I am writing this after a long day, and I needed to let a few things out of me. I took a shit and a shower and it didn’t quite do it. I needed something more. I felt like I needed to talk to you.
What does it mean anyway, to say a day is long? Your legs are long, long like swords, rapiers that bend and give; gracious and deadly. Does a long day mean there’s more time? That there are more seconds in each minute, more minutes in each hour?
It is but we do more or feel more things in the seconds that pass that there’s more life to our life. It is funny how we say it as a complaint. Perhaps I am merely making light of our suffering and our boredom.
But you, you’re never bored are you? I cannot imagine you living a boring second in your existence. I imagine you in the people I’ve met in school — a somewhat distant past now; but not really.
You and I could never have been friends, not that you could have been friends with anyone. You walk from across a class divide. You are a prince among us and you would not suffer the company of a commoner like me.
I wouldn’t be friends with you anyway. I would have judged you the way a lamb judges the eagle; listening to its mother’s stories how you tore her sisters one after the other with merciless talons.
But I am jealous, yes I am. While my future promises me hooked horns, I would gladly trade them for the wings you already have. You circle around the campus away from anyone’s reach, and the poor ewes surrender to you the moment you descend upon them.
When you swoop, the lambs bleat — but not long, just long enough to be music. I want this power too. I try to imitate your noble screeching, but I am a Wyclef Jean to your Bob Marley. No, the lambs still cry. End them for me Akio. Do what you do.
Back in school I didn’t date even those who I believe I can win with my charms. Why? Not only was I poor, I was poor in a way that is damning: I didn’t own a car, and worse — I didn’t know how to drive.
Even if I had the charm and cheek to borrow a car, I wouldn’t know how to use it. The very best bred I never took to bed, and I hate you for it. You, I hate, for driving around flaunting the flaunters riding with you. Who’s flaunting who?
They’ll all be dead soon, someday.
Won’t you give me a ride Akio? I’ll be a Saionji to your Toga. I’ll gladly play your fool, if I can hope to be you in a world I can remake in your image.
I can hear it too! My soul hasn’t completely given up. I can hear the sound that races through the End of the World.
Less confused writing: The Black Rose Arc [->]
Written in real time, a diary of an anime lived.
One Year Ago…
I became a Gundam Fanboy [->]
Milk shakes. Tomorrow’s lunch. A dying fencer returns. What is the scent of the rose that blooms at the end of the world?
My soul has not given up. It has not forgotten how to hear.
It must break the world’s shell or it will die before being born.
I for one can appreciate all these turns of phrase. God bless this show!
Yeah, this time I went for being as vague as possible 😀 Thank you Ikuhara!
7 A.M. Dusty road. I’m gunna drive until it burns my bones.
Sorry, I just wanted to be dramatic :p awesome post! I definitely feel your pain! Will add to the diary~ it’s good to have some variety in there, since most of the diary posts are very straightforward.
Thanks man. I wanted to try a confessional kind of post that was fun to write and hopefully read. I wanted to go back to this style that I developed for Oi, Hayaku as well but couldn’t find a show that pulled it out of me as opposed to me pulling teeth forcing the issue.
When Akio drove past me towards the End of the World, the words were pulled from my chest like the fucking Sword of Dios.
“I would have judged you the way a lamb judges the eagle” Getting your Nietzsche on? I… I kind of struggle to respond to this without potential spoilers because the end of the series is what would sum up my consciously defined relationship to the sort of envy you’re talking about. In any case, it’s always nice to see some risky writing in blogland.
Thanks, I really appreciate it coming from you. And yes, that was one of my favorite bits from that Nietzsche guy. I really had to stop watching at this point, just before the final Nanami-centric episode, because I was so close the the End of the Show, and I just don’t want this show to end.
Until then, I’ll be glad to ask you about your thoughts about this envy.
>>I took a shit and a shower and it didn’t quite do it.
What you needed was a good quality shave. It’s not called “SSS” for nothing.
This is very, very hard to respond to!
Well, there are actually 5 Ss:
See also Kaizen: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaizen
Hehehe, thanks for trying to respond to respond to this post. It’s not the most inviting thing at all, despite the lack of spoilers. You should really watch Utena though ^_^
Let your jealousy be armed with a Stinger and Javelin for though you are stuck on the ground and your soul weighed down by gravity your envy can find satisfaction in destruction of that unarmored convertible and turning that eagle into feathers for a pillow…
Good advice. I’ll roar after it on a VF-1S if I could.
That was beautifully written.
Thank you very much. It was a rush to write it.
If a dump and a nice long thirty minute hot shower failed to fix your problems, then you’ve got problems.
But yes, I also advise blasting the eagle out of the sky.
I even forgot the third ‘S’ — smoking a good fag (cigarette). Thanks for the well-meaning advice.
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