Letters from wonderland pt. I
Dearest C,
We're nearly at the end of this trip, and it's only now that I've found some semblance of calm to write to you. I'm not tied up or anything, just, I guess, a bit swamped by everything. We're taking it easy, our little group, not hustling around to see every last thing, just ambling about and taking things as they come. But even so, there's something about how and where we are that keeps snagging my attention. It's been ages since I took a trip this long, and even longer since I've been away from it all like this. It's a strange feeling, almost unsettling, like I've forgotten how to just be in this kind of rhythm. But, in a way, it's nice, this change.
But, C, the everyday beauty here is something else. It's almost too much – everything so picturesque, so neat, so orderly. We wander around feeling like aliens, spending nights in onsens and belting out Bob Dylan’s “the times they are a-changing” in these karaokes that are somehow better than any I've seen before. And I've got to tell you, I think I've stumbled onto something about myself – a gambling problem, maybe, or just this thing about winning. I've lost track of how many yens I've dumped into these machines that you can't possibly beat, all for some plastic trinket that I'll likely toss away before we even leave.
I'm caught up in all this, you know – their books, their magazines, the way they've got everything just so. Their clothes, the way they fix their hair. It's all so, I don't know, studied. Then there are these bars, C, with their mixologist concoctions and old records spinning on turntables. It's like they've picked up pieces of what we do and turned it into something else, something almost mocking. My eyes can’t get enough of the neon autumn colours of the nature here. Neon bright yellow and red. You would love it but also probably understand me when I say… I feel very uncool in this country. Surprisingly, I’m looking for the dirt, the trash, the imperfection, like a European junkie. I didn’t find it in Tokyo and its surroundings, neither in Kyoto and the holy villages, I thankfully found it in Osaka and my heart went back to its place because the feeling that I’m in a simulation was starting to make me really really nervous C.
I don't know how long it'll take to make sense of all this. There's a lot to sift through, mentally, before I can even think about looking at the photos trying to understand what exactly is it that we lived. And this hyper-awareness, it's strange. Not sure if I should blame it on Japan, but I’ve not been this alert for some time now. It's like I'm suddenly tuned in to everything – every step, every breath. Looking at my friends and shouting “Guys, I am thirty-four years old! On March, I’ll be thirty-five! I’m closer to forty! Time flies! I need to do stuff!”, as if declaring it might somehow anchor me in time. Like a lunatic, I’ll write it down to a diary with a reminder to tell you about it, afraid that when my feet touch home, when my body feels tired or my brain wants to sleep, I’ll forget. I’ll also continue next to it “What happens if I forget?” in case my sudden awareness of life and time passing comes from a place of uneasiness. “Why do you suddenly need to run?”
I don’t know…it just feels like I’ve been more afraid than I should, I guess. Yet, its almost comical.
I'm trying, really trying, not to fight this feeling too much. I'm hoping I'll unravel it all once I'm back home. For some time now, I've actually managed to slow down, to really listen. It's kind of a relief, not feeling guilty for taking my time, for not always knowing what I feel, or not making snap decisions. And it's been good, really good for me but maybe I slowed down too much, you know?
Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s Night Colonies caught in the Mori art museum
Do you remember that walk we had in Greece, during N and S's wedding? You were talking about how it's a shame we can't live full lives in multiple places simultaneously. To have enough years to live completely different lives than the one we're building. I thought that feeling would hit me hard here, but it hasn't. Thank God, because I think I'd go nuts trying to fit into this society. It's like an ant colony, C. Sure, there's beauty in it, but it's like it traps your soul until it just evaporates. Maybe I'm overthinking it, maybe I need to learn the language, drop the ego, and try to see what they see in this type of existence. Tokyo's this cyberpunk behemoth, a real wonderland, but even there, there's this feeling of stagnation I can't shake. Maybe I’m just projecting. Will be back here many times though, I just need a bit more of it, like an escape from the real world, a bit of fun.
And then, C, there's this anger bubbling up in me. It's not about this country; in fact, being here has kind of helped me process it. I find myself at these little shrines, asking whatever gods are listening to help me let go of this anger. But there's been this buildup of things, cementing a certain stance in me. It's about love – romantic love, what else. I've always kept that as a personal issue, steering clear of generalisations about something so dreamy. But the times, the stories around me, the state of our relationships, they all remind me of the sterile streets here. Layers of rules about how to love, how to avoid pain, how to keep doors open. Today's love scene, with its orchestrated savoir-faire, is just so dull and suffocating.
And about the men – I know some might bristle if I make this a gender thing, and maybe it's not. But from my point of view, all I see is women around me juggling everything, and their only problem is some mediocre guy who's drowning in a teaspoon of water. These guys, they can be whatever, but why do we lose ourselves trying to catch their eye? I wish women would focus on what they love with the same passion men do their hobbies – be it vinyls, coffee, climbing, whatever. Maybe we should multitask less and to start hyper focusing at crafts that take us ages to master or enough time to not lose ourselves anywhere else.
But they're charming, I get it. They say the most absurd things, and we just nod and hope they'll kiss us before we snap out of our trance.
I hear you, not all men. There are some good ones. Like Sammy, the guy I was seeing before this trip. We had a couple of great dates. He talked a lot, but I loved that it was not me talking endlessly for once. He's tall, but he'd take smaller steps so I could keep up – cute, right? We could have been great friends, but he's too handsome for just that. Wouldn’t it be great if the story ended here? It would have been easier if it just fizzled out with the distance and time, but no. He had to tell me not to think about him when I’m in Japan, about how he has some type of limited capacity with love and more rules for his self-preservation that have nothing to do with me. Kill me, please. Do you feel my eye roll all the way from the other side of the world?
I was told that youth is for having fun, yet, we mostly only do fun in little sterile doses. We are dealing with people the same way with deal with our online orders, too lazy to go to the supermarket, too lazy to feel anything.
I’ve battled with the though of Sammy quite a lot because I also understand him and can’t be mad at him, you see. I couldn’t stop myself from telling him that we got to visit Park Hyatt, cosplayed as Bob Harris and Charlotte and how we saw Lost in Translation in a special screening in a cinema in Tokyo, I mean, how cool is that? I'm starting to forget what he looks like though, he's becoming a distant dream, but his words, “you're not intense, you're intelligent,” still echo. Would it have been better if we stayed friends? To keep talking about everything without the weight of responsibility? We're doomed, I tell you.
That’s why I needed the shrines, I walked right up to them and prayed, “Please strange spirits, release me from the though of this boy, I promise, if you release me once, you won’t have to do it twice”, then I put my palms together, clapped two times, bowed and clapped once more to seem as if I know what I’m doing.
I've probably worn you out with all this, but it's just the start. I'm going to try practicing what I preach – less talk about lovers, more about the real, the beautiful and the ugly. How I’m making peace with the fact that maybe some things - like movies, and maybe even people, ourselves - are meant to be revisited, re-understood, seen in a new light. Our trip to Hiroshima, the tears I shed, the bullet train, the news from our friends. We're all changing, C, just like the times.
I miss you and love you.
G
p.s.: You know, I had this notion that I'd be done with 'Lost In Translation' after catching it in a cinema in Shinjuku. All three of us walked out of there needing a drink. It felt like the movie had hit its high point for us . But, now I think I could go for another round, especially with you. Maybe we'll just watch the karaoke scene or that moment in bed, just to hear that line, "You're not hopeless."