The Trick Is To Keep Breathing
Originally published at synaesthesiaJP. You can comment here or there.
Been in Tokyo this week - Sunday to next Monday. Today was my only day off in the span, so I went to Ikea and bought some stuff in preparation for my new bed arriving this next weekend. Comforter, sheets, a tall reading lamp to put behind the bed, a new throw pillow, and a bed-side table.
Afterwards, I headed to Tokyo Midtown and tried dinner at Coppola’s Vinoteca. I had a bottle of Coppola Diamond Pinot Noir (although I came close to ordering a bottle of Rubicon, the ¥25,000 asking price was a bit much for me), and a glass of a desert Zinfandel. Food was sauteed paprika and a cheese platter for starters, a quattro formaggi pizza, brazed port chop with lentils, and a piece of tiramisu for desert. It was an excellent dinner in excellent company, but as I parted ways, I was reminded of the words of the bard.
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
But sometimes fate intervenes with last trains. Or paths that weave away from each other. Or age. Ultimately, our world is rigged against prolonged and meaningful relationships. We always have to say goodbye, whether it be after an evening or 60 years of marriage. We fight against this by trying to create larger and larger social graphs. We do everything we can to stave off the loneliness and prolong the night. But morrow always comes.
I’ll be back in Osaka on Monday, but it will be a full week. Tuesday is the dentist. Wednesday is a nomikai. Thursday and Friday I’m free, and then on Saturday the bed arrives and I go out DJing. I will also see Beowulf with a friend.
I have called Mai less and less, and in the month since I become a single man, I can feel her slowly begin to slip away. It is a feeling of intense melancholy. I’m taking it one day at a time, because that is the only way I can keep on going. I’m definitely not good at being alone at night. I hate not being able to communicate with someone. My hours are getting longer and my sleep is getting shorter as a result. It is a bit hard to feel anything now. I’m just trying intensely hard to keep busy. If I don’t, that is when the sadness and loneliness kicks in. I guess the trick is to keep breathing.