Death, death, everywhere

Back in Tokyo and I felt so hungry for Joyce, so I reread Dubliners over the past four or five days. To give my reading life a bit of a structure, I think I'll keep reading Joyce poco a poco this year.

His soul approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead. He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence. His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself which these dead had one time reared and lived in was dissolving and dwindling. (The Dead, 223)

Thus one acquires a regard d'outre-tombes. Yet I wonder: can we ever get away from the spells of the dead and CREATE anew, not just PRO-create in an eternal repetition?

At Tower Records, Shinjuku

For the first time in about 14 or 15 months, I went to Tower Records. The last time I was there to meet with my friend Michael Richardson. I meant to browse only, but ended up by buying many CDs and such. Nothing is more eloquent than the list of what I have bought--a consumerist state of mind. A pure gaspillage:

1~4. Four albums by Bob Dylan (Bringing it All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited, Self Portrait, Planet Waves). All in a mood of mourning to a deceased friend.

5. A Paz, by Noriko Ito.

6. Nos Somos o Sucesso, by Trio Esperança.

7. Bossa'n Marley, Bob Marley songs performed in the style of bossa nova.

8. Nos bastidores da bossa nova, a book by Hidenori Sakao.

9. A little booklet called Bossa Nova, which tells about the history of bossa.

What am I doing here?

Back to the basics

Been away from here for a while. After my relocation to Tokyo, I've been sooooooo depressed that I didn't care to write nor read. C'est une ville haïssable, Tokyo. But I'm now back in action. Check it out. Here I am. Les jours s'en vont. Je demeure.