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Saturday, May 9, 2015

When I opened the front door this morning, I noticed that it was cold and cloudy out – a big contrast to the warm weather we’ve been having lately. After taking Ta-ne for a walk, I checked on my three goya (bitter melon) plants in our courtyard to see how they were doing.

I got an empty plastic bottle, filled it with water from the bucket, and then poured the water gently around the plants because they are still young and fragile. The words, “Tappuri… tappuri…” automatically came to mind because my neighbor Tsuboi-san, who helped me plant them about a week ago, always said that every time.

“Tappuri… Tappuri…” (“Lots and lots…”)

I saw two roly polies near the stems of one plant. Because they would eat the leaves, I plucked them out of the soil. Immediately they rolled up into a little ball to defend themselves. Being still new to the godlike powers that came with gardening, I contemplated the morality of it all while squashing them with my feet.

#Barnacle Island #Talking Barnacles #Patrick Tsai

Sunday, May 03, 2015

Antonio and Maki, two of my old photography students from Tokyo (whose names have been changed for privacy’s sake), contacted me a week ago, asking if they could stay with me over Spring Break. Even though I was a little concerned about spending three full days with them since they are rather young, I said yes.

To give some background about the two, Maki graduated last year and became a graphic designer. She is smart, responsible, and hardworking. Antonio, on the other hand, is kind, but extremely lazy. Even though Antonio wasn’t that great of a student, I had a soft spot for him because I could tell that he was sensitive like an artist – he just needed more time to develop and figure things out like myself at his age.

Because Miki returned from Germany this morning, we caught up quietly over breakfast since our guests were still asleep. Afterwards, she took a shower and went to bed. I washed our dishes and then brought my computer outside to work on Barnacles.

Maki finally got up and tried to rouse Antonio, asking him if he wanted something to eat. Since he didn’t respond, she went ahead and made breakfast for herself. Later, when he joined us outside, he whined and complained about how he didn’t have anything besides toast like her.

After they ate, we realized that it was almost time for the big boxing match that Antonio had been raving about for the past three days. It was supposedly going to be the biggest boxing match of all time. Since we didn’t really know anything about it, Maki and I told him to find it on the Internet, but he waved us off, saying he wanted to digest first.

Thirty minutes past bye and Antonio still hadn’t gotten up from his chair, so we had to remind him again. I then picked up their dishes and brought them inside. While I was washing them, I looked over my shoulder and saw Maki tidying up both of their futons and blankets, which annoyed me because for the past three days it was always like this – Antonio’s face was glued to some screen while Maki, or I, had to do everything for him. Surprisingly Antonio didn’t seem to bother her like he was bothering me – maybe it was because, like I said before, he reminded me of myself at his age, and unfortunately it included this lazy, spoiled side of his as well.

In addition, watching them together also made me recall my relationship with my friend, Ian, especially since Maki had informed me the night before about how he had been talking behind my back. Apparently, she had witnessed him adamantly warn women on several occasions to not date a man like me. Even though it hurt, it wasn’t so hard to guess why he would say something like that because when we used to live together, he was always the more responsible one. Back then, Ian was always at his desk in our home office, scrambling to meet deadlines and hustling for more clients while I was always broke, roaming around, taking pictures, and watching television.

Compared to Ian, I was – and still am – a selfish, lazy person. Being a graphic designer, it is necessary for him to make something useful for others – usually his clients – while, being an artist, it is necessary for me to do the exact opposite because art, in my opinion, should not be useful – it should be created to exist on its own like something in the natural world. Regarding how it will actually play a part in society will be determined later by other people. Therefore, dedicating lots of time to create something unproductive like a painting, a song, or a photograph, can be considered an irresponsible act by others, especially as an adult with daily, financial, and/or familial obligations, as well as stupid if you dedicate your life to it, which I have been told many times in the past.

In the defense of the good-for-nothing artist though, the ultimate goal – besides success – is for one’s work to transcend past one’s own satisfaction and affect other people as well, which is why even though making art is selfish, it can be perceived as selfless as well. But for the past three days, watching Antonio, who is not quite an artist yet but already has the stereotypical qualities of the worst kind, in comparison to Maki, who was very considerate and helpful, made me question whether artists are really being selfless. It also reminded me of an interview I heard the other day with John Lennon talking about how when the Beatles were together, they were horrible people. He continued on about saying he now felt bad for the people that had to deal with them, but, at the same time, he still believed that was the only way they could act in that crazy time and situation. Whether or not that was true, I began to wonder:

Can making great art work really justify, or cancel out, the negative actions/behavior in one's personal life?

When Antonio finally found the show on his computer, I decided to watch as well, which I immediately regretted. At first, there was the prefight and then a lot of promotional bullshit where there was non-stop talk about money and famous people. When the camera spotlighted a highly respected actor sitting in the audience, he held up his T-shirt, pointed to the big, blatant logo on his chest, and smiled without any shame – a reminder to me that it is now considered cool to sell-out these days. During the show, the announcers kept talking about social media, which probably because I have been away from America for so long, seemed strange and out of place (but I knew, in reality, that it was just me that was). Even when discussing one of the boxer’s profile, one of the significant things in his life was that his mansion had it’s own Instagram account. To make things worse, Antonio kept filming himself with his camera as well as sticking it in our face, asking us what our opinions and reactions were; plus he constantly had to check Facebook about what people were saying about the fight and comment back as well. It quickly became apparent that he didn't really want to watch the event for the sake of watching it, but just to be able to say that he did.

Although the event was hyped up to be one of the greatest matches of all time, it ended up being very boring. While the audience booed after the fight was over, the winner hugged the loser and said, “We made a lot of money,” summing up the emptiness of it all.

It felt gross being home all morning, so we went to a café. After eating ice cream, we felt much better and began playfully teasing each other like we had been doing for the past three days. When Maki commented that she disliked how Antonio was always on social media, I agreed as well. Suddenly, he got angry and blew up, saying that, unlike the two of us, he cared about what was happening in the world. He continued on about how everything we did in our life, including this diary, was unimportant because we only focused on what was around us and that our sphere was so small. When I asked him what he had done that was so great, he replied that he was thinking about helping out with the earthquake relief effort in Nepal, which, knowing him, would most likely never happen. I pointed out that he hadn’t actually gone yet, or done anything else for that matter, especially in order to talk that way about Maki and I. He defended himself again by saying that up until then, he was just a student and would be doing it from now since he would be graduating in a few weeks. Realizing that there was no point in talking to him anymore, I decided to end things by saying that he was right. When Maki returned with water and asked if we had stopped fighting, Antonio childishly snorted back that I had admitted that I was wrong because I run out of arguments.

“This little shit didn’t know when to quit,” I thought.

Everyone was staring by now, so I hustled them out of the cafe. When we outside, I asked him if he really wanted to end their trip this way, especially since we actually had a great time up until then, but he still wouldn’t calm down. We went downstairs and there was one of my English students named Kayo, who had brought handmade udon to my house as a gift for Antonio and Maki two days before. Next to Kayo, there was Kiiyan, who had also given them a tour of some famous temples as well as Kurashima-san, Miki’s island father, who had invited them over to his house for dinner the previous night. Maki and I chatted with the locals to be polite, pretending that there was nothing wrong, while Antonio just stood in the corner with a frown, ignoring everybody.

Since it was about time for them to catch their ferry, we walked back to my house to get their things. Antonio began raving about how he was the victim again. I asked if he had forgotten my hospitality and everything that I had done for them over the past three days since I had basically spent every single waking minute trying to entertain them, but there was no response. Maki and I walked behind him; and for the fifth, or sixth, time on the trip, she said that she was tired of dealing with such a spoiled kid.

When they went inside to get their stuff, I waited outside. Even though Antonio was unbelievably ungrateful, the thought that our relationship over the past two years was going to end, especially over a comment about Twitter, was ridiculous, so I decided to suck it up once more, for the millionth time during their stay here, and be the mature one. When he came out, I apologized sincerely for offending him. He looked at my feet and asked me if I was serious, to which I replied that I was, but, like a broken record, he suddenly continued whining about how we went too far. He was now yelling again, so I told him to lower his voice because Miki, who was exhausted from her long trip, was sleeping in the next room. He didn’t, so I gave him one last chance, but to no avail.

“Get the fuck out!” I yelled, and so he did. I hugged Maki goodbye and said I would see her in Tokyo again one day.

After they were gone, I went inside and tried to shake off the stupidity of it all. I wanted to ask him about how he expected to help others in some distant land if he couldn’t even think about the people around him, especially the ones who were always taking care of him. It wasn't hard to foresee that he would regret what happened today many years down the road since I, too, had lost many friends the exact same way before. Like him, I only cared about myself and blamed everyone else for not understanding me. I coped by telling myself that when I would finally make something amazing, everyone would see who I really was. But it’s getting clearer to me with each day, especially now after meeting my old self again, that no matter how good my work is, or will be, it doesn't really make a difference in the end. It might create a nice image/fantasy about myself for the people who admire my work, but not for the people who are actually in my life. To them, I will always be that same shitty person until I change deep down. And I think John Lennon realized that too, which is why he finally took a long break and became a househusband at the end. He wanted to learn how to be a real human being, a real man, and a real father to his son, so he could escape his old demons as well as find the other kind of happiness that fame and success couldn’t buy. Whether or not he died happier than he was with the Beatles, it's hard to say, but at least he did finally grow up and become a better person.

I texted Maki and told her to have a safe trip. She said that a lot of the locals as well as Kurashima-san’s family were at the port with gifts to see them off. Since Antonio was wearing headphones and was too absorbed in himself, he didn’t notice that they were there. When the ferry departed and they found their seats, Maki showed him the gifts. He then scribbled a short thank you letter, had Maki take a picture on her phone, had her send it to me, and – to my disbelief about how his stupidity knew no bounds – expected me to do him the favor of sharing it with them after what just happened. I texted her back saying that if he really was appreciative of their kindness, the proper thing to do would be for him to put it in an envelope when he got back home and mail it himself. I sent her my address and said that he could even send it to me, and then – and only then – would I pass it to them – not for his sake but for theirs because I knew it would make them happy. It was also my challenge to Antonio because I wanted him to see for himself what kind of person he truly was since I already knew that he wouldn’t actually take five minutes from his day as well as spend one hundred and twenty yen of his own money for someone else.

After I put my phone down, I sighed with relief. I was glad to see the young version of myself gone, but I also knew that he was still with me to some degree since Miki still complains about me all the time (and apparently so does Ian).

#talking barnacles #barnacle island #Patrick Tsai