BGM: Eric Clapton "Tears in Heaven"
Today I worked late. I went to the library and borrowed Ernest Hemingway's short stories collection "I Guess Everything Reminds You of Something". TBH I couldn't understand the taste of Hemingway's short stories when I was young. This must be a banal story, but when I read his ones, I thought that "I can write such stories too!". Yes, it was a shameful story of the period when I had not understood what literature is, and also what life is. Now, I'm reading his ones by Hiroshi Takami's sophisticated translation. That makes me think deeply. I can enjoy his ones deeply. This might mean that I have got an adult at last. I enjoyed them with Eric Clapton's "Unplugged".
Reading "I Guess Everything Reminds You of Something", I thought that Hemingway must be really great observer. TBH I had misunderstood Hemingway that must be a masculine hero, but I found that Hemingway is a writer with keen eyes and also great sensitivity. Hemingway tries to grip the scenery outside of him with his body itself, and describe that with limited words strictly. Therefore they deliver me the world vividly. He must not be masculine. His style is really decent.
Understanding the emotion moving forward and backward in himself. And also recording the movement in detail. I guess those are the action Hemingway tried to do. Then (Indeed, this might sound too proudful) I had an idea that I want to grip my emotion moving in myself and write about it. I had embarrassed that my sensitivity and weakness must be a weak point, but recording the movement of my emotion vividly as Hemingway does must become a power that moves my reader. I need to read Hemingway's works more.
At night, I thought this during my evening break. Where would the goal of my life be? What am I want to do? Where is the purpose... I just enjoy working, reading, and writing various things in English like this. I enjoy them because they bring me pleasure, then this fact is already the answer? I thought like this and felt sick. But going back to my work and moving my body by singing Eric Clapton's "Tears in Heaven" made me forget that sickness. I could enjoy my work again. Moving my body stops my thought. It lets me be far from the depth of my thoughts. This might be the meaning of the work. I thought so.