Sensationalist
Kouhai
- 2 Jan 2008
- 55
- 2
I prognosticate that in the next ten years the real Japanese matrons will become preoccupied with conspicuous consumption. Especially, in an age where technology abounds and where convenience becomes an intuitive mental response rather than a natural thought processed by the need to do things the easiest way possible with very little thought.
Has convenience made Japanese matrons' lives easier, or our lives for that matter? I should know, I'm what's called a Japophiliac or in other words a person preoccupied with all things Japan, but more so the Jukujo or matron. I should know, because I live the life. I not only fantasize about it, but I live the life of it. I live in the womb of my desire. (sigh).
In Japan, there's a growing dilemma, one of biblical proportions. It's called soullessness, where millions of Japanese people walk around like there's this huge spiritual vacuum created by prosperity and the need for material gain bought on by capitalism. Maybe in their minds money can buy happiness, or at least get you dam close enough to lick it with the sweet end receptors of your tongue.
What's lacking is true purpose, and that goes without saying, we all need a purpose for life and for living. Human beings are the only species on earth that has to be encouraged to live! Is it because we have larger and more complex brains that we feel so hopeless, or less able to think and rationalize ? I think we think too much and worry about far too many extraneous thoughts. That's not to say that the need to die is totally bad. There is a way to die with dignity.
Mishima Yukio, famous Japanese novelist, taught us all how to die with dignity and it wasn't a self defeating suicide that most people write off as folly. He didn't commit self defeating suicide. His suicide makes you win. Ritualized Japanese suicide makes you win. It's the body, soul, mind and spirit working together in harmony to bring death to itself. To slit your own belly open is an exercise in intestinal fortitude. One that goes far beyond the need to blow ones brains out. There is no dignity in the trigger.
The Japanese matron teaches us that life is simple, or at least it can be. Her tender bosom; her strong thighs; her mochi like skin; her long flowing silky black hair; her deep moist black eyes, and her luscious lips all sing of life. The sake that graces that Japanese cup that graces her lips that make the epicanthic folds in her eyes pleat. This is Japan !
Could you die for that ?
Has convenience made Japanese matrons' lives easier, or our lives for that matter? I should know, I'm what's called a Japophiliac or in other words a person preoccupied with all things Japan, but more so the Jukujo or matron. I should know, because I live the life. I not only fantasize about it, but I live the life of it. I live in the womb of my desire. (sigh).
In Japan, there's a growing dilemma, one of biblical proportions. It's called soullessness, where millions of Japanese people walk around like there's this huge spiritual vacuum created by prosperity and the need for material gain bought on by capitalism. Maybe in their minds money can buy happiness, or at least get you dam close enough to lick it with the sweet end receptors of your tongue.
What's lacking is true purpose, and that goes without saying, we all need a purpose for life and for living. Human beings are the only species on earth that has to be encouraged to live! Is it because we have larger and more complex brains that we feel so hopeless, or less able to think and rationalize ? I think we think too much and worry about far too many extraneous thoughts. That's not to say that the need to die is totally bad. There is a way to die with dignity.
Mishima Yukio, famous Japanese novelist, taught us all how to die with dignity and it wasn't a self defeating suicide that most people write off as folly. He didn't commit self defeating suicide. His suicide makes you win. Ritualized Japanese suicide makes you win. It's the body, soul, mind and spirit working together in harmony to bring death to itself. To slit your own belly open is an exercise in intestinal fortitude. One that goes far beyond the need to blow ones brains out. There is no dignity in the trigger.
The Japanese matron teaches us that life is simple, or at least it can be. Her tender bosom; her strong thighs; her mochi like skin; her long flowing silky black hair; her deep moist black eyes, and her luscious lips all sing of life. The sake that graces that Japanese cup that graces her lips that make the epicanthic folds in her eyes pleat. This is Japan !
Could you die for that ?
