my brother is sleeping next to me. his leather jacket serves as a blanket as he finds space to doze off amongst the sounds of turbulence and the quiet yet piercing murmurs of restless passengers aboard the plane destined to reach Japan. i am amongst the restless. i stare at my computer while my feet continuously shift, refusing to find a comfortable position, like a dog circling around their bed for what seems like an eternity finding the right nest to take a nap on. as i shuffle my feet, i am reminded of the eloquence required to properly write something compelling enough for me, yet short enough to create ambience that lingers with subtle manifesting pathos. my grandfather died yesterday. we shared the same name. i think of the gyotaku he hung proudly in his soba shop. he promised to take me fishing one day. i think of the haramaki he wore every day. it was always so hot in japan you know? he was the first person in asakusa to wear denim. i think about that a lot. kiyoshi would remove his dentures to make my brother and i laugh. i miss the sound of that quite a bit. ----- [Song22491067] ----- i yearn for a third space. ————— i’m currently reading a book talking about the post-war life of a japanese american. “would i be a no-no boy?” now presents itself as an existential question i can’t seem to shake out my conscience. ————— I remember eating a meal with a buddy made in his large rented house, in the middle of a beautiful, alive city. Pork, lettuce, seaweed, and rice. So simple yet so impactful. I remember pressing my shirtless body against the wall adjacent to my bed, cooling off from the summer heat. A very, very human endeavor, lost in the overwhelming sphere that is the mundanity of waking and sleeping. I remember smoking a cigarette after a profoundly draining and tiring shift at my lowly restaurant job. Daydreaming of a time when my education is finished and I can escape the repetition that is, "How's everything tasting?" I often try to recreate simple things, whether it be food, a sound, or a mood, to recapture the feeling I was once graciously presented with, but to no avail. Through the inescapable sounds of white noise... "Hello!" ------ As I lay next to my girlfriend, doing a mixture of studying and updating my RateYourMusic, I am blessed with the sounds of her subtle off-key singing, followed by her charming and precious dances. I love karaoke nights in her room. I love feeling the bed shake, joined by the off-kilter claps that match the drums and bass of wonderfully nostalgic music we both enjoyed during our youth - a time before we were intertwined in each other's lives. I love hearing, "Last one, I promise," followed by another. I love her. ------ andrew is forcing me to change tabs and view the earl sweatshirt music video. I am in a rush. Anyways..... ------ on the mac for the first time, i apologize. anyways, Naima Ramos-Chapman and Terence Nance. ------ micro-aggressions in the big 25?? —————— oh how i missed you, music —————— ボロボロで疲れてる。バイトって多変だよね？ —————— being able to upload mp4 data on here would be wonderful. —————— despite the evident need for a paywall, i wish there would be another alternative to continuously maintain special.fish’s resources and entertainment. the more people included in this disorganized wasteland of thought, the better. hello! —————— i make music for me and only me. why must one feel the need to always publish works of art? who's with me? —————— new work shirts.