Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts

Friday, September 23, 2011

“Reality Hits You Hard.”

Here’s an inspiring story where individuals with autism find careers that are suited to their personalities.

The company “nurtures these skills while forgiving the quirks that can make adults with autism unemployable: social awkwardness, poor eye contact, being easily overwhelmed.”

“Traits that make great software testers — intense focus, comfort with repetition, memory for detail — also happen to be characteristics of autism. People with Asperger's syndrome, a mild form of autism, have normal to high intelligence and often are highly skilled with computers.”

Sadly, I’ve got all of the unemployable quirks while none of the useful traits.

I mean seriously, why aren’t there more jobs that compliment rather than condemn individual quirks? We’re human beings, we’re not robots, and I bet a lot more of us are awkward than are, as every single job opening demands, someone “outgoing” and “energetic”. You know, the second I see adjectives like that I write a job off, it doesn’t matter how otherwise well-suited I might be for the job or it for me. Why aren’t there jobs where one gets commended rather than criticized for being soft-spoken and reserved? They’re not like severe character flaws, and there are much much worse traits an employee could demonstrate while still fulfilling the enthusiastic criteria.

 

Chris Colfer is adorable, and his instance that he doesn’t deserve to be put on a pedestal just makes me want to put him on ALL the pedestals. On the other hand, I’m trying not to let my niggle of jealousy that he has been able to buy a house at 21 when I probably won’t be able to afford one for decades yet turn into full-blown loathing. I mean, I want a house of my own more than anything – I would give up my legs for a house though it would have to be one with a wheelchair ramp in that case.

 

And in the category of “It’s About Darn Time!” Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell has been repealed. Well, I’m not a fan of any kind of military, and kind of find that my admiration for people who want to be truthful about who they are is countered by my lack of respect for their willingness to kill other people, but hey, I guess it’s a step in the right direction.

 

In a step in the wrong direction, we have the world of publishing, where controversy has arisen over authors of Young Adult books and stories being advised to edit out gay storylines because apparently they don’t sell. I’m boggled by this considering I know plenty of people who buy books based entirely on their containing a gay character, and have been known to do so myself. Because, honestly, I got sick of reading the same boy-girl story over and over. If you want to support the cause, here’s a list of books that have managed to get published intact, and I’m a little embarrassed how few I’ve read – I’ll have to work my way through it when I have some free reading time.

 

On the other hand, in news about causes that I could actually be a participant rather than just a witness of, New York Times had this interesting story: In a Married World, Singles Struggle for Attention

I’m all for challenging the assumption “that if you don’t get married there is something wrong with you.”

“These were very successful women in their careers and their lives, yet almost all of them felt bad about not being married, like they were letting someone down.”

“If a person is happy being single, then we should support that as well.”

“We do have the tendency to think that there is something special about married people, and that they are the ones who keep community and family going. I thought it was important to point out that single people keep our community going, too.”

Word.

And related to that, I was also thinking about 1 Corinthians 7 lately:

“8To the unmarried and the widows I say that it is good for them to remain single as I am. 9But if they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry. For it is better to marry than to burn with passion…”

“17Only let each person lead the life that the Lord has assigned to him, and to which God has called him. This is my rule in all the churches…”

“29This is what I mean, brothers: the appointed time has grown very short. From now on, let those who have wives live as though they had none, 30and those who mourn as though they were not mourning, and those who rejoice as though they were not rejoicing, and those who buy as though they had no goods, 31and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it. For the present form of this world is passing away.”

Oh, Paul, you do know the quickest way to my heart is to talk about the world-as-we-know-it ending, don’t you.

“32I want you to be free from anxieties.”

That might be the nicest thing a guy’s ever said to me.

 

And now, as an anecdote antidote for today’s ranty McRanty Pants, the brilliant folks over at AutoTune the News bring you:

Saturday, July 16, 2011

TOKIO “Airship” - lyrics translation

宙船 歌詞 翻訳 英語

Row that boat forward,
Row it with your own hands.
Don’t give up the oars to those
Who will rejoice when you’re gone.

Where is that ship floating to now?
Where does it keep dragging itself?
When the water flows against it,
The ship is challenged - the ship is damaged.
All of the sailors are fleeing in terror, but

Row that boat forward,
Row it with your own hands.
Don’t give up the oars to those
Who will rejoice when you’re gone.

Has that ship forgotten that it is an airship?
Has that ship forgotten the time when it soared?
The edge of the earth, the edge of the water -
That is the site where this ship takes off.
Every harbor has grown dark and silent, but

Row that boat forward,
Row it with your own hands.
Don’t give up the oars to those
Who will rejoice when you’re gone.

What test is it time for?
What do the scales judge?
What do you keep aiming for?
What sets your ship in motion?

Row that boat forward,
Row it with your own hands.
Don’t give up the oars to those
Who will rejoice when you’re gone.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

“How’s that working out?”

I have been spending all my free time lately being utterly charmed by White Collar. The fact that all the main actors are such pleasant people in interviews and despite their fame, manage to have really sweet family lives, only speeds the growth of this warm fuzzy feeling. You know you’re getting broody when that’s your criteria for celebrity crushes; are they cute with their kids? (Although now that I think about it, I remember being pretty enamored of Richard Dean Anderson w/Child back in my Stargate Days.)

But actually, that’s one of the appeals of the show itself – FBI Agent Peter Burke investigates crimes with the help of “former” con-man Neal Caffrey, and then he goes home to lovely wife Elizabeth. The Burkes are the best married couple I have seen on TV – or maybe have seen ever. Neal gives peter advice on what to do when he forgets his anniversary, and El tells him how to handle his untrustworthy partner. For a show about crime, it’s all very domestic.

 

The lovely Tiffani Thiessen, who plays Elizabeth, had a baby last year but continued shooting the show while pregnant. (You know, I could do a post just on how TV shows conceal or incorporate the impending motherhood of their actresses, it’s kind of hilarious.) I understand why they didn’t include it in the story – second season is a little too soon for a parenthood storyline. But if they do go there in the future (and can do it without ruining the charm of the Burke peaceful marriage) I think it would be hilarious – Peter not being able to handle a crying baby, and Neal somehow babysitting in an emergency situation and being able to soothe it to sleep using a paperclip and a shoelace - a baby is, after all, only a very small mark.

 

Meanwhile, Tim DeKay (who I fell for because he was in Big Eden, a romantic comedy I'm currently starry-eyed over) plays Peter, and has two older kids:

“About once a month or so, my daughter and I go out on what we call a Fancy Dinner Date, just the two of us. Here's the criteria we use to decide where to go: (1) There has to be a white tablecloth, and (2) there has to be flowers or candles on the table, or both.”

Awww.

 

Neal’s actor, Matt Bomer, is being the exact opposite of his unreliable character, and is raising three kids – including twins – with his partner, who had them via surrogate. I’m crossing my fingers Mr. Bomer decides to add to that number, because those are some genetics that really ought to be passed on to future generations.

 

But topping all those mountains of adorable and heartwarming is the story of Willie Garson, who plays the show’s comic relief Mozzie. In his forties as a single male, he adopted a little boy.

“He has a spark. He was balancing himself on a curb, and I was like, ‘That’s my kid.’ I knew it right then.”

I’d call that an inspiration to us all – or maybe just me. I don’t need to get it done in the next four years!

 

And just because:

Saturday, June 11, 2011

“Notice what this song does not say.”

I like to think of myself as being subtle and tasteful and other “ull” words, but sometimes I am just as susceptible(!) to blatant emotional(!!) manipulation as the next person. Especially in the area of TV programs, where my intellect drops to the lowest common denominator and I become notoriously easy to please (my goodness, I went through a Highlander phase, it doesn’t get much more shameful(!!!) than that.)

To wit, I am realizing how many of my favorite scenes in TV shows – and hence favorite TV shows because once you’ve hooked me I’m a line and sinker kind of fish – are the ones where a song with Extremely Pertinent And Meaningful To The Character’s Emotions At This Moment Lyrics starts playing on the soundtrack. And even though I know my heartstrings are being purposefully tugged on, it doesn’t make me any less starry-eyed over the song, the character, and the show in general. Hey, I’m not proud of it – I’m only human. People who make TV shows study very carefully how to make the audience react in ways they want, so it’s no wonder that once in a while they get it right.

So here’s some of my favorite (or perhaps infavorite in terms of my self-respect) moments of “Oh Hai, Soundtrack, I See What You Did There.” Note: I’ve put the reason I found each song so effective, so if you don’t mind having the plot for a certain show spoiled, highlighting will reveal the text.

 

White Collar: The most recent example, that got me thinking about this. Neal has learned the organization that has given him a job, among people he considers friends - and a partner - also contains the man who stole away the woman he loves. It was a big suspenseful thing that was cleared away within a few episodes, but it was killer for that moment where he’s looking around the bustling office to the swell of Shane Alexander’s Feels Like The End.

I don't remember what I've done.
I'm done with all the years.
I've got no one but myself
To ask "how did I get here?"
And I worry all the time.
What's coming around the bend?
Maybe I'm just going crazy,
But it feels like the end.

 

X-Files: The mystery of what happened to his sister Samantha when they were children underlined most of Mulder’s life, and hence the show. When he finally lets go of her and achieves – as the episode’s title indicates – “closure,” it had to be a culmination of all that obsession and regret and longing, for the sake of the audience if nothing else. But Question: when you have a score by Mark Snow, how do you top that in haunting? Answer: get Moby’s My Weakness.

 

Lost: A show that thrives on this trope, the first few episodes blatantly having a character turn on his cd player a minute before the episode ends, while everyone around him – presumably unable to hear through his headphones (and his hair!) – still manages to make doleful expressions to suit the music. When he finally ran out of batteries, it was a much-needed touch of humor on the deserted island. And meanwhile, from an artist I have trouble reconciling that I like his music but loathe his habits – Willie Nelson’s Are You Sure?

Look around you, take a good look,
And tell me what you see.
Are you sure that this is where you want to be?

Queer as Folk: Yeah, I know this isn’t going to end well. I’ve seen before, a couple of times, not to mention I know how foreshadowing in the genre works. It doesn’t stop it from being one of most hopeful, romantic, and sweet scenes in any show (not only for the audience familiar with Brian “The Jerk” Kinney’s usual modus operandi). But maybe that’s the redeeming power of a good old-fashioned love song like The Drifters’ Save the Last Dance For Me

 

The Sopranos: Now, I loved the theme song to this show – but that’s not the point of this post - maybe another day’s. It’s impossible not to have a love-hate relationship with this show, as it is with the main character. I’m sure there were more emotional song-scenes, considering Tony was a character who could inspire extremes of disgust and protective instinct in the space of heartbeat. But when it comes to sheer memorable soundtrack moments, none other can be named than the shenanigans of the FBI trying to bug his house to a brilliant mashup of Henry Mancini’s Peter Gunn Theme and The Police’s Every Breath You Take.

 

House: And speaking of characters we love onscreen but would hate to meet in real life, Gregory House. Is his addiction a need, or a want? Is having a friend a need or a want, and if the former, how do you balance your need for one with their need to maintain their life away from you? This song could almost be the theme song, it’s so integral to the character arcs. The true struggle is knowing the difference between what one wants and what one needs – but there are worse philosophies to live by than The Rolling Stones’ You Can’t Always Get What You Want.

You can't always get what you want.
You can't always get what you want.
You can't always get what you want.
But if you try sometimes, you just might find
You get what you need.

Smallville: OK, I know you’re thinking that a TV show not only based on a comic, but on a strange alternative reality version thereof, where famous nemeses were best friends in their youth before inevitably turning against each other like some kind of Greek tragedy, has no foundation for moments of honest and sincere emotion. And I really have no defense for my period of fascination with the show – I don’t even like comics – except that I was young and have you heard Michael Rosenbaum (Lex Luthor) talk at all? I make no secret of the fact that a sexy speaking voice has always been my Kryptonite.

And yeah, so this was even more than the usual of melodramatic and manipulative, but there are many small sins I’m willing to forgive for Johnny Cash’s cover of Nine Inch Nails’ Hurt.

If I could start again,
A million miles away.
I would keep myself.
I would find a way.

Buffy: Oh, Joss Whedon, you can’t be satisfied with normal teenage angst, can you? Some girls have boyfriend troubles – Buffy had a vampire boyfriend hundreds of years her senior, who became a soulless killing monster and had to be killed (by her, natch) in order to save the world. No wonder she ran away from home on the next bus out of town – I’m just surprised she didn’t do it sooner (considering the town in question) – and especially, as all life’s saddest moments ought to be, to the strains of Sarah McLachlan’s Full of Grace.

It’s better this way, I said,
Having seen this place before,
Where everything we said and did
Hurts us all the more.


 

So, those are the Good, Bad, and Ugly of my favorite Anvilicious televised soundtrack moments, just off the top of my head. Any you’d like to suggest?

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

“You cross the street. You don’t know why you did – you walk back across the street.”

So last month I posted Flight of the Conchords performing “I’m not Crying” but it wasn’t until this month that I realized there is more where that comes from and, in fact, they actually have their own TV show. It’s like a New Zealand version of Mitchell and Webb’s Peep Show, except minus the most humiliating humor and plus randomly bursting into song. Which equals awesome.

The duo consists of Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie. (The latter’s accent makes his name into “Brit” which causes some confusion on the show. The former’s name isn’t spelled with an R but sounds like it has one anyways. I don’t know, New Zealand.)

 

The duo bemoans the difficulty of modern life in the big city. Answers the age-old question of “what rhymes with muesli?” and poses a new one: “What happened to those other underpants you had?”

“You want to sit down but you sold your chair so you… you just stand there.”

 

Jemaine is haunted by the Ghosts of Girlfriends Past:

“This guy is a fool – he’ll always be a boy, he’s a man who’ll never grow up.”

 

Bret tells a skeptical Jemaine about his encounter with a girl:

“Your beard is woven of heartache, and we’ll drink for the lonely tonight.”

 

“West Side Conchords”. I would buy a ticket to this:

*snap*

 

An Ode to Friendship:

“I’ll scrape you up and reconstruct you.”

 

Bret performs old-time Korean Karaoke, which I haven’t tried yet but I’ve done some old-time Japanese karaoke, and I can testify that it is exactly like this:

“The taste is likened to the milk of a cow who has done nothing wrong.”

 

The real litmus test, though, is how a group performs live:

“You needed some time to clear your head. You seem to have done that.”

 

“You’re so beautiful… you could be a waitress.”

Thursday, May 5, 2011

“Can I borrow your handcuffs? I forgot mine.”

I went to see the final installment in the SP franchise yesterday. It was a tv show in late 2007, followed by a special episode and two films (or two films divided in two, I don’t know the difference). Though it’s commonly referred to by the simple initials SP (security police) the full title in Japanese is a mouthful: Keishicho keibibu keigoka daiyon-gakari - Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department Security Department Bodyguard Division Fourth Section. *deep breath*

I liked the series - even though it was ostensibly a “cop show” it had a very Japanese feel. It was very, “How do we stay humble to the VIP while shoving them bodily out of the way of danger?” and “My apologies for setting you on fire but I did warn you not to shoot.” Since guns are outlawed only the outlaws have guns – our heros come up with some awesome improvised weapons depending on their location. Hospital equipment in one episode, office supplies in the most recent movie – maybe I just have a weird fetish for office supplies but I had to suppress a cheer. Maybe it’s a teacher thing – but hey, knowing the Japanese, the entire audience probably felt the same.

I adore the lead actor, Okada Junichi, who is unassuming in a way I find appealing in both my leading men and my security police. Also a member of the group V6, he debuted shortly before his 15th birthday, and has stated that he would get nauseous from stage-fright in his early days. As his character, it also gives him an edge – no one expects 170 centimeters of nice business suit to be able to kick the bad guys’ butts and save the day.

And I love the original theme song, Way of Life, sung by Okada-kun with the rest of V6. Even though it’s an emotional ballad that doesn’t quite match the feel of the series, even though the music video is one I find touching and yet am embarrassed to find touching at the same time. (“How many Symbols of Extreme Emotional Angst can we fit into this single music video?” GROWN MEN. HOLDING HANDS. SINGING. A BALLAD. IN THE RAIN. WITH HAND GESTURES. AND ONE CONTINOUS CAMERA SHOT.) Oh, whatever, I refuse to feel shame:

When I become aware, time has passed.
I am just wandering for no reason.
Light shines through a break in the clouds.
I turn my palm up to the shining days.

It’s a way of life.
Just before, I turned and walked away,
To break out of the gray days.
Even if I falter or feel uncertain,
I can accept almost anything.

Overtaking, I stand still on the road
Looking back over my shoulder at yesterday.
I protect the trembling soul,
Running, running after.
There is a future I want to protect.
I place my trust in today and keep walking.

So unnoticed, time comes full circle.
Every day repeating the same again.

It's a way of life.
What kind of future is waiting?
The image those gray days left behind,
Even if I sigh or feel sad,
I can dissolve almost anything.

This is how I am still remembering,
The dream I saw that day continues,
The promise we made with each other.
Whether I keep calling or stop,
We can't return to yesterday,
So I reach out my hand now.

Childhood memories recalled,
Following them leads nowhere.
Wanting to reveal the feelings in my heart,
Now my calling voice dies out.

Overtaking, I stand still on the road.
Look at the feelings I can't convey.
Someday we will reach an understanding.
Running, running after.
There is a future I want to protect.
I keep walking like this, even now.

I place my trust in today and keep walking.

岡田准一

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Somewhere only we know–Keane (Glee cover)

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.

Because there’s always a random piano outdoors when you need one. But that aside… there’s not a single thing I can complain about in this scene.




On a related note, the fictional Dalton Academy Warblers are actually performed (except for the lead vocal which, of course, is fandom's beloved Darren Criss) by Tufts University's Beelzebubs:

I mean, Magical Mystery Tour! The really adorable soloist with the curly hair <3 being "the bad man behind blue eyes."!! Neil Diamond!!!

And speaking of Keane, I also love

Try to understand that I'm
Trying to make a move just to stay in the game.
I try to stay awake and remember my name
But everybody's changing
And I don't feel the same.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

“And you realize you didn’t know anything.”

Oh, Japanese TV. I can’t tell if the current program is a regularly scheduled one or an emergency, how-to-survive-disaster one.

Two comedians enter a convenience store with two girl-group members. The latter pick out several items, and claim they are going to make lasagna.

Their “ingredients” include:

Hamburger bread: a flat roll with a whole patty baked into the middle. They detach the two parts, put the bread as a bottom “crust”, and crumble the meat on top.

Milk pudding: which they mash together with

Tomato juice: to make a sauce.

Some kind of italian-seasoned crispy cracker-stick: crumbled on top.

Then into the microwave for a minute. They claim it’s delicious but I think I’d have to close my eyes and hold my nose – and possibly remove my sense of texture – before I could enjoy the result.

What is this supposed to prove? That even when all the (admittedly rather tasty) prepared bento lunches and riceballs are sold out of the convenience stores, one can still look like you’ve gone to the effort of a “home-made” “meal”? If that’s the best you can do, I’d prefer to just eat the original packages – at least they make no pretense on being anything other than junk food. This concoction is an insult to the name of lasagna – frankly, it’s an insult to the name of food bought for about a hundred yen at a convenience store.

 

But Japan can never miss out on an educational opportunity – once classes started again, the English teachers taught our students some new words.

“Does anyone know what jishin is, in English?”

No one did, so I wrote it on the board and had them repeat after me – earthquake is especially hard for the Japanese tongue to pronounce what with the combined r and th sounds.

“Okay, does anyone know what tsunami is?”

Trick question.

One inventive young kid volunteered, “Big Water?”

Another tried, “Storm?” No, that’s arashi.

The Japanese teacher of English made another well-intended but misguided attempt. “Tsunami is like tofu and natto – what do they both have in common?”

Tofu, of course, is the curd from soy beans – natto is the fermented form of the same.

"Tsunami is like soybeans,” one student tried out.

“Tsunami is sticky-sticky,” said another definitively.

I saw what he was getting at, but I knew the students wouldn’t. Tsunami, like tofu and sushi and futon and samurai, is the same in English as it is in Japanese. Natto, though essentially in the same criteria, is so rarely spoken of outside Japan – and Japanese expatriate areas of the West - that it’s a moot point.

Monday, December 13, 2010

“Say, what’s in this drink?”

Are you in the holiday mood yet? Hey, I’m in a country where their idea of Christmas dinner is Kentucky Fried Chicken – if I can work myself up to it then anyone can.

I’m sure anyone who has had a pet and a tree can identify with this…
Watch all the Simon’s Cat videos, actually, if you have free time – they’re all adorable. There’s also this one:

I’m torn between wanting a white Christmas, and not wanting my flights to be delayed…

 

I’m having this love-hate relationship with the TV show Glee. As in, I love the music, but pretty much anytime they’re not singing I hit the mute button. It’s boggling how there can be so much such bad writing – and then there moments when it’s perfect:

This is like a checklist of just about everything I could possibly ask for in a musical performance.

 

And because it got me through the first Christmas alone in 2008:

The Colbert Report Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
A Colbert Christmas: Colbert/Costello Duet
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog March to Keep Fear Alive

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Our Courage, Chapter Six

“Welcome! It’s fine to look at anything, looking is free.”
Makoto, Akira and Kiichi were hawking items in the marketplace. But Makoto was the only one with enthusiasm. The other two were entirely listless. Not to mention the three had been there since the morning but hadn’t sold a thing.
It was only to be expected - among the goods they’d laid out, there was a broken globe, a broken desk lamp, a half-filled sketchbook, and a guitar with only three strings... honestly speaking, it was all crap. None of it would sell.
While Makoto and the others were considering closing up their pretend shop, nearby Yamato and Takeru sat together under the bright orange blanket that had been delivered.
“Of course, as a Japanese person, I like rice best. Warm rice. Just imagine it. Pickled plums, salmon, kelp, dried fish... Yamato, what’s your favorite filling for rice balls?” Takeru asked, in a dreamy tone.
Yamato answered in the same, “Cod roe.”
“Cod roe? You want to taste that crunchiness, right?”
Yamato swallowed, and nodded.
“Why don’t you ask Shibazaki? He promised, right? If everyone was calm he’d listen to our requests,” Takeru said, suddenly down to earth. Yamato was alone in his dreaming about eating rice balls.
“Yamato!” Mori ran up with a strange expression. He pulled an open-mouthed Yamato towards the gate. There, Ryuu with a group looked up at the watching guards. The children held torches, and every face was fierce.
“The general promised to listen to us, didn’t he?” Ryuu yelled.
“What are you talking about?”
“We want real food. Every day we get nothing but cans, give us something decent to eat!”
Not looking at Ryuu, the guard addressed Yamato who’d just come up. “What are you doing? Don’t let them do whatever they want!”
Ryuu looked at Yamato with a scornful smile.
“Hey, since when are you the boss of us?”
“Don’t make a fuss,” Yamato told him.
“You’re giving me orders? We’re not your followers.”
“Hey, this isn’t a question of leaders or followers. Yamato’s just the point of contact, so to speak. If everyone’s talking about various things, they won’t listen to any of us.”
When Takeru answered for Yamato, Ryuu’s oldest friend Reiji said, “You, shut up.” He twisted  Takeru’s arm.
“Owowowow!” Takeru grimaced.
In the middle of the uneasy atmosphere, Yamato said to Ryuu, “If there’s something you want, I’ll ask for it.”
Scowling at him, Ryuu spit on the ground.
*
That night.
In the music room, Takeru, Kiichi and Mori had gathered.
When Takeru mentioned the coldness of Reji’s hand when he grabbed his arm, everyone’s faces grew dark.
“His hand was really cold?” Kiichi asked.
“Yeah, I only felt it for a second, but it was freezing.”
When Takeru nodded, Mori and Kiichi exchanged glances. “That’s the sign.
“Huh?”
“When a person is going to die in a couple of days, their hands get cold.”
“Before he died, my dad said his hands felt cold.” At Kiichi’s words, Mori shook his head, frightened.
“He’s already twenty, that Reiji guy...”
As they fell silent, they all felt a sudden chill. But of course, that was only because of the temperature of the room...
*
The moon had come out.
Shibazaki spoke to Yamato from behind a metal grate.
“How is it, inside?” The guards with guns stood behind him.
“It’s pretty much changed.”
“That’s good.”
“It’s just...”
“Yes?”
“It seems like the food isn’t quite enough, everyone’s saying... well...”
“What?”
“If it’s impossible, just tell me.”
“What is it?”
“...rice balls,” Yamato said in a low voice.
“What was that?”
This time Yamato said it clearly. “We’d like to eat rice balls.”
“Rice balls?”
“I’m sorry.”
Yamato bowed his head apologetically, but Shibazaki answered, “I’ll see what I can do.”
His face brightening, Yamato bowed again, deeply.
*
The next day, a changed atmosphere surrounded the delivery. Rice balls had been added to the usual supplies. It was like a dream - pure white rice wrapped in crisp seaweed. Genuine rice balls.
Everyone lingered over eating them, slowly and regretfully taking the last bite. They understand that, more than anything, they were taking bites of happiness.
Yamato felt extremely grateful to Shibazaki, eating his dreamed-of rice ball. An idea suddenly popped into his head.
That’s it!
In a short while, a piece of paper appeared in the marketplace:
“Collecting Requests.
Since the delivery only comes once a day, we should ask General Shibazaki for things we really need. Write down your requests, and bring it to the gym.
Yamato”
*
“Welcome!”
Makoto raised his voice cheerfully. Sitting next to him, Takeru also looked up. There was finally a customer standing in front of their shop. But as Makoto saw who it was, a cloud crossed his face. It was Ryuu’s buddy, Reiji.
“What do you want?” Akira asked suspiciously, but Makoto spoke in a friendly voice.
“Hey now, he’s a customer. What can we get you?”
Reiji’s blank eyes rested on the guitar.
“Well, as expect, the customer has excellent taste. This is a good choice, this guitar. It’s a Guild, do you know of it?”
“It’s my guitar,” muttered Reiji. “Where’d you get it?”
“We found it in an empty lot,” Akira answered quickly. Reiji took the guitar by the neck, and Makoto tried to stop him in a panic.
“Wait! Finders, keepers, right? Give it back. If you want it, give us something.”
At Makoto’s threatening attitude, Reiji turned with surprising calmness and left that place. With his hands in his pockets, his hunched figure looked lonely as he walked away. Takeru, watching him go, remembered his cold touch from the day before.
*
Takeru found Reiji shortly afterward staying in an abandoned building. He was holding that guitar.
“What,” Reiji asked bluntly. He’d been reading a book, and Takeru couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen someone doing that.
“I was thinking I wanted to apologize about earlier. Sorry, we really didn’t know it was your guitar.”
“It’s fine.”
“I brought it back.” Saying this, Takeru put the guitar next to Reiji.
“But can you actually play it? There’s no strings.”
Without answering, Reiji silently picked it up.
*
They sat next to each other. Reiji was trying to tune the three-stringed guitar. He seemed happy to have it in his hands after a long time, and he and Takeru were having their first real conversation about various topics.
It seemed he’d wanted to be a musician. He hadn't passed any auditions. He’d been thinking if he got out of here, he’d like to write some good songs, get into the indies scene.
When he’d finished talking, Reiji muttered, “I’ve got to get out of here, quick.”
For a second, Takeru felt that chill again. Looking over at the other boy’s profile, he gave a small nod.
*
There was an incredible crowd in the gym. Everyone had come because they’d seen the paper and wanted to add something to the requests box.
“This is a huge turnout,” said Kiichi, his eyes wide.
“If we charged a can of food from each one, we’d make a killing,” Makoto whispered to Yamato.
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“Hey, can I ask for a ‘Dreams Come True’ CD?”
“I want some mousse, and chap-stick.”
Yamato rolled his eyes at Makoto and Akira’s chattering.
“What are you going to do, asking for things like that?”
“But I think everyone will ask for what they personally want.”
At Kiichi’s words, Yamato responded plainly, “Useless requests will be dismissed. We’ll present Shibazaki with the items that the most number of people want.”
“Well, aren’t you almighty, just because you got your rice balls.”
Yamato looked at the line, not even halfway done with their requests. The children slid pieces of paper into a box one after the other. Their eyes were shining, as though they’d been given hope.
“Wouldn’t it be a good thing if all of us could have just a little more comfort in our lives?”
*
The busy day ended. Yamato and the others sorted through the request box, checking off items.
“Roller blades.”
“Can we ask for something like that?”
“Nail clippers.”
“No good. We’ve got scissors.”
“Adult videos.”
“Don’t screw around.”
“A lot of people want miso soup.”
“Miso soup?”
Just then, Yamato noticed Yuuri nearby.
“Yuuri, help us out. We’re going to be doing this until tomorrow morning,” Kiichi called, but she just smiled bitterly at him.
“It’s because you’re trying to listen to everyone’s opinion. Didn’t you know what you were getting into?”
Yamato’s hand stilled as he looked at her. She’d changed her trademark white bandana for a brown one. She seemed a little more gentle lately. Her words didn’t have the same sharp sting as before.
Thinking of that, Yamato smiled brightly. "That's democracy.
“And you’re acting like a politician,” said a voice suddenly from the entryway. It was Ryuu. He had a gang behind him, and they glared at Yamato.
“You’re not being impartial.”
“What do you mean?” Yamato asked, puzzled.
“Whatever they give us, you’re going to keep for yourself.”
“We wouldn’t do something dirty like that!”
“So you say, but like a politician you’re in the position to control it all.”
Yamato was starting to return their angry looks. “I’m not thinking about politics here. I’m considering what’s best for everyone...”
“So how about you hand over all those papers to us? Then we’d be equal.”
As soon as Ryuu had spoken, Kiichi stood up, his face bright red. “Then why don’t you do this?”
Ryuu knocked over the box, glaring at Kiichi. Yamato jumped between the two of them.
“Don’t fight! I promised Shibazaki that we wouldn’t quarrel.”
“Aren’t you a good boy,” Ryuu spat.
As the gang was leaving, Takeru came in.
“”What happened?”
“Nothing,” Yamato said, shaking his head.
Akira confirmed it. “We should leave those guys out of it.”
“Well, let’s finish this up quickly.”
“Takeru, you help,” Kiichi urged him, but Takeru watched them work as though there was something he wanted to say.
“What?” When Yamato looked over at him, Takeru spoke with a rare diffidence.
“Could you ask Shibazaki for something?”
“What is it?”
For a second, Takeru’s eyes were lowered. Then he lifted his head, and opened his mouth decisively.
“Guitar strings.”

*

That night, heating up their bath in the courtyard, Yamato and Takeru continued their conversation.
“He doesn’t know yet, that he’s going to die soon. He’s writing a song on his guitar, and I want him to be able to play it before... that’s why I asked.”
At Takeru’s words, Yamato sat thinking for a moment, before raising his head.
“I can’t ask for that. Don’t get me wrong - “
“Why not?”
“I understand your feelings, but I have to put some limits on listening to everyone’s requests. If I relay every single one, Shibazaki isn’t going to have confidence in me anymore.”
“Confidence?”
“Plus, even if he plays his guitar it won’t save his life.”
“I know that, but - “ Takeru stammered, not understanding.
“I know it sounds cruel, but I’m doing this for everyone. Please understand.”
And saying this, Yamato left quickly, Takeru watching his back as he fled.
… Of course I understand Takeru’s feelings. We’ve been together this whole time, even sleeping together. And yet... Yamato told himself, If he were in my position, would he think the same way? If it were possible, I’d like to give Reiji a real opportunity to perform once before he died. That’s why Takeru wants the strings. He’s painfully pure-hearted like that. I understand that, but everyone who gathered in the gym today is the same. Everyone wrote down their requests with the same genuine hope. If I fail to be impartial... I can’t favor Takeru above everyone else.
“Yamato. Do your best!”
He was walking through the streets lost in his own dark thoughts, when a sudden voice pulled him back. It was a tiny girl. She didn’t have a place to live, so she’d found a corner of the square where a plank blocked the night wind. Returning her warm smile, Yamato raised his head.
He saw Reiji’s figure. He struck a lonely figure, walking with his guitar in one hand.
Yamato stood still, filled with unbearable thoughts. Mori came up, catching his breath. He carried a strange flower.
“You’ve never seen this kind of flower before, right?”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know for sure, but it was growing where the meteor crashed.”
“Huh?”
*
“In the crater?”
Shibazaki looked stunned when Yamato showed him the flower. Just as Mori had said, they were blooming all around the meteor site. Yamato had picked one witth large white petals, and brought it to the negotiating seat.
“Yes, I thought it might give us a hint about the microbe.”
“I’ll have it studied.”
Yamato handed the flower.
A guard interjected. “Is that all you came to say?”
Taken aback by his harsh tone, Yamato stammered, “Ye-es?”
“Didn’t you come to make more demands?”
“...If it’s possible, we’d like some miso soup. That, and - “
For a second, the guitar came to Yamato’s mind, and Reiji’s lonely figure, but it disappeared.
“And?” Shibazaki asked.
“Nothing.”
The guard grew angry at his indecision.
“Don’t get carried away! You think you can just make a sweet face. You get one thing and right away you ask for a second, you get that and you want a third. You take it for granted. Well, don’t be thinking you’ll get a third.”
“That’s not true! I’m doing my best, and there are even more things that people are asking for.”
As Yamato’s voice rose, the guard pointed his gun at him. But Shibazaki pushed it down.
“I understand. I trust in your judgement as leader.”
Yamato couldn’t bring himself to deceive the man. He had to keep trying to be impartial... Yamato bit his lip, and nodded.
I can’t say it. I can’t ask for something like guitar strings.
*
Shibazaki watched Yamato leave, his head hanging. He remembered the meeting he’d had that morning.
A staff member had revealed the investigation results so far.
“We are calling the microbe that arrived on the meteor type T-Makuhara. It transfers by skin-to-skin contact. It only affects humans. Symptoms may vary, but around the age of twenty there is degradation of cells followed by death.”
After the meeting, Shibazaki had been grilled by his superior. Why he’d had extra food sent inside, whether their first priority was the lives of the children or the containment of T-Makuhara.
Their first priority... wasn’t the lives of the children....
Shibazaki closed his eyes, and for a moment he stood there silently as though there was something he was trying to resist.
*
“I wonder what it feels like,” Kiichi muttered that night in the gym, unable to sleep.
“What?” Takeru asked, in the same mood.
“When you understand that you’re going to die soon... If possible, I’d like to die without realizing. It’s the counting down that’s hardest to bear.”
“...Yeah.” Takeru remembered the figure Reiji struck desperately trying to play a song with only three strings. Swamped with unbearable emotions, he pulled his blanket over his head. An unspoken misery had been building up in the depths of his heart since Yamato had refused him.
*
The guitar fell with a clatter, and Reiji opened his eyes.
In the bright morning sunlight, Ryuu and his gang were picking through his things.
Ryuu laughed coldly at Reiji’s puzzled face.
“Hey, you’re still alive.”
“Huh?”
“We came to get your stuff. Since you won’t need it anymore.”
“Of course I’m still alive, what are you talking about?”
“You don’t know?”
Everyone exchanged strange glances.
“You’re going to die soon. When your hands got cold, that’s the sign.”
Reiji’s expression changed. “That’s a lie. You’re lying, right? I’m not dying!”
Reiji leapt at him, but Ryuu shoved him away, and snorted.
“Whether it’s a lie or the truth, you’ll understand soon enough.”

*

“What happened? Why isn’t there any food?” Yamato called up to a guard.
The helicopter hadn’t come for some reason, and they wouldn’t explain anything.
“Say something! Answer me! Where’s Shibazaki? Tell him to come out!”
No matter how much Yamato yelled, the guards kept silent with their backs turned.
Before Yamato could learn the reason, Ryuu came up surrounded by his gang. In a loud voice, he called, “it’s annoying, you always suiting yourself. Because of you, we’ve got no food. I heard a rumor that you’ve been meeting with the other side in secret, and they let you eat to your heart’s content. That true?”
“Shut up! Yamato wouldn’t do something like that!” Mori jumped to his defense. But his voice fell on unheeding ears. Everyone gathered around Ryuu glared at Yamato with cold eyes.
“We’re not going to let you do whatever you want anymore. You’ve been talking about equality and a democracy, right? So let’s let everyone decide. You or me, who should be the leader. We’ll let them vote, how’s that? If you refuse, you’re just a dictator.”
“Fine,” Yamato said.
As soon as Yamato agreed to an election, Ryuu’s gang left with no fuss.
“Is that really okay? If Ryuu becomes leader, he’s going to keep the food and everything else for himself.”
“I’ll take care of it, if it comes to that,” Yamato answered Mori with little energy. More than Ryuu, right now his main worry was why the delivery had stopped.
*
At the same time, Shibazaki was meeting with the vice-minister of the committee.
“Why have you stopped the food delivery?”
“It was an executive decision,” said the vice-minister in a cold, haughty tone.
“Why was this decided so suddenly? Nothing was mentioned at yesterday’s meeting...”
“If the children show alarm, emergency measures will be taken. However, we must not let the disease leak to the outside. That’s an order.”
He started to walk away as he said this, but Shibazaki followed.
“Please wait a minute. Why was this decided so suddenly? Please explain the reason to me.”
“You don’t need an explanation!” His eyes glinted with a cold light. Shibazaki persisted.
“Is it the flower? Is there something secret about that flower? Is that what it is? Answer me! Vice-minister, I am the General of the committee! I am in charge here!”
The vice-minister looked at him, and opened his mouth. “This was a decision made by the state.”
That final ultimatum, Shibazaki understood better than anyone else.
*
As Yamato and Mori ran up to the square, they saw that Reiji was throwing a fit.
“I don’t get it! Why am I going to get killed by something like a microbe? I refuse, I won’t stand for it!”
“Calm down,” Takeru coaxed him. “Reiji! Calm down!”
But Reiji wouldn’t. Yamato came up to them. “Be quiet! Think about the others.”
The children surrounding them all were watching Reiji with the same frightened eyes.
“You can’t possibly understand what I’m feeling!” Reiji ranted.
Though he’d been calm, Yamato finally burst out, “Of course I do! You’re not the only who’s scared of dying here. Everyone is scared, but they’re keeping quiet about it! Don’t act like a spoiled child, it’s pathetic!”
“That’s enough, Yamato, stop it.” Takeru broke in.
“Ahhh!” Raising his voice in a wild yell, Reiji broke free of Takeru’s hand and fled.
Takeru watched him go, then turned to glare straight at Yamato. “You’ve really changed. Try thinking about his feelings before you say things like that. Have you forgotten how to be gentle? The Yamato who came here because he was worried about Kiichi, where’s he gotten to?”
Once he’d thrown these words at Yamato, Takeru took off after Reiji. Left behind, Yamato stood struck dumb in the square.
*
Reiji had climbed on top of a warehouse. He was up so high his eyes swam when he looked at the ground, and he drew in a deep breath.
“What are you planning to do now that you’re up there?” Takeru called up to him.
“Should I just wait calmly to die? It’s better if I just jump.”
“What about your guitar?” Takeru yelled as a last ditch attempt. Reiji froze. “Are you through with music? You’ve given up on your new song?”
“What about it? What can I do about it now?” Reiji muttered, his head hanging.
“How about you teach me? Teach me to play the song you wrote. Even if you can’t play anymore, I’ll be able to convey it. I’ll show everyone the song you made, in whatever time you have left. Will you let me do that?” Takeru asked as though his life depended on it.
Tears fell from Reiji’s lowered face. “Damn it... I don’t want to die!”
Reiji burst into long-repressed sobs. Looking up at him, Takeru’s chest tightened painfully.
*
Yamato returned to the gym in no better a mood. He saw Kiichi and the others had divded up the work of making something.
“What’s all this?” he asked, and Kiichi answered.
“You can’t tell by looking? It’s your campaign posters.”
“It’s fine. You don’t need to make something like that.”
“What do you mean? To start with, we have to make it clear that it wasn’t your fault the food delivery stopped.”
“Plus, Ryuu’s gang is doing dirty tricks like threatening and buying votes.”
As Makoto spoke, Takeru entered with a loud noise.
“Yamato. I really need those strings after all. Please.” He looked straight at Yamato as he spoke. There was an impatient light in his eyes.
“That’s...” Yamato started hesitantly, but couldn’t bring himself to say yes or no.
“I’m begging you.”
“...There’s no delivery now, and I can’t meet with Shibazaki anyway.”
“Anything you can do, and quickly.”
“Stop asking so much.
“Stop talking about how much trouble it is and do something!” Takeru yelled suddenly. He was angrier than any of them had seen him before.
“This is the last thing I’ll ask you for,” Takeru pressed Yamato without meeting his eyes.
“You can ask all you want, but there’s nothing I can do.”
“But you’ve got time to make things like this?”
“What?” Yamato returned Takeru’s sharp look for the first time. For a moment, there seemed to be violent sparks showering from where their eyes met.
“What’s the thing you want most? Before you ask anyone else, think about it for yourself. Rice balls are fine, miso soup is good, but the number one thing you want? Isn’t it to have some proof that you’re still alive?”
Takeru, it seemed, had struck onto the secret that had been hidden until now in Yamato’s breast.
“We aren’t dead yet. We’re still alive in here, and we want real evidence that that is true. Even if we’re going to die in here, we want to believe that we’ll be able to return to normal life someday, we desperately want someone to know that we were alive . That is the number one thing that could make us happy!”
Takeru yelled this, and his shoulders rose with a great sigh. He shot Yamato another glance.
“I want to leave something behind. So does he. He wants proof that he was alive, and that’s going to be his song.”
The gym once more fell silent. Kiichi and Makoto and Akira didn’t even move a muscle. Takeru’s words alone could move, and were entering into their hearts.
How long was it that they felt that? Finally, Yamato spoke.
“You don’t understand. You’re not thinking about anyone but that Reiji guy. What would you do in my position? You’d choice the guitar strings over anything?”
“...I understand. I won’t ask you anymore. Maybe you’re the leader, but you won’t get my support! You might be trying hard for the group, but for a single human being you’re useless,” Takeru barked, and Yamato suddenly grabbed him by the shirt.
“Don’t act so superior! There are three hundred people here, and I have to look out for all of them.”
Takeru shoved him away. “Which one of is acting important here? You don’t remember asking to be responsible for everyone’s requests? Meanwhile you’re overlooking one person who is near death!”
“Stop it! Can’t the two of you do anything but fight?” Mori yelled. But the two continued glaring at each other, and didn’t move.
Finally, Takeru shook off Yamato’s hand and the sound of his footsteps pounded out of the gym.

*

Takeru sat in the music room alone, his emotions still running high.
...That total idiot Yamato... Why couldn’t he understand?
As he calmed down, he noticed Yuuri standing in front of him.
“What?” He looked up at her with an unusually sharp gaze.
“You had a fight with Yamato?”
“You think there’s something funny about that?”
“I’m not laughing.”
Takeru looked down at the floor. “Look, sorry, but I don’t really feel like talking.”
“You should forgive him. Yamato is the type who really thinks about what he wants to do. You don’t get it? He hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still the straight-forward, stupidly kind guy.”
“You really look up to him, huh.” Raising his head, Takeru gave her a meaningful look.
“Not really,” Yuuri said, looking away. Takeru stood up.
“Well, it can’t be helped. Since you’re girl.”
Yuuri’s eyes grew wide. “What are you talking about?”
In an instant, Takeru had pulled the bandana of her head, and her long hair fell down around her face.
“You don’t need to hide it anymore. I get that before we got here everyone was on edge and it was a world where you do what you gotta do. I understand why you pretended to be a boy because you didn’t want to be thought of and treated like a girl. But it’s enough already. If you keep referring to yourself as a boy, then Yamato’s not going to understand how you feel.”
Yuuri glared as Yamato wound up his long-winded speech. “What are you on about?”
“Don’t act stupid. Say it already. You like him. Yamato.”
Yuuri answered, “Stop kidding around. Talking about liking other people, don’t be ridiculous.” But her tone was uneasy. She turned to go, her spine held straight. Takeru grabbed her arm.
“Whose the one kidding here?”
“What are you doing? Let go of me! It hurts, let go.”
Yuuri struggled, but Takeru’s hand wouldn’t let go, and he pushed her back to the wall.
“Stop hiding it, you like Yamato.”
Yuuri held herself still. Takeru’s eyes were seriousness itself.
“What’s with you, Takeru?”
“We don’t have time! So you have to say it. If you like him, then say it honestly!”
Yuuri’s eyes dropped. As though he couldn’t stand seeing her like that, Takeru continued yelling.
“Say it already! Say it!”
Finally, Yuuri raised her head. She met Takeru’s eyes straight on, and spoke clearly. “I like him.”
His hand that had been holding her arm lost strength. He nodded as he turned away, unable to look at her face. “I’m sorry.”
Without another word, he left the room.
*
The next day, trucks carrying food came one after another, entering the gate into Makuhara. They were making deliveries as ordered by Shibazaki.
The children ran up to the trucks. When the doors finally opened, pots of miso soup were carried out.
Shibazaki had remembered Yamato’s request. Everyone’s eyes glittered as they looked at the steaming soup.
“Sorry the food is late,” Shibazaki said to Yamato as he came up to the gate.
“It’s fine. But did something happen?”
“Nothing. There was a small blunder. It won’t happen again. Anyway, I hear you’re having an election?”
As Shibazaki examined his face, Yamato’s eyes widened. “How did you hear about that?”
“The guards informed me. You’re doing your best for everyone, but they don’t have faith in you. It’s my responsibility, and I apologize.”
Shibazaki lowered his head, and Yamato shook his. “That’s not it.”
“Let’s give everyone something to be happy about. To show my remorse. Think about something you’d like. Decide before tonight, then come back here.”
Thus cheerfully speaking, Shibazaki left. Yamato was left alone to think.
Something that would make everyone happy? What on earth was he supposed to do?
*
At the same time, Takeru was eagerly practicing guitar with Reiji. But Reiji no longer had the energy to play. On the guitar’s only strings, Takeru plucked just where Reiji told him to.
After he’d finished and was walking home, Takeru ran into Yamato.
Though he would have pretended not to notice and passed by, Yamato stopped him.
“Shibazaki wants to give something that will make everyone happy, in return for the food being late. He said to think about what we want.”
Though he was listening, Takeru played dumb. “So what? I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”
“I think you do.”
“It’s weird, you being inconsistent.”
“Isn’t it good?”
Unable to meet Yamato’s entreating gaze, Takeru looked at the sky.
“You ought to keep everyone’s opinion in mind, as the leader. If I were in your position, I would probably be doing the same.”
And with that Takeru left, Yamato watching him go lost in his own complicated thoughts.
*
That night, a large crowd gathered near the gate.
Something special was coming from outside! The rumor had spread quickly. Anticipation welled in everyone’s chest, as before their eyes Yamato finally returned from the other side of the gate.
Makoto, Akira, and Kiichi went to meet him happily. With this, they could win the election.
But opposite them, Ryuu and his gang stood dissatisfied, and as Yamato appeared they greeted him with jeers. “You dirty jerk! You went begging for something to make people happy, in order to get more votes.”
Abruptly, Yamato knelt on the ground. “I’m sorry. Negotiations failed. I couldn’t get anything...”
Makoto, Akira, and Kiichi were shocked. Yuuri also watched painfully as Yamato planted his hands on the ground.
“Forgive me... I talked big but I’m unable to be everyone’s leader. I don’t have the right qualities...”
“You seriously didn’t get anything?” Makoto shook his head as though he couldn’t believe it.
“Sorry.” Yamato kept his head lowered without saying anything else.
Kiichi said in a firm voice, “Stand up. You don’t need to apologize. Stand up, Yamato!”
But just then Ryuu started to attack Yamato. “What the hell did you do? They stopped the food, and we still don’t get anything in return? Is everyone okay with that, having a leader like this guy?” With loathing, Ryuu pushed Yamato’s head down to the ground.
“Just kneeling isn’t enough. I want you to go even lower!”
Makoto shoved Ryuu away. Ryuu glared at him. It seemed a fight was about to start at any minute, but Yuuri stepped between them.
“And if you were the leader, that’d be better? You want everyone to follow your example?”
She spoke flatly, glaring at Ryuu. Then she turned to the still kneeling Yamato.
“Stand up, Yamato. For everyone’s sake, stand up!”
As though prompted by that voice, Yamato slowly stood up. Then, without making eye contact with anyone, he walked silently away from the gate.
No one moved as they watched him walk away.
*
Takeru’s fingertips had started bleeding from pressing the frets. Reiji, just watching him, seemed to be wasting away. Playing the guitar with desperate thoughts, but nothing could be done about the guitar’s three strings.
Just then, Yamato appeared before them. There was a pack of new strings in his hand. Shibazaki had granted their request.
First Takeru, then Reiji’s expression changed. With eyes that seemed to have lost their light, Reiji looked at Yamato. In a hoarse but firm tone, he said, “Thank you. I won’t forget all of you.”
Finally, the clear sound of the guitar echoed through Reiji’s room.
Takeru played it with the new strings, playing the song Reiji had written.
Reiji listened to it with a calm smile on his face. Around them, Mori, Akira, Makoto, Kiichi, Yamato and Yuuri sat, listening with serious expressions.
“We all keep searching for something,
In this town where everything was taken from us,
We can do nothing. Will we become adults?
Our knees trembling, they look down on us,
The cold-eyed adults who are shown
Our final courage.
So we’ll discover, in this windless town,
When tomorrow finally comes,
The sun will rise again.”
Takeru continued playing, thinking of nothing but the song. The words pierced their hearts, the melody pierced their hearts. Even when he had stopped singing, no one said a word.
Reiji’s eyes had closed, and he didn’t move. His expression was one of deep calm. This moment was the testimony of his life, here was where he’d found it - that’s what his expression said.
He was dead.
Desperately resisting the tears welling in his eyes, Takeru whispered to Reiji, “I’m not going to die, Reiji. I’m definitely not going to die, because we are all going to live for you.”
*
The next day, when Yamato entered the gym, everyone was sitting in deep thought. They were pale with hopes and fears. What were the election results? Had Yamato won, or Ryuu?
The sound of Yuuri and Mori’s running feet came. “The results are up,” Yuuri said with no expression. “Unfortunately, it’s what everyone expected.”
Then he’d lost... With heavy feet, Yamato headed to the square. But the results pasted up there - by an overwhelming majority, it was Yamato’s victory!
… that Yuuri!

 

END OF CHAPTER SIX

Saturday, December 4, 2010

"You can't eat sandwiches in [a bookstore] you barbarian!”

 

Robert Webb has collected some theories of what makes people happiest. I approve of the poetry ÷ pee idea, at least at my current age.

Writing a love poem to someone after you’ve only dated them a few weeks is doomed to fail, right? Well, unless you’re really lucky:

“It kind of worked.” You married her, I’d call that definitely worked.

 

Also, some David Mitchell quotes, because really:

"And with that, Zach and AJ went on to win many advertising awards, and lose their immortal souls."

re CMs referring to beer as “creamy.” I doubt my beer CM ideas would go over any better, as they would be referring to it as “smelly”

 

"We are all, of necessity, the descendants of the lucky or the cowardly."

One thing I keep in mind when I’m doing genealogy.

"I don't think the British and Americans make enough allowances for their cultural differences. When British and, say, Japanese business people meet, they're each acutely aware of the differences in their cultures, and the rich opportunities that affords them to embarrass or offend one another, by drinking from the fingerbowl or stabbing the Queen. Whereas Brits and Americans assume we basically have the same shared conventions, and we really don't."

One thing that more of my fellow expatriates should keep in mind.

 

"I don't know why I don't warm to the Irish, given the Irish are more or less genetically engineered to be warmed to. Maybe it's the terrorism."

 

re the Vikings.

"What History tells us, is that if you want to get away with an atrocity, try to commit it a millennium ago, and if at all possible, spread a rumor that you're wearing a funny hat."

 

"I do not have OCD. I've checked - three or four hundred times, and I definitely don't. I stop myself catching it by washing my hands an even number of times."

Being a member of the same “at-risk” group, I agree wholeheartedly with his opinion of people who casually pay for things. Honestly, you normal people don’t realize how difficult you’re making it for us.

 

Though it’s in the middle of a lighthearted rant on whether Jeeves was a valet or a butler, this strikes a heartbreaking chord:

"What did I used to do and say before I knew what was right and what was wrong? I don't want to be inauthentic, but I can no longer remember what I authentically said. I'm searching for the most honest way to be fake, because that's all I have left thanks to my years of relentless self-scrutiny."

 

"Sometimes I watch episodes of Antiques Roadshow for the second time. That's a very lonely moment. Initially you don't know you've seen it before, then you start to think you can guess how much things are worth and you think you're an antiques expert. Then you realize, No, it's not that."

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

State of the Novel address

So translating the novel was, as some of you know, my project for National Novel Writing Month, the challenge of which is to write 50,000 words of a novel in the month of November but which I reinterpreted as a translation, rather.

Reader, I reached 50,219 on November 29th.

I feel quite accomplished about that. But don’t worry, I’m not going to stop translating just because the primary goal has been achieved. We’re halfway to the end! Will they ever make it out of Makuhara?

I have been posting every day to keep up with the NaNoWriMo pace of a frenetic 1667 words per day. Now, however, I plan on doing a larger chunk just once a week, probably on Saturday or Sunday. So New Readers, I hope you will keep an eye out for that. And Old Readers, who fled at the deluge of novel posts, come back! I miss you! I’ll be posting regular posts on the other days of the week.

 

To catch up recent news: taking the Japanese Language Proficiency Test this Sunday. This show will be filming at my school, using thirty of my students as extras, which I think is pretty cool. I’ll be flying home in three weeks for Christmas!

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

"If you thought this was a relationship, you were nowhere near doing your bit."

Taking a break from the novel to recommend something to everyone.

I grew up on a lot of British Comedy, the likes of Monty Python, Blackadder, Fry and Laurie. I used to have entire scenes from Red Dwarf memorized and would reel them off, much to the annoyance of everyone around me. Lately, of course, I’ve been watching nothing much but Japanese comedy, with the Daily Show and Colbert Report thrown in when I get homesick. But I’ve recently learned about another British duo, and felt vaguely betrayed as though everyone has been hiding a magical land from me.

David Mitchell and Robert Webb met at Cambridge and have written various sketch TV shows, radio shows, and a book together. I am in awe of anyone who can be so clever and funny in so many different genres and mediums and styles and costumes and wigs and accents.

 

From commercials,
To craft shows.

 

From a patron being criticized by a librarian,
To a vegetarian being criticized by his dinner guest.

 

From parodying classic movies
To parodying modern television.

 

From a criminal mastermind having difficulties with his underlings,
To a butler having difficulty with his master,

To theatre troupe having difficulty with their sponsors.

 

From mocking historical figures
To mocking modern trends
To mocking future generations.

 

From the socially inept
To the socially inept.

 

From being almost unrecognizable,
To being almost indistinguishable from their real selves.

 

From a cartoon that made me literally laugh out loud,
To a sketch that could win for “Most Heartbreaking in Comedy Ever.”

 

 

Wrap all that up in a lovely bundle – rather, two lovely bundles - and you can see how I came my current starry-eyed crush.

They’ve also done the UK version of the “Mac vs PC” ads, which seem doomed to be lost in translation when they insist on casting adorably awkward PCs that everyone feels sympathetic for (the same issue arose in the Japanese version.)

They’re perhaps best known for starring in (though not writing) the sitcom Peep Show, as odd-couple roommates who are nominally best friends though you wouldn’t know it considering they spend so much time despising and stabbing each other in the back.

I hesitate to recommend Peep Show, however, as it’s very much the sort of Cringe Comedy so popular these days (which I can’t stand, my life is non-stop humiliation as it is, why would I voluntarily seek out more?) and as such is frequently disgusting and constantly embarrassing, with an occasional quite funny bit:  

“Men with ven” and Mark’s pocket-checking dance = priceless.
“What did Shakespeare say?” “He said a lot of things, Jeremy.”

 

David Mitchell also does quite a bit of solo work on the game shows that seem to be popular in England, where he gets teased a lot for being posh and goes off on a rant whenever there’s some thing he feels strongly about. There are so many of such things that they finally gave a him a show of his own so that he can rant to his – and his fans’ – heart’s content.