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40.Nord

2025.08.06

日本語版

どこにいたっけ？そうそう、たった今キオスクで重力の虹を17NOKで買った所だよ。正確には、長ったらしいロマンチックと交換したわけだけど（読もうとしないのか、はたまた読めないのか）そこに孤島があったんだよ、中々信じ難いとは思うけど金で育ってれば尚のこそ。だけど、本当に孤島は存在した。小さいボートを漕いで行かなきゃいけない。モーターは変容を促した。お前は非人間になった。どっちのオズがよかった？ドルシーがいる方の方がいいと思う。だっておお！っていつだって嘆く。この最中。小さいことで嘆いて、どっちも飛行機の中で見れたけどね。 とにかく何が言いたいかっていうと、今年の夏は北に行ってたんだ。それで、スイスアーミーナイフを買った。あの、孤島の不便さの証拠として。静かすぎる夜に、綺麗な水の道を用意してくれれば、その上をボートを漕いで行こうと思う。それがたった一つの救いだってことに、気づいた。

Where was I? Ah Yes; I've just purchased Gravity's Rainbow at a nearby bookstore for 17.9 NOK, in trade for a some fantasy book with huge romantic paragraphs which I cannot ( or refuse) to comprehend. There lies a land in isolation; you will not believe it so, being brought up with MONEY MONEY MONEY! but yes, you must take the small boat and row your way to anywhere... Row row row... The motor defies you... You've become something unhumane, inhumane. So which one of the OZ is better? I think, it is the one with Dorthy in it, because she exclaims Oh! but you must exclaim admist of all this. What are you if you do not fuss over the little things? Both Wicked and the Wizard of Oz was showing on the airplane, entertainment for one, life for the other. Or must we percieve it same? Anyway, what I meant by all this was that I was up north for the summer. It's always refreshing to be somwhere with life still in it; with inconvenient beauty.Everything is convenient is it not? So maybe it's alright to be inconvenient once in a while... The city in fume of drugs so heavy that when walking in, you'll become one of it's hosts. The inconvenience is due to lack of rules/laws. Afterall, morals and rules are complete opposites. What I wish is to row a little boat when it is too quiet; to sit at the window sill and gaze at the world go by. Provide me with a free trail of clean water in isolation with a boat. See? Only this will save us all. I bought a small swiss army knife as a souvenir for myself and as a token of those isolated lands you row your boats to.

2025.09.18

Let me tell you why yesterday was beautiful: the slanted are we, moving from town to town with out bearing anything.I have nothing to trade with you, however look at the liminal lot. You've seen the red black kite, but did you know that those are subspecies with blood of the Galapagos flowing through them. Below, you've not looked in this direction for two years now, so you didn't know; but in the lot there a ginormous succlent blooms. It is the size of monsters you dream of, growing and grasping the air in a radial composure. The white goat weren't there, however that lot you've caught in the corner of your eye holds every fleeting emotion no one dares to touch. Destined to be a nomad, these things congratulate you. No need for cheap cheers with those with eyes and mouth. Cross your ear with the wind and hear those tiny voices. No need for a poetic space understood by all. No need for a card exchange dictated by lust. No, not grand like so. The tome spoke to urge the ship forth. That succlent, however majestic it maybe, will be cut down by the government someday and they will build a house on the lot. The family there will never know such thing ever existed. Feeling a little ill on the way back because of the need for preservation of such life, will you understand this nomadic heart? No need to be understood; just wanted to explain why yesterday was a beautiful day.

2025.10.02

On my 237th time around the entity, I've now realized that my interest lay solely in myths....the entropy and the system of the world. I have not cared who is who and what makes what; digging deep into such psychology to found a mere mirage for 1. one cannot trust studies when it has to be tangent with the "world order" and 2. Believe in the niche; pigeons replaced big birds and became a dodo; that is a fact; however fact can only be studied after it's occurence. Now the purgatory has become heaven for those who deny solidity and isolation. Some man or woman will arrive from out of town and point to you and say " you.... are....a....botanist...." and I really do not care if you play yourself botanist or if you go against the appointed role and become a pilot instead. Nihilistic? Not so... the bridges and the towns and the seashells with placement given by no other nature... Don't we all hate bigotry? That is exactly why I decided to learn italian................... Chi sono i poeti? Chin up, don't look to the people ( are all aces like this?) Capiche?_ Capiche.

2025.10.09

I've been reading Yi-Fu's work "Segmented World and Self", to find that all of these disputes over idealism and society solely lie in jealousy of one another. The townsmen, thinking with liberty and personal prospect and philosophy, always tired by Adam & Eve's eternal question of "WHO AM I?", seek a simpler way of life. They are so-called "elitests", their value system heavily reliant on work ethics and skills, dreams of life with companionship and time. While, on the other hand, the villagers are trained not to think about liberty, personal prospects and philosophy, simply because society works in a habitual manner; questioning their identity will cut bonds with the neighbors, which will rid them of their post in such a society. However, in the habitual and consistant eternity of the life of society, seeing towns people living in grand mansions and apartments with their own pronouns and identity, people start to ask, "Who am I then, if not a part of the society? When will I get to question what my true individual identity is and what it's comprised of? How come they get their own badge and I don't?" These are suppressed emotions and neither side realizes the jealousy in which they live. It is a completely natural thing to be pulled to the opposing side: paradox is the true nature of the psyche. We must realize that society and nature are made of needs, not wants. One will only work in such a way because there is the need to do so. Need not to be an individual, need to be an individual... Darwin does not classify the fiches off of their superiority, simply because superiority does not exist; frogs are no more or less superior to the flies, nor are the flies more or less superior to the big cats or the whales; nature simply had a niche for them to fill. Superiority only exists in the minds of tournament species; but they are such way because food is scarce, and their reproduction is precarious. Having the godly ability to identify species and observe the nature of all things, we still refuse to use the Darwanian eye for the nature of ourselves. But we are jealous because the other threatens our livlelihood... but that too may be an illusion. Complexity too, is a human nature. However answers to complexity are always simple. Simplicity is complexity. "Try the other way around" Being a individual who enjoyed Yumenikki and OFF as a kid, I loved Mother2. The enemies, the worldview,the characters the colors! Everything is great. I played a bit of Mother, which I'm holding off until I finish Mother3 (because it can be tedious), and am playing Mother3 right now. I'm not sure I like the game yet... My love for quiet traveller wondering the streets with suppressed emotions, chaplin-esque, calvino-esque, felini-esque... I'd love to understand you but know I never can and know the words aren't true; I've played the fool and the observer well enough to know that about people.So can we just co-exist in quiet? I'd love to understand, but I never can, so it's very good to have you around.

2025.09.15

There are no pronounced Italian painters of the late 16th century, not becuase they did not exist, but merely because it was the age of science and development. Likewise, there are age of the surrealists and there are ages where no one seems to produce anything of the sort, simply because of stability in politics and the pious belief in scientific development rather than art and culture. I've signed up to tumblr, seeking for a place with out crawlers and bots and found a community of artists with extreme talents. The talent is prevelant everywhere; I look to the right and I see talent and I look to the left and see more talent. Neocities is one of these places. The modern humanity has not been capable of trusting the government ( simply becuase it is impossible to do so) and took to their hands to create meaning to their lives. I proclaim this; we may be heading to a new age if renaissance. Some who are not taken over by greed and marketing simply studying the world and compiling facts to make up a foundation in which others can stand on is truely fantastic, and I wish to possess such talent. I have not been studying much as I would've liked, but in order to support such renaissance in which humanity work hand in hand across sectors of culture, I would like to study more and take such role. That being said, here is a fantastic writing by Aditya Anand. Their other works concerning the politics of today are also truely wonderful. I am in awe of talents such as this. It truly is a blessing to get to meet and speak with philosophers, musicians, and artists of many talents.

2025.09.12

I have not yet finished reading the books but there was a thought that came to me at work through reading about the history of the arts and a book on surrealism. After Bretons automatism, the surrealist movement is said to have branched into two sectors; one with the automatists, the other with Depaysement. Which lead me to think; what does the surrealist movement have to offer against slop-machines and coventional and explanative nature of surrealism today which turned into a "core"? My thought here is, in order for surrealism to acutally work, one must be aware of its own embodiment, for surrealism only works in a possesive state. The slops generated by machines lack this nuance and cannot make an image worth looking at because the nature of surrealism heavly relies on the reality that is neither conventional or explanative. Thus, the speed in which a work is being created and ones own embodiment in the world is crucial points in human surrealist works. The explanative nature of cores such as liminal-core, has more to do with virtual embodiment, not the physical one. Because humans are so engrossed with technology,reality now exists in the virtual and vice versa. Human imagination has been replaced by techonology because technology simply does not force one to think or imagine; imagination and thoughts always corelate to ones own physical nature. As I've discussed before, my dog cannot percieve rainbows nor the fireworks, because their senses are limited, thus, unable to imagine or think (or, much more limited in terms of these two aspects. They have keen traits like the smell which I cannot imagine to live with, for we too are limited in physical nature such as this)With the loss of the physical nature; conventionality, verbosity, and the "liminal" nature prevails. Imagination, humanity of ones personal reminisce, artistic quality and distinct character prevelant in physicality of human body is at loss now. Thus, when one strives to be explanative or conventionally "perfect", the individual lacks imagination, humanity and distinctitive character withholding reality.They indeed are a "model" artist who carrys a scythe on their backs...

My point here is that if the world isn't built for you, and you have nothing to offer even after breaking your back and neck for it; don't worry. You just might be apt at the most meaningful, beautiful, intelligently modest way of life and nature of man; a traveller. In my book, thats the best kind of people this life has to offer or else the world is built for exploitation; either way you live and you die. Everything in the middle is brief stops;either I make the stops, or someone makes it for me and forces me to strive for a "perfect" stay.

Even my messenging service began implementing that wretched brain-rotting system. (Why should I communicate to a robot? Who thought this was a good idea?) That big G company is full of misinformation nowdays, putting one and 1 together to create, not two, but "one1". So I went ahead and installed duckduckgo. You can turn the wretched thing off unlike other browsers, so its really helpful and I'm liking it.

2025.09.07

We do not know of the beauty in one's touch, but know well of the beauty that exists in not being touched. Say we head out to buy a present where an unhealed ache was touched; and in pain after stopping by a chain restaurant, meaningless profanity was thrown. The face becomes sharp and the emotions dull; look inward and see all the ugliness. Outward and see all the beauty there is. Replace saddness with anger on the way back, look up and there floats a moon ever-so large as if it is merely a facade. Lighting a black kite who mistook the pool for an ocean.Burn this anger sometimes changing its hue with a different wind. Do not know of the beauty of being touched, have never understood it, however the beauty in not being touched I do know of. Layering the outlines and oneday knowing the every beauty.The answer to the question asked may be hope.I hope one day that the untouched will reflect within the untouched. Hope, and see reincarnation in a vent fan and the hue so bright in the red tie-pin.

2025.09.01

I've always found Leonardo Da'vinci's work unapealing. The explanative nature of beauty and control as well as straining for "perfection" always fills me with unease. The lack of the third axis prevelant to many great artists may be the key to great tableau; disregarded nowdays as one's lack of skill. The Italian's especially are skilled in depicting on a 2d-surface, which may have a direct connection as to the surreal nature often seen in the Italian's, a trait not seen in the French artists of their time. My interest now lays in Botticelli, though I am not an avid fan of his decorative style, the influence he had over the artists of his period cannot be ignored. When an work has control over nature of the tableau and the viewer, it becomes somewhat mundane and un-apealing. After all, if god were to be surprised, he would not loose faith in it's makings, will it not? As the time progresses, the element of surprise is feared and devalued and nothing is punk anymore until its inevitable descent and it would probably scream " Thank god for the renaissance!" but people are too busy with control...

I'd rather not travel up the road from A to B, but the passerby always travels from A to B here do they not? Always have something in their mind, something to do. It's all grand and all, but what force impels you to head to B? I've just found out that a dinosaur called Hatzegopteryx exists, and at the local library I saw an abandoned dinosaur book and flipped through it. They only depicted the kind with beaks and a little bit of fur-feathers growing on the side of their elbows; no-wonder. (or am I just being fooled by AI? lid of extraordinary beauty because everything looks fake now? I don't know.) Hope is punk, humanity is punk; control isn't. But what do I know? I saw a little holstein sitting in a little pond of blue water. I was going to carry a bag of food to hand out to people when someone approached me from behind me; all I want is a little help and maybe I could help some out as well. The intelligent friend whom I loved never knew the truth but was apt at sculpting that purple stuff so I left. What for do one live for? To be punk, and shrug away the breath down your neck and to be a creature who only knows itself in their solace; singing awkwardly and travelling from mountain to mountain. Being amused for a spinning dental brush feels beautiful and sinful at the same time.It's easy being violent; but extremely class wearing a armor or a warn-down t-shirt in this day and age. Leonardo Da'vinci was great because everybody could understand him; but his greatness ends there.

2025.08.22

My dear fish became an angel today; rather, it was born an angel, and angel with great struggles and now it is just an angel.It was a fish of many years, with black stripes, of rather small stature than the others. The most gentle, as I remember it. The one alive fish now had been pecking at it to make sure it was still alive. Funny, because that particular fish had been chasing my angel left and right the tank for ages. But today with the fish no more, it sits sadly in its lonely little corner. Some large force may be saying, " Well, this is what you wanted, right." Such cruelty. The fish was particularly special to me because this certain fish had been ill for months now, maybe up to a year or two. First being unable to float upwards. I've seen such manner and predicted the fish to die in a week or two, for the others before it had followed such fate. But I was mistaken. The fish, who had first been sinking to the tank's floor upside down, had started to float to the top of the tank now. Thus, making us cut the lights off, fearing it to be to bright for the fish. The fish, by this point, was so thin, that you would've believed there was nothing in that paper thin- glistening body. Then, the fish started to contourt and became almost a V-shape; it had folded its self inward.The fish still seemed to respond to me however its condition: it would come up to me when admiring its strength and flatter its fins slightly. When feeding the fish, it swam up to the tanks surface once again ( you see, when it had folded itself inwards, it started the swim, or rather, stay at a normal depth) never being able to catch any of the frakes but vigorously trying.

Last-night, I saw a dream. It was a dream about fishes and the shell place. I remember the rocket in the back room and how it swang us from side to side on a free ride. There also were lows of taxidermied specimens of aquatic creatures there. I went to this place twice in the dream, as my own home was a horror filled place with only an unlocked door shielding me from the screams and the shouts. It is righteous because we all try to live in such moss filled tank, or is it not? The fish was beautiful, or I percieved it as beauty; the month long endure for life, floating and sinking. Getting thinner by day. I do not wish this upon any living creature, but you fought well; and surprised death. Life applause you, or so I pray.

2025.07.19

I'm patiently waiting for some of the most talented people's works to come out. It is you, with your vast world-view and imagination. You with no strict-ideals; but you floats along with thoughts without judgment. Words cannot describe how much I am saved by these people; once when commuting to school, I saw a familiar face, very similar to that of an artist I've listened to for years. I could'nt say anything; the words would feel cheap if I were to go up to the certain individual to say " I am saved, I was saved, and I will be saved by what you fought to create. But you wouldn't know; because you aren't me, and I understand. But I just hope, someday, you will stand where I stood and cry at how beautiful the world has brought you up to be. So in the case of self-neglect, we love you and will forever love you for the being you fight to be. The authentic you that is a mere individual and nothing more. The tome will remain amidst the hatred. Do watch the video's on traditional Matsuri and the one on behavioral biology. Be lid of the viscous heart that wants social-acceptance! You are beautiful because you are alone and full of intellegence and sorrow. I bought a lemon tree to raise lemons; only to be surprised by a bunch of Swallow-tail butterfly catapilars. I cannot kill them; they eat the leaves bare, but I cannot kill them still. I now raise not lemons but swallow-tail butterflies. I remember it being a wonderful thing; those butterflies. I lived next to a lepidopterist and a girl who became a lepidopterist herself. Such amazing career. I, in the other hand, am completely indifferent to those who seek power and money; who lives with bubble over their heads. There always is another side to a same coin; the coin is worthless if 2d, so believe it is multi-sided and look to the other side once in a while. Hence,I cannot say things strongly worded, but this does not make one worthy of being scapegoated or called out for their stupidity, for they are not.

2025.07.04

Gentleness is the greatest trait found in kindness; the doudou-bird did go extinct because of their docile nature but it is not true to say that their gentleness is not great because everything made will lead a path to their fall. None can defy this law of nature. I've found this week that libido with kindness is the two elements of creativity ; you must be docile, kind and gentle to be creative. There also must be libido, despised because of it's violent nature. The dilemma in which the gentle fights its animalistic insticts with such gentleness and kindness calls for creative ambitions and visions that cannot be mentally contained ( and cannot be violently carried out in physical sense). As an ink falls and color the milk a tint of hue, gentleness and the docile nature (neutral zones) can be contaminated easily with strong hue that are violent to some degree and strong because of its certainty. Being certain is not righteousness by any means, but human nature tends to favor the state of being certain in any aspect. However, this calls for enslavement to a certain idea: social strength is a prison. Gentleness to perceive all things in their natural nature is freedom. Ofcourse, society does not favor freedom, as it is the resource that is of the value. And yes; not all are lucky enough to realize and learn the potential this world holds. The question is not if we can fight the fall but how to prolong the inevitable fall. The answer lies in gentleness; the game is made for the elites and the elites only. There is no need for others to play competitively in the game that only bore hatred to the neighbors. The concept is not to lose nor to win; it is to remain gentle, there lies the truth to remaining human in the age of division. Accept the uncertain nature of gentleness, the skies are always that swift blue. Violence of human nature can be defeated, and this is the definition of true strength.

2025.06.23

Simply there lacks libido in which the movie stands on, or simply there is too much of it to make the act of story telling sacred. Last week I went to see a movie which I was utterly and completely disapointed by, because I quite enjoyed the last one in the series. It felt too verbose, and the director lacked the heat in which they told their last lore. It may be because it lacked libido in which all creative impetus relies on, and with the last film being a successful, the need to control or the longing of life and death must have been put out. I'm not the one to care much if anything is not as expected, but it had some effect on me and I felt quite betrayed. Three days after that, I went to see Megalopolis by Coppola and I undestand what evoked them to make the story, however felt far too personal beyond the film's true intention; which is completely fine as a film. Having the drive to build things such as Megalopolis is to be praised upon; it felt much put together than the unnamed film I saw earlier in the week. It still wasn't enough to hoist me up from the confusing disapointment I had been feeling. It all changed when I stumbled upon this on youtube.The endless sadness of mankind and I cry at the dim light that shines dark hues upon your silhouette. Its a horrid thing and its all so beautiful. I've been watching/reading HunterHunter and its horrifying beyond anything I've read ( maybe a little more than Berserk because the contrast between the light and the dark is sharper in Hunter Hunter, whereas Berserk feels like complete darkness.) Remember that loneliness, remember that darkplace in our town that the mind braced to travel through. Feeling as if there still was light and this light crushed you because of that dark dark place. It feels like that era. I wish to emanate this light that shines onto the sadness of mankind, so we will accept this instead of feeling the need to tear out of ourselves.Does the shadow embrace you still?

2025.06.04

You've not seen the murky blue of the water simply because of color-blindness; or so thought one who sees every color. The rainbow tightens a bow around the world, clasping it a little tighter but those beady little eyes cannot grasp it's hue. Simply put the world is filled with such beau through and through, however the makeup of one's body limits its perception. If one were to see every beauty there is, that body would know pain like no other, and is the only real pain that is in the world. I do not hate you; because I do not wish to leave it so. No one does hate you so much to tear you into pieces, if we all were aware of this pain. A classmate of mine once said they saw beauty in the decay of this and such is nature; but withholding beauty, one is all so aware of the beauty that lies there and defies it. If not knowing beauty, one will not defy this. A paradox of precious time and perception plays tricks on the stature that is us. You will see me combing the beach for physical beauty, not knowing the cry beneath that prays for the everlasting beauty that this meat body cannot experience; so I love you gust, I love you gaze, and I so do love you garon; even in your hatred that projected itself that late-summers day on the rusty roofs of the barracks. And do not carry any room for any hatred, and will promise to leave you a tome of my beauty that will long-after roam the horizon beyond your perished body. And you will know it, with your precious sensers that presevered itself with immortal beauty and never hid from the pirecing pain that you held dear in the womb.

2025.05.18/27

Dead porpoise (or a baby dolphin?) The rostrum was covered and I do not know enough to make a statement. Found sundial shell. Buried after a while by the tide; the wounds only seen by some.

In the lightest of blues, have you seen the light-weight bird chirping chirping chirping, gust of wind pushing its little hollow body up until you can see it no more but can still hear it's chirp? The never-ending chirp it is; it tries to defy nature but never can with it's stature.

Today at the beach there were dozens of dead birds. It lay in every form, some already eaten by it's own kind. It had been beaten with strong wind and possibly some illness only know to aviators.

Realize this; fall when we all fall, ah that is nature. It is sublime and too strong for any steel will.

Yes. Do not go gentle into that good night, yes. But also, it is not your fault when we all fall. It was nature and nature is that wind that killed all of those birds today; It was the stature of the wind and hollow bone that no will could have beaten.

2025.04/23.26

Pale blue kind of night it was, I don't remember what I was doing in school;but it was late going home. As I walked I heard a sudden shriek from behind me and turned to see people gathering and panicking whilst one collapsed in the middle. Seemingly, someone was dead. It was a quiet panick that would eat you up for hundred years to come.I turned back for I realized I had come here with a bike, however a guard stopped me and told me to hurry home. So I walked slowly home.

The day after, there had been a seating change and I got the seat next to the window. A dull kind of girl sat next to me, whom I had great empathy for; for I was quite dull myself. I looked on through the open window displaying a gray tall building with red antennae on top. The mountain and the pale blue looming over us.

"Wonder what that gray building is. I've wondered this for almost two years since I've been coming here. (I fear, and pray not to learn of any death, and wonder what those gray concrete brick walls hold. I wonder what the antennae is for, I wonder of the unique lightness of being we share, sitting by this window. I will go home on a bicycle tonight, and there will always be that awful shriek in the back of my wheel. But I will forget, once small free souls round up around the bonfire and dance, and I will watch from the roadside with burnt grass penetrating my nostils.)"

Riso.

33.If it weren't for that green light

2025.04/19

Riding late afternoon through dust, I recall having strong fascination towards the prince in snow white; not attraction, I barely remember what he looks like; I just remember him looking quite fake and I hated that, so no. Not that kind of fascination, but it was when he cut through those roses; the sound of blade slashing through tough vines and roses being cut. Also, all I can remember now in aladdin is him drowning to the depth with weight tied around his leg. I remember having funerals for my dolls as well. Its the same fascination I have toward towns and time; a strange fascination and a very strong fear toward death. The idea makes everything so beautiful, but I fear it and hope not for all to perish for I love that beauty. Such paradox; but paradox make one beautiful as weakness does not look beautiful but makes you beautiful. So be lid not of the weakness of the physical form; the uglyness of the physical makes one so beautiful in idea.

My disinterest in gore and erotica has made me an outcast from society; not an outcast of human but perhaps from the mass. I feel quite human and alike to many other human in this world, but the mass I quite feel apart from; I have found the study of life to be somewhat important nowadays. Not because it is estoric in any way, being a human, bone structures and innards that compose of life and its decay does look intriguing in away as gentle soft shape of humanity does as well. But it is far too loud and far too naive to give in to the tangible things in life for the reality exist in the quiet idea of the worldly components. Think not of the touch; if achievable, flying too close to the sun does not hold any beauty. In the renaissance era of humanity, the unknown brought the idea, the most beautiful state of mind, to us and thus made us curious and estoric. I ride to see the quiet beauty and it is everywhere and I feel hurt because of time; but they stood slouched on the fence next to a combini on the outskirts of middle sized town in the haze of the afternoon light, lighting a tabacco in their hands and ashes fall. The ashes fall. Falls through the grate to the running subway underneath. And the ashes fall.

As you'll know, I would stare forever at the river that flows neither up nor down if it weren't for the green light waiting to change.

Alice chases the white tamed hare; I'll chase the bloody path of a injured stingy stray cat.

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