I heard that today was Fernando Pessoa's birthday. Now I'm reading the Pessoa's "The Book Of Disquiet" by coincidence. I got surprised at this. "The Book Of Disquiet" attracts me by not good storytelling, but various vivid difficulties to live and the sadness of existence through his quite a great sensitivity. Once a reader said that my diary looked like Pessoa's writing. Although I want to treat living more optimistic or simpler than Pessoa, I am exactly the one who breeds its madness in me. That might be the same as Pessoa.
The morning time is not fine for me. If I stay still, I would think that my life would end with this kind of work. Then I feel that my life must be banal. I believe that we don't need any big dreams or hope to live. Just think about the fact that 'we live to keep ourselves alive'. That's all. But on the other hand, we exactly need any dreams, hopes, or stories. What kind of dream do I have? When I was a heavy drinker, I strictly believed that my life could have no dreams or hopes. So I wanted to die soon...
I read "The Book Of Disquiet" with Momus's "Voyager", who is one of my favorite musicians. I read this kind of book even if I could get no money by reading it. Why do I read it? There must be no reasons. No meaning.. but while reading I can get satisfied with it. I want to enjoy spending time with rich activities, even if it would end in vain... so I read Souseki. I also think about various things like this. And write. I say again, that these activities have no meaning. But I can't stop writing...
I read a LINE message that a user sent to us about his birthday on LINE's openchat. My birthday is also coming. I think about the people who enjoy their youth these days. In my young days, even I could feel that everything was wonderful for me. Various interesting music had been released, and I also could read a lot of interesting books one by one... TBH, I had no youth in my life. I just had been drunken and waited for death. Yes, that was my life. But a fatal encounter changed my life and another life started. Life is a mystery.
