entries ordered new ~> old

  • 2021 Japan entries - You are here!
  • 2020 Japan entries
  • 2020 Japan entries
  • 2019 Japan entries
  • 2019 UCSB entries
  • 2018 entries
  • 3/4/2021 I should make a trip to Tokyo, no aim in particular just to clear my mind. I need to remind myself I live here, as strange as that sounds. Under quarantine I'm transported back to that unreasonably large bedroom with the popcorn ceiling, the suburban view sprawling outside my window that felt hopelessly constricting. I have greater autonomy now no doubt, but every week is a series of procrastination tied together. If I'm under this almost fatalistic mindset I had in the US, nothing will get done. I need to jolt myself awake.

    I feel more productive, more lucid at night. All the self-imposed obligations that the sky's tone angrily points to, the noise of actually productive people commuting, your simple animal desires, the possibilities of simply heading outside, they all disappear with the sun. It's a bit like dying, all your matters no longer carry any weight. You're not expected to be productive late into the night, self-imposed or otherwise. You're not meant to exist. And it's within this physically constrictive environment that puts me at most ease. Time is indeterminate, there's no sunsets to dread when they inevitably steal a picturesque day or paralyzing deadlines to anxiously watch. I end up doing things I enjoy for once like I've just been awoken from a trance. I sew, I watch, I read, I write. I write embarrasingly emotional entries like this one that I'll delete once I wake up. There I'm back under the sedative.

    Watched The 1900 House, very much another branch of historical reenactment TV along the lines of Further Back in Time for Dinner and Turn Back Time from yesterday. It's a bit more involved, starting from remodeling the house. It's also a PBS-produced show despite the show taking place in South London. The women in the show are the most striking. They're either rendered catatonic by boredom, forced indoors like a sort of grey Afghanistan or they're toiling in 18 hour workdays.

    A touch of manga. Nothing mind-blowing but I'm able to trust my judgement in choosing what to read. For once it's fine to judge by cover. Broke the hesitation in sewing to start on an oversized blazer. Still a work in progress, lapels are hard.

    [南郷晃太] こじらせ百鬼ドマイナー/[九井諒子] ダンジョン飯/kanojo no sekai/Jinsei wa Futsuka Dake/[ふみふみこ] 恋につきもの

    3/7/2021 Finished the closure, fuck lapels are hard.

    2/16/2021 Conversation about self-identity, managing expectations. We had a previous argument about how _ didn't like my almost accusatory tone in our back and forth regarding relatives but that's just how me and my buds talk. Distilling down your emotions and motives down to something. That sort of process has always been my route into meaningful introspection, and _ saw those questions as personal attacks. They did ask how you kickstart that sort of conversation with friends and that's a sentiment shared by B last time we met too. On the other hand me and welsh guy spoke about career motivations and self-reflection into 4am the first time we met. I'm surprised at just how long-term _ thinks.

    2/19/2021 Clothing ideas are flooding to me like a congested artery. Lots that I want to do but it's the odd missing zipper or fabric that impedes progress, much like a congested artery.

    I need to take uncle's offer.

    2/20/2021 massive hole in my underwear, the world's worst window. Mended it and moved onto to working on the harness. Not 100% but it's there in shape. The vegetable stand was playing Dango Daikozoku over their prehistoric stereo combo.

    harness Paired with the buttpack. Need to add button closures for the flaps. cyclamen came back to life and even started flowering. Really likes the winter sunshine
  • I have a 64,000 word txt file with fragments of essays, most undated. Will sort through this tonight.

    2/22/2021 Read one of the worst articles in recent memory, a confessional about shopping addiction by Buzz Bissinger. Brilliantly written, it has a multi-dimensional unpleasantness about it that you can't quite distill in one word. Trawling through LACMA's online costume and textiles section. A zoot suit caught my eye even though I usually shun suits altogether. The drapey almost nipple-height pants are really something. all out of sewing ideasssssssssss

    Mitsuboshi Colors' dry humor kills me.

    2/23/2021 I made an account on spacehey, neo-myspace for zoomers who wil never own property. It's remarkably different from Neocities, with the majority of users slapping on their actual names and pictures in their profile. True to form there's plenty of bands and musicians. I have to say there's not much to do at the site current iteration. The HTML editor deliberately limits the use of certain tags and some profile elements like the "about me" are untouchable. Clearly there's a steady stream of new users but coming across them is a shot in the dark. Groups are apparently in the works and that should really kickstart things with fanpages and such. looking forward to it.

    2/25/2021 Shikimori-san really is wonderful, reading through it brings a tightness in the chest like the preamble to a stroke. Despite being a saucy romance manga the author's latent idealism doesn't materialize in characters made sexy through mystique, of pants-wetting one-liners and grand gestures. All the characters are decidedly frank in presentation, romance isn't portrayed as a hazy mysterious journey but of a simple mutual attraction. It reminds me of 14sai no Koi, one of my all-time favorites.

    2/26/2021 Bought 2m of linen on m*rcari, would've been double if I was in the US. Toying with the idea of making an oversized blazer. Never made something with lapels but I'm in a rut. Might as well try something novel. I think I am continually afraid of failure, wasting fabric or being left with something I'm not 100% satisfied with. Which is a strange mindset as you can recycle fabric multiple times and the most heistant-inducing garments and fabrics have turned out to me the most gratifing.

    Finished Both Flesh and Not. I feel like I should stray away from such neurotic essays about essaying. The moment you bring any self-awareness in the act of smashing words together you start to hesitate. Am I elaborating my point well, is my tone too pretentious, am I coming across as too judgemental. I think it's also the reason why I've largely avoided fiction as well, you can't help but compare and weave doubts in your otherwise carefree creations.

    I need to get off my ass and get things done again, with no end in sight this pandemic isn't an excuse for me to hibernate for 3 years. Lapses of furious lucidity and neuroticism intermissioned with cysts of apathy, of just floating around getting carried by the breeze. One of my persistent anxieties was for that to turn malignant, to have thinking about one's present condition be more overbearing than any of its fruits. Procrastinate a bit more. Handle it tomorrow. Let the problem fester.

    I also need to sort through my relationship with "stuff." Finding a good deal is fun but the aftertaste is more analgous to harm reduction for me. There's a distinct undercurrent of guilt with any purchase. It makes me a responsible, measured consumer but I wonder how sustainable and sane this way of thinking is. Thanks dad.

    2/27/2021 A seller's profile avatar was from a children's book I've forgotten about. It was about a anarcho-primitivist commune of sentient legumes who use their collective labor to make a bed. Finished Vodka Politics by Mark Lawrence Schrad, only took me like 4 months.

    3/2/2021 Staying hydrated. I'm less of a man and more a piss generator. Watching _ paint has been really significant for me, I appreciate online artists' work a lot more. It's a very personal ordeal isn't it, presenting something you've made. In a The Moth talk Adam Gopnik described cooking as presenting a part of yourself on a plate. You are there, vulnerable, flawed, open to judgement and rejection. Posting your art for others to see is the same. And few people are completely satisfied with their creations, transitioning images and visions in your mind to a physical expression. Words lost in translation. We are our own worst critics and there's no population more self-critical and deprecating than artists.

    Purchased a g*mer keyboard, as always pre-owned. Time will tell if blue switches grow on me, my gut tells me that browns would fit me better. Typing up manifestos while in my bed is now a possibility. Watching Jerma playing Dead Rising and it seems like the gratuitous gore of the 00's were a passing fad, almost like a reaction against the media circus around violent videogames. There's only a handful of AAA non-horror games today that compare, gore is a footnote.

    Went out looking for new music. It was a solid 3 years revisiting my favorite artists, the same sort of nameless heistation that holds me back from movies and TV. 泉まくら would rap with no breaks like she's got lung extensions. Similar to other artists like 降神 it sounds like a priest reciting pure land sutras. ラブリーサマーちゃん's tracks sound bubbly, at other times lonely. Subject matter is similar to 泉まくら, think pastel goth or big city emo. She whispers lyrics at you. Her newer stuff is a sort of lethargic rock that chugs along. Not for me. Started watching Back in Time for Dinner, a BBC show where families live according to a certain historical period. The dad is a really sweet guy.

    I have little self-restraint for snacks. When I was a kid we rarely stocked junk food at home and it was always a rare treat. Ever since living by myself it was a constant battle to stop myself from inhaling bags of popcorn. Roasted vegetables and baked chickpeas were great for college standards but I made sure to always have something extra, a perenially open bag of potato chips. Ever since moving to japan and (mosty) cutting out eating meat my cravings have largely disappeared. I can fill myself up with food that won't congregate in my arteries. Even my newly-found infatuation with Japanese rum is accompanied with mormon-levels of moderation.

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  • 2/8/2021 The apartment is truly sedative, it hits the feeling of lying on warm grass on a sunny day after class, open book in hand and a hat shielding your eyes. I'd wake up and I'll be sleepy by 11am even when it's 13°C outside. I made beef stroganoff with some of the skirt steak from _'s co-worker, X-Japan. X-Japan went vegan after watching a documentary on factory farming and he graciously unloaded his freezer to us. It was a good 9 months since I've eaten meat I've prepared at home. No one in this hemisphere eats sour cream so I had to use cream cheese. It was great. Also back to making Takikomi rice, I like to just assault the cooker with mushrooms and bamboo shoots.

    Been reading more manga and sewing while watching The Moth/Tarkov/munchies videos. Adam Savage interstingly called childrearing "triage, not control." I need to read more. There's nothing more affirming than wearing out clothing you've just made. All the decisions and uncertainties that preceeded it galvanizes into a point of pride alongside your newly-found satiation.
    vanilla hanten buttpack all that's left is stitching D-rings
  • Figured out image captions, now I can include manga titles in these journal entries in an elegant way. Successfully added captions to outfit photos but the DIY section is going to take some work.
    [藤近小梅] 好きな子がめがねを忘れた/[すずゆき] ふたり明日もそれなりに/[雨隠ギド]ゆらゆらQ/[住野よる×二駅ずい]か「」く「」し「」ご「」と「/[草香去来×灯まりも] 半助喰物帖

    2/10/2021 These past 7 months of job applications made me think I was a year older than I actually am. I wonder how my relationship with clothing will change as I age. Transforming into an O3 in't particularly alluring.

    Started reading ちちゃこい日記, a coming-of-life romance story. The snowy setting is rare and there's plenty of comfy potential. The tone of the whole thing is something I haven't gotten yet.

    2/11/2021 Finished the buttpack, very happy with it. You carry a lot of shit in Japan. Most people walk and take trains, summers are boiling hot, and physical currency is still king. As a result your pockets are inundated with coins and rewards cards and sunscreen and water bottles and umbrellas and grocery bags. Tote bags and fannypacks are everywhere as a result. I wanted to carry groceries in a more conveient manner so I went with something around the waist. Doesn't get hot like a backpack, easy to throw things in.

    Finished One Soldier's War. Predictably a punishing read from the hazing to the shooty tooty and all that. The first half is like a full-length novel about Harry Potter's downtrodden life prior to discovering his inherited royal blood and latent Übermensch talent. The book is remarkably well-written, the translation even getting terminology correct like taxiing aircraft or backblast. The physical descriptions about terror or anticipation reminded me a bit of old english literature where people would break into a fever from shock alone. The disparity in value systems between war and normal life is again present, the shopping cart scene in The Hurt Locker.

    2/12/2021 There have been many links drawn between the marriage of rural america and prepping. A touch of religious doomsday doctrine, widespread economic decay under global capitalism, and paranoid libertarianism all point to people who have been left behind under globalization, preferring to fantasize about the end of the earth than any meaningful alternative. Scenarios where their agency is unquestioned, the conflict of living and dying is more more explicit than the slow economic withering of their rural town. Sure a world without other people would be exciting. Urban exploration every day, stealing things that would've never belonged to you, gleefully entering places because you couldn't, like a child on a chair reaching into an adult-height cupboard. No more commuting, wasted weekends, or after-work gatherings. All these sentiments are incapsulated in media, people growing virtual plants for no reason in Fallout or making their neighborhood in the Sims.

    But in 2020 the apocalypse seemed a lot less desirable. I often joke that my life is directly tied to my hard drive: that our health is one. All the images, journals, and files contained within this metal box carries more meaning to me than it should. I can now say the same with other people. Yes people, the thousands of mechanical heads you used to see bobbing along in Ikebukuro, the kind that avoids your eyes on the sidewalk like they're magnetically incompatible, the black masses that approach the station every morning like hungry flies. I live for them, I live because of them. This epiphany didn't come after nervously watching the river swell on twitter during a hurricane or hunkering down for 6 months during a global outbreak. I'm not particularly concerned about my health, when it's time it's time. Instead it was the weekly runs to the store that suddenly shook me awake.

    Every time I walk down my neighborhood I see the same views: the same grey buidlings, the same housewives on bikes, the same deliverymen, the same couples heading to the park. I'm transported back when I was visiting this country on holiday, dodging the tourist locations in favor of a back street or a placid neighborhood. I start to think about my life If I had lived here, the daily views, the grocery store routes, the secluded corners to take a deep breath. I wonder what the young couples' apartments look like, what interior arrangements they've acclimate themselves to. What kids are thinking as they walk home in uniforms, what concealed interests the anonymous salarymen look forward to, all these possibilities are racing through my mind as I head to the vegetable stand. These thoughts keep me sane because no matter how much I try, I can't excite myself into a frenzy indoors with trifling little hobbies or attention-grabbing TV shows. I need other people to stay well, especially in a scenario when meeting other people is discouraged.

    And so can you imagine fantasizing for a solitary apocalypse? It just didn't make sense anymore. I don't live for just myself.

    2/14/2021 Read Daily Life in the Middle Ages by Paul B. Newman. As an /r/askhistorians regular it's right up my alley, although rather generalist due to the broad topic. It offers a few typifing examples but more would've been nice. It does its best to dispell the grotty backwards image the post-roman empire period has carried with it. Most surprising was the use of grass carpets as even most castles had earth floors, as well as table manners/suggestions that were quite sensible.

    There was a quite sobering thread on different countries' virus responses. The past year has been great advertising for repressive one-party governments.

    2/15/2021 Reading Soviet Baby Boomers: An Oral History of Russia by Donald Raleigh.

    I'm at a very odd place with my infatuation with clothes. I'm afraid of labeling anything "satiated" because hunger has always been neccessary for me to get motivated. I'm certainly happy with the clothes I've made. 2 years ago I said I was exicited for Japan's more extremem weather to shake up my wardrobe, and that rings true. A T-shirt and shorts would suffice year-round in California, and I found that impossibly boring. Yokohama is more temperate than I thought, and living somewhere mountainous and hellish like Kyoto would've probably induced more change. For now I can get away with wearing the same outfit year-round as long as I have scarves and inner layers ready. Wool is a material I haven't been able to explore fully yet. While I'm well-acquainted with linen, I'm under a dry spell when it comes to new ideas. I'd love to do some overlapping and doubled-breasted shirts but nothing concrete.

    But what about purchasing clothes? Of course have a few Kapital outerwear that I've had by eyes on, but I always buckled at the prices even when used. I think that's for the best. They'll be an attainable yet distant desire. I'm still on the lookout for anoraks and parkas but that's even more of a vague search. The only real purchases I have done are used shirts and pants in the $10 price range to tailor and modify.

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  • 1/19/2021 Destroying my mouth with french bread is now a part of my daily routine. _ got a kalimba. I'm quite curious.

  • Read Sumairi Burger, a sedate slice-of-life with no intellectual nourishment whatsoever. I read volume 1 4 years ago, jesus christ. Art-wise here's not a sharp corner in sight and the plot is similarly bubbly. Reminds me of Ooya-san. Shame it seems to have been cut short.
  • pbs docs are quite good

    1/19/2021 Read Methland: The Death and Life of an American Small Town. As a proper ethnography it's a mindfuck of a read. Pharma companies dragging their hands over DEA proposals combatting illicit drug labs, ununionized meat workers doing meth to cover extra shifts after their pay was slashed by 60%, the author makes a very good case that its rise dovetails into and is an indicator of rural decay. But the writer isn't a sociologist, he's a writer. As an Iowan his illustrations of the rural landscape, the miasma that occupy the towns, the anxiety that fills their residents, all of it is beautifully laid out as written by an insider.

    1/22/2021 I love showering but I hate to process leading up to it, the resignation of getting wet and cold afterwards. If humans didn't have any biological needs I'd spend all my time in the showers, my pruned flesh eventully withering away into nothing. You'd think we were derived from volcanic deep-sea lichen by how much we enjoy a slow bath, stewing in our own broth.

    Read Working Stiff by Judy Melinek, a foresic pathologist's account of working at a New York coroner's office. Now this isn't a textbook like the last 2 about forensic anthroplogy I read, dry and distant in tone. Some non-academic books with rubbernecking titles really don't approach the subject matter with grace: many authors have intentions beyond Mary Roach's respectful curiosity. Thankfully Melinek's book straddles that line well. People are the fundamental focus and the author's charisma really seeps through the pages. From dealings with other pathologists to investigators and the families of the bereaved, she presents a sincere look into the human elements of her job. Despite the meat and potatoes being quite grim it doesn't feel like a heavy read.

    Finished Watashi No Shounen, one of the few the manga series that elicits a fight-or-flight response. It opens as your typical cautionary tale about stranger danger but blossoms into a quite mature story about self-identity, parental obligations, etc. I won't hesitate to say the portrayal of relationships: romatic, familial, interpersonal, etc. is among the best I've seen. Everyone truly feels like a product of their environment, ruminating in their past actions without the overdone tropes of baggage and trauma. There are no self-destructive MC's or overt villans with well-traveled hands, the way the story is able to continuously challenge reader's assumptions about the characters is a testament to their depth.

    1/23/2021 Finally reading American Psycho, everyone is endearingly repulsive. The conversations are so cryptic and heavy with pretext they might as well be sign language drawn on the pages. Also reading Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace.

    1/26/2021 looking seriously into a minolta XD. started writing the Nikon F review, might send it into 35mmc. Will be a few months in though, I got zero photos.

  • While I have been working on a backpack on and off, nothing particuarly inspiring was on my mind. My idea folder wan't empty but nothing I felt confident enough to tackle with the selection of fabric I have right now. Two things changed that: absentmindedly looking for Kapital on fashionreps and photos of Bedouins on the Met archive. It's reassuring to have a hobby with a continually morphing "end." Usually interest is extinguished once a particular something is in your hands within an acceptable budget, whether it's watches, pens, cameras, etc. For clothing your tastes and standards change constantly, there is no singular goal. Even if you have one specific outfit to work towards, wearing clothes is a daily mix and match, there's so many elements to one outfit. And so an "endgame" garment isn't really the center of focus.

    I am reveling in this massive influx of romance manga for bottoms. Nagatoro, Takagisan, Shounen Sabotteko, Shikimorisan, not only is it well-needed reprieve from the sea of mid 2000's harems it actually adds more character to the usually faceless male cast. What a change from stories that shoot down any female depictions deviating from a sentient carton of eggs.


  • Conversations about internal monologue, aphantasia. Crazy how different things can be. A bit more sewing, you never know with these things. Thought the pouch proportions were off but I'm too tall for that. Very happy so far. All that's left are zippered pockets and the harness. Still in a bind on what outerwear to make next. Pants aren't fun even in a pocket medley like the French Extreme Orient uniform. It's around 13°C so linen isn't out of the question but I wanted to get my hands on some more wool while it's still appropriate. Still accumulating red onion skins to dye something.

    A bit more writing on nostalgia, this time on artifical scarcity and the demands of adulthood. I find myself increasingly looking backwards when I'm bored. I've never been a terribly ambitious hunger for media, my massive backlog is evidence of that. But even then I've had this avoidance for anything new.

    Desuchan is truly a portal back in time

    2/7/2021 Jesus, a week already. Finished another hanten in vanilla fabric. Really happy with this one and it opens up outfits with more grey/white tones. Until now it's been browntown almost exclusively. Experimenting with pockets on another one. The buttpack is mostly done and the harness is on hold. Waiting for metal hardware in the post and some more 12oz cotton fabric.

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  • 1/3/2021 Happy new year. The corpse of 2020 still emmanates a lingering stench, MF Doom passed away, Kodak teased two new film releases for 2021, I've got to numb my hands for this one. Half my body is mochi and tangerines by now, it's quite exciting to experience the seasons instead wearing a t-shirt and shorts year-round. Gakitsuka this year around was a bit reserved for obvious reasons. New years resolutions. Last december I said I'd bring myself to a point where I can wear a self-made article of clothing every day. That wish came true in 2020, but in the worst way possible. I saw lots of people make the most of it to get really engaged with latent interests. haven't gauged how well i did this year yet. In regards to neocities I'd like to

  • 1. be less negative in journals. I'm not a very grumpy person, it's just easier for me to write about trash rather than gush about romance manga for 6 pages.
  • 2. I need a site redesign. Too much redundancy and bloat. I could cull or condense 40% of pages and it would be for the better.
  • 3. just write man. get into that mindset

    For my physical existence I'd like to:

  • 4. devolve back into a GAMER
  • 5. sew
  • 6. read more fiction.

    I really can't forecast anything for 2021, I have a completely blank slate. Cheru was churning out some ideas for their blog, the sort of introspection that is right up my alley. I'd like to write more but I don't want to force anything. I need to let it ferment into a fetid mass that's just too much to contain.

    All in all, a pretty forgettable year.

    1/5/2021 Didn't get it. I'm more surprised than anything else, but I guess that last session was that bad. Or was it the e-mail? my handwriting on the envelope? 12 hours in commuting, $50 in tickets, risking contracting the virus for a two-sentence rejection. I was thinking what I'd do with my gap year but I guess that got a lot longer. On new years I half-jokingly said 2020 was a shit-awful year and the family was a bit surprised. I didn't mean it then but its become a self-fulfilling prophecy, 2 days from conception to execution.

    1/7/2021 I'm back. The apartment is dream-like in pacing. I can scarcely keep track of the time.

    i can still vividly remember what the upstairs room used to smell like. Gran had a habit of obsessively throwing away anything, something that posed an issue for my mom's speaker combo. No doubt a great big material pogrom occured after grandad died. Journals, drafting papers, negatives.

    After alpining the aggressively high japanese stairs you approach what used to be uncle's room, where he stayed until his graduation and after the first divorce. The upstairs room resembled a 70's American basement with veneer covering the walls and a floral-patterned ceiling. The sliding glass windows were voyeuristically big, but the room was always dark because of the sheet metal blinds. The hollow sounding floorboards were consistent with the rest of the arthritic house. Gran would joke that the fumes from the heater wouldn't kill her because of the panel gaps throughout the house. I remember that the desk drawers emmanted the smell of pencil lead and leaking battery acid, the legacy of grandad's bronze drafting compasses and iron needle files. Their contents were a mishmash of east and west, young and old, a reflection of my sporadic stays here.

    1/11/2021 Found a blog after looking up shochus. the person i lent the om-2 reached out, said they've shot 2 rolls in a month and they're waiting to get their negatives back. Must've been a trip going from a half-frame 35mm EE2 to a 50mm SLR. Read a touch of manga.

    [おかざきさと乃]異邦のオズワルド /[赤城あさひと]少年、ちょっとサボってこ?/[もちオーレ×majoccoid]イケメン女と箱入り娘/[フライ×竹岡 葉月]今日、小柴葵に会えたら。/[蝉川夏哉×碓井ツカサ]異世界居酒屋「げん」/[まにお]きたない君がいちばんかわいい

    The Mitsuwa in Torrance apparently closed last year. I'll remember it fondly, I can still remember the trips after Japanese school on the weekends, buying groceries and coming home just in time to watch 黄金伝説 or あいのり. Watched a dream about the old house, the one that got foreclosed. I was laying down on the brown carpet in my room at the corner looking up at the paper-white ceiling painted with by the two windows. The floor was staggered like a library's carpet-lined steps. It was a nice dream, it was unequivocally happy. When i woke up the sun was beaming into the apartment and I was sweating even with the sheets loosely around me. The old house was representative of a lot, but I hesitate to firmly classify it as a positive location. I remember spending my time prior to owning a computer, blissfully ignorant. I remember watching Japanese TV beated from giant CRT's on foggy mornings while mom made breakfast. I'm amazed at how the isolation of suburbia didn't get to me back then.

    1/15/2021 Struggling to decide what to shoot next. It takes me about 2 months to finish a roll if there's no family trips or special events. Surprised the Super G came out so well, Super G Plus was discontinued in 1998 so it was even older. Currently in the freezer I have:

    Terrified to do anything with the undated Provia. Slide film just stops recording images once its off. Eventually settled on the Super 400, at the newest it probably expired around 2010. Threw it into the Nikon F just to try it out. Still waiting on my lab to re-open so I can develop the 5 rolls I have accumulated. Most excited for the Kodak Gold I found loaded in the 35DC, might be able to date the Provia by how it turns out. Remembered the library book I read 7+ years ago, Bone voyage: a journey in forensic anthropology. Read Case Studies in Forensic Anthropology - Bonified Skeletons.

    1/17/2021 Got the 720ml bottle of_. I usually dislike spending money on consumables but zero regrets. Read Human Identification - Case Studies in Forensic Anthropology. Watching the four-part NHK documentary on Hayao Miyazaki. Part 1 goes over the making on Ponyo from 2006 onwards. The director is grumpy, brilliant, and insecure. It was remarkable to hear how the success of Totoro became a nightmare for Miyazaki, being the one project he could never exceed. These voyeuristic looks into someone else's creative process gets me excited, motivated. Obsessions get things done.

    Kubosan wa Mobu o Yurusana is an utterly saucy romance manga that will leave readers so hot-headed you could boil a mess tin of water by holding the book under it. It just completes me. I am complete.

    1/18/2021 2 rolls of Venus 400 got here, straight to the freezer. Read An Oral History of the Portuguese Colonial War a thorough ethnography of Portuguese veterans some 40 odd years after. Reminded me of post-war Japanese discourse about the perpetrator-victim binary. Fresh conscripts instantly disillusioned with empire-building after getting off their ships, conflicting feelings about enjoying and hating the war, understanding the insurgents' cause yet fighting out of neccesity. The permeating shame about being a disposable number to a dictatorship, yet not being accepted as a victim of war by their communities is a really interesting dynamic that I can't really think of any parallels to.

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  • Journal - Japan, 2021