Haste Makes Waste
Around this day is when cherry blossoms dance. A calm wind begins to blow, fresh grass sprouts from the ground, it's the season in which all kinds of pollen wield their fury. Yes, it's spring.
For me, who took singing as my livelihood, it's a considerably harsh season, but my heartless mood is clearing up despite that. Usually, like a weight stone sticking to my desk, I don't go out for walks except for walking my sons (dogs), so wouldn't I occasionally have to photosynthesize? While I murmur this deep in my heart, I'll put on my jersey and sneakers and open the front door.
How about that. It had been a while since I showered in the divinity of the sunlight. In the freshness of the clear air. And didn't it seem that everyone who passed each other was smiling? Instinctively looking up toward the sky, my heart was being purified so much that I could've screamed 'Being alive is wonderful!!' I nonchalantly walked along the street, an old man who held a suspicious vase and seemed to be signing a document.
Well, however you read from this point on, you'll think about it differently. That's right, it was me some time ago... Thus, I now turn back to my computer, and surely heaven and earth, the positive and the negative, would be separated as told by the figures of two guardian Deva Kings in their corners. The reason is that I'm someone who doesn't miss even the merest hint of joy in stories of extreme misfortunes...
I woke up to a phonecall from an old friend. Defeated by the morning light, I pulled the futon up, and trying to escape from the troublesome noises of the construction site outside, I covered up my ears. But either way, there was a a pale green light firing off, and I was roused by the periodic vibrating of my cell phone. Like a turtle, with only my right hand stretched out from the futon, I fumbled around on top of the table, and after several obstacles tumbled to the floor, I finally reached my cell phone. Still with only one eye open, what revived me in an instant was the name shown on the display. I opened my folded phone, quickly pushed the 'talk' button, and held it to my left ear. From the phone I heard a voice that I missed dearly.
"Were you sleeping? Sorry. What are you doing today? Actually, I'm now in Tokyo on a business trip, you know. So I thought because I finished my job early and all, I was thinking I'd see what you're doing."
The phone conversation's host was talking quickly as he told me this, and laughed without meaning. I was lured into laughing too.
"It's been a while hasn't it! You know, if you're coming you should say so beforehand!. Even I have things... (I yawned and stretched) ...to do, so."
"Your job, right? Is that so... Well then, I'll see you around?"
For the words that I expected would be returned to me, I laughed once again.
"No way, by chance today is my day off. So, where are you now?"
Rising halfway out of bed, I scratched my unkempt bed hair while that person spoke,
"What, okay okay. I'm in Shinjuku now, so are you coming out?"
I seemed to be able to hear the voice diverted by the hustle and bustle of a noisy town, but as I was only just waking up now, it would take a good amount of time until I finished getting ready to go out. I told him that, and after we made a meeting time for 2 o'clock, I hung up the phone.
It really had been a while. In the train bound for Shinjuku, I started thinking of the face of the friend who I was going to meet. Although T had been in the same classes as me in high school, we weren't particularly close around the first year, but in the later half of the second year's first semester, we suddenly became close, and somehow or other we stayed like that until graduation. We were called true friends by our generation. After I moved to Tokyo, I took whatever chance I could to return home and go drinking with him, this didn't happen for several years. And now we'd meet again about three years later.
'Come to think of it, it's the first time I'm meeting that guy in Tokyo, isn't it. Today is a weekday and it's still broad daylight, but I'm going drinking to celebrate a reunion. It's the peak of Hanami.'
While I was thinking such things, the train announced arrival at Shinjuku Station.
As the train stopped, I rummaged around my pants pocket in search for the ticket, and following the people who flowed up the stairs, I put that into the ticket gate. After reaching the main floor and having put in the ticket, I took out my cell phone that was hidden in my other pocket and sent an arrival message to the number in the first place of my message history.
"Oh, I've arrived now. What exit? Yeah, I get it. I'm going."
For some reason T had left from the south exit, and with me being at the west exit now, it seemed that we were a little bit separated. For the sake of T who was probably unaccustomed to this crowd of people, I started walking again toward his direction, and it was about 5 minutes before I finally reached him. T was as I had imagined, looking around the vicinity restlessly while every so often fiddling with his cell phone. Along with that behaviour he was subconsciously tensing his mouth, and it suddenly seemed that some mischief was on his mind. But even at that time I thought myself undeserving of it and approached him with one hand raised. Noticing me, T similarly lifted his right hand and returned my smile.
"It's been a while. Are you well?"
I set forth with casual words, saying, "Oh, pretty much. You look well also. Sometimes I watch TV. And I do my best, you know?"
After having exchanged small talk in that place, as I expected the two of us turned to Kabukichou to go drinking during the day.
While walking together and talking of each other's circumstances and our jobs, before we knew it we had finally arrived at the pub district. However, each of the shops still seemed not to be open for business, and the various signs that even in the middle of the night were persistently emitting their coloured lights were now dormant. Moreover, as I expected, I looked at my watch and it had still just passed noon. Generally, it was too early for the pubs that opened for business in the evening.
Having forgotten that, I said, "Yep, it'll be like this everywhere won't it? It's still too early. What'll we do?"
T stopped and looked around the area as usual, then he came forth with an astounding suggestion.
"Well then, let's go to a park somewhere. A park with cherry blossoms. At a convenience store we can buy alcohol, right? Is Inokashira Park far? I've wanted to go for a while, you know. Hey, it's famous isn't it? And it's the peak of the flower-viewing season."
I was astonished for a moment, but walking around like that was meaningless, and the weather was clear today. If we left from that point, the distance wasn't so far. Thirty minutes by train. Approving of his idea, I guided T once again, back to the station.
In the train we talked about various things, and just like that we arrived at Kichijouji Station. We didn't have to do a single transfer on the way, which we would usually think of as troublesome, but we didn't think like that today. In any event, it seemed like nothing could bother us in our time of good feelings. We lined up and passed through the ticket gate, and headed for a convenience store on the way to Inokashira Park. There we bought beer and chuuhai so that our plastic bags were full, and carrying them with both hands we descended down the long stone staircase.
At the park, despite it being a weekday there were many people who did as they pleased. There were people who sat in a circle and opened their banquet with friendly chat, and a person who sang while strumming a guitar. We finally reached a bench, the cans cried out with a whoosh as we opened our beer, and us two men began our flower viewing. Our conversation topics were entirely reminiscing of high school times. About when, I was playing drums at a school festival, and T was working hard to be the vocalist for our Yellow Monkey cover band. The performance was merciless, and although we had only been doing it for three days, in just one day our participation was banned. About when T had been dumped by his steady girlfriend in the next class, and to comfort him I rode my bike to his house in the middle of the night and listened to his grumbling all night long, comforting him. Despite that, he returned to that girl the next day, and the result was that I had been manipulated. About when at an class athletics tournament for basketball we were defeated by the opposing team, and we took on that responsibility together. When it finally came down to a fist fight in front of the audience, we were sentenced to a one week suspension from school. Eventually, the talk turned to how we became such close friends, we wrote down our reflections, and all those memories were in proportion to the amount of alcohol we were taking in.
Just as our alcohol and snacks had run out, and we were talking about going back to the convenience store to throw away our empty cans, a motorbike passed within centimeters of us, spouting pitch black fumes from the muffler as it went. T glared at that guy with a furrowed brow, emptied the can of chuuhai he was holding with a single gulp, and turned to talk to me with a reddened face.
"Now that I think about it, in your spring break of second year, you went to a training camp for your motorbike license right, well didn't you get a phonecall from our homeroom teacher before that, asking if you'd come back?"
I listened carefully to T's story, and nodded my head yes to that. In the high school we went to, we weren't allowed to drive motorbikes to school, let alone get our license for one, and if they found it we'd be suspended. If we were bad and dropped out of school we'd have to get ready for extremely severe penalties, but there were some ardent people in that generation. Each year several students would use spring break to go to a training camp for getting a bike license, in secret. The number of days I attended in my first year was not enough, and I couldn't progress if I didn't take part in the maintenance. Then I focused on trying to get the license in my second year, but just as I arrived at the dormitory, a phonecall came from my homeroom teacher who told me that if I didn't return immediately I'd be dropping out of school. So having only stayed there for an hour, I left the dormitory.
If I could say why my homeroom teacher knew about this, it must have been when my mother happened to call the homeroom teacher about my courses. Just as she was when we went to the school together one time, my mother who is honest to a fault said "He can't go because right now he's at a training camp to get his motorbike license." Upon hearing that, the home room teacher surely started phoning each motorcycle boarding house one by one, and she finally located me and succeeded in bringing me back.
Not knowing about such things, after I came back, I received a lecture from the homeroom teacher that was about as long as the time I'd spent in the dormitory, not to mention that the cost of living in the dormitory, as well as the bike and the helmet and all the other equipment I'd already bought had now become futile. I tearfully parted with all of that which I pointlessly used my money on, and I was the very image of misfortune as I reflected on how good of a bargain it had been to obtain them. As I couldn't work up the mood to blame my mother, for the month left to the break, I invested in three and a half pieces of paper.
I didn't understand the significance of what T said to me as I retraced those bitter memories. "Now I can say it, that was my fault, and I'm sorry..."
I replied with a laugh, "How is it your fault? It was because my mom told the homeroom teacher, wasn't it? It had nothing to do with you," and I stood up while T gave a shocking confession to me.
"No, because... it was me who told your mother you see..."
For a moment I couldn't understand the meaning of his words, but I woke up the memories of that time at full speed. Now that he mentioned it, I had no memory whatsoever of having told my father or mother or homeroom teacher about going to get my license. Since my mother was always strolling into my room where I had a dormitory pamphlet, I was under the impression that she noticed it, but if that was the case, I guess she would've seen the phone number written on it and notified my homeroom teacher. Gradually, I came to understand the details of the conversation.
"What... you deliberately told my mom! How could you!!"I said, pressing T for an answer.
T then turned the palms of his hands toward me. "That's wrong, that's wrong!! Your mother searched your things and called me, and I said it because I thought you had already told her. I'm really sorry. Don't be so angry. It's in the past, isn't it? Right? Forgive me, okay?!"
Unexpected scabs were peeled off the former wounds and now I blamed T.
"Now you look here, it was done in the past but it was too thoughtless! And you said it just today!! All of a sudden you call me in the morning, and that was okay because by chance I had the day off, but if that didn't happen I could be at my parents' place by now!! Idiot!!!"
As I managed to say all of that in one breath, T's reddened face started to become even more red.
"So that's what you say is it! You get so angry about things in the past!! Your temper's gotten more short since then!! At that time you know, the blood rose to your head and our whole class won!!!"
It had already come down to angry words.
"What's that? You were the one who brought the past out in conversation!! Because you're an idiot and your own blood is bad!!"
Afterward there was yet another mutual storm of abuse. When we finally got a grip and returned to ourselves, spectators were crowding around us and it was a most uncomfortable situation. Carrying all of our garbage away, we turned our backs and started walking in the opposite directions.
While I headed back the way we had come, my mood worsened. Suddenly I stood still and looking up at the evening sky, I sighed once. My heart was so enraged that I couldn't even think of the beautiful cherry blossoms that we had seen when we arrived...
When I got back home it was too late, but I started to feel regret. The alcohol had completely caught my head, and I'd been drinking away any feelings of remorse. We had quarreled over such trivial things and if I thought back on it, I felt that it was the ill-mannered motorbike running through the park which had awakened T's memories and became the subject of our wild quarrel. If we hadn't seen that motorbike, we'd certainly still be drinking and enjoying ourselves... And thinking about that, I can't help but resent that bike.
Even now I wonder if I'll apologize to T, catching glimpses of my phone that I laid beside my mouse. It'll be as soon as I finish writing this manuscript...
For me, who took singing as my livelihood, it's a considerably harsh season, but my heartless mood is clearing up despite that. Usually, like a weight stone sticking to my desk, I don't go out for walks except for walking my sons (dogs), so wouldn't I occasionally have to photosynthesize? While I murmur this deep in my heart, I'll put on my jersey and sneakers and open the front door.
How about that. It had been a while since I showered in the divinity of the sunlight. In the freshness of the clear air. And didn't it seem that everyone who passed each other was smiling? Instinctively looking up toward the sky, my heart was being purified so much that I could've screamed 'Being alive is wonderful!!' I nonchalantly walked along the street, an old man who held a suspicious vase and seemed to be signing a document.
Well, however you read from this point on, you'll think about it differently. That's right, it was me some time ago... Thus, I now turn back to my computer, and surely heaven and earth, the positive and the negative, would be separated as told by the figures of two guardian Deva Kings in their corners. The reason is that I'm someone who doesn't miss even the merest hint of joy in stories of extreme misfortunes...
I woke up to a phonecall from an old friend. Defeated by the morning light, I pulled the futon up, and trying to escape from the troublesome noises of the construction site outside, I covered up my ears. But either way, there was a a pale green light firing off, and I was roused by the periodic vibrating of my cell phone. Like a turtle, with only my right hand stretched out from the futon, I fumbled around on top of the table, and after several obstacles tumbled to the floor, I finally reached my cell phone. Still with only one eye open, what revived me in an instant was the name shown on the display. I opened my folded phone, quickly pushed the 'talk' button, and held it to my left ear. From the phone I heard a voice that I missed dearly.
"Were you sleeping? Sorry. What are you doing today? Actually, I'm now in Tokyo on a business trip, you know. So I thought because I finished my job early and all, I was thinking I'd see what you're doing."
The phone conversation's host was talking quickly as he told me this, and laughed without meaning. I was lured into laughing too.
"It's been a while hasn't it! You know, if you're coming you should say so beforehand!. Even I have things... (I yawned and stretched) ...to do, so."
"Your job, right? Is that so... Well then, I'll see you around?"
For the words that I expected would be returned to me, I laughed once again.
"No way, by chance today is my day off. So, where are you now?"
Rising halfway out of bed, I scratched my unkempt bed hair while that person spoke,
"What, okay okay. I'm in Shinjuku now, so are you coming out?"
I seemed to be able to hear the voice diverted by the hustle and bustle of a noisy town, but as I was only just waking up now, it would take a good amount of time until I finished getting ready to go out. I told him that, and after we made a meeting time for 2 o'clock, I hung up the phone.
It really had been a while. In the train bound for Shinjuku, I started thinking of the face of the friend who I was going to meet. Although T had been in the same classes as me in high school, we weren't particularly close around the first year, but in the later half of the second year's first semester, we suddenly became close, and somehow or other we stayed like that until graduation. We were called true friends by our generation. After I moved to Tokyo, I took whatever chance I could to return home and go drinking with him, this didn't happen for several years. And now we'd meet again about three years later.
'Come to think of it, it's the first time I'm meeting that guy in Tokyo, isn't it. Today is a weekday and it's still broad daylight, but I'm going drinking to celebrate a reunion. It's the peak of Hanami.'
While I was thinking such things, the train announced arrival at Shinjuku Station.
As the train stopped, I rummaged around my pants pocket in search for the ticket, and following the people who flowed up the stairs, I put that into the ticket gate. After reaching the main floor and having put in the ticket, I took out my cell phone that was hidden in my other pocket and sent an arrival message to the number in the first place of my message history.
"Oh, I've arrived now. What exit? Yeah, I get it. I'm going."
For some reason T had left from the south exit, and with me being at the west exit now, it seemed that we were a little bit separated. For the sake of T who was probably unaccustomed to this crowd of people, I started walking again toward his direction, and it was about 5 minutes before I finally reached him. T was as I had imagined, looking around the vicinity restlessly while every so often fiddling with his cell phone. Along with that behaviour he was subconsciously tensing his mouth, and it suddenly seemed that some mischief was on his mind. But even at that time I thought myself undeserving of it and approached him with one hand raised. Noticing me, T similarly lifted his right hand and returned my smile.
"It's been a while. Are you well?"
I set forth with casual words, saying, "Oh, pretty much. You look well also. Sometimes I watch TV. And I do my best, you know?"
After having exchanged small talk in that place, as I expected the two of us turned to Kabukichou to go drinking during the day.
While walking together and talking of each other's circumstances and our jobs, before we knew it we had finally arrived at the pub district. However, each of the shops still seemed not to be open for business, and the various signs that even in the middle of the night were persistently emitting their coloured lights were now dormant. Moreover, as I expected, I looked at my watch and it had still just passed noon. Generally, it was too early for the pubs that opened for business in the evening.
Having forgotten that, I said, "Yep, it'll be like this everywhere won't it? It's still too early. What'll we do?"
T stopped and looked around the area as usual, then he came forth with an astounding suggestion.
"Well then, let's go to a park somewhere. A park with cherry blossoms. At a convenience store we can buy alcohol, right? Is Inokashira Park far? I've wanted to go for a while, you know. Hey, it's famous isn't it? And it's the peak of the flower-viewing season."
I was astonished for a moment, but walking around like that was meaningless, and the weather was clear today. If we left from that point, the distance wasn't so far. Thirty minutes by train. Approving of his idea, I guided T once again, back to the station.
In the train we talked about various things, and just like that we arrived at Kichijouji Station. We didn't have to do a single transfer on the way, which we would usually think of as troublesome, but we didn't think like that today. In any event, it seemed like nothing could bother us in our time of good feelings. We lined up and passed through the ticket gate, and headed for a convenience store on the way to Inokashira Park. There we bought beer and chuuhai so that our plastic bags were full, and carrying them with both hands we descended down the long stone staircase.
At the park, despite it being a weekday there were many people who did as they pleased. There were people who sat in a circle and opened their banquet with friendly chat, and a person who sang while strumming a guitar. We finally reached a bench, the cans cried out with a whoosh as we opened our beer, and us two men began our flower viewing. Our conversation topics were entirely reminiscing of high school times. About when, I was playing drums at a school festival, and T was working hard to be the vocalist for our Yellow Monkey cover band. The performance was merciless, and although we had only been doing it for three days, in just one day our participation was banned. About when T had been dumped by his steady girlfriend in the next class, and to comfort him I rode my bike to his house in the middle of the night and listened to his grumbling all night long, comforting him. Despite that, he returned to that girl the next day, and the result was that I had been manipulated. About when at an class athletics tournament for basketball we were defeated by the opposing team, and we took on that responsibility together. When it finally came down to a fist fight in front of the audience, we were sentenced to a one week suspension from school. Eventually, the talk turned to how we became such close friends, we wrote down our reflections, and all those memories were in proportion to the amount of alcohol we were taking in.
Just as our alcohol and snacks had run out, and we were talking about going back to the convenience store to throw away our empty cans, a motorbike passed within centimeters of us, spouting pitch black fumes from the muffler as it went. T glared at that guy with a furrowed brow, emptied the can of chuuhai he was holding with a single gulp, and turned to talk to me with a reddened face.
"Now that I think about it, in your spring break of second year, you went to a training camp for your motorbike license right, well didn't you get a phonecall from our homeroom teacher before that, asking if you'd come back?"
I listened carefully to T's story, and nodded my head yes to that. In the high school we went to, we weren't allowed to drive motorbikes to school, let alone get our license for one, and if they found it we'd be suspended. If we were bad and dropped out of school we'd have to get ready for extremely severe penalties, but there were some ardent people in that generation. Each year several students would use spring break to go to a training camp for getting a bike license, in secret. The number of days I attended in my first year was not enough, and I couldn't progress if I didn't take part in the maintenance. Then I focused on trying to get the license in my second year, but just as I arrived at the dormitory, a phonecall came from my homeroom teacher who told me that if I didn't return immediately I'd be dropping out of school. So having only stayed there for an hour, I left the dormitory.
If I could say why my homeroom teacher knew about this, it must have been when my mother happened to call the homeroom teacher about my courses. Just as she was when we went to the school together one time, my mother who is honest to a fault said "He can't go because right now he's at a training camp to get his motorbike license." Upon hearing that, the home room teacher surely started phoning each motorcycle boarding house one by one, and she finally located me and succeeded in bringing me back.
Not knowing about such things, after I came back, I received a lecture from the homeroom teacher that was about as long as the time I'd spent in the dormitory, not to mention that the cost of living in the dormitory, as well as the bike and the helmet and all the other equipment I'd already bought had now become futile. I tearfully parted with all of that which I pointlessly used my money on, and I was the very image of misfortune as I reflected on how good of a bargain it had been to obtain them. As I couldn't work up the mood to blame my mother, for the month left to the break, I invested in three and a half pieces of paper.
I didn't understand the significance of what T said to me as I retraced those bitter memories. "Now I can say it, that was my fault, and I'm sorry..."
I replied with a laugh, "How is it your fault? It was because my mom told the homeroom teacher, wasn't it? It had nothing to do with you," and I stood up while T gave a shocking confession to me.
"No, because... it was me who told your mother you see..."
For a moment I couldn't understand the meaning of his words, but I woke up the memories of that time at full speed. Now that he mentioned it, I had no memory whatsoever of having told my father or mother or homeroom teacher about going to get my license. Since my mother was always strolling into my room where I had a dormitory pamphlet, I was under the impression that she noticed it, but if that was the case, I guess she would've seen the phone number written on it and notified my homeroom teacher. Gradually, I came to understand the details of the conversation.
"What... you deliberately told my mom! How could you!!"I said, pressing T for an answer.
T then turned the palms of his hands toward me. "That's wrong, that's wrong!! Your mother searched your things and called me, and I said it because I thought you had already told her. I'm really sorry. Don't be so angry. It's in the past, isn't it? Right? Forgive me, okay?!"
Unexpected scabs were peeled off the former wounds and now I blamed T.
"Now you look here, it was done in the past but it was too thoughtless! And you said it just today!! All of a sudden you call me in the morning, and that was okay because by chance I had the day off, but if that didn't happen I could be at my parents' place by now!! Idiot!!!"
As I managed to say all of that in one breath, T's reddened face started to become even more red.
"So that's what you say is it! You get so angry about things in the past!! Your temper's gotten more short since then!! At that time you know, the blood rose to your head and our whole class won!!!"
It had already come down to angry words.
"What's that? You were the one who brought the past out in conversation!! Because you're an idiot and your own blood is bad!!"
Afterward there was yet another mutual storm of abuse. When we finally got a grip and returned to ourselves, spectators were crowding around us and it was a most uncomfortable situation. Carrying all of our garbage away, we turned our backs and started walking in the opposite directions.
While I headed back the way we had come, my mood worsened. Suddenly I stood still and looking up at the evening sky, I sighed once. My heart was so enraged that I couldn't even think of the beautiful cherry blossoms that we had seen when we arrived...
When I got back home it was too late, but I started to feel regret. The alcohol had completely caught my head, and I'd been drinking away any feelings of remorse. We had quarreled over such trivial things and if I thought back on it, I felt that it was the ill-mannered motorbike running through the park which had awakened T's memories and became the subject of our wild quarrel. If we hadn't seen that motorbike, we'd certainly still be drinking and enjoying ourselves... And thinking about that, I can't help but resent that bike.
Even now I wonder if I'll apologize to T, catching glimpses of my phone that I laid beside my mouse. It'll be as soon as I finish writing this manuscript...