The Review of Disquiet

Ken. O. O. Bach

Edited and Translated by Junta



1

I was born in a time when possibilities were expanding by the day. However, so did the proportion of young people who lost touch with their dignity. It seems the trend will only continue. Visible and invisible disparities.



2

I love the idea of myself. I am proud, but not vain. I know my defects are too strong for me to love myself as much as the idea of myself.



3

The idea of living is tedious. One is much more comfortable living

The Review of Disquiet

...Today I'm an ascetic in my religion of myself. A cup of coffee, a cigarette and my dreams can substitute quite well for the universe and its stars, for work, love, and even beauty and glory. I need virtually no stimulants. I have opium enough in my soul.

...After they go their separate ways, each marrying someone else (since they think too much alike to marry each other), if one day they happen to look at these pages, I think they recognise what they never said and will be grateful to me for so accurately interpreting not only what they really are but also what they never wished to be nor ever knew they were...

Ken. O. O. BachEdited and Translated by JuntaI was born in a time when possibilities were expanding by the day. However, so did the proportion of young people who lost touch with their dignity. It seems the trend will only continue. Visible and invisible disparities.I love the idea of myself. I am proud, but not vain. I know my defects are too strong for me to love myself as much as the idea of myself.The idea of living is tedious. One is much more comfortable living inside the mind.Knowing time only goes forward, towards inevitable death, yet feeling nothing.As I lie in darkness at night, it seems I am capable of anything. My weaknesses can all be mended tomorrow. All I need to do is open my heart. However, the heart can only be opened in darkness.The exception to this is when there is a ray of light so beautiful and innocent that white meets blue, blue meets pink, pink meets white and the whole world is bathed in every imaginable colour.The happiness of a dog, the intelligence of a cat, the curiosity of a mouse. The tremor of a cherry blossom branch, the sophistication of a hydrangea, the humility of a eucalyptus tree. The winds carry our thoughts, the rain washes away our fears, and the sun warms us up from the inside.Nature is not enough for the modern man. The convict with the death sentence who is as tranquil as if they are already in heaven.I am still often surprised by my naiveté. It seems that an extended period of inaction cancels out the fruits of past action.I have no opinions, and hence exist. It has always puzzled me how people can have so many opinions. Indifference is the first step in living inwardly.If there was a spider inside of me, its web would be covering my heart. Prey is taken in, but the predator never comes out. It would become prey out of its web.I don't like many things, but the things I do I will stick with, like a faithful lady beetle.Just how alone are we? Just how alone do we want to be?How rare it is to be attracted to the mind of another. Rarer still for the attraction to be mutual.I have been awake for a handful of days this year. If my emotions are asleep, I am asleep.It is so rare for me to feel profound emotion that I am worried even the most unfortunate of events will fail to move me.The reliance on thought is, in its shadow, concealing a hypersensitive heart. No, it is not sensitive to many things, but to those that actually deserve our respect and love.Dreaming is more interesting than anything that can happen in life, or books. The lofty possibilities of each one are combined into rich sensations.I have never seen a film more exciting than a dream I might have on a lazy afternoon. Unlike the relationship between life and fiction, in which the latter may be more enticing, living inside a dream is much more real than life itself, and much more beautiful than any fiction that, at the end of the day, is not concerned with us. Reading is life's second biggest luxury. It is a shame dreaming is considered a part of life, and not the other way around.Books. Paper. Trees. Air. Breath. Oxygen. Brain. Mystery. Maze. Serpent. Sword. Hilt. Power. Domination. Prejudice. Colour. Grey. Dullness. Repetition. Habit. Personality. Uniqueness. The meaning of life. ...Do my chair and desk respect my writing? They have spent too much time with me that they must be apathetic.Words betray our thoughts. Words are the physical value of gold. Thoughts are its intrinsic beauty.Another year of no change. The things you can change are not essential to your own being.The social meaningfulness of sleeping and dreaming are disproportionately low."I'm different from everyone.""Oh, me too actually.""That's a coincidence, so am I."Turn this wayThere are so many things I want to talk to you aboutThough I can only meet you in my imagination any more.One of my fascinations is linking the unlinkable - an acquaintance from ten years ago and a friend I made this year, a kangaroo hopping around Kyoto, philosophising in English with a close friend whom is Japanese. Dreams are where the impossible become possible.Neither belonging to the mountain, nor the sea.The frustration at the incongruence between my two tongues. My person lies in the boundary between the two, a boundary that will never be broken down. Growing in one language means leaving the other behind. Since time is not given to catch up, the two are journeying along two paths becoming more divergent by the day.Dreams are home, life is work, reading is play.There have been a handful of individuals who I have despised from the first few seconds of meeting. These persons all have one thing in common, and it is ironic that this attribute they share is what I often long for. In reality, it is unattainable.Were I ever granted a flash of expressive power so great that it concentrated all art in me, I would write a eulogy to chess. A world where thought is action, one's purpose is clear, and art, science and sport all co-exist. One can comprehend the causal chain, and be transported onto a plane where they hold the power to infinite and truth. One only loses because they deserve to lose.The inability to put effort into anything.I feel I lost the curiosity for life quite early. My essence lies in a deep sleep in a plain of never-melting snow under the sun from a decade ago, when I realised the incompatibility between my self and the environment. New lands bring new sensations, but the decision to venture forth took too long. I'm not sure how much I lost in those plains. I believe they exist inside myself too, though it will be a long time before the snow there melts."Why did you pull the covers over yourself?""I think it's because I feel cold."Like the attic above my bedroom which I have never ventured to explore (the square opening is as good as forgotten), I am still optimistic about change. It is just that I am pessimistic about how receptive I am to change.I have always been a great fan of myself. Thoughts are not published or broadcast, but I am always writing the draft.Reading is an instance I am open to the world, since I am feeling more than thinking. I do not bother with interpretations, only impressions.My apathy has also infected my memory, so I am losing my past at an impressive rate. I am used to it, and it does not bother me so much. I am the same old person from year to year, but every moment I am also becoming someone new.Perhaps in the not-too-distant future, we will be living in our minds, thanks to technology. As much as I live in my mind already, I don't entirely embrace this future. Living in the mind is a voluntary privilege, luxury and virtue that should not be accessible to everyone."What do you want for Christmas?""My fermented thoughts from ten years ago."I have always been fascinated by people who can show their feelings and opinions so openly. The concept of acting, becoming another person is wonderful, but I could not bear other people watching this psychological rendezvous.An excess of confidence brings more results than a lack of confidence. However, the latter is tragic and beautiful.Worldly rations of wisdom cannot be consciously acquired after a certain age in youth.I want to combine the notes of a piano with the lake I often drive past. The smell of the lawn with a passionate discussion over whisky. The translucence of a window with a mental exercise. The taste of sake with the crescent moon. The beauty of prose with the mediocrity of people around me. Whole new worlds will open up when distant planes merge onto one.Only relying on intuition on Monday. Principles on Tuesday. Taste on Wednesday. Kindness on Thursday. Indifference on Friday. Perverseness on Saturday. Optimism on Sunday.I often refrain from speaking something out aloud if most people around could have said the same thing.Flawed perfectionism, realistic idealism and melancholy optimism.Humanity still seems to be the norm, or people would have killed each other off long ago. It is a blessing to find like-minded people because most of humanity is disagreeable or distasteful.I have internalised and rationalised everything to such an extent that it's a wonder how most people give me respect for my exterior."Can I be your friend?""Only if you can enjoy this awkward silence with me.""Today is the first day of the rest of your life.""It will be your last if you keep up with those statements."I am content with the friends I have and the things I enjoy, that the rate of finding new ones is decreasing by the year. Quantity of quality over quality of quantity."Would you rather be remembered as missing in action, or missing inaction?"I am amazed at how big religion is in this world.Each letter of each letter, traversing the seas.Being strong and not being weak are two entirely different things. It is a question of purpose.Imagining worlds where psychological conventions, power relations and social structures are completely different from reality. Do you want to make the world a better place, or be the best you can be? Both, or neither?I do not mind travelling, but they have been a means to an end. I can journey around the whole universe in my mind in the comfort of home.Contradictions in personality can either be pitiful, or lovely.Variegated stupidity.One sign of loving someone is that with them, you'd want to do things that you would usually detest or avoid at any cost.I appreciate someone doing something for me a lot more than receiving something materially. I am selfish, and am happy with the rare purchases I make myself. I know what I want and don't want. Thus, what someone may give me blindly is appreciated but not necessary.The beautiful oceans of objectivity and rationality. The Tropic of Spontaneity divides them."You know, you are pretty special.""I was going to tell you the same thing."Never having a Plan A, only contingent paths."Hey, I never thought you would dance like this.""Well, this is a place for dancing."Did cavemen cringe?Perhaps there needs to be some difference for balance.Loneliness, Intelligence, Fecundity, Eloquence.If writing is a form of masturbation, how can literary sex be achieved? Taking turns is unaesthetic, but there is only space for one pen on the line.I'm aware that things have tended to go well when I have successfully ceased overthinking. A narrow comfort zone.Impressions of episodes are all that remain. It's a shame there is no 'Pause' function. On the crucial level, the chances of reaching a checkpoint can be 50-50."I have never felt this way before."MonotoneBaritoneAnglophoneMiscommunication-prone."I'm going to be lonely without you."Certain characters in stories by DFW and Murakami are my favourite. They are the most similar to me.The last photo together in the hotel lobby."What would you like for your side dish, chivalry or commitment?"I used to dislike children for they are illogical and lack objectivity. Thankfully I do not mind them so much now."What talent do you wish you had?""The capacity for hard work."I miss change.A stanza blossoms in springA note resounds above in summerA sketch survives through autumnA melody is unearthed in winter"What is your dream?"I want to write my own story one day. At the moment I'm incapable of writing a few lines. For now I shall stick with reading.I occasionally experience déjà vu, dreaming the scene and living it months or years later.In terms of physical appearance, which is the real self? The one in solitude, the one in the mirror, the one in the photograph or the one in the mind?"In the 22nd century, riddles and wordplay became weapons of mass destruction.""Stop thinking. You're doing it again."Teenage life is suffering for those who grow up too slow, those who can't open themselves up and those who think too much.Wallowing in regret used to be my preferred method of self-flagellation. Now I read instead and wallow in indifference.I'm only intelligent in certain aspects. In others I'm just good at hiding my ineptitude, or avoid them altogether. However, I do look down on others who behave stupidly by choice."What is your greatest achievement in life?""Keeping a dignified presence throughout."I want to write something only I canDo something for the world only I canThink about the world in a way only I canLive in this world sometimes alone, sometimes with othersI've been fortunate so far. Things could be a lot worse.I've found that my personalities across life and its most cherished facets (as a chessplayer, as a reader etc.) are all absolutely identical. This is a natural occurrence, but is worth analysing.Eyes are beautiful windows to the soul.If a creature can live both underwater and on land, how do they decide how much time they allot to the respective habitats?To think about everything, to analyse everything. To place in the realms of exact science the hum of a passerby, the glance of a waitress, the gaiety of a retiree, the hesitancy of an acquaintance, the struggles of a friend, the concerns of a lover.The heart, the mind, the soul. The fountain, the cave, the sky. The waves, the sand, the tide. The piercing sunshine, the stuttering rain, the air we breathe. The future, the past, the present. The girlfriend, the fiancée, the soulmate. The chaos, the structure, the universe."I'm sorry.""I look forward to the day we meet again.Sincerely,__________"December 31, 2015