Today I was talking to a client about my recent visit to Ise and my purchase of Ise sake and my love of Sumo and Enka. He called me more Japanese than most Japanese males my age. Is it bad that I felt a swelling of pride in that statement? I don’t want to be a weeaboo. But I can’t help it. The idealization of a Japan of rice fields and shrines resonates with me in a way I can’t describe. As I sit drunken in expensive sake and listening to Ise, I feel a sense of connection more than I’ve felt in a long time. I dream of forests and coasts, and a way of life long past. I go online and feel a profound sense of emptiness. I’m not a good modern.
I suppose a more detailed post as I sober up may be in the offing. Who knows. When I’m sober more pressing concerns come to mind. One thing I do know is I don’t want to leave Japan for a long time.