Mad in Munich

I am still stuck in Munich due to the distant echo of the vigorous activities of the volcano Eyjafjallajökull. Last evening, in an effort to indulge myself a bit and boost up the morale, I went to a Japanese restaurant in front of the Hofbrauhaus. I had a Sushi plate to the accompaniment of miso soup, occasionally sipping sake. Eating my favorite delicacies did not make me homesick or anything, but surely improved the overall mood.

This morning, I am still struggling to find a way home. The Vienna airport has opened. The Germany transport minister is apparently taking a conservative stance about it, and is being criticized by airliners such as Lufthansa. For a few hours I considered the possibility of moving to Vienna by train, but later found that it was not plausible due to several circumstances including difficulty of reservation, predicted ash shift, and the state of ongoing cancellations for the long haul flights.

Thus, the best hope apart from the opening of the Munich airport seems to be the flight from Rome. I could secure an Alitalia flight to Tokyo leaving on the 22nd. I have a train ticket to Rome on the 20th, and intend to try to change the date to the 21st at the Hauptbahnhof today, thus preserving the option of trying to fly out of Munich for one additional day.

Meanwhile, staying in this state of forced procrastination seems to be directing my psyche in an increasingly eccentric direction. I have been suspecting that it is in me for some time, but now I am quite sure.

My madness seems to be as certain as the blue sky over Munich.

Here's the snapshot of me standing next to my all time favorite mad hero, King Ludwig II of Bavaria.

Notice the resonance?


My much respected fellow of the lunar clan. King Ludwig II of Bavaria.

Operating through the ashes

In the morning I went to the airport, to make changes to my reservation. As the telephone lines are always busy, one needs to go to the airport counter physically and make necessary arrangements.

After I finished the ordeal, I went back to the city center. I love Munich. I have visited the city many times. I know some of the backstreets by heart. And yet I never expected to wander around in my beloved city in a spirit of exile.

I went to the National Theatre, in a ritual that must be done every time I come to Munich. I then meandered through the narrow paths. The Hofbrauhaus was too full of people, so I sought a quieter bierhaus instead. Prior to this "spazierengehen" in the evening, I had already learned that the Tokyo flight I meant to take had been cancelled. So I needed to stay in Munich for at least one more day, unless I started searching for other routes.

The decisions are not so simple. The distribution of the volcanic ashes are unpredictable. At present Rome and Madrid are open, but one does not know if the wind would not change. It is reported that Lufthansa started test flights to see the plausibility of operating through the ashes. That adds new elements of uncertainty to be considered, albeit in the direction of hope.

There is a heavy cap on the logistics. Since one needs to move on land because of the blocked airspace, once one makes the critical decision to try Rome or Madrid there is practically no turning back. Number of additionl uncertainties make the decision extremely difficult. Thus the procrastination.

There is one consolation, though. Despite all this, the city of Munich still allures me with its charm. Maybe I will stand in front of the New Town Hall (Neues Rathaus) in the evening breeze and forget all about it.


The famous New Town Hall in Munich. Standing aloof from the ashes.

Lost in Munich

Yesterday, I wrote something which, with the benefit of hindsight, seemed to foretell what to happen.

"In any case the soft beauty of Krakow as I approached it from the suburbs enthralled my heart. I even wished that something would happen to make a prolonged stay necessary. I would then well be in exile in Krakow, with a novel and strange pleasure in my heart. I would try to learn the unfamiliar language as a expatriate..."

Due to the activities of a volcano in Iceland, many European flights were cancelled, including mine from Krakow to Munich, from where I was planning to take a Tokyo flight. The moment I learned of the cancellation, a hectic effort to reach Munich or to find alternative routes back home started, as I had an important Sunday public dialogue planned between me and Professor Toshihide Masukawa, the much beloved and respected Nobel laureate of Physics.

I sped through the Polish, Czech, and then German soil on a series of cab rides. However, at the end of the day, I was stuck in Munich.

Now the situation looks very uncertain. I am lost in translation, and have no definite prospect of going home.

At the moment I need to check out of my airport hotel. I have literally no idea what I would do next. All I know is that I would go to the airport counter and discuss the situation with Lufthansa people.

The spell of Poland

From Frankfurt, I flew to the ancient Polish capital of Krakow. Already on the way to the city center, I was seized by the poignant beauty of the scenery as it passed by the Mercedes window. I remembered that this was my fist time to enter the Polish soil.

To be precise, on my first ever trip to U.K. I used the Polish airline LOT. The plane made a stop at Warshaw. It was well before the downfall of 1989. I remember vividly how people stood on the roof of the airport building, apparently seeing their relatives off to prosperity and freedom. At that time, there was this wall of professed ideologies between the "east" and "west". Despite that, I could only feel a sense of humaneness and warm eagerness from the Polish people waving goodbye from the balcony.
Arriving in London, I fell in love with its culture instantly, a love that lingers on to this day. Looking back, however, U.K. seemed to be rather practical and too organized compared to what impression I had in that brief encounter with the Polish people from a distance.

Poland was like that white spot in your Cafe au lait as you mixed it.

Time flew. I cam back to Poland after so many years.

In the afternoon, I was planning to visit the infamous Auschwitz concentration camp. Maybe my nerves were little bit tense in anticipation, already on my way to Krakow, where I was planning to deposit my back at the Grand Hotel. In any case the soft beauty of Krakow as I approached it from the suburbs enthralled my heart. I even wished that something would happen to make a prolonged stay necessary. I would then well be in exile in Krakow, with a novel and strange pleasure in my heart. I would try to learn the unfamiliar language as a expatriate..

I visited the place of atrocity. On my way back on the car, I found myself very exhausted in body and soul.

After having supper in a restaurant called Aperitif, I returned to my hotel room, and before I knew it, I was sleeping on the bed. Probably as a result of the mixture of prior experiences, I had a strange dream. I was strolling in a calm and tranquil residential area, with nothing suspicious going on. However, a path would lead to abrupt end, where you would hang for your life on a cliff edge. Everywhere in the neighborhood, there were hidden falls, where carelessness would certainly result in the loss of your life.

I woke up in the small hours, convinced that it was already morning. I waked up my computer, to find out that a volcano has erupted in Iceland, emitting smokes which blocked number of airports in Europe.

I was planning to fly back to Tokyo via Munich. At the moment, only the northern airports in Germany was affected. But with the conditions of wind and the magma under ground, one never knows.

Maybe I am under the spell of Poland. My plane might not make it this morning. In that case, I might be bound in this beautiful city of Krakow. Nothing is certain at the moment. Maybe I might be able to fly after all, to fulfill the tight schedule of appointments back in Japan.

I thus find myself in a hung uncertainty this evening. I am still under the spell of Poland.

A night at the Semperoper.

On the last evening in Dresden, I went to a chamber concert in the Semperoper. An gentleman looking like Albert Einstein walked onto stage, with a horn in his hand. I became an instant fan of him.

He had a double role. A player in the orchestra and the conductor. Looking around me, I could appreciate that people really loved the music they were hearing. The warmth and vivacity radiated from the inside.

A civilization originates from cultures, expands on them and sometimes dilutes. In the modern era, it is rare to find a cozy and well-collected environment, where people come for an enjoyment that has been made flesh and blood through many years of experiencing, during and before their lifetime on earth. In the urban space, there's often too much traffic. Dresden proved to be a haven for the lonely soul.

As I let myself immersed in the sublimity of music my thought would wander again. Whatever I am going to do, feel, and encounter in days to come, must be put in the context of and generated from the spirits of things that are dear to me. Resting on moments of revelations that have accumulated inside me ever since my childhood. The strange acquaintances one makes and then appreciates in life. The Einstein man triumphed.

The Dresden angel.

I was walking along the streets of Dresden, and found a bookshop. Dropping in, I wanted to by a Reclam.

The yellow cover and its small size has always been an attraction to me since my teens. The gems of German culture are represented in its pages. Browsing through, I chose "Der Ursprung des Kunstwerkes" (The origin of art) by Martin Heidegger.

To imagine that long years of endeavors by an intellect are purified and compressed in books, paintings, and architectures, and other forms of expression is quite exciting. One wants to keep learning, thinking, and then letting out, very hard and strenuous, for ever and ever, as long as life on this earth lingers on.

There was a golden angel on one of the roofs in Dresden. Its throbbing beauty seemed to direct me to futures unlimited.

High school dreams.

Though my present life style is hectic and occupied, it does not have a regular schedule. I don't go to the office at 8 o'clock every day. I am working incessantly, on the train, on the floor, under the tree, at the desk, in the classroom, in the studio, everywhere.

And yet, as where I would be physically on a given day varies so much, the only thing I can say for sure is that I would be connected.

Probably due to this status quo that has been going on for the last 10 years or so, I sometimes have a repeating dream. I am back in the senior high school, and with a horror of the moment of truth I realize that I have not been attending the classes for a long time. I think to myself, oh, what am I going to do? Maybe I will be expelled from school, perhaps now graduation is impossible.

Then I wake up, and realize that the high school days are long gone. Remorse mixed with a strange sweetness fills my heart. Yet another episode of my high school dreams is over.

In actuality, I attended my high school quite regularly, apart from breaks of a few days due to cold and flu. So the dreams distort the facts and memories, and probably reflect my deep psychology.

Although I wouldn't describe these dreams as nightmares, they do leave certain impressions on me. It is not that I am yearning for a regular life. I do enjoy the variety in my works. Most probably the dreams reflect my unrealized yearnings.

Avatar

I am in Dresden now.

On the way to Frankfurt from Tokyo, I watched "Avatar". I was meaning to see this blockbuster film, but did not have an opportunity.

The visual effects were stunning, even on the small LCD screen on the airplane. The story was politically correct, with clear messages.

I have only words of praise for the efforts of the people who made the film. The commercial success was a testimony of lots of work put into it.

It is always interesting and rewarding to observe a powerful existence reflecting on its own power of destruction.

The endangered creatures were all lovely.

I started my life as quite a serious climber.

Japan is a very mountainous country. The larger parts of the nation are mountainous, making people inhabit the limited space of the plains. Thus, the congestion of the cities and jammed trains. The other side of the coin is that once you head mountain-wards, you find less people and more trees, alluring you into tranquility.

As a kid I really loved wandering in the mountains. Often I had a butterfly net in my hand, and was looking in every direction with an eager look. Other times I was just taking it easy, enjoying the scenery, thinking about my future still in the mist.

The "catch" in mountain climbing was that you don't have a clear idea where you are, or how close the peak was. Many times, you saw what appeared to be the top. Once you reached there, you discovered that it was just another hill on the way to the main peak. The path started to descend even. Although the descent was gentle and welcome for your tired legs, it also meant that once you went down, you had to go up eventually. You thought to yourself this was not very economical.

The ups and downs. The invisibles and visibles. Narrow sights and magnificent vistas. As I look back on my many childish ascents, I realize how well they could serve as metaphors for life.

The mountain metaphor colored my youth. I used to draw a mountain on the back of a calendar sheet, with dotted lines leading to the top. I would make progress marks as I finished reading a book, and approach the peak gradually. As I went upwards, I had the satisfaction of thing accomplished, and an imaginary feeling of dizziness.

Nowadays I stress the importance of spontaneity and playfulness, but I started my life as quite a serious climber.

The bearable lightness of being

Just a short note before I dash off this morning.

Whenever I go out of Japan, I buy a Swatch at the airport. I like its bearable lightness of being. I therefore have a considerably large collection, scattered all over the place. I cannot locate most of them.

I cannot bear the heavy feel of a metal watch. I don't take the Swatch bearing with ease. When I am at a table in a restaurant, I remove the Swatch from the wrist, and put it on my trousers. Sometimes I forget that I have moved the watch onto my belly, and search for it.

My Swatches float between existence and non-existence. That's why I like them.

The octopus lady.

On my trip to Wales I experienced another extraordinary things.

I was studing in Cambridge then, and was accustomed to the restrained way in which the English people communicate. As I approached Cardiff on the coach, I noticed that people on the streets were noticeably more relaxed and musical in their conversation.

I remember quite well an evening in a Cardiff restaurant where there were about 10 ladies at a table. They were apparently having a very good time, making pleasant noises, laughing, and sometimes even singing. Later, I was told by my English friend that that kind of activity was called a "hen night".

On the next day, I was in a small town near Cardiff, waiting for my train to the West. I went into a small pub, and there, I had the experience of my life.

There were group of people with a guitar. I think they were in their 50s. A lady was singing merry songs with a group of gentlemen. I think they had consumed a handsome quantity of alcohol, judging from the way they enjoyed themselves.
I was sitting on the stool at the counter, watching their merriment from time to time.

The lady stoop up, and walked very slowly towards me. She swung her arms in a wave-like manner. The impression of the dance was rather like that of an octopus. This species of female octopus was found in a Welsh pub, in high noon.
I thought that the lady was going to the toilet. My guess was correct. She disappeared into the ladies' room, still dancing like an octopus.

On her way to the relief, she did one extraordinary thing, however. As she passed by me, she GRABBED my private part. She held it quite strongly, for a few seconds, and went on as if nothing happened, still being a female octopus on land.
The group laughed and sang on. Grabbing done, the lady held her thumb up. Apparently it was a friendly act of greeting. Probably they had drunken too much.

When the lady reappeared from the toilet, I was still astounded, as I had never experienced something like it. The lady, still dancing like an octopus, passed by me, and this time grabbed the private part of another Welsh gentleman sitting near me at the counter. The gentleman and the lady laughed together. The whole group laughed, to the accompaniment of the guitar.

As I went out of the pub to catch my train, the people greeted me, with strokes of the guitar strings. I waved back. Not unlike an octopus. The octopus fever was contagious.

As I recall, the whole experience looks like a midsummer's dream. I was welcomed to the Welsh way of unrestrained friend-making, with a grab.

A few days later, I was back in Cambridge, back to the world of reservation and subtle smiles. Something warm lingered in me, for ever and to this day.

The small restaurant in St. David.

Once I was traveling in Wales, and went to a small town called St. David. I was strolling along the streets, when I discovered a small and cozy restaurant.

I was on my way, and had to hurry on. So a lunch stop was not possible. To this day, I hold the pleasant impression of that restaurant in my mind. At that time, I thought that I might be coming back someday and visit the restaurant. The memory and hope become fainter with the procession of time.

Even if I revisit the place again, it might not be and could not be the same. The owner might have changed. The town itself could have gone through what you would call "progress". I myself have changed for sure. My belly area is noticeably larger, I have more white hair, and my mindset has evolved, for better or worse.

In life, there are things like the small restaurant in St. David. You wished you could go back there, but in reality you don't and wouldn't. For some reasons, I also do not feel like searching for the restaurant on the internet either. I would like to keep the little gem in my life forever lost and luminous.

Encapsulated

As we live every day, our mental activities cover only a small portion of all possible worlds. We have to eat, and our attention is focused on things on the dish before you (unless you are an absent-minded academic discussing the theoretical foundations of quantum gravity).

The very small-mindedness of our existence sometimes hurts me. Deeply. But then fortunately, I forget.

Yesterday, I came back from the city of Kanazawa. As I walked along the streets of Tokyo, I realized that no matter how far the internet progresses, we will be ever encapsulated in the here and now.

I was looking for some place to lunch (see, how confined I was!), and discovered a hidden soba restaurant. I was shown upstairs. Sitting down, I realized that the interior looked like the room in which the worrying brother and his colleague discuss sister's
marriage over pork cutlet in Ozu's last film An Autumn Afternoon.

I had no idea that this particular restaurant existed on earth. Likewise, I have no idea about many things. On rare occasions, I can have a sense of the surrounding beings, but then only in a very incomplete way.

As I write this journal in the morning, I weep for my midget existence. I would have liked to live up to the vast multitude of existence, but that is not to be, confined as we are in the flesh.

I am otherwise practical and hard working. Why this state of mind today? I think it is the result of the spring gust entering me.

More cows than humans

I came to the city of Kanazawa. I met with my best friend Yoshihide Tamori.

Whenever I come to a far-off land, nowadays, I think about how the internet made every place directly connected to the intellectual heritage of mankind. And I imagine myself living in the city, while fully connected to all the exciting things that the internet can provide.

Often imagination is the only limit. The world has really been transformed. We do not need any organizations or institutions. Every place is the best place to learn.

This ubiquitous presence of learning opportunities would surely change the landscape in years to come. Yoshihide, my best friend, was born and brought up in a very rural town where there were more cows than humans. He taught himself mathematics, engineering, and life. Had Yoshihide been born today, he would have gone even further, reading all the relevant materials on the internet. I am sure there are many ambitious and gifted young individuals growing up in the wonderful opportunities provided by the net.

Essay contests

When I was a senior high to university student, I used to enter essay contests and win prizes. When I was 15, I won a trip to Canada. I went to Hawaii for an essay prize at the age of 18.

When I was at the University, Japan was in the middle of the "bubble economy". I did not benefit directly from the frivolous festivities that went on nightly in the clubs and restaurants in Tokyo (at these times my life was really modest, simple, and without excitement, just concentrating on physics). However, I did get some bonuses by winning prize money in essay contests held by corporations and organizations with fat purses. I used the money to go to operas, kabuki plays, and concerts. Thus, I used the essay winnings to cultivate my knowledge and sensitivities. To this day, I think that was a very good investment.

I remember one particular essay contest well. In the essay, I argued that our society needed a project to inspire people for something beyond the realm of the daily experiences. Without such an enterprise, human spirituality would suffocate. After warning against a danger of the closing of the human mind in the modern society, I argued that one of the best projects would be SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence).

My essay won the first prize. I was twenty-something then. (Needless to say, all these essays were written in Japanese. I am yet to win my first English essay contest.)

At the prize ceremony, one of the judges said very nice things about my prose. He was a famous critic. He said that "Mr. Mogi writes with fire. His style shows much promises". I was pleasantly flattered. His words were music to my ears. But then he went on to say that "the argument was very well, until Mr. Mogi came to the last part, arguing for the necessity for SETI. I wonder if the project provides an appropriate ending to this essay."

Thus, at the very end, I was discouraged. The judges all nodded in agreement with the critic. Apparently, they did not think that SETI was a proper subject to be discussed in respectable social contexts. Not like building an arts theatre or promoting a sports event.

At that very moment, I think, a theme that continues to run in my life even today emerged. I might be able to come to (or appear to come to) an agreement with the society in general on the surface, but when it comes to things that really matter, I am rarely in agreement with the comfortable mainstream.

I partially regret the situation. Had I been more conformant, I would have led an easier life. But then it would not have been as fun.

The enigma of Japanese intellectuals.

Although it is sometimes a dirty word, I consider myself as "a kind of" intellectual. (Meaning I am prepared to be "dirty" in disturbing the well-meaning implicit assumptions in society from time to time.)

One of the enigmas of Japan is the silence of its intellectuals in the global domain. I feel personally responsible for it by the portion of "one over one hundred twenty-seven million" (which is the current population of Japan, roughly speaking).
Japan has been exporting automobiles and electronics in the peace of the postwar era. Recently, Japan has been the source of influential popular culture waves led by manga and anime. In terms of serious world view issues, however, it has been more or less silent, becoming effectively a "black hole" in this regard.

It is not that Japan does not have its share of intellectuals ("dirty" people). I know many of them in person. They write books (in Japanese), teach at universities, and conduct interesting research, think original thoughts. It is not that there are no unique or original ideas being generated here. Every country has its own traditions, and the explicit and implicit enrichments brought about by the long history of Japan should surely be a basis for adding something valuable to the world heritage of intellectual endeavors.

There are many missing pieces. For example, the Japanese concept of nature is very different from one in the West. While the western protection of nature tends to be a total withdrawal of human activities from a certain area, the Japanese tend to aim at a harmonious co-existence, as exhibited in the beautiful "satoyama" areas all over the country. It would constitute a great service to the human race to express and explain the Japanese philosophy of nature in the modern context.

There are many areas where a contemporary treatment would greatly improve the situation. Areas covered by three great books written in English originating from modern Japan ("Book of Tea", "Bushido: The Soul of Japan", and "An Introduction to Zen Buddhism") badly need a contemporary update, although these classics certainly continue to provide valuable readings today.

This particular blog is a humble test-bed to try out what I could possible say in the global context being a person based in Tokyo. I know sometimes I am clumsy, but I have to do this all the same. It is the duty of my own choice.

Japan has a relatively large economy (2nd in the world, to be overtaken and surpassed by China this year), and many intellectuals are likely to feel, although I have not interviewed them personally, that they can lead a more or less comfortable life focused on the Japanese "market" only. (I would feel the same had I been more settling.) Hence the presence of many university professors who (especially in the humanities) remain essentially domestic. I find myself increasingly uncomfortable being in this situation, both as an individual and as a member of a nation.

Thus, the (perhaps foolish) activity of writing this Englush blog persists as a practice in prose and a demonstration of spirit, although sadly at present its readership is much smaller compared to my Japanese blog. Let's see if there comes a day when the Qualia Journal would attract more readers than its Japanese brother.

While doing this, I must confess, I sometimes feel very lonely, as not many people consider the expression of their ideas in the lingua franca as a necessity of life in this country. That is actually fine with me. Ever since my childhood, I always felt lonely, when confronting essential issues.

The presence of the readers of this blog continues to be a solace for my soul. I thank you all for your kindness, from my heart.

A train journey

In the center of Honshu, roughly speaking, you find mountainous areas.

Japan might be perceived as a country of big cities with incredible congestions, but the mountains provide a different scene. I took the Azusa express train from Shinjuku, and before long found myself fast asleep. I had an early morning.

When I awoke, I was already in the vicinity of gods. There was a glow in the sky, the evening sun shining through a thick blanket of clouds hanging over a mountain. I wanted to take a photo, but thought better of it. I knew these moments would pass. The train was speeding, the tunnels would come one after another, and the scenery was in a constant transition with the acceleration of modern technologies.

Better witness it all in my flesh.

At that moment, I was convinced that had I been a local living in the distant past, I would have been persuaded of the existence of gods by the very beauty of the evening sunlight.

Our train reached the destination station shortly, and I found the smiling face of my very best friend waiting for me. A train journey has just been completed.

One and the same, continuous story

The closing sentences of "The Origin of Species" by Charles Darwin are beautiful.

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It is interesting to contemplate a tangled bank, clothed with many plants of many kinds, with birds singing on the bushes, with various insects flitting about, and with worms crawling through the damp earth, and to reflect that these elaborately constructed forms, so different from each other, and dependent upon each other in so complex a manner, have all been produced by laws acting around us. These laws, taken in the largest sense, being Growth with reproduction; Inheritance which is almost implied by reproduction; Variability from the indirect and direct action of the conditions of life, and from use and disuse; a Ratio of Increase so high as to lead to a Struggle for Life, and as a consequence to Natural Selection, entailing Divergence of Character and the Extinction of less improved forms. Thus, from the war of nature, from famine and death, the most exalted object which we are capable of conceiving, namely, the production of the higher animals, directly follows. There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed by the Creator into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone circling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved.

Charles Darwin. On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life.

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I am particularly sympathetic to the sentence " whilst this planet has gone circling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved."
Charles Darwin was concerned with the study of the various forms of life. And yet his sensitivities were open to the existence of the world "before" any life forms of significant complexity existed.
According to the currently held view, the universe was born with the "Big Bang" some 13.7 billions years ago. Even before any life forms evolved, the materials in the universe were moving around, bumping into each other, changing into various states while obeying the laws of nature, gravitation included.
The phrase "whilst this planet has gone circling on according to the fixed law of gravity" is a testimony, in my view, for Darwin's awareness of the vast extension of space and time to which biological forms are irrelevant. I admire Darwin for his ability to see thus far away. The origin of species and the origin of the universe are one and the same, continuous story.

Away Nation: a secret government plan to revive Japan.

In the game of soccer, it is a well known fact that the probability of winning the match is asymmetric between a home game and an away game. You have various advantages in a home game, with the support of fans and an in-depth knowledge of the field. In an away game, the audience is often against you, and you have to cope on a foreign soil.

Therefore, it is a laudable decision on the part of the Japanese government to introduce this new scheme of an "away nation", or "nation in an away situation". A secret draft, made known to me through a personal friend, outlines a 10 year plan to make the nation of Japan open to the world, making it more flexible and overcome its current economic difficulties, by encouraging its people to experience and learn from an away situation.

It has been well known that the Japanese excel in fabricating artifacts from electronics to automobiles. In the field of information technology and intellectual enterprising, however, the nation has been rather shy. One compromising factor has been that Japanese are reluctant to express themselves in a foreign language, making the ideas generated and distributed within the nation domestic in essence. The government feels that the closing of the Japanese mind has been a crucial factor behind the present economic stagnation, which is regarded by many as a result of the nation's lack of organizational intelligence.

The secret plan, code named "Benkei" after a famous Japanese warrior known for his venturing spirits, lists a series of action plans that would hopefully help the Japanese people perform better in an away situation. For example, it is proposed that students be encouraged to take gap years before entering, or after graduating from universities, which is very rare in Japan at present. It is also recommended that company executives take at least one month off before their significant promotions to do volunteer works abroad, where no secretary or company-provided chauffer-driven sedan (which is typically black in Japan as a symbol of authority and respectability) is available. Evaluation by the Health Ministry is under way whether the average Japanese businessperson would be able to survive such an ordeal.

It is also proposed that all major television stations in Japan, including NHK, Fuji, and Nippon, have a special broadcasting day (to be promoted as "Away Television") where they provide programs in English, Chinese, Finnish, and Swahili. The addition of Swahili is the result of the judgment of members of a secret committee that at present the African nations represent the most "away" situation in the Japanese psyche.

In the most extreme part of the plan, it is proposed that nation introduce a scheme code named "The Prince and The Pauper", to rectify the difference between "regular" and "temporary" employees. Specifically, pairs of regular and temporary employees would be chosen randomly in a national lottery process, where they are strongly recommended to swap positions. The recommendation would be delivered in a personal letter from the prime minister, with a specially designed T-shirt on which the letters "The Away Spirit" is printed. In the case of particularly challenging swaps such as a company executive swapping positions with a young part-time worker in a convenience store, a special T-shirt featuring Sakamoto Ryoma would be provided. Sakamoto Ryoma was a samurai at the end of Edo Era and is currently a popular symbol of the venturing spirit for many Japanese people. A drama series on the life of Sakamoto Ryoma is being broadcast on NHK. It is planned that the Ryoma drama would be broadcast in Swahili on the "Away Television" day.

As a special bonus, participants in the job swap program with high profiles would be offered appearances in a reality T.V. show entitled "Gekokujo" ("the low overcomes the high), with potential economic gains for the participants and the television station.

These schemes have been made open to me by a close friend of mine in the government, with the clear understanding that I am to be discreet about the distribution of this information. I therefore ask the readers of this blog not to forward this story to anyone who is obstinate and or does not support Manchester United.



A famous portrait of Sakamoto Ryoma. It is rumored that the prime minister would make a surprise announcement of the plan dressed as Sakamoto Ryoma complete with the samurai hairdo, within the next few days.

The kindness of Oscar Wilde.

Over the last few days, I watched the film "Wilde" (1997) on my laptop. The role of Oscar Wilde was played by the British comedian and author Stephen Fry.

The most lingering impression as I finished the film was the kindness in the personal character of Wilde as portrayed by Fry, which came as a warm and welcome surprise.

I think it is fair to say that Wilde was often provocative in his clever ways, as indicated by the remark attributed to him "I have nothing to declare but my genius". Wilde was making statements to the customs as he entered the United States.

With knowledge about Wilde's flamboyant manners in the background, I was tacitly assuming that the imprisonment of Wilde
was a result of his extravagance, although ultimately justifiable by aesthetic judgment by the author at that time, and by moral standards of the average citizen of today. However, the film portrayed Wilde's downfall as ultimately coming from his kindness.
Wilde was not trying to show off "the love that dare not speak its name". Quite contrary to it. Wilde was very discreet. It was the emotional confrontation between Wilde's lover, Lord Alfred Douglas (nicknamed "Bosie", wonderfully played by Jude Law) and his father the 9th Marquess of Queensberry which dragged Wilde into a court action.

Seeing the film, I realized that Oscar Wilde's downfall was a case of kindness paving one's way to destruction. Which surely happens from time to time. A sobering realization of the conditions of this strange tragicomedy we call "life".



Stephen Fry playing Oscar Wilde in the film "Wilde" (1997)