Tuesday, December 02, 2008


Last night I dropped by to see John as I was in his (my old) neighborhood. While there, we spoke briefly of Chris, someone he knew well and I only slightly. Neither of us has been in touch with him for years. When I got home later that evening and went online, I found a friend request from Chris on Facebook.

This morning while I was getting ready to go out, I listened to My Bloody Valentine's 1991 shoegazer masterpiece, Loveless. It put me in the right mood to walk through the Mission and over to Sports Basement. Pausing at the light at 18th and Mission, I heard someone call my name. It was John, who just happened to be driving by.

After accomplishing my mission at Sports Basement, I headed back toward Noe Valley, stopping for a while to drink a cup of joe at Ritual Cafe. After a few cups of amazing coffee there last week, the past couple have been disappointing. Today's coffee tasted muddy.

I took out my Miura Shion book (the one I picked up last week in Japantown) to read. The collection is titled "Mukashi no Hanashi," A Long Long Time Ago, and is billed as modern fairy tales. The first story is about a man who works as a gigolo. It's written as an email. The message begins by saying that his grandfather died at the age of 27 and that his father did as well. And he himself turned 27 the previous month. His mother often told him that his father's family was cursed. But our narrator was both afraid and distanced from the prospect of turning 27. Imagine that NASA announced that tomorrow a giant meteor was going to strike the earth. You'd be scared, but there'd be no escape. You wouldn't want to believe it, but you'd be wondering what was going to happen, and you'd be anxious. That's the way he felt about turning 27. The meter image appears again later:

"Do you believe in fate?" If you think about it, this is as embarrassing a question to ask as "Do you believe in love?". I don't want to believe. Neither in fate nor in love. Because I've never seen either. Or rather, when you're thinking "that was it," you're looking back and its too late. That's the same as not existing. It's like a meteor striking the earth. When it hits, everything is finished anyhow. (translation mine)

We learn that our narrator is writing the email on his mobile phone while trying to hide from a group of hitmen. He got one of his clients pregnant, and she turned out to be the girlfriend of a yakuza boss.

I finished off the coffee and the story at about the same time. Looking at the title, I smiled to see that it was ラブレス, Loveless.


Anonymous Kevin said...

Beautiful. Synchronicities of this sort amaze me, yet strangely I find myself expecting them. And like you, when I do see them, a broad smile erupts across my face. I don't try to explain it, i just bask in that pure conscious moment.

7:43 PM  

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