management in order to maintain at least a semblance of harmony, of synthesis? And that to keep them all in check perfectly is next to impossible, but at the same time that which you inherently know you should strive for? Is this the meaning of integrity? When the herd is living together in peace, I am my best self. But usually there are at least a few strays, and if I let them wander too long it throws off the balance and the whole group gets restless. Like a shepherd managing the flock that constitutes his very being. "Just being" is not always such an easy proposition.
In any case I am thankful for friends that call me back to myself, though usually unwittingly, and for the small things in life that remind me of the joy of living. This week I have been rediscovering some of these: literature, music, and even tackling a sudoku puzzle now and then have perhaps stimulated parts of my mind that were craving attention. Not that I hadn't been reading, or listening to music or using my mind. Just that I needed to do those things with a different perspective, one of feeding myself with what I need rather than eating whatever I happened to come across in my daily routine. A more intentional approach has reawakened my appetite for life, at least in a sense. I think maybe the isolation I sometimes feel being in Japan with few very good friends nearby has taken a toll on me, dulling my experience of life. It's as if in order to deal with the loneliness I have become comfortably numb. Yes I realize that is a Pink Floyd song and to be honest I have never thought much about it. But I am going to listen to it right now as I walk to the dentist. Sorry for imposing my marching band of introspection on your unprepared ears. Especially since we are still early in rehearsals.
BGM: Radiohead: Kid A
Last week I had a day, actually just an evening, where it was nearly impossible to look at things positively. For a number of hours, no matter what happened, some dark childish monster inside me was spinning negativity into all my thoughts. Ok, that might be a bit passive, like I don't claim responsibility for it myself. But I let the monster out. "I" being, I suppose, the rational being, allowing emotions to have a joyride and ignore all the traffic signals. I have the driver's license, but at some point I let the DCM take the wheel. I just kind of watched.
I never talk on the phone. Well, rarely. But for some reason that night I talked to four different people on the phone. Gradually that helped me get back in the driver's seat. That, a stupid but humorous movie (the first 30 minutes of it, anyway), and a good book. By the time I went to bed I was feeling much better, but not before having a few collisions.
I am relatively certain that I am relatively normal. But I am open to debate. Does anyone else feel like there is a veritable herd of 'animals' inside, various manifestations of emotional energy, all in need of constant management in order to maintain at least a semblance of harmony, of synthesis? And that to keep them all in check perfectly is next to impossible, but at the same time that which you inherently know you should strive for? Is this the meaning of integrity? When the herd is living together in peace, I am my best self. But usually there are at least a few strays, and if I let them wander too long it throws off the balance and the whole group gets restless. Like a shepherd managing the flock that constitutes his very being. "Just being" is not always such an easy proposition.
In any case I am thankful for friends that call me back to myself, though usually unwittingly, and for the small things in life that remind me of the joy of living. This week I have been rediscovering some of these: literature, music, and even tackling a sudoku puzzle now and then have perhaps stimulated parts of my mind that were craving attention. Not that I hadn't been reading, or listening to music or using my mind. Just that I needed to do those things with a different perspective, one of feeding myself with what I need rather than eating whatever I happened to come across in my daily routine. A more intentional approach has reawakened my appetite for life, at least in a sense. I think maybe the isolation I sometimes feel being in Japan with few very good friends nearby has taken a toll on me, dulling my experience of life. It's as if in order to deal with the loneliness I have become comfortably numb. Yes I realize that is a Pink Floyd song and to be honest I have never thought much about it. But I am going to listen to it right now as I walk to the dentist. Sorry for imposing my marching band of introspection on your unprepared ears. Especially since we are still early in rehearsals.
BGM: Radiohead: Kid A
Friday, May 05, 2006
Osaka at 5 a.m.
Sometimes I need to get out and go for a walk, alone, to clear my head. Last Saturday morning was one of those times. Unusual for me to be out and about at such an hour, so I took the opportunity to take some photos with my mobile phone camera. Somehow the blurriness seems appropriate.
I felt blurry and so did Osaka. I went to a dance club because a friend invited me. The truth is, I don't actually like dance clubs. At all. And I don't dance much, either. If at all. But I like staying up late and meeting interesting people. Not that many options. I enjoyed socializing and the music was good, so I am glad I went. But after 6 hours or so of it, I had had all I could take of crowded venues full of strangers who all seemed to know each other, so I took a morning stroll to the train station. Of course I got a little lost. But I eventually made it home. The older I get, the more I realize that there is a lot that I just don't get about people, including myself. But that, I suppose, makes things more interesting. Right?
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