Claude Debussy/Tokyo Sonata

I don't know much about classical music and I've never attempted to expand on that. I know that I like piano music and I know the greats like Beethoven and Mozart but, in the Western world, you'd have to have been living under a rock not to know those people. I don't know their music, though. My one and only true classical love affair has been with Claude Debussy's Clair de Lune. It is my definition of beauty. When we talk about such things we often refer to the tangible, but I believe that this is the sound beauty makes. The first time I heard it I imagined water, water from a brooke approaching new territory, nimbly finding it's way through a trial of jagged rocks. It slowly and tirelessly made those rocks into supple stones. It did so elegantly but with tenacity, never yielding. In the subsequent times I've listen to this piece I've discovered the wild through my mind's eye; a dense, overwhelmingly green forest that dazzles the eyes while humming the tunes of trickling freshwater into your ears.

I just finished watching Tokyo Sonata... I wasn't in love. The parents where morons, the elder brother was a flake, I only truly empathised with the youngest son who had to live in that lunacy. I once had a dream of playing the piano but I knew my parents couldn't afford it so I never brought it up, but this kid did. When they said 'no' he found a way to have his opportunity regardless. I admire his courage. The kid turns out to be a prodigy according to his teacher but it is not until the very last scene that we experience this. He was the films saving grace.

He performed Clair de Lune by Debussy, he played it perfectly. Exactly like my Francois-Joel Thiollier copy. He commanded my attention as well as his audience's. Not only was he beautiful, in that moment, but he created beauty with his tiny adolescent hands. He made me see that forest. Now, at 01:49 am, I'm wondering if I should let go and start creating my beauty...

The September Issue vol.1 chp 3 Perky Ken

I went back to that cafe. Not to look for him but to make a new friend. I wouldn't normally seek out friends but I realise that, along with an unlimited access to the world wide web, friends are necessary for my balance. I entered the cafe with a ding-a-ling (it still had an effect) and sat in my little corner. Unfortunately, the jaded waitress was absent - probably her day off. She'd been replaced by a super perky waiter with a super smile; perky creeps me out. He approached me with a sincere, wide-eyed smile and I couldn't help but do the same; it was an unconscious reflex, my go to instinct like how a moth is compelled to fly towards the light, I am compelled to smile. It's a curse. I missed the jaded waitress. I could remain indifferent with her. My shield of sugar and spice and everything nice had seen better days. It wasn't because of Japan. In my 'good first impression' mode, I gave no opinions on my beliefs, interests...TV, I was a cordial vault. Back in London I wasn't constantly meeting new people so I could relax every once in a while. This place, this new place made it difficult to get to know anyone or for anyone to get to know me. My defences were permanently up.

Perky's cheeks started to twitch. It was a bit devilish but I smiled back wider and he followed with his eyes screaming irritation which made me smile even more. I decided to order because it was getting cruel. I ordered a hot chocolate, of course, and an omelette. It came and I ate. It had mushrooms, and spinach; I'm not a fan of mushrooms but once something is placed in front of me I feel compelled to eat. Maybe it's having lived in Ghana for all those years; you dare not leave perfectly good food on the plate. It wasn't about the poverty, it was about culture. You did what you were told without question.

So I finished everything and ordered some water from Perky Ken while I tried take two of reading Norwegian Wood. He came back with my water, I thanked him and went back to my book. I expected to hear his footsteps as he walked away but it never came. I eventually looked up to find him staring down at me, intensely. Something had piqued his interest. He looked like, for the first time in the 20 minutes we'd known each other, he actually wanted to talk to me. I figured it was because of the book. I titled my head to the right and gave him the warmest smile I could muster. It was my best comforting teacher look, the look were you pretend that you're understanding and neutral and a haven. I'm not normally underhanded with my powers but he'd piqued my interest. He didn't bite. He excused himself when he caught me looking. I watched as he went behind the counter and came out with a wipe, pretending to be busy, wiping clean tables. So I bit.

The story so far

So I've been away for a while. I can't really explain it except to say that I didn't feel like it. I recently sat the JLPT N5, which is a proficiency test for Japanese, it's the most basic level. I'm pretty sure I failed. And I know this because throughout my academic years I've learned that when I think I've failed, I've failed and when I think I've passed, I've passed. I can't guess and I can't wing it. It's a curse. My vocabulary was great, because all I do is Kanji. But that's not the problem when it's only a third of the whole test. I'm not that upset because now I know where I need extra help on in my studies, but it cost me 70 quid to figure that out.