Tag: Kenkou de Bunkateki na Saitei Gendo no Seikatsu

Released: 2017/3/25

※This essay was also published in the book compilation of Saito Soma no Kenkou de Bunkateki na Saitei Gendo no Seikatsu.

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I’m not good with animals, but I quite like going to the zoo. It has that unique, sluggish yet calm atmosphere. On this early afternoon, I saw a couple on a date, a boy reaching towards a lion, a flamingo standing on one leg and drinking water, and nocturnal beasts making displeased grunts.

Sitting on a bench, gazing absentmindedly at the sky, flipping through a paperback book I brought with me, and enjoying the peaceful time without anyone forcing me to do anything. It’s not a bad way to spend a day off.

…If only this really was a day off.

“Wait, it’s the zoo itself I like, not the animals!” I cried.

The editor, Enu-shi, ignored my pleas and smiled. “I bought animal food!”

But I never asked for it! I reluctantly accept the vegetables and glance at the enclosure, where a round-eyed elephant is waiting. I guess I have no choice but to be brave. Thus began my fun-filled animal interaction time.

It all started when I was told that I could spend a day photographing and acquiring writing material at a location of my choice. I answered with a quarry and the zoo. I’ll leave the quarry for another time, but it’s not like I was lying when I said I wanted to go to the zoo. I went there often when I was a child, and even after moving to Tokyo, I went to the zoo several times. It’s a laid-back place, and I have plenty of fun just having staring contests with lazy-looking lions. I’m not looking for a direct relationship; I just want something platonic, which was supposed to be fine.

Alas, as soon as we arrived, we found out that there was a limited-time event where you could feed the elephants, so we made a sudden dash for it. No, like I said, I don’t need any direct interaction!

And so, I had a face-to-face meeting with an elephant.

Whoa, it’s huge.

The elephant was very gentlemanly, though. It skillfully used the tip of its trunk to pluck the Chinese cabbage from my trembling fingers.

Thank you, Mr. Elephant. I somehow managed to complete my mission.

“Okay, next is the giraffe!”

Huh?

The giraffes could be fed at any time, unlike the elephants. To be honest, it’d been a long time since I’d seen very large animals like elephants and giraffes up close, so I hadn’t known what to expect. But since the elephants were much bigger than I’d imagined, I could guess what the giraffes would be like.

And so, I had a face-to-face meeting with the giraffes.

Whoa, they’re long.

There were four of them! Up close, they were quite intense, and uh, their teeth sure looked strong, haha. As I was thinking about them, the camera crew gave me the “go” sign. I knew that the elephant would use its trunk, but what about the giraffe? What do giraffes use?!

Their tongue. The answer is a thick, purple tongue, glistening with saliva. Unlike the elephant, from the way the giraffe licked me, it must’ve thought my fingertips were part of the food. I wonder if they tasted good. While I was looking at the giraffes, a young giraffe that wasn’t allowed to be fed yet glared at me. Sorry, but I can’t do anything for you! Get some yummy food from your caretaker!

“Okay, next is the amusement park!”

Huh?

I had successfully—albeit painfully—completed my mission, but I never imagined that there would be an even greater ordeal awaiting me. There was an amusement park next to the zoo, and the staff decided to take pictures at the attractions there as well. Now, I’m afraid of heights and I don’t like thrill rides. In other words, I wasn’t given the right parameters to enjoy amusement parks. So honestly, I wasn’t enthusiastic about this suggestion. But still, I didn’t often go to such places, and from the looks of it, I doubted there would be any fast rides there.

I was naive.

A ride that spun 360 degrees in every direction. A rollercoaster with a loose seatbelt. A creaky Ferris wheel that stopped when I reached the top for some reason. The cameraman was all smiles, but of course, I was utterly distressed. After it was all over, my one salvation was the familiar taste of the Pocari Sweat they were selling at a booth.

But, well, despite my complaints, it’s human nature to persevere. Apparently, I wasn’t as dissatisfied with the elephant and giraffe feeding experience as I’d thought: on a later day, I found myself going to another zoo. It was very windy that day, and most of the animals were huddling to try to brace themselves against the cold. It felt like the shoebills, Malayan tapirs, and giant pandas were giving me resentful looks, as if to say, “Hurry up and put us in the warm building.” Sorry, this is just how the zoo works. I felt bad for them as I walked around right before closing time.

Suddenly, I realized: this whole time, I thought I was looking at the animals, but if you think about it the other way around, weren’t they looking at us humans too? I could feel their eyes on me. Resentful looks? Is that really true? Do their eyes really have such by-the-book nuances? Who’s being watched; me or them?

Even though I should’ve been cold, a bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. I quickly left the zoo, too scared to look back.

Later on, I was having drinks with a friend from university who had returned to his hometown after graduation to find a job.

“You were at the zoo the other day, right?”

Huh?

“Right when it was closing.”

Huh?

“I went there too! I saw you from behind!”

Wait, it was you?!

Released: 2016/12/26

※This essay was also published in the book compilation of Saito Soma no Kenkou de Bunkateki na Saitei Gendo no Seikatsu.

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(On an aimless stroll, sober, jotting down notes on my phone)

The last song is “Majo Tabi ni Deru.” I’ll start with that.

It’s a sleepless night, and I’m heading to a part of the city I don’t usually go to. My companion tonight is Namae wo Tsuketeyaru (Give it a Name), the first Spitz album I ever listened to.

I started listening and was taken aback. Spitz has a song with such a bluesy guitar?! Then I realized it was a song by Oishi Masayoshi-san. Why?

Starting over from the top. The first track is “Usagi no Bike” (Rabbit’s Motorcycle). I’ve never ridden a motorcycle. I don’t ride bicycles anymore either, and I don’t have a driver’s license. Basically, I think of vehicles as something I’m given a ride in, not something I steer myself.

The train sways as it makes its way to Koenji, which is crowded despite the fact that it’s still Thursday. I’m actually not that familiar with this area.

“Give it a name.” Giving something a name is proof of ownership. A gesture that carves out a piece of the world. The Recipe for Gertrude. ART-SCHOOL’s “Yogoreta Chi.” Dividing the sky from the sea by giving them names. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Epistemology and the anthropic principle.

All right, enough poetry. It’s been a long time since I last came to Koenji—so long that I don’t know where to go. Which exit will take me to that second-hand clothing shop I used to go to? I’m not sure, but, well, it’s okay. I’ll just pick a random one. I feel like “well, it’s okay” became my pet phrase at some point. I don’t know if it should be considered optimistic or not. It could be that I’m just dodging the issue by going along with things, but, well, it’s okay.

“As I expected from Koenji, it’s full of people I don’t recognize,” or so I was going to write, but it’s actually not really the case? I feel like these people were here five years ago. I keep saying “I feel like,” huh?

Koenji is a relatively clean and lively place, unlike the image I had of it before moving to Tokyo. Where was that restaurant someone took me to a long time ago? The one that only served gyoza and bottled beer, I think as I walk. I feel like it was probably at the end of this shopping street. They let you bring in your own drinks, and at any rate, I immediately got drunk. Back then, I didn’t really know how to drink (well, I still don’t).

Masamune-san is in my ear, singing “su~zu~mushi no yo~ru~.” What a nice voice. His notes are like lemon water. This must be a type of perfection. His voice captures the essence of youth. Something like that.

I wander around aimlessly. There are actually two more restaurants I know here, but I can’t really go to them. One is a place I used to go to a long time ago that has moved to a different part of town. The owner had said he was going back to his hometown, but I recently noticed that he’d nonchalantly opened shop again. But you know, going there would be a bit embarrassing, right? I have good memories of getting over my distaste for coriander at that restaurant.

The other one is also one I frequented a long time ago, back when I really didn’t have any work. I feel like I got dead drunk and caused trouble, or rather, I definitely did cause trouble, so I can’t go there. So, I’m probably going home today without entering any restaurants. Not even to eat gyoza.

I called this place “clean and lively” earlier, but there are also several darker-looking restaurants; the kind that probably wouldn’t be on Tabelog (restaurant review site). The atmosphere reminds me of a Southeast Asian food stall district or the area under the railway overpass in Shinbashi. I really like it. There’s another restaurant, different from the one I mentioned earlier, where you get free gyoza when you order alcohol. But is that really “free”?

All around me, people are laughing, taking pictures, and drinking. How nice. I wish I could join them. But I can’t drink today. This journey doesn’t have a destination, but it has meaning and caution.

…Wait, but how is that different from just going for a stroll? What’s the difference between a journey and a stroll? Is it the existence of a destination? I guess this night walk might just be a stroll, then. Well, it’s okay either way.

Oh, but look! I found the gyoza restaurant. Well, I say that, but I knew it was here all along, since it’s on the way to a music venue I used to frequent. I remembered the location perfectly. But it’s closed. I definitely didn’t want to come here. If I really did, I could’ve looked that up. But I didn’t want to do that today. I went to the trouble of coming here and have nothing to show for it. Saddened, I trudge home. Some days are just like that. It’s probably fine. I don’t think I need to give a name to such days.

So I said, but on a later day, here I am, astutely popping in to eat gyoza and drink beer. That’s life. Puff puff.

Released: 2016/9/26

※This essay was also published in the book compilation of Saito Soma no Kenkou de Bunkateki na Saitei Gendo no Seikatsu.

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It was in my first year of middle school, when the class still had that starting-at-a-new-school restless atmosphere. I made a new friend, who I’ll call S-kun.

S-kun’s family was firmly into subculture, with both parents involved in various artistic activities. He was the one who introduced me to books by Tsutsui Yasutaka and Nakajima Ramo. I had grown up in a normal way, but since I was approaching the age when I wanted to embrace nihilism, these poisonous substances were very appealing to me.

One day, I told S-kun I wanted to listen to western music because it was cool, and he gave me an MD (there are probably people who don’t know what this is anymore). I immediately went home and put it in the stereo.

Track 1 was U2’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday.” It was fairly easy to listen to (I had no idea what the lyrics meant).
Track 2 was U2 as well, I believe.
Track 3 was the Rolling Stones’ “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” I loved this one a lot and quickly learned it.
Track 4 was a song by Emerson, Lake & Palmer. It had a catchy synth intro, but it was ridiculously long.
Then came five or so progressive rock songs for some reason, after which Marilyn Manson wreaked havoc.
The second half of the MD was made up of Otsuki Kenji’s bands, Kinniku Shojo-tai and Tokusatsu. The final track was Tokusatsu’s “Azanaeru.” It was a serene song with a soft piano.

This MD shocked me. It contained a fascinating world of taboos, ferocity, and chaos. I had never heard anything like it before. We quickly became fast friends and eventually we formed a band. After high school, we became somewhat estranged, and we hardly keep in touch these days. But the current me literally wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for him. To me, he was subculture itself.

One of his phrases that made an impression on me was when we were asked to write our favourite saying or proverb or something like that. Most people would look up a list and choose something random, but he wrote “Make haste slowly!” in Japanese. I was impressed by his sense, and later, I looked it up and found that it was also a saying in English. What’s more, it was originally attributed to the first Roman emperor, Augustus (Octavius).

Make haste slowly… It’s a profound saying that’s different from “slow and steady wins the race.” A state where being slow and in a hurry coexist. Is that what you feel when you reach maximum focus? Like when an athlete or an artist enters the “zone”?

There are quite a few speed-related expressions that I like. For example, “polepole” which is Swahili for “slowly.” The nuance feels somewhat similar to the Kansai dialect expression “bochi bochi iko ka” (let’s take it slow). Speaking of which, my mother is from Kansai, and when I was little, she often said that to me when I was being impatient: “Listen Soma, just take it slow.” But now, when I occasionally visit home, she drinks beer at a rate that makes it feel like we’re racing to see who gets drunk first. I’m glad that she’s healthy, but I sincerely hope that she’ll “take it slow” in life.

How many years has it been since I lost touch with S-kun? The world is rapidly changing—if you blink, you might get left behind. Our treasures, happy memories, and arduous club activities overflow like sand slipping through our fingers. “Fortune and misfortune are intertwined like the strands of a rope.” But if we make haste as slowly as we can, taking it slow when we walk, I’m sure we can enjoy our journey. For now, I think I’ll walk to my usual movie theatre without taking a taxi or the train. I’ll pull out that nostalgic MD and go there polepole.

Released: 2016/6/27

※This essay was also published in the book compilation of Saito Soma no Kenkou de Bunkateki na Saitei Gendo no Seikatsu.

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It was raining, so I chose to stay inside. I was going to go out for a drink, but sadly, I don’t like going out on rainy days. I reluctantly decided to organize the piles of scripts, outfits, books, garbage, and other miscellaneous items that had accumulated.

As I was sorting things, I found an unfamiliar box in the back of my closet. Inside was a pair of dark indigo rainboots. Huh? Did I buy these? I pondered for a while, unable to remember where they had come from, when suddenly it dawned on me: my uncle had given them to me a very long time ago. At the time, my feet had still been small, and I couldn’t really find an opportunity to wear them. They must have followed me to my current home somehow.

Speaking of which, my uncle gave me quite a few of my current possessions, whether they be books, clothes, or a guitar. I glanced at the guitar which was propped up on a stand, its strings long since rusted over. It remained silent. The room was filled with only the sound of the rain falling outside.

There aren’t many things that I continue to use indefinitely. Most things only stay in use for two or three years at most. However, there is one thing that has lasted for several years: the electric guitar my uncle gave me. It should’ve been around the time I began high school, so I’ve been playing it for about ten years now. That said, I only seriously practiced until I was around twenty. After that, I only took it out occasionally to perform maintenance and pluck the strings with my old muscle memory.

I don’t quite remember why my uncle gave me this guitar, but I think it was probably to congratulate me on graduating middle school. Thinking about it, my uncle has done a lot for me ever since I was little. He’s my father’s younger brother, exactly twenty years older than me, and works hard in Tokyo. I admired him when I was a kid. A fancy job and lifestyle in a fancy city… As a depressed boy living in the countryside, I saw my uncle as a guy who appeared every now and then to show me things that were shiny, cool, and stylish. In a way, he was my hero.

My uncle had once been a bandman, and he said that the guitar he gave me was the one he used to use. He also gave me several books by Kurt Vonnegut, showed me the record collection in his room, and took me out to eat a lot.

When I had just turned twenty, he brought me to a store that had delicious wine. Too young to know how to handle alcohol, I simply gobbled up all of the food and drink that was served and got very drunk. My uncle gently chided me and taught me how to drink in moderation. Perhaps he was partial to me because I was his first nephew. He often took me to concerts, and I was awed by the amazing performances that I normally wouldn’t have been able to see.

On one such day, as soon as we met up at the concert hall, he said, “Something came up and I have to leave, sorry.” He looked nervous and left without saying anything else. Since I was young and inexperienced and didn’t know what to do with the extra ticket, I watched the concert by myself. At the time, I had a vague feeling that I wouldn’t be able to see him as much anymore, and it turned out to be true.

After all, I never imagined I’d get a cousin twenty years younger than me. My uncle and his wife had their first child, and when things had mostly calmed down, we met for the first time in a while. He was as stylish and easygoing as always, but there was a different light in his eyes as he gazed at his child. For the first time ever, I felt for some reason that my father and uncle were similar. Oh, I see. These might be the eyes of a father. I secretly smiled to myself.

As is the case with most small children, his child seemed to love shiny and unusual things, looking curiously at things like smartphones, keys, and adults’ eyes. I might not be able to become your hero, but I’ll do my best to bring you shiny things like my uncle used to. I hope we’ll get along. That’s what I thought.

The sound of a phone notification brought me back to my senses. I looked at the screen and was surprised to see the word “Uncle.” Is such perfect timing even possible?

I couldn’t sit still anymore after that coincidence. I hurriedly changed my clothes and put on the rainboots. They used to be too big for me, but now they fit snugly around my feet. I think I’ll stop by a place before meeting with my uncle. My destination is, of course, a guitar shop. I’ll begin my walk in the rain by replacing these rusty strings.

Released: 2015/12/24

※This essay was also published in the book compilation of Saito Soma no Kenkou de Bunkateki na Saitei Gendo no Seikatsu.

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“When you can’t sleep at night, it’s because you forgot to prick yourself with the sleepiness needle¹.” I’m not sure whether I was told that by someone, I read it somewhere, or I thought of it myself.

Even after emptying the whiskey glass, it doesn’t feel like the day is going to end. With nothing else to do tonight, here I am, starting to write this essay. It’s often said that you should never publicize anything you wrote late at night, but I think it might be okay every once in a while. However, if it’s a love letter, you should definitely sleep on it first. Promise me you will, everyone.

Now then, that’s what I’ll be talking about tonight.

There’s a wonderful theory that “makura” (the Japanese word for “pillow”) comes from “tama no kura” (storehouse of the soul). I first learned of it in the winter of my first year of middle school. It was after leisurely biking down a footpath between rice fields to go to the bookstore, where I bought Urushibara Yuki-san’s Mushishi. As a new middle schooler, I was having sleepless nights because I wasn’t adjusting well to the change in my environment, so that theory became a part of me as if it had seeped into my mind. But in the end, I continued to have trouble sleeping, and I became the kind of sad adult who would write “Nobita-san²” in the “person I admire” column of my profile sheet.

So, this time, I decided to search for an item that would be crucial in obtaining the perfect sleep: the “storehouse of the soul”; that is, a pillow. My destination was the Lofty Pillow Factory in Bakuro-Yokoyama.

As far as I can remember, that was the first time I’d ever gotten off at Bakuro-Yokoyama Station. It was a lovely side street full of wholesalers—it looked like a neighbourhood out of a manga by Tsuge Yoshiharu-san or panpanya-san. (Speaking of which, panpanya-san wrote a short story called Makura Uo, which was also about searching for a pillow.) I walked through the neighbourhood, feeling a bit like a tourist.

When I arrived, I was surprised by how stylish Lofty’s storefront was. Peeking in from outside, the first thing I noticed was the fancy stairs leading to the underground level. There were also some mysterious cocoon-shaped objects. Oh? Did I come here to be put into cold sleep? It looked like something out of science fiction, even though it wasn’t the season for The Door into Summer anymore.

I timidly approached the front desk. A gentle-mannered employee gave me a detailed explanation of their products, and at last, it was time to try out the pillows.

Apparently, the key to choosing a pillow is to measure the depth of your neck to prevent your shoulders from sinking when you lie down. While trying out different materials such as beads, rice husks, and whatnot, the employee said to me that my shoulders were relatively broad. Don’t tell anyone that I was surprised to hear that.

By the way, according to the employee, “Most people who come to buy a pillow have some kind of sleep-related problem. But changing one’s pillow isn’t enough to solve the root of the problem—one must also review their lifestyle or seek guidance from a doctor.” Well, yes, that’s true.

The store also sold body pillows in a variety of shapes, like frogs and some strange lamprey-type thing. I passed on these. The thought of cuddling a finless porpoise while I slept was mildly terrifying.

After deciding on a pillow, it was time to pay. Next to the cash register, I found pajamas that looked very “galaxy.” They felt very soft and comfortable to the touch, so I decided to buy them as well. However, I was shocked when I heard the price. The pajamas were more expensive than the pillow by a long shot. Still, I had decided not to compromise on my health, so for the sake of good sleep, I paid up and left the store feeling refreshed.

And so, I bought a pillow, but to be honest, there are still many nights when I can’t fall asleep. I’m bad at “not thinking,” so I wind up going through an endless stream of unnecessary thoughts. What I probably need are relaxation techniques. It’s important to “relax your shoulders,” both physically and mentally.

It seems that in order to become healthy, one must not only solve the physical problems with their body, but also internal ones. I have a long way to go, but, well, I’ll get there one step at a time.

Oh, one more thing. On sleepless nights, something always happens. For example, it could be a message from a friend I haven’t talked to in a while or an encounter with a wonderful creation. For some reason, I believe in that kind of fate and serendipity.

Oh? Look, just as I was writing that, someone rang my doorbell. I’m surely going to enjoy staying up tonight. Well then, good night everyone, and sweet dreams.

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⁰The title is a reference to the novel In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust.

¹Saito Soma later wrote a short song called “Sleepiness Needle” (Suima no Hari) for the UtaTsunagi trend on Twitter:

盟友ヨシキ@Yoshiki_n_626と天才白井くん@shirai_universeから同時にバトンが！ありがとう！一発録り、睡魔の針という曲です。みんなぐっすり眠れますように。アーティスト公式アカウントということで、次はいつも最高の編曲をしてくださるSakuさん@Sinxixへ！楽しみっ！(自撮りの限界)S　#うたつなぎ pic.twitter.com/ACYTiX7lim

— 斉藤壮馬【Artist Official】 (@SomaStaff) April 9, 2020

²Referencing Nobita Nobi from Doraemon, who is very lazy and sleeps a lot.

Released: 2015/9/25

※This essay was also published in the book compilation of Saito Soma no Kenkou de Bunkateki na Saitei Gendo no Seikatsu.

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I’m sensitive to pain.

I’m afraid of injections, I don’t like IV drips, and I even avoid watching grotesque movies. But that day, by some ill fate, a needle was inserted into my arm to draw out a fair amount of blood. As I writhed in pain, I recalled a passage from the novel Flowers of Grass by one of my favourite authors, Fukunaga Takehiko:

　“Helpless, yes, and nobody more so than me. But what good would it do to superimpose our two solitudes? Wouldn't that be like adding zero to zero?”
　“But doesn't this solitude of ours mean precisely that we need love?”

- Flowers of Grass (Fukunaga Takehiko; English translation by Tyler Royall)

Surely, what I need right now is a kind lady to say, “Pain, pain, go away” for me. While the gentleman over there and the girl over here are having their blood drained, I am alone, groaning in misery. Where is the goddess who will heal me from solitude?

As for how I, a voice actor, wound up writing this essay, the story goes back to about half a year ago. During an interview with VOICE Newtype, I mentioned that writing was one of my hobbies, and from there, the meetings began.

After the serialization was confirmed, we spent a while discussing ideas for the overall theme, and the editor in charge asked me, “Is there something you’ve been lacking lately?”

Something I’m lacking? Hmm, I wonder if there is. Oh, I know—

“Health, I guess.”

“Oh, then let’s go with that.”

“Okay.”

And so, we decided on the general theme of “experiencing a variety of things in order to become healthy.” The next question was, “What’s the first thing I need to do in order to become healthy?” After some thought, we somehow reached the idea of “A comprehensive medical exam, of course!”, leading to the opening of this essay.

It was my first time having a comprehensive exam done. Even though I’ve visited fictional sanatoriums countless times, I loathe hospitals. Growing up, I wasn’t the most robust child, so I often had to go to the physician and the dentist. The crying voices, the chemical smell, the sound of drills whittling at teeth—all of these were a source of terror for my younger self. Nothing changed after becoming an adult; even when I felt a bit unwell, I avoided going to the hospital whenever possible.

Aware that my blinking had become unusually frequent, I asked the receptionist lady, “Excuse me, does a gastroscopy hurt?”, as if I were a child.

“Your plan for today only has a barium swallow…”

“Huh?”

Yes. Shockingly, the exam outline did not involve a gastroscopy. Instead, I only had to swallow barium and have X-rays taken. I felt like a fool for giving myself a stomachache after reading so many online articles about painful gastroscopies the day before. (Make sure to carefully read the explanation they give you beforehand.)

Oh, this’ll be a piece of cake, I thought, immediately feeling relaxed. It was time for the exam to begin.

First, they measured my height. I’ve always professed my height as 168 cm, but an accurate measurement revealed it to be 169.6 cm. From now on, I think I’ll insist on my official height being 170 cm.

Then came a blood pressure test and a vision test, followed by an intraocular pressure test. I told the nurse that I’d never had my intraocular pressure measured before, and she said, “You’ll be fine. I’m blowing the wind now.”

Wind? —The moment I thought that, my eyeball was blasted with a gust of wind. Ow!

While I was still in a state of alarm from the first stimulus of the exam, she said, “I hear your voice all the time! Good luck!” with a radiant smile. At that point, I felt so sorry for my unshaven stubble, vacant eyes, and muttering.

Next was the electrocardiogram. As I looked around restlessly with my upper body bared, a different nurse informed me, “This will be cold!”

“Whoa, you’re right, ahaha!”

“You have work tomorrow, right? I watch your anime! I’m rooting for you!”

I’m so glad there wasn’t a disturbance in the test results.

After that was the hearing test, which ended before I could get a feel for it, so I was still reacting to outside sounds by accident. The lung capacity test revealed that mine was significantly below average, which I laughed awkwardly at. The barium didn’t taste as bad as I expected, and then I laid on a moving table that made me feel weightless. The exam was proceeding without a hitch.

At last, it was time for the blood test. It was a blood draw. When a vampire sucks all the blood of their victim, the victim’s soul is taken into their body. Similarly, something within me was assuredly lost as well. I mean, they took four vials!

“You’ll feel a small prick,” they said, but I always think, there’s no way it’s just a small prick— See, I told you! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! I twisted my face with all my might and got laughed at. It was really embarrassing.

As an aside, I have a friend who once said, “I like watching my blood being drained. It makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?” To which I thought, “Oh, this person is crazy.”

After everything was over, the last step was meeting with the doctor. As I was led to the room, I prayed that they hadn’t discovered a serious illness that would put the project at a standstill… and when I arrived, I found an austere man who projected the aura of an actor.

He looked at my nervous self and said, “We have a lot of young and cute girls here, don’t we?”

“What?”

“They’re the faces of the hospital, after all. Having cute girls changes things!”

I chuckled. Right, it changes everything. Yes.

Suddenly, the doctor put on a stern face and said, “I’ll cut to the chase.”

“Okay…”

He paused. It was such a long pause that I started to question it. If it were a play, I would’ve assumed the actor had forgotten his lines. Then…

“You’re healthy.”

Thank you, draft beer. I love you, seared mentaiko. It looks like I won’t have to say goodbye to you for a while.

Thus, I successfully completed my first-ever comprehensive medical exam. Despite the sweltering heat, I left the hospital with a refreshed smile; a rare sight in recent years. Being healthy is great!

My high spirits carried on through my afternoon work, and afterwards, I rewarded myself with a visit to a sushi restaurant, where I ate a lot of delicious sushi. I then had a peaceful sleep. I love the forehead part of tuna.

Incidentally, alcohol apparently has a hardening effect on barium, so I didn’t drink alcohol on that day. However, the beer I drank on a later day was exceptionally delicious. You can’t go wrong with beer in summer.

Having finished writing my first draft, I took my book and hit the streets* to distract myself from the solitude. Wait for me, beer. See you next time.

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*Reference to Sho wo Sute yo, Machi e Deyou (Throw Away Your Books and Hit the Streets), a critique published in 1967 by Terayama Shuuji