Bullying

"Why are they bullying her?" Tengo asked.

"She often has asthma attacks, so she can't participate in lots of activities with the other kids. Maybe, that's it. She's a sweet little thing, and her grades aren't bad."

"I don't get it," Tengo said. "You'd think they'd take special care of kid with asthma, not bully her."

"It's never that simple in the kids' world," she said with a sigh. "Kids get shut out just for being different from everyone else. The same kind of thing goes on in the grown-up world, but it's much more direct in the children's world."

"Can you give me a concrete example?"

She gave him several examples, none of which was especially bad in itself, but which, continued on daily basis, could have a severe impact on a child: hiding things, not speaking to child, or doing nasty imitations of her. "Did you ever experience bullying when you were a child?"

Tengo thought back to his childhood. "I don't think so," he answered. "Or maybe I just never noticed."

"If you have never noticed, it never happened. I mean, the whole point of bullying is to make the person notice it's being done to him or her. You can't have bullying without the victim noticing."

Even as child, Tengo had been big and strong, and people treated him with respect, which was probably why he was never bullied. But he had far more serious problems than mere bullying to deal with back then.

"Were you ever bullied?" Tengo asked.

"Never," she declared, but then she seemed to hesitate. "I did do some bullying, though."

"You were part of a group that did it?"

"Yes, in the fifth grade. We got together and decided not to talk to one boy. I can't remember why. There must have been a reason, but it probably wasn't a very good one if I can't remember what it was. I still feel bad about it, though. I am ashamed to think about it. I wonder why I went and did something like that. I have no idea what made do it."

This reminded Tengo of a certain event, something from the distant past that he would recall now and then. Something he could never forget. But, he decided not to mention it. It would have been a long story. And it was the kind of thing that loses the most important nuances when reduced to words. He had never told anyone about it, and it he probably never would.

"Finally," his girlfriend said, "everybody feels safe belonging not to the excluded minority but to the excluding majority. You think, Oh, I am glad that's not me. It's basically the same in all periods in all societies. If you belong to the majority, you can avoid thinking about lots of troubling things."

"And those troubling things are all you can think about when you are one of the few."

"That's about the size of it," she said mournfully. "But maybe, if you are in a situation like that, you learn to think yourself."

"Yes, but may be what you end up thinking for yourself about is all those troubling things."

"That's another problem, I suppose."

"Better not think about it too seriously," Tengo said. "I doubt it'll turn out to be that terrible. I'm sure there must be a few kids in her class who know how to use their brains."

"I guess so," she said, and then she spent some time alone with her thoughts. Holding the receiver against his ear, Tengo waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts together.

"Thanks," she said finally. "I feel a little better after talking to you." She seemed to have found some answers.

-----
From 1Q84, H. Murakami

Have you ever bullied?

Being Calm

Reading books.

A Window

"The answer is beyond me. Even now, I have no idea. There are lots of things we never understand, no matter how many years we put on, no matter how much experience we accumulate. All I can do is look up from the train at the windows in the buildings that might be hers. Every one of them could be her window, it sometimes seems to me, and at other times I think that none of them could be hers. There are simply too many of them."

A Window, Elephant Vanishes, H. Marukami

Monster!

by Batu!

Images

"The images came to her one after another and with great vividness. The summer night, the narrow bed, the faint smell of perspiration. The word they spoke. The feelings that would not take the form of words. Forgotten promises. Unrealized hopes. Frustrated longings. A gust of wind lifted a lock of her hair and whipped it against her cheek. The pain brought a film of tears to her eyes. Successive gusts soon dried the tears away."

"1Q84", H. Murakami

Harvest Moon

Come a little bit closer
Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleepin'
We could dream this night away.

But there's a full moon risin'
Let's go dancin' in the light
We know where the music's playin'
Let's go out and feel the night.

Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon.

When we were strangers
I watched you from afar
When we were lovers
I loved you with all my heart.

But now it's gettin' late
And the moon is climbin' high
I want to celebrate
See it shinin' in your eye.

Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon.

Golden Age

"This was a Golden Age, a time of high adventure, rich living, and hard dying... but nobody thought so. This was a future of fortune and theft, pillage and rapine, culture and vice... but nobody admitted it. This was an age of extremes, a fascinating century of freaks... but nobody loved it."

Alfred Bester, "The Stars My Destination"

Deus ex machina

"What marks his plays is the way things get so mixed up the characters are trapped. Do you see what I mean? A bunch of different people appear, and they've got their own situations and reasons and excuses, and each one is pursuing his or her own brand of justice or happiness. As a result, nobody can do anything. Obviously. I mean, it's basically imposible for everybody's justice to prevail or everybody's happiness to triumph, so chaos takes over. And then what do you think happens? Simple - a god appears in the end and starts directing traffic. 'You go over there, and you come here, and you get together with her, and you just sit still for a while.' Like that. He's kind of a fixer, and in the end everything works out perfectly. That call this 'deus ex machina'. There's almost always a deus ex machina in Euripides, and that's the point where critical opinion divides over him."

"Norwegian Wood", H. Murakami

Feeling Good

Birds flying high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by you know how I feel

It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
And I'm feeling good

Fish in the sea you know how I feel
River running free you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree you know how I feel

Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean, don't you know
Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done
That's what I mean

And this old world is a new world
And a bold world
For me

Stars when you shine you know how I feel
Scent of the pine you know how I feel
Oh freedom is mine
And I know how I feel

Wrinkles

"There was something almost mysterious about this woman. Her face had lots of wrinkles. These were the first thing to catch your eye, but they didn't make her old. Instead, they emphasized a certain youthfulness in her that transcended age. The wrinkles belonged where they were, as if they had been part of her face since birth. When she smiled, the wrinkles she was neither smiling nor frowning, the wrinkles lay scattered over her face in a strangely warm, ironic way. Here was a woman in her late thirties who seemed not merely a nice person but whose niceness drew you to her. I liked her from the moment I saw her."

From Norwegian Wood by H. Murakami.

Listening You

They are strong; because they give meanings... They are fragile; because they live at the cliff of the beauty. You cannot even touch; you cannot even move your eyes. Watching them is as though understanding everything in this universe just for a moment… The colors, the softness, the innocence, the shyness, and the fragrance; how beautiful - how fragile - how mute. They capture me; my legs turn to be their legs, my arms become their arms. Then, they could go anywhere they would like to… This is the moment they could run, and my arms and my legs could feel.

Listening you is as though watching one of them.

Nelson Mandela

"No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite." N. Mandela

Antagonistic

From Austin. It was on the wall of the hotel room where we stayed. Thank you Olga!

The Dispossessed

The Dispossessed!

Searching for Words

"I wondered if she was trying to convey something to me, something she could not put into words - something prior to words that she could not grasp within herself and which therefore had no hope of ever turning into words. Instead, she would fiddle with her baratte, dab at the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief, or look into my eyes in that meaningless way. I wanted to hold her tight when she did these things, but I would hesitate and hold back. I was afraid I might hurt her if I did that. And so the two of us kept walking the streets of Tokyo, Naoko searching for words in space."

Norwegian Woods, H. Murakami

Just-in-time

Nina Simone!

Torn Apart

A dialog between the man and his shadow after the Gatekeeper torn apart the man and his shadow (by H. Murakami):

----------------

I drew near the shadow. "Sorry, I must leave you for now," I said. "It was not my idea. I had no choice. Can you accept being alone for a while?"

"A while? Until when?" asked the shadow. I did not know.

"Sure you won't regret this later?" said the shadow in a hushed voice. "It's wrong, I tell you. There's something wrong with this place. People can't live without their shadows, and shadows can't live without people. Yet they're splitting us apart. I don't like it. There's something wrong here."

But it was too late. My shadow and I were already torn apart. 

"Once I am settled in, I will be back for you," I said. "This is only temporary, not forever. We will be back together again."

The shadow sighed weakly, and looked up at me. The sun was bearing down on us both. Me without my shadow, my shadow without me. "That's just wishful thinking," said the shadow. "I don't like this place. We have to escape and go back to where we came from, the two of us." 

"How can we return? We do not know the way back." 

"Not yet, but I'll find out if it's the last thing I do. We need to meet and talk regularly. You'll come, won't you?"

I nodded and put my hand on my shadow's shoulder, then returned to the Gatekeeper. While the shadow and I were talking, the Gatekeeper had been gathering up stray rocks and flinging them away. As I approached, the Gatekeeper brushed the dust from his hands on his shirttails and threw a big arm around me. Whether this was intended as a sign of welcome or to draw

my attention to his strength, I could not be certain. 

"Trust me. Your shadow is in good hands," said the Gatekeeper. "We give it three meals a day, let it out once a day for exercise. Nothing to worry about."

"Can I see him from time to time?"

"Maybe," said the Gatekeeper. "If I feel like letting you, that is."

"And what would I have to do if I wanted my shadow back?"

"I swear, you are blind. Look around," said the Gatekeeper, his arm plastered to my back.

"Nobody has a shadow in this Town, and anybody we let in never leaves. Your question is meaningless." 

So it was I lost my shadow.

----------------------

The Roads

It was early in the morning, February 2014. The sun hadn’t been embraced us yet. A long way was waiting towards somewhere that we don't know, towards somewhere that we couldn't put our intentions… We were feeling as though the roads were already chosen and we were just the follower… I remember the sunrise on the road. I remember the sunlight penetrating the fogs on the empty fields and the shadows of the trees lying on them. It was a moment that the time should freeze its ticks. It was amazing… It was breathtaking… 

The Diagrammer

The Diagrammer by Mergenthaler - 1970 from Linotype: The Film on Vimeo.

Cicadas

"The officer gave his order, and the bullets from the Model 38 rifles ripped through the smooth hide of a tiger, tearing at the animal's guts. The summer sky was blue, and from the surrounding trees the screams of cicadas rained down like a sudden shower."

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, H. Marukami

The Man with the Books

While he is reading his books, you are the light in the house... And, the sorrow is the cry of the light, to be seen, but not to be realized... This is the love and this is the hate. You are on the bridge connecting these two worlds. You are on the ocean between the lands.

Lia Soleil

7:38 PM!

The Vlad Astrophysicist

Thank you TomTom!

A December Night

It was a December night in New York City. I was walking in the crowded streets as if I knew where to go. Unknown faces, unknown places. My steps were like the ticks of the time. Tick... tock... tick... tock... I was seeing the first fall of the snowflakes.

2013-2005

From 5GNOW presentation by Gerhard Wunder.

Öpücükler

İyi ki varsınız!

Rice Pudding or Macaroni Gratin?

"... Like, when something happens, whether it's a big event that affects the whole society or something small and personal, people talk about it like, "Oh, well, of course, that happened because such and such" and most of the time people agree and say, like, "Oh, sure, i see," but i just don't get it. "A is like this, so that's why B happened." I mean, that doesn't explain anything. It is like when you put instant rice pudding mix in a bowl in the microwave and push the button, and you take the cover off when it rings, and there you've got rice pudding. I mean, what happens in between the time when you push the switch and when the microwave rings? You can't tell what's going on under the cover. Maybe the instant rice pudding first turns into macaroni gratin in the darkness when nobody's looking and only then turns back into rice pudding. We think it's only natural to get rice pudding after we put rice pudding mix in the microwave and the bell rings, but to me that's just a presumption. I would be kind of relieved if, every once in a while, after you put rice pudding mix in the microwave and it rang and you opened the top, you got macaroni gratin. I suppose I'd be shocked, of course, but i don't know, i think i'd be kind of relieved too. Or at least I think I wouldn't be so upset, because that would feel, in some ways, a whole lot more real."

A nice complain from May Kasahara :)

May Kasahara's Point of View - The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, H. Marukami,

Witnesses

The photos of "Ballast Point" are like the pieces from different dreams. How many times did i go there just to take a breath? Sometimes at midnight, sometimes in the morning. I was looking at the calmness of the see, the coolness of the birds, and the patience of the fishermen. I was going there to see the dock as if checking it stays there or not. ...and of course you! :) Ballast Point was always a good place to think of someone.

One day, we went to a restaurant nearby. It was a promise. We ordered more than what we can eat! Yes, you remember!.... :) After the dinner, while we were trying to find the dock, both of you were kidding with me when i was trying to describe the "dock". I was saying "bridge' instead of "dock". Then, we all start to say "bridge" :) I got the importance of being fool :)

One day, three of us met again at the same restaurant. We were meeting for my graduation. To be honest, I was not feeling good. I never liked the taste of leaving. It was not a perfect meeting. When i was going home, i saw your car. You were not going your home... You were heading to the "bridge". You remember? It was rainy. It was night.

One day, i was there at night. You approached me. You asked for the photos i took. I showed them to you. To be honest, i was hesitating to talk with you... You told me, there was a moon eclipse at the dawn and your daughter was there to take its photos. It was surprising for me... Later, i was planning to bring some cookies to you. I know fishing makes the tummy hungry! But, this stayed as only a wish.

One day, you and your son were collecting crabs on the shore for the fishes. While you were looking for fish baits, we told about Middle East and the sharks...It was the time i found a golf ball on the shore.

One day, you told me that you were there and enjoying the sunset with your daughter. You sent me a photo of the beautiful clouds... I confess I was there at that time. But, it was not a good time to see you. I said there was a florist on the corner. I left.

One day, we went there to eat some fish. It was the time that she spilled the water on the table accidentally. Do you remember? :) I always liked the way you talk about the food. It makes me smile as i have never experienced before! You talk, i will watch you, agreed? :) ...and then I realized what i really want. Not at that time, but later.

One day, we were there together. The rain was striking the surface of sea. You told me you remember the drawing of your sister... a frame with silence, a frame without the ticks of the time.

One day, i decided to leave Tampa for a place that i couldn't put my intention. At that time, I was there on the "bridge".

One day, you got a gift. It was a postcard. Actually, it was a printout from Walmart :) It was showing a scene from the Ballast Point. If you get one of these printouts, know that it was you! You were the dearest! You were there with me... and we were witnessing to the beautiful memories.

Do not stand at my grave and weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I do not sleep.

Mary Elizabeth Frye

Cheek to Cheek

The Nightfly

Thanks AliG! :)

Rain and Umbrella

When the rain strikes the surface of the sea, the umbrella becomes the magic in the gray. There, the time is relieved from its continuous sorrow and we stay young forever.

Batu'm

I am just a lucky so and so

Music

"As you are well aware," the man continued, his voice soft but penetrating, "in the course of life we experience many kinds of pain. Pains of the body and pains of the heart. I know I have experienced pain in many different forms in my life, and I'm sure you have too. In most cases, though, I am sure you've found it very difficult to convey the truth of that pain to another person: to explain it in words. People say that only they themselves can understand the pain they are feeling. But is this true? I for one do not believe that it is. If, before our eyes, we see someone who is truly suffering, we do sometimes feel his suffering and pain as our own. This is the power of empathy. Am I making myself clear?"

He broke off and looked around the room once again.

"The reason that people sing songs for other people is because they want to have the power to arouse empathy, to break free of the narrow shell of the self and share their pain and joy with others. This is not an easy thing to do, of course. And so tonight, as a kind of experiment. I want you to experience a simpler, more physical kind of empathy."

Everyone in the place was hushed now, all eyes fixed on the stage. Amid the silence, the man stared off into space, as if to insert a pause or to reach a state of mental concentration. Then, without a word, he held his left hand over the lighted candle. Little by little, he brought the palm closer and closer to the flame. Someone in the audience made a sound like a sigh or a moan. You could see the tip of the flame burning the man's palm. You could almost hear the sizzle of the flesh. A woman released a hard little scream. Everyone else just watched in frozen horror. The man endured the pain, his face distorted in agony. What the hell was this? Why did he have to do such a stupid, senseless thing? I felt my mouth doing dry. After five and six second of this, he slowly removed his hand from the flame and set the dish with the candle in it on the floor. Then, he clasped his hand together, the right and left palms pressed against each other.

"As you have seen tonight, ladies and gentlemen, pain can actually burn a person's flesh," said the man. His voice sounded exactly as it had earlier: quiet, steady, cool. No trace of suffering remained on his face. Indeed, it had been replaced by a faint smile. "And the pain that must have been there, you have been able to feel as if it were your own. That is the power of empathy."

The man slowly parted his clasped hands. From between them he  produced a thin red scarf, which he opened for all to see. Then he stretched his palms out toward the audience. There were no burns at all. A moment of silence followed, and then people expressed their relief in wild applause. The lights came up and the chatter of vice replaced the tension that filled the room. As if whole thing had never happened, the man put his guitar into the case, stepped down from the stage, and disappeared.

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, H. Marukami

Interminable Distances

"The woman down there had no mind, she had only strong arms, a warm heart and a fertile belly. He wondered how many children she had given birth to. It might easily be fifteen. She had had her momentary flowering, a year, perhaps, of wildrose beauty, and then she had suddenly swollen like a fertilised fruit and grown hard red and coarse, and then her life had been laundering, scrubbing, darning, cooking, sweeping polishing, mending, scrubbing, laundering, first for children, then for grandchildren, over thirty unbroken years. At the end of it she was still singing. The mystical reverence that he felt for her was somehow mixed up with the aspect of the pale, cloudless sky, stretching away behind the chimney pots into interminable distances. It was curious to think that the sky was the same for everybody, in Eurosia or Eastasia as well as here. And the people under the sky were also very much the same - everywhere, all over the world, hundreds of thousands of millions of people just like this, people ignorant of one another's existence, held apart by walls of hatred and lies, and yet almost exactly the same - people who had never learned to think by who were storing up in their hearts and bellies and muscles the power that would one day overturn the world."

Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell

Footprints

Moonshadows

Those were the times that we didn't know where to go.
Those were the times that the silence descended on us.
Those were the times that we prayed for each of us.

The Infinity

The phrase "a long story" brought to mind a tall stake in the desert, where nothing else stood as far as the eye could see. As the sun began to sink, the shadow of the stake grew longer and longer, until its tip was too far away to be seen by the naked eye.

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, H. Marukami

EmmaLuna

Emma Luna and Laura!

Sunset at Clearwater!

Questioning

"Is it possible, finally, for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another?

We can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close are we able to come that person's essence? We convince ourselves that we know the other person well, but do we really know anything important about anyone.

...

That night, in our darkened bedroom, I lay beside Komiko, staring at the ceiling and asking myself just how much I really knew about this woman. The clock said 2:00 a.m. She was sound asleep. In the dark, I thought about blue tissues and patterned toilet paper and beef and green peppers. I had lived with her all this time, unaware how much she hated these things. In themselves they were trivial. Stupid. Something to laugh off, not make a big issue out if. We'd had a little and would have forgotten about it in a couple of days.

But this was different it was bothering me in a strange way, digging at me like a little fish bone caught in the throat. Maybe - just maybe - it was more crucial than it had seemed. Maybe this was it: the fatal blow. Or maybe it was just the beginning of what would be the fatal blow. I might be standing in the entrance of something big, and inside lay a world that belong to Komiko alone, a vast world that I had never known. I saw it as a big dark room. I was standing there holding a cigarette lighter, it's tiny flame showing me only the smallest part of the room.

Would I ever see the rest? Or would I grow old and die without ever really knowing her? If that was all that lay in store for me, then what was the point of married life I was leading? What was the point of my life at all if I was spending it in a bed with an unknown companion?"

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, H. Marukami

Cardinals

Words

Someone and someone were down by the pond
Looking for something to plant in the lawn.
Out in the fields they were turning the soil
I'm sitting here hoping this water will boil
When I look through the windows and out on the road
They're bringing me presents and saying hello.

Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.

If I was a junkman selling you cars,
Washing your windows and shining your stars,
Thinking your mind was my own in a dream
What would you wonder and how would it seem?
Living in castles a bit at a time
The King started laughing and talking in rhyme.

Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.