Time is Now

The air in my new bedroom is cold, where a mixture of musk, sulfur, and incense hang. I sit still. The muscles in my legs throb, having hauled this body up the hill not two hours ago. Quiet reigns. And yet, it is not calm. Like the inside of a woman’s belly before her contractions, life shifts and fidgets. Restless. In this room, my active mind has already begun to shed the attachments that it clung to since I crash landed in Japan. The charm of a park next door w here I seldom went, then-bathed in sakura petals that now have all but gone, has passed. The mystery that I felt lingering farther north, out by the bay, has not. The spooky chill of black sea will beckon my restlessness again. Home is where the heart is, they say. Home is also where you lay your head, they also say. (Maybe different people.) In that apartment in Oita City, though, my head has not laid there for nearly two months. My heart has already relinquished it. As wisps of smoke dance above me, carried by streams...

A bathtub that fills with hot water sits on the other side of the wall below you. Enter it, then make a choice. The water flows strong, so it appears there is not much time. Do you slip into the bathtub, submerging the numbness of another day, one marked by a commute littered with the bodies of strangers? Do vague images of dozens or hundreds of those animated ghosts become lost in the blur of doldrums, the bulk of which have yet to happen? Do you exhale with relief as the hot water, made silky with raw oil, consumes before passing a few minutes to quietly eradicate hours that have been hollowed of feeling and emotional depth (which are your birthrights)? Or, do you sink to the bottom, hand over the keys, and sooner die? from 24 April, 2020

A stretch of road that seems never-ending lay before you. It is asphalt, not dirt or land, and it is black. The road sticks straight ahead without any turns or other textures, no change in scenery to take the edge off. In fact, the edges have been lined with conveniences just for you. Some are expensive, impossible to consider. Others are so cheap their value itself falls right through your fingers. Others, still, seem affordable, offering not only your money’s worth but also quality use over time. While nothing at the moment is needed, not by you, the vague inkling that a need will arise along the way flutters inside you—because you know better—, so you set out with your reusable water bottle, some snack bars with protein, and a promise made with yourself to stop and at least consider. from 24 April, 2020

Hi out there. The world is on the Internet, but I am here, still in bed. The clock races, but my legs are cramped. This laptop is new, but my mind is weary. But it cost a lot of money, and I feel far from dead. Thankful, Rossi Lamont

The truth is, that since graduating from Harvard I have been keeping-- protecting --a special kind of solitude. It is no news that I keep a journal and that I take it everywhere I go. Into the pages I pour my thoughts, my excitement, and my despair for the life I lead, all in cover-to-cover privacy. The truth is, that I need this space. I need it to sustain the integrity of my identity, which in every new place faces challenges that help me to grow and become a richer person, a more responsible man, and a more sensitive artist. I indulge in the mystery of my own musings, how even as their author the deeper meaning and significance of what I convey eludes even me. This semi-opaque enigma follows me everywhere I go, and softens the impact of new people, new ideas, and new queries. Of course, I am still a human being. My solitude does not isolate me completely from my peers. (I was cautioned against this by a mentor whom I greatly trust.) However all of this is to say that as I move throu...