HOW TO MAKE THE BEST OF IT; or, ON META-VACATIONING

there's a bookstore on istiklal ave in beyoğlu in istanbul that sells books in english. that's where i made my introduction to orhan pamuk via the new life. i also bought what i hesitate to call a collection by anaïs nin because i remember it including only two stories. one of the two stories in "artists and models" was the story of a young man, a handsome young man, who wakes every morning and takes special care in pressing his slacks, dressing, fixing his hair, and then leaves his apartment and walks the morning streets of the city to bask in the attention of the women he passes -- although without entertaining any of it -- only to return early to his apartment to sit in his bed smoking, masturbating over the excitement of possibilities.

during my two weeks in turkey, i paid special attention to following that young man's example. last night, however, the intercession of five years found me forgetting the benefits of that well learned lesson until i was confronted with the hazards of dismissing it. i should have contented myself with my one man dance and grooming party. in hindsight, an hour on the street would have been much more satisfying than two hours waiting to let myself pay a bar tab. there was no promise that the payoff would have been satisfying had the endeavor paid off anyway. the inference of hope can be enjoyed without ever having to gamble on it toward possible disappointment. and, getting what you want can be just as boring as not.

things might have come off ideally, or unexpectedly (maybe even better). but kyoto is, after all, a city raised (and razed) on sour grapes, so i'll have no compunction over having mine. i've just overheard that kyoto natives still maintain an irreproachable sense of pride over living in the capital (and that means the boundaries as they were, not the extent to which the city has been incorporated to now). nothing has ever been less tolerable in this city than losing face, and no aspect of culture here hasn't at one time been helped by the incredibly powerful force of ruined pride. my own pride, then, is bolstered to know that i've had a something like what we could call a real kyoto experience. let's call it that. pro or con, there's a satisfaction that comes with tiredness and just having it done.

still, for me, and for most japanese i think, tokyo is the indisputable center of the world, and i wonder if i'll have the chance to think so wildly once i'm back. "in tokyo we have a life. we can hide in our everyday lives." hiromi kawakami wasn't comparing the two capitals when she wrote that in manazuru, but her sense of reluctant resignation to the pull of the center is an accurate description of my feelings on the end of my vacation from my vacation. a kyoto native would no doubt take issue, but that's just sour grapes.

that said, i'll be taking a forced break from the internet for at least the next twenty-four hours, after which time i'll have gone up again to the capital and left the old one behind. what could be better? we fallen nobility think of nothing else. life in exile has its certain pleasures, but life in the capital is gay. the possibility anyway. mask my displeasure at having too many plans not to leave. for the audience it's all the same, writing not excluded (and perhaps even the best example). this could have taken me a few dozen fewer minutes. i've learned my lesson. masturbation.