I think I’ve had maybe two days of truly good feelings and exuberant productivity in the last two weeks. That’s pretty lame. It’s not even November yet!

The other night, I realized that it’s been a month since I posted my Aika face. At the time, I thought I’d made a breakthrough. Things were going to change. Get better. Illusions would be dispelled, truths would be clarified, and steps would lighten. Would not the whole world seem more appetizing? A delicious treat waiting to be devoured?

I licked my lips, I waited to want the world.

I waited.

I waited.

This is a kind of waiting that I do not feel is wholly inappropriate. There is nothing to it aside from waiting, no promises or strings or expectations. Kind of like waiting for no one at a train station.

But while it’s the kind of waiting I find ‘acceptable,’ it is not particularly easy.

(Nothing should be easy!)

But I can’t sing that I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait—that, while a kind of waiting I’m far better at, would be inappropriate. It’s a dedication and a commitment. It’s an unfounded and unreasonable pining. One for which the waiter should need permission.

The narrative is, as a housemate commented, making itself clear.

An arc of my life.

With every post, I can find more previous posts to link together. Cohesion is manifesting. Sense can be made of my ramblings. Are you reading this? Or are you too distant?

A new week. Another Monday.

Starting tomorrow, I will make a renewed commitment to positif thinking, to energetic productivity, to Mizunashii Mode, to staying upbeat. For whom? For me, of course. But also for you, in case I’m not just standing outside the train station.

I’ll pass on projecting too much of Shinkai upon myself.

See, this is why I fail at Twitter, I don’t have the linguistic skills to fuck around with 140 characters and make any kind of point.

In the 1970s and 1980s, anime fell into much more specific styles than it does now. This was very clear in the 70s, when there were pretty much only two kinds of…

Oh you…

Kara no Kyoukai is not so unique as you make it out to be… Its content is very Blood+, very Mai’s arc in Kanon. It’s about humanity and death, and many, many shows over the past decade have dealt with similar themes in similar ways.

As for style and atmosphere, while it’s true that Kajiura’s soundtrack lends the work style points that few other shows have (mainly because Kajiura’s other magnificent soundtracks have gone to such ultimately subpar shows as Tsubasa Chronicle and Mai-HiME*), the general visual feel at least is nothing novel. We’ve seen the bamboo forest at night in pretty much every samurai anime, including those two later episodes of AIR. Kumo no Mukou, Yakusoku no Basho did the the loneliness and emptiness of the city far better. Ergo Proxy handled human frustration—Shiki’s water bottles, Shiki’s unlocked door, Shiki’s careless loll, Shiki’s restless plodding—… better, I’d say, but at least similarly: never forget Real’s cabin fever.

*It’s funny that I made the Kajiura distinction, because I’d forgotten about Noir. Murder is sacred? Those who can kill are different from those who can’t? Love develops hand-in-hand with a desire to kill? Epic Kajiura soundtrack (perhaps her best)? 2001. This decade.

I could go on, but eh. “Steeped in post-2007 Faustian style”… my first guess would be that actually, Faust is steeped in post-1998 Kinoko style.

And of course, never forget that one show the existence of which everyone loves to deny: Lunar Legend Tsukihime (2003!). It didn’t have the Kajiura blessing, and the amount of story it tried to tell in so little time hindered its ability to take a break and say “hey, I’m super atmospheric!”, but it gets pretty close nonetheless. Characters with similar mentalities are present. The world is dark, the city threatening. Bad stuff is happening. Maybe the main character is responsible. Etc. …

(Basically, the author of the reblogged post needs to expand his scope.)

I’m sitting upstairs in the house I’m renting with my brother and some friends. My room is on the main level; I’m hiding in someone else’s room in order to evade the noise of the currently-ongoing ‘cultural night’ social event. People who are my friends are sitting around being loud. And I want none of it.

Across the bay in San Francisco, a contingent of buddies is meeting up for a last hang-out before one of them leaves town for the rest of the summer. I RSVPed saying I couldn’t go—I had plans to attend the social event in my own household, and couldn’t weasel out of it. Apparently I didn’t need to weasel out of anything. I just needed to get a head ache.

My initial interpretation of my feelings following my break-up two months ago was that I had become less trustful. I didn’t want to see people. I felt safer ‘in my room, safe within my womb’… to recycle good song lyrics ;)

I don’t think that’s quite right, though.

I think I’m lonely. Which is weird, because I’m surrounded by people. I can’t deal with them all at once, somehow. I don’t want the company of a company.

Is it laughable that I am discontent?

I really have become a recluse. And it’s silly and contradictory for me to both avoid and desire company. I do well in one-on-one situations, right now, insofar as I’m happy hanging out with any one person at a time. I find myself becoming a bit grumpy in three-man groups, snappy in four-, and downright bitchy in larger.

“So just go hang out with people one by one!”

But I’m scared of becoming too attached to people right now. Rebounds and all that. My guy friends? Sexuality has nothing to do with it. I received an e-mail the first night I was at Fanime this year. That e-mail heralded the end of my seventeen-month relationship with my girlfriend. It wasn’t even over yet—not until three days later—but I saw it coming, and I became a barnacle.

Sorry, Simon. I didn’t mean to force romantic friendship upon you like that.

For now, I think I’ll pass on opportunities to become too close to my friends.