snapshot of kyoto in 2003
feel like i've reached a point in my life when reading old things is more interesting than embarrassing, not that some portions are no painful. i just realised that i've basically lived my entire life barely able to spell correctly. i recently found a short essay i wrote on living in kyoto from '03; a solid 5 years ago. how much i've changed since then. but then again, the core, perhaps, remains the same:
"The house has gotten a comfortable chaotic non-order to it, with solid old wooden furniture scattered about. On sunny morning the sun streams in all limpid like; at dusk there is a nostalgic gist to the staircase.
The house is situated in the best part of Kyoto, fairly northerly, sandwiched between the Imperial Palace Park and a large Buddhist temple. It is the rich part of Kyoto, full of shrines, temples, and old wooden houses hidden by walls and foliage. It feels more like a town than a city and contrasts with the relative urbanity of southern Kyoto.
Walk down this street and there is a grease pit of a teishoku that will let you eat as much as you like for 30 minutes of dish washing. Go that way and there is a mochi shop whose reputation is described by the folds and turns in its lines. It’s about a 15-minute stroll from the banks of the Kamo River, where one can stretch out in languorous afternoon naps."
...
"It has been exactly three months in Kyoto and I feel like things have settled, more or less, into the usual chaotic rhythms of a life described by scale independent ups and downs, turns and bifurcations. But I do look back with fondness at my first month here when things were not so established and the bright sheen of novelty laminated everything.
I live my life comfortably and have been at the mercy of my own whims. Recently I have tried to impose a bit of discipline to achieve some of things I had set out to do. It has been gradually successful and some point equilibrium between fancy and control will be reached. In addition to the fellow’s basic requirements, I have a part time job teaching English at a local elementary school. It’s cheering to observe the bliss with which Japanese grade school children go about their days. However, it is sometimes very tiring to keep up with their vivacity. I’ve recorded some songs and shot off a few watercolors, but I can’t say I’m terribly happy with the results too far. I seem to be missing two diametrically opposed ingredients that I’ve found necessary in the past: grand inspiration and/or extreme boredom."
...
"More than once I have basked on the sunny bank of the Kamo river, -- with the pitch ravens whooshing o’er head, the clouds rushing through with some urgency, and the sun glinting through my squinting eyes -- thinking that it would be no great injustice to live in that instant forever."
pretty indulgent writing, but some parts ring profound nostaglic heart strings. the last bit especially.
"The house has gotten a comfortable chaotic non-order to it, with solid old wooden furniture scattered about. On sunny morning the sun streams in all limpid like; at dusk there is a nostalgic gist to the staircase.
The house is situated in the best part of Kyoto, fairly northerly, sandwiched between the Imperial Palace Park and a large Buddhist temple. It is the rich part of Kyoto, full of shrines, temples, and old wooden houses hidden by walls and foliage. It feels more like a town than a city and contrasts with the relative urbanity of southern Kyoto.
Walk down this street and there is a grease pit of a teishoku that will let you eat as much as you like for 30 minutes of dish washing. Go that way and there is a mochi shop whose reputation is described by the folds and turns in its lines. It’s about a 15-minute stroll from the banks of the Kamo River, where one can stretch out in languorous afternoon naps."
...
"It has been exactly three months in Kyoto and I feel like things have settled, more or less, into the usual chaotic rhythms of a life described by scale independent ups and downs, turns and bifurcations. But I do look back with fondness at my first month here when things were not so established and the bright sheen of novelty laminated everything.
I live my life comfortably and have been at the mercy of my own whims. Recently I have tried to impose a bit of discipline to achieve some of things I had set out to do. It has been gradually successful and some point equilibrium between fancy and control will be reached. In addition to the fellow’s basic requirements, I have a part time job teaching English at a local elementary school. It’s cheering to observe the bliss with which Japanese grade school children go about their days. However, it is sometimes very tiring to keep up with their vivacity. I’ve recorded some songs and shot off a few watercolors, but I can’t say I’m terribly happy with the results too far. I seem to be missing two diametrically opposed ingredients that I’ve found necessary in the past: grand inspiration and/or extreme boredom."
...
"More than once I have basked on the sunny bank of the Kamo river, -- with the pitch ravens whooshing o’er head, the clouds rushing through with some urgency, and the sun glinting through my squinting eyes -- thinking that it would be no great injustice to live in that instant forever."
pretty indulgent writing, but some parts ring profound nostaglic heart strings. the last bit especially.