5/24/14
Aboard Narita Express 54, En route Narita-Tokyo
I suppose that I fell in love with Japan even before I got off the plane. The efficiency with which everyone got their
bags and got ready to get off the train absolutely wowed me. Every single action I saw every single person
take from the time we landed until the time I got on the train seemed to be
done with the utmost of efficiency, not a single moment or movement
wasted. It took less than 15 minutes
from the time we arrived at the gate until the time I had cleared quarantine,
immigration, and customs. I was worried
because I needed to get my rail pass by 9:45 PM. The train was at 9:44 PM, but I did not know
that, or if there would even be another train tonight. If I did not catch the train, I knew that I
was looking at an outrageously expensive cab ride into the city. With my rail pass, this train was free and
possibly even faster than the cab. As a
bonus, I will be able to walk from the station to the hotel and got my first
taste of Tokyo in addition to making the walk from the hotel to the station in
the morning easier.
When I took my CA-4
trip, success meant perfection. With
this trip, which will be called 1964: The Experience, success is measured by
one thing alone. If I can cross of the
1964 Stadium, it will be a success. If I
cannot, it will be a failure. The
legislature, the palace, the tower, those are all givens. Kyoto is also a given and probably Hiroshima
as well, but the sites I have planned that are a little further from the city
might be up for grabs. I might have to
chop one of them out in order to make that last train back to Tokyo or even
trade one for a meal in Kyoto.
It is
entirely possible that I left New York on Friday and will not be able to say
that I properly visited Japan, which means a meal on steady, level ground,
preferably of local food, until Monday afternoon. I will have my dinner tonight on the train,
and I do not know when I will have a chance to stop for meals tomorrow,
certainly not a proper sit-down meal. It
feels so weird having left New York before dark on Friday, and I will not see
sunlight again until Sunday morning. I slept
well enough off the plane, despite losing two of my four seats to a woman who
needed them for her children. I could
not complain. I only paid for one seat. She paid for two, so it was only fair that
she would get four and I get two. There
was no way to win that fight, so I gave in.
Unable to fall back asleep, I watched the movie Her, which started out
really fun, but it got boring at the end, and I hated the ending. Before I initially fell asleep, l listened to
a lot of Avril Lavigne on the plane, even falling asleep to it. I want to do a proper treatment of why I so
enjoy her music. When I write about
aesthetics, it is always about female, human, physical beauty. When our professor mentioned the Form of
Beauty, Rachel Edelman always popped in mind, but Amelia rightly argued that I
shortchanged the Form of Beauty by only focusing on female, human, physical
beauty. There are so many other types of
beauty, and I never treat that type of aesthetics.
I believe the theme of my initial Tokyo entry
will be an aesthetic treatment of Avril Lavigne’s music, since I know that I
cannot be a proper philosopher if I restrict aesthetics solely to female,
human, physical beauty. Half a lifetime
ago, I wrote Treatises on Metaphysics, Epistemology, Ethics, and Theology. Not to sound immodest, but those four papers
written when I was in my early teens, maybe not even yet a teenager, probably
contained more philosophical writing than most of my readers will have
generated in their lifetime. However,
the Treatise on Aesthetics went unwritten, and it still is unwritten.
Sure, I have written and studied extensively
female, human, physical beauty. I spent
a few years of my life defining exact physical standards I found most beautiful
in a female, human face, only to learn over the past 16 months just how
irrelevant it was. The next step is to
expand my views of beauty and properly explain why I found Avril’s music so
beautiful.
Before I close, I made a
little headway into the question I asked in the previous entry, though I think
I did little more than simply better define it.
Emotions are irrational if acting on them will reduce your
happiness. That is way I say that I will
never act on an irrational emotional. If
I do not understand the reason for an emotion, I will not act on it until I
have provided a rational explanation.
However, using that definition of an irrational emotion does not allow
for a definition of irrational happiness.
To define rational versus irrational happiness would require circular
reasoning, unless the definition is that irrational happiness is something that
will reduce your total net happiness.
After
I watched Her, I fell back asleep, waking up as we were making our final
approach. I did some work before we
landed. I have recalled the events that
led from the airplane to the train, and, once I got on this train, I proceeded
to write this entry, which I will now close.
Tokyo, Japan
As I was having my cigar yesterday afternoon, which seems such a short time ago, Hasan saw a very high end Cuban I took out of my bag. I saw the jealousy on his face, but I told him it was not up for trade. I explained that it was a very special cigar: the victory cigar. I do not believe that that needs any further explanation, but I thought about the other special cigars of any trip. The victory cigar is the most important one. If I’m about to finish a box, I like to save the last one to be used as a victory cigar. There is also the Cigar of the Trip, but that is usually only for longer trips. I will only be visiting WHSs during one day this trip, so there is no point. There is the departure cigar and homecoming cigar, which I have at the cigar shop. Even though they are smoked in New York, I usually save count them towards the trip, especially if I am wearing my suit during those cigars. The arrival cigar is another important cigar, as is the first cigar of the first full day. They are the cigars that give me the confidence I need to execute a perfect trip.
Puffing on a Hoyo de
Monterrey, sipping some sake, and staring at the Tokyo skyline, I am ready for
tomorrow. The first cigar I smoke on the
train tomorrow will make me even more ready.
I also thought about special moments of the trip. There are the planning phases. It starts with an idea (I need to see the
1964 Stadium before they tear it down).
Actually, if Tokyo had not won the 2020 Games, I would be in Sweden
right now. Then it comes down to a
general outline (fly into Tokyo, spend a day in Hiroshima and Kyoto, a day in
Tokyo, fly home). After that, I buy my
plane tickets and plan the details, though the order can be reversed. Then comes the moment when it hits me (Holy
Shit! I’m going to Japan). The 24 hours before
I leave are usually filled with nerves (What if my timing is off and I miss the
last train back to Tokyo?). The flying
part is old hat, and I’m more at home on a long haul flight than most other
places. Sometime after I arrive, and it
might not be for a day there is what I simply call “The Moment” (Holy
Shit! I’m in Japan!)
That moment occurred tonight when I stepped
out of the train station onto the streets of Tokyo, armed with only my Google
Maps printout, my computer bag, and my sake.
I lit up my Hoyo and started walking.
I knew that walking the streets of Tokyo at that hour would be no
different than walking the streets of Manhattan or Moscow. I was right.
Readers, I ask which of you would have done that instead of simply
taking a cab? You cannot experience the
city taking a cab to your hotel. I had
more trouble getting out of the train station than finding my hotel, but I did
not care if I got lost. I was not on a tight schedule, and I knew that it would be fun to get lost in Tokyo. Maybe that will happen on Monday. I got to my hotel, still puffing on my
cigar. Eventually, they told me no
smoking and brought an ashtray. The obsequious
bellman showed me to my room, and I settled in.
I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now pause to trade my
cigar for a pipe before I move on to my first real attempt at aesthetics.
If I were to see a girl and think that she was very beautiful, I would
want to try to find particular features I found attractive. If I were to claim to be in love with her, I
would first need to justify why I felt that way. In neither case would I accept as an answer, “Oh,
it’s just the way I feel.” Why then can
I not explain why I like Avril Lavigne’s music?
I suppose that we could take as an answer, “I enjoy her music because it’s
familiar.” That works for her first
album, and it works for many film scores.
However, I am not prepared to say that I cannot enjoy a new piece of
music unless it reminds me of something else.
Yes, her most recent album has a similar sound to what I so loved in
high school, but there is also new music in there that I enjoy. I can point to specific words that speak to
me, but I also like the instrumentals and the sound of it. Regardless of what Avril looks like, when I
listen to her words, I think to myself that that is the kind of girl I would
like, someone who would make me happy. “I
don’t care about my make-up/I like it better with my jeans all ripped up/Don’t
know how to keep my mouth shut.” Yes,
that is the kind of person with whom I want to spend my life. I suppose that her music, not just the
lyrics, portrays that devil-may-care mentality.
To me, Avril Lavigne and her music represent freedom, freedom to be
yourself.
That said, I also find beauty
in order. I find a circle more beautiful
than any fractal. I like classical music
that fits just right. I find Quebec and
Vienna to be so beautiful because everything lines up just right. Returning to female, human, physical beauty,
I like a face where everything lines up just right. A crooked or oversized nose will not bother
me if it’s in the right place. Pimples
will not bother me if the facial proportions are right. Large ears bother me, though.
Is that shallow? You bet it is. More than anything, however, a wide face
bothers me. If the height to width ratio
is too low, I will never find it attractive.
It is the main reason why Natalie Portman has been slowly slipping on my
List to Liv Tyler and Jennifer Garner, but I am getting off topic. Art is what moves, or good art at least. Whether it is music or architecture or a
painting, if you find a work of art beautiful, it should move you. I find photorealism attractive, since it is “just
right.” I find the, should I say,
realistic, Impressionism of Monet attractive since it is “just right,” even if
it is an approximation. I do not care
for Picasso. I do not like rap. I like rock and roll. There is a common theme here, and I believe
that this will serve as a good start for my Treatise on Aesthetics.
I will now close, since my pipe is almost
done, and I need to get some sleep before I spend tomorrow on whirlwind tour of
some of Japan’s most beautiful temples.
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