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Since I have no translation work (or any work, for that matter) at the moment, I thought I would try to post one essay a week from Soleilnuit: For the Purpose of Being a Proper Young Lady. It's a book of essays written by Takemoto Novala (Kamikaze Girls) from 1993-1997.

This week's essay is entitled "I Don't Need Any Friends!"

“I Don’t Need Any Friends!”

As the beginning of spring passes, one often hears discussions of the problem: “I don’t have any friends. What would be best to do?” It becomes April, and things like classes change, and environments change; people who don’t know anyone are caught in the middle, doing nothing while their peers make groups, and when they become aware of this, they are left all alone. When it becomes early summer, almost all are liberated from this problem, and despite their lateness, they are able to spend an enjoyable summer vacation with friends. However, even in this season, there are people who have not been able to make friends. These people can only give up. Alone, with strength, they go on living.

A maiden does not need things such as friends. This is because, by nature, a maiden is highly aloof. Boy heroes put together cliques and mobilize. For Tom Sawyer, there was Huck Finn; “Getter Robo” had a union of three; and in works such as Two Years’ Vacation, even if there were not so many as fifteen boys, they would not be alone. However, girls are different. Alice adventured by herself to a curious country; Anju set her younger brother Zushio free from the grand master Sanshou and remained alone herself. Still, there’s Meg-chan. “They say she is a person who can do anything/Little Witch Meg is all alone,” she sings.

Maiden is defined as “an absolute existence.” Because “absolute” means incomparable “uniqueness,” they do not need things such as companions. Like Ken-san from the yakuza movies, maidens are stylishly isolated. They say, “If I opened my heart, I could make friends,” but one cannot open her heart to strangers without it being wasted on them. The maiden is a sparkling gem, which would be reckless to show to other people.

The glasswork, which appears to be breakable if touched, has a hard shell in the role of a covering. Someone from afar may gaze at the girl with the tightly bound, hard disposition and think, “What a pitiful girl!” This unreasonable, vulgar flattery is unnecessary. Even if they say “What an arrogant child” or “What a melancholy child,” do not be concerned with it. Wanting to make friends because you cannot endure eating lunch by yourself seems rather stupid. Like the gorgeous aristocrat “Madame Butterfly,” solitude is the queen’s accessory. As for me, my only close friends are my TV and house plant.

This thread had been neglected by me for quite some time, but lately I've been going through the essays I had to read back in senior year and writing my own translations for them. Here is the first.

"The Trendsetter"
by Shinichi Hoshi

It was Mr. N's nature to like anything as long as it was new. Since he had a fortune, he was also able to satisfy this hobby.

When an exhibition opens, he rushes to it on the first day. When an electric-powered sports car is developed, he immediately buys it and drives it around. When a privately-run spaceship upon which the general public can ride is put into service, he soon tries to ride it also. Having previously made a proposal, he was able to reserve a seat.

At the same time as a television room is marketed, it is installed in his own home. With four walls, the ceiling, and even the floor all becoming screens, and being surrounded by the picture, it is a new product that one can enjoy.

And, being in a good state-of-mind while talking and bragging to others who have not yet had such experiences is the meaning of his life. Sometimes he would also be offered advice.

"You're careless. When you jump at new things, sooner or later, you'll regret it. For example, with things like the newest model of vehicles, even if there are accidents, isn't it dull?"

"No, that's not the case. The first model hardly ever causes accidents. In the case of accidents, they are fairly widespread and occur when people are accustomed to the vehicle and are caught off-guard. Statistics indicate this. Please look at me. I'm totally safe, don't you agree?"

"However...if time passes, the quality of new products, in general, is improved, and the price goes down. This is also indicated by statistics. Won't there be a loss when you spend money?"

"No, no. No matter how much money I spend, I'm not accustomed to the feeling of giving up a hobby."

"You're stubborn, aren't you?" The other party was completely amazed.

And when an automatic cocktail maker was put on sale, Mr. N immediately bought it. When one presses the button of the cocktail he thinks he wants to drink, its function is to blend various liquids automatically, appropriately shake and chill, and pour the cocktail into the appropriate glass.

That was supposed to be its function, but soon there was a failure. Perhaps there was a mistake with the wiring, as a cocktail different from the goal came out. The maker recalled it in a hurry. Mr. N's friends mocked him.

"You had a horrible experience with the cocktail device, didn't you? This time for sure, I think, perhaps, you've learned your lesson."

"Whatever you say. That had its amusements. Because until one tries to drink it, he has no clue what flavour will come out this time. With that model released, the people who only know about the proper cocktail device won't understand this, right? How unfortunate..."

In this manner, Mr. N spoke proudly. Rather than being a sore loser, he felt this from his heart. Moreover, the listener was put into a jealous frame of mind. Seeing this expression, Mr. N became even more skillful.

For this reason, his hobby kept growing. Going around to various corporations and research labs, Mr. N became demanding.

"Isn't there a plan for any new products or a proposal for a new event? I'm waiting impatiently. If the price is a bit hight, that's not a problem."

"Eager, aren't you? The person you just spoke of would be a big help to our company."

"If it's just that kind of person, then I'm at a loss. Because it has always been my purpose in life to be the minority that jumps at new items. So, if you have anything in development, please tell me."

Mr. N is fervent. Sometimes there are cases in which he returns with his answer.

"There is a plan to sell lots for a cemetery on Mars. Wouldn't you like to be the first one buried there? If all goes well, sooner or later, I'll notify you, and at that time, please die soon."

"No, I'll decline only this."

At this time, because the release of new products slowed down, or perhaps because Mr. N's enthusiasm grew too fervent, his dissatisfaction became unmanageable. Lately, there are absolutely no new experiences. He can barely savour the sensations of bragging to other people. It's a feeling like one has done all conspicuous things. He's impatient by the slowness of the progress of science. Isn't there anything!?

And then there was a person who came to offer news.

"I hear that, at last, a method to make humans hibernate has been completed. Its safety has also been made certain. I hear that you're put into a frozen state and wake up after a hundred years. It seems like the first recruitment for those interested will soon take place."

"Hm, artificial hibernation, huh? It's an attractive story. Okay! I've decided. If I hesitate at an epoch-making thing like this, I'll oppose my convictions. By all means, I shall do this. If I'm not the first person to do it after one hundred years, then until I die, I will regret it."

To this extent, his hobby became extreme, and there was no way for his friends to stop it.

It was in this way that Mr. N underwent artificial hibernation and started his long sleep. He who became frozen was separated from the flow of time. Situated as he was, the months and years did not pass by for Mr. N as he slept.

One hundred years passed, and his body warmed, his internal organs began activity again, and all returned to its condition before the hibernation. That is, Mr. N awoke after one hundred years.

He heard a voice.

"Good morning. It's an energetic awakening; congratulations."

The person from a hundred years later welcomed him. He waited for him to recover his physical strength and guided him here and there. It had become a magnificent century. To Mr. N, at least, everything was unusual, and he echoed the question, "What's that? What's this?"

"That is a personal-use spaceship. As the power is not based on a rocket jet, it's quiet and easy, and it is extremely safe." Such were the explanations offered to him.

Mr. N continued to be impressed, but eventually, he came to have a bored-looking expression. The explainer was genial, but his tone of voice was one that felt the person who did not even know about these kinds of things was pitiful.

This doesn't seem like a bad era, but just this spot is unpleasant. My hobby doesn't match up. Mr. N became sad. Here I'm the only one who doesn't know anything. This is the reverse, isn't it? I want to brag to other people. That's my meaning of life.

Mr. N asked, "Aren't there people who hibernated after me?"

"There are many," came the reply.

Yes! If faced with these guys, I'll be able to brag. Mr. N became spirited and tried to meet such people.

However, it failed miserably. Those people knew everything. When he checked the circumstances, he was told this: While they had hibernated for a hundred years, they lagged behind the era after waking up and could not get on with life in that time. To prevent this, a method to transmit the necessary information about the changes in the world into the brain while hibernating was developed.

Thanks to that, the hibernators managed to wake up without feeling the discrepancies of the era. The explainer added, "You were too fast, right? Maybe it would have been better to have waited a bit longer."

Mr. N sighed. "Is that the case? So, does that mean I'm the only old-fashioned human behind the times? Just this time, I'm a complete failure."

For something a little different, here is an educational article about Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. Unfortunately, our textbook did not cite where the article was taken from. I apologize.

The "Dog Shogun": Fifth Generation Warlord Tsunayoshi
The Center of Confucian Politics
Tokugawa Tsunayoshi (1646-1709) was the third son born to third-generation warlord Iemitsu. For a while, he was the head of the Tatebayashi domain (150,000 koku), but in 1680 at the age of 35, he inherited Iemitsu's position. As chief advisor, Hatta Masatoshi(1634-84) poured effort into a central learning center. According to this, the legal system was strengthened, and the four class system was maintained.

Tsunayoshi liked Confucianism, eagerly lecturing on Confucianism himself and explaining its importance to other feudal lords. A good example of this is a building called Seido (the Temple of Confucius) that even now remains in Tokyo's Bunkyoku ward. Seido was originally in Ueno, but the bakufu had it moved to its current land and here the shogun himself lectured about the Nine Classics.

Also, Tsunayoshi advised frugal, simple living. It was revealed that he ordered a boat called Antakumaru, which had been built under third-generation warlord Iemitsu, to be destroyed. It was said that the reason was to cut the fee of the hundred-some boatmen needed to move it and to personally set an example.

The Law of Mercy for Living Creatures
After the death of senior minister Hatta Masatoshi, the real power was transferred to Yanagisawa Yoshiyasu (1658-1714), and from this time the disorder of Tsunayoshi's words and deeds became noticeable.

Around that time (1685), a law called "the law of mercy for living creatures" was enacted. This law said to cherish and take pity on living things, and in the beginning, it wasn't too bad of a law. For example, dogs and cats penetrated the streets, and if dogs were abandoned, the law's content requested that people take those they desired and raise them.

However, two or three years later, those who violated the law were punished more and more strictly. For example, it is said that those who unthinkingly killed a mosquito by smacking it with a hand against the head were sent into exile. Of course, one could not eat fish and shellfish. Fish shops went completely out of business. Furthermore, when a cat fell into the Edo Castle well and died, the person responsible was questioned and also sent into exile.

The Dog Shogun
Originally, it was said that Tsunayoshi cherished living things for the purpose of making use of Confucian teachings in politics, but the truth was that Tsunayoshi had a deeply superstitious connection. Once, a new monk, Ryukou, said to his mother, "The shogun is a man not blessed with a past life, as punishment for him not cherishing living things. If living things are cherished as restitution, without fail, your son will be blessed. Because the shogun was born in the year of the dog, he should especially cherish dogs." It was decided that dogs would be handled specially.

It was a mistake, and carelessly kept dogs became a serious problem; the number of kept dogs decreased, and strays increased. In order to deal with this, the bakufu set up eight kennels in Edo where strays were taken in. In 1695, it is said that 100,000 dogs were counted in Nakano's kennel alone, and throughout all of Edo, the number surely exceeded several hundred thousand. And the dogs in the kennel were better fed, by far, than the peasants at that time. To operate these kennels, just the food and personnel expenses cost an exorbitant sum, and this was supported by taxes. Dogs were treated with more courtesy than people. It was natural for this to buy the people's wrath. Due to this policy, Tsunayoshi lost popularity, and it is said he was called the "dog shogun" as an insult.

The law of mercy for living creatures was practiced until 1709 when Tsunayoshi left this world.

"My Second House"
by Takashi Iwakawa

Recently, I moved my workplace for the first time in ten years from a place called Komae to a certain suburban town (30 minutes from Shinjuku by express train), but I didn't think I'd suffer to this extent by room-hunting. Placed in a standpoint like those men over their mid-fifties who live aimlessly, I was taught to feel like this all over again.

By chance, no matter which real estate agency I took a peek into in March or April, when the school and job entrance season had just started, 18 or 19 year old schoolgirls, who seemed like they had just come to central Tokyo from the country, and young people getting a job came in and out incessantly. At the beginning, when I entered without thinking, it was annoying, but the "employees" of that real estate agency glanced sharply over at me and, for a while, did not even interact with me. Even when I would speak up and say, "Excuse me..." they did not approach me; they interacted solely with the young people.

It was unbearable, and even when I said, "I'm looking for a one or two bedroom; do you have some place cheap?" they'd say, "Please wait a moment," and watch me suspiciously. Finally, when one of them came to me, he inspected me from head to toe over and over again and said, "We don't have any" in a very unfeeling way.

As I walked from place to place, what I gradually came to understand was that the phrase "Don't you have some place cheap?" was apparently a bad thing to say. When the girl who sat next to me, who seemed like she had just graduated from high school, was asked her budget, she innocently replied, "Yes. For one month, about 80,000 to 100,000 yen." There was no doubt she was dependent upon her parents, and I, on the other hand, could not carry on at all. I ended up being told by a kindly real estate agent, "Sir, these days there are many people who say, 'Aren't there any nice, expensive places?'" While the world was going crazy, keeping in mind that "a cheap place" was taboo as I walked, still the real estate agents were uncooperative.

"Where are you employed?"

"I'm not employed anywhere."

"Huh? How do you make a living?"

Here his expression changed, becoming one that said, "This is no good." A young man entered casually, said the name of his company was Toshiba or something like it, and the agent proceed to talk smoothly, "Oh, Toshiba?" while I was treated like a vagrant or a beggar. Those who did not belong to a company were not human. It truly was the Great Empire of Japan, Inc.

"What's your profession?"

"The literary profession."

"Literary profession!?" he said; even this became a cause for distrust. With a look that said what I did was all the more suspicious, the act of asking me things like, "Huh? What do you write that you're able to eat?" and "What's your income?" was not the worst of it. There were several cases where he said, "The owner (landlord) doesn't like people without a regular occupation (company)," and quickly refused.

Why was I given such a cold reception and discrimination? When I returned home to Tokyo and complained, my oldest son, who had just graduated from college, laughed and said, "That's natural. In today's world, if a 56 or 57 year old guy walks around asking, 'Don't you have a cheap room?' the other party will wonder 'What kind of person is this guy?' and he won't be taken seriously."

Of course, inadvertently, I had completely forgotten that things like my age and appearance were the most important. Thinking, "If that's the case..." the unbearable me will start Operation Shape-up. I got a haircut, put a coat of cream on my face, wore my best suit, which was made in England, and with my brand-name tie, I took the challenge anew.

Saying, "I'm just looking for somewhere suitable where I can relax," in a calm manner, acting like money was no object, as I entered the real estate agency, surprisingly, the agent's attitude was completely different, and he said, "Oh, a second house, hm?" Oh, it was a convenient piece of modern phraseology.

"Yes. Is there a suitable second house?"

"There is," he said very politely. Even so, with the mention of the literary profession, the conversation always grew strained. The real estate agent said, "I'm embarrassed, but I don't read very many books," and asked things like yearly income, royalties, and publication numbers, and, in the end, questioned every detail of my everyday way of life.

At every real estate agency, so they would understand that I was not a suspicious person, I had to go on and on about my career history, life story, and present condition. I got sick of it, but if I sidestepped the task, things did not proceed. I am envious of the brief passport "I'm a company employee."

I'm a writer...

By saying things like, "Yes, well, that's what it's called by the world," it was not easy until my position was understood.

Fortunately, because I was lucky to be able to find a suitable place to work, no, a second house, I never want to repeat the room-search by any means. But still, from now on, when I think of how old people without rooms will likely increase, somehow, I become scared and depressed.

It took me a while to get back into the habit of translating after our vacation, but here is a rather amusing story.

"Cosmetics"
by Yasunari Kawabata

The window of my lavatory faces that of the Yanaka Funeral Home.

The empty space between these two lavatories is the funeral home's place for refuse. Things like funeral offerings and wreaths are thrown away there.

Though the sound of autumn insects in the cemetery and funeral home became frequent, it was still just halfway through September. Acting as if this was interesting, placing a hand on the shoulders of my wife and her sister, we walked a bit into the hallway. It was night. The hallway came to a dead-end, and as I opened the lavatory door, a strong fragrance of chrysanthemums hit my nostrils simultaneously. Startled, the women put their faces to the washroom window. The window was full of blooming white chrysanthemums. About twenty wreaths of white chrysanthemums were lined up there. They were the remains of today's funeral. While my wife acted as though she would reach out and break off a chrysanthemum flower, it was likely because it was for the first time in years that she had seen this many chrysanthemums at one time. I turned on the electric light. The wreaths, wrapped in silver paper, shone brightly. I, who often stood in the lavatory to do my business, had smelled the fragrance of chrysanthemums any number of times on such nights, and felt I would be up all night with fatigue until the fragrance disappeared. Before long, the white chrysanthemums became even whiter, and the silver paper began to shine in the morning light. And while I did my business, I noticed a canary suddenly perched upon a chrysanthemum flower. Yesterday, I likely forgot to return the released bird to his cage.

You would likely say that things such as this are beautiful; however, I have to watch the funeral flowers decay day after day from the lavatory window. I began writing this essay exactly three months ago, and for five or six days, I've closely watched one wreath of blooming red roses and bellflowers change colour as it decays.

Even these decayed flowers are good. Through the window of the funeral home, I also have to see humans. There are many young women. This is because few men enter, and there are few old women feminine enough to pause in front of a mirror in a funeral home lavatory. However, young women will usually pause and use make-up. The funeral clothes of the woman who uses make-up in the lavatory of a funeral home -- when looking at the place the deep lipstick drew attention to, she looked like a corpse licking bloody lips, and I was taken aback. The women calmly wiped it away. Believing they were not being watched by anyone, they were also able to hide the feelings of guilt expressed by their appearance.

I didn't think I wanted to see strange make-up such as that. However, because the two windows faced each other throughout the year, this cursed coincidence was never scarce. I averted my eyes in a hurry. Thus, even from the make-up of the women in the parlour and on the street, I was reminded of the women in the funeral home lavatory; it must certainly be a blessing. When they had the experience of going to the Yanaka Funeral Home for a funeral, so as not to enter the lavatory, I thought I'd write a letter to the women that I liked. I should do it so the women do not join the coven of witches.

This was yesterday.

Through the window of the funeral home lavatory, I saw a 17 or 18 year old girl constantly wiping her tears with a white handkerchief. Though she wiped and wiped, the tears seemed to overflow. Her shoulders heaved with crying. Finally, she was overcome with sadness, and she stood, bumping the lavatory wall, overcome. Not even wiping her cheek, she let the tears overflow.

At least she did not hide with make-up. It must be that tears are hidden. I was implanted with a bad feeling, but when I felt her beauty had been wiped away, she suddenly and unexpectedly took out a small mirror, pursed her lips into a smile, and quickly exited the lavatory. Drenched in sweat, I nearly cried out in surprise. That smile was a mystery to me.

Excerpt from"Aim for the North Pole"
by Naomi Uemura

On April 29, 1978, the author arrived at the North Pole alone. Standing alone at the pole, he was, of course, the first Japanese, but also the first in the world to do so.

The author departed for the pole on March 5 from Cape Columbia, Ellesmere's Island on Canada's northeast coast.

The following entries cover about two months running across the ice and are the first part of a record of the North Pole.

March 8, 1978
3:00 PM (Resolute time) -- the airplane that brought me here flew away to the east. Myself and only 17 dogs left our point of departure for the North Pole. The north latitude is 83.6, west longitude is 71.2 on the ice of Cape Columbia's seashore.

It's cold. Severely cold. My polar use thermometer reads -51 degrees. The hood of my parka is lined with wolf fur, and my exhaled breath freezes immediately. The sun, which is about to return to the Arctic Circle after half-a-year, appears to be located near the water's horizon; I still haven't seen its figure, and it's like the visibility of the sunset is in the twilight.

I finally came back here. It's challenging and strangely nostalgic to return alone to this world of ice and cold air. My solitary fight against nature begins. My whole body's tense, and my heart can't suppress its excitement. Without thinking, without knowing, I walk around with a sled and luggage.

A high-pitched sound echoes to my front and back, left and right. When I move atop the snow, which hardened in the extremely low temperature, a crack runs in the snow's surface, and at that time, 30 meters broke away nearby, and a strange sound emerged. Even if I understood its true cause, this sound, which sounded like the cry of an animal, stopped me where I stood. As it falls silent within the ice and snow, this sound stirs up an unknown uneasiness.

Last time, the dog sled traveled 12,000 km, but from my departure, an uneasy feeling, which emerged from I knew not where, was born in my heart, and I was tortured. Even now it's like that again. When the fighting spirit arises and I think I am tense, a vague sense of unease sometimes goes across my heart. And, to shake this off, I can do nothing but rise to the reality of these actions, I know.

Well, what I must do is reconnaissance for the route.

A slope, which gently drops from Cape Columbia into the sea, suddenly becomes piles of rough ice blocks when it is about 100 m from the shore, and that continued off-shore far into the distance. Rough icebergs, which were made by changes in the ocean current, take the form of a thick belt facing the shore and covering the Arctic Ocean; this becomes my greatest difficulty in reaching the North Pole.

When the height of the iceberg neared 10m, I climbed on my hands and feet. Standing at its highest point and gazing northward, I was dismayed. After making observations from aboard the plane any number of times, I thought, to a certain extent, that I was prepared, but, of course, I was dismayed. What an incredible iceberg! When I saw the icebergs aboard the plane, the ice never showed its true form. Now, in my direction of travel, one iceberg, which was not the same shape or size, jostled against itself and continued to the end of my field of vision. The pile of icebergs, which floated above the changes in light and darkness inside the twilight, was very overwhelming and a rather phantasmal scene. How was I supposed to proceed on these dreadful icebergs with a dog sled? I forgot the cold, and, for a while, I stood in disbelief.

And, in the end, I could not find the actual route. I fell from the iceberg and climbed again, trying to search for a route through which the sled might be able to pass, but there was no such thing. Time proceeds mercilessly. There is no route. If there is no route, there is nothing I can do but break the ice myself and make a route. After walking around for a few hours, I returned to the place where the plane dropped me off. It was necessary to do a final equipment check, and I had no choice but to stop here for the night.

I pitched my tent. I lit a fire on my kerosene stove, boiled some tea, and chewed some fresh caribou meat. This raw meat was so bad I could not feel. I still wasn't used to this Arctic lifestyle. I still had to eat, though. The severe journey from tomorrow on will demand tough stamina. I forced myself to eat the meat, which melted as soon as I put it in my mouth.

After that, I crowd into my dual-layer sleeping bag. A four-layer tent and dual-layer sleeping bag. Even so, an ill-feeling in my whole body approaches as the temperature is -50 degrees before windchill. There's the sound of the burning kerosene stove, and sometimes the sound of the whirling wind on the ice. With the cold and the excitement of the departure for the trip, I could not fall asleep.