Le vierge, le vivace et le bel aujourd’hui
Va-t-il nous déchirer avec un coup d’aile ivre
Ce lac dur oublié que hante sous le givre
Le transparent glacier des vols qui n’ont pas fui !

Un cygne d’autrefois se souvient que c’est lui
Magnifique mais qui sans espoir se délivre
Pour n’avoir pas chanté la région où vivre
Quand du stérile hiver a resplendi l’ennui.

Tout son col secouera cette blanche agonie
Par l’espace infligée à l’oiseau qui le nie,
Mais non l’horreur du sol où le plumage est pris.

Fantôme qu’à ce lieu son pur éclat assigne,
Il s’immobilise au songe froid de mépris
Que vêt parmi l’exil inutile le Cygne.

Stéphane Mallarmé Le cygne



My grandfather told me that he had seen Osamu Dazai at a literary gathering before his death. My grandfather and Dazai were at the same university. However, my grandfather was poor, so his method of admission was different from that of Dazai and his friends. My grandfather was a brilliant man at the time, so much so that the state paid for him. Such was my grandfather’s desire to become a poet.

He seemed particularly fond of Mallarmé and was confident that he was Mallarmé’s successor because he was glittery. In this context, he seems to have once attended a meeting where Osamu Dazai was present. From his point of view, Dazai at that time looked like an idiot. Nevertheless, those around Dazai listened to him happily. When such Dazai discussed Mallarmé, my grandfather’s heart could not contain his anger. The writer he likes is told in a distorted way by someone he dislikes, but that person is better able to publish a book. My grandfather told me about this reality.If anything, feelings have left more of an impression on me than my grandfather’s words. This is because he, who spoke calmly about everything, was unusually excited and spoke of the scene as if it were right in front of him. I thought I could see a little of the scene of those days, the elated gathering of unknown writers and revolutionaries in a small, cramped room. My grandfather disgraced the gathering as a wayward affair, but he told me. ‘He talks about the boring things in the world in a funny way. People find it fun to be together with that. That sounds like you. Why don’t you become a writer? Because I never had that talent.”

At the time, I was in primary school and didn’t know much about Mallarmé or Dazai. In his study, Mallarmé and Valéry were on a bookshelf with a glass door like a sanctuary, and it was forbidden to open it. “If you want them, I’ll give you money for them,” he used to say. But I had a hunch about what kind of literature he liked.When I then went straight into law and psychology, which I did not do immediately, my grandfather said. ‘Don’t forget. Poetry is the greatest. But I didn’t listen. Inwardly, I instinctively wanted to surpass my grandfather’s bright glittering.


When I was a student, psychology’s ‘unconscious’ was already oriented towards denial. The unconscious does not exist’ and the epistemology of the unconscious in phenomenology, in the midst of Jaspers’ scathing critique of Freud, worked to expand own horizons as much as possible.

I also wrote a dissertation on the collective unconscious as a student, it was like looking verge of death ‘fact’. After finishing one novel that drew on this experience, I moved my thoughts to the phenomenology of philosophy. Jung’s psychotherapy was confession, clarification, education and transformation, but it is probably self-evident how psychotherapy was formulated, since today we are mostly not told about such things. I won’t say much on this point, which touches on medical practice too much, But I don’t know whether the domain of the subconscious can be totally denied. In this article, I will talk a little about the chaos that is the influence behind the human phenomenon.

This time, A friend asked me to chat with him about the death of a family member. It was just that, but it made me remember my grandfather. It did not always have my grandfather in my consciousness. Neither Dazai nor Mallarmé had been touched by anything in the vicinity before or after that. Yet I remembered. I looked again at what my grandfather had told me, that Dazai had talked about Mallarmé, and I found a mention of Mallarmé in a story entitled Das gemeine.

Das Gemeine (The Commonplace) was German, so I was late to realise that it was related to Mallarmé, a French writer. Besides, Osamu Dazai is more prominent in other novels. Nevertheless, Dazai was certainly unusual in Das Gemeine in appearing himself as ‘Osamu Dazai’. It is uncertain whether his grandfather heard about the draft at the time. My recollections were consistent, although there was no evidence. I had a good time while searching for Mallarmé and Dazai Osamu. Tracing the attachments of the deceased, whose generations and values were far apart, was like following the traces of their souls.

 Remembering the deceased may not be all that can be immediately recalled. Takehiko Fukunaga’s chapter on love in his book ‘An Attempt at Love’ was an illustration regarding ‘blind spots’. Blind spots in life are not something that can be explained in academic terms. Thus, they are always in places where we are not conscious of them due to human subtleties.

As a child, my grandfather was from a family so poor that they did not even have electricity. In this situation, he went almost exclusively on scholarship to places where he was invited to attend meetings of Dazai and revolutionaries. The gatherings there was a silly affair for the rich and trivial for busy students like my grandfather. He said that those gatherings were all dreaming, fruitless, and a joke. But did my grandfather really think it was trivial, or was there something else besides consciousness? Otherwise, would he have said to me, “Why don’t you become a writer?”


Jung and Freud emphasized ‘confession’ in psychotherapy. This is because people who are highly conscious speak reasonably well in their ‘explanations’ but do not ‘confess’. Confession is very difficult. There are not many such occasions. Too much unconscious bias can also lead to assumptions.

But questioning the unconscious, like metaphor, is going out of date. My grandfather’s statement did not show any purpose, it was simply a coincidence. I am sure of it, but I was a little girl when I said I would ‘take it back’ from Das gemeine – the commonplace – and if you look at me now, it is as if I had just lived for it. This story is a ‘confession’ that consciousness did not suppress.

For why, I was never able to ask my grandfather the truth about whether he liked Mallarmé and poetry or not. No one in the family knew. Surely they would not have understood it even if it had been told to them. And yet, the story of Mallarmé and my grandfather’s upbringing, and why Dazai didn’t like him just by talking about Mallarmé, is the only story that comes to light. Mallarmé tried to live by poetry, even without God.

Mallarmé was discouraged from committing suicide thanks to his poetry, but his views and beliefs on life and death were the exact opposite of Dazai’s. First, Mallarmé is difficult to understand and is considered difficult to visualize unless one has a good understanding of French. The Japanese translation of Mallarmé’s poems is difficult to imagine. The French book of Mallarmé seemed to have been given to my grandfather by the church. He also seemed to have read the Bible that was given to him with it, but my grandfather was not a Christian. 

He then said – what I find myself thinking there is no God does not coincide with the world. On the contrary, thinking that there is a God is also not in agreement with the world. He said that it is ” fault ” only to talk about the world in terms of what you absolutely think. He taught that one should always be aware of contradictions, even if they are religious or non-religious. Only poetry and literature can speak of ‘the world’. 

We live in constant contradiction.

There is no way of knowing exactly what my grandfather was thinking, but Mallarmé’s ‘swan sonnets’ reflected his soul: that the human world is empty, an existence that returns to nothing, and that even if it is godless and empty, there is ‘a beauty that exists without fail’. Whether it was hope or certainty, my grandfather seemed to believe in an existence that emerged from the concepts of absence and nothingness. It is not confined to images or language, but makes our hearts beat faster. 

Given the historical background of my grandfather’s time, I think it was a mystery that he saw while living in poverty and wartime: The reality, which could not easily believe in God or miracles. 

When the once shining swan fades away, being sadly aware why in the poem it was perceived as if it had broken the ice powerfully, the strength to be kept alive by the emotional image of the swan.

  How does it make sense for an absent object to flap its wings.


Recently I was considering the Tale of the Heike. The world in sound, narrated by the biwa priest, does not make the meaning of language clear. In the world conveyed by sound, the characters forget that the dead are dead and the world of ‘sight’ expands. The Tale of the Heike is also a requiem to heal the souls of the dead, and one’s own soul, by listening to others’ stories. In today’s age of only directness, there are very few people who can get this story. People who do not know that their perceptions are limited are weak. Those who may believe in the possibility that even if they do not understand now, they will be capable of understanding later are strong. Mallarmé’s poem ‘The Swan sonnet’ would collapse as a poem if translated directly into Japanese, so I have drawn on my own interpretation. 

I am not familiar with Mallarmé due to the circumstances, but I took the opportunity to translate the poems in a hurry. I think I was able to do it this time because of the poets surrounding Mallarmé, the literary and philosophical paths, and the various experiences. The people I wanted to show the translation to will never see it, but it will be a requiem for the dead, left to those who are still alive. With an icy confession, that even in a place that is only an end, like a place of exile, life becomes a strong wish and a requiem, as the Cygnus shines. And in our hearts.



 My friend’s father died. So I was asked to chat about it, but it didn’t immediately spring to mind. But then I remembered my dead grandfather, if this is what you call unconsciousness. It was about my grandfather meeting the writer Osamu Dazai. In Japan, there is a story called The Tale of the Heike. That story is a great long story, a mixture of actual history and fantasy. The story is told by a blind monk. By doing so, he requiems the souls that are dead and the souls that are listening. Looking at oneself from a completely unrelated story is like Mallarmé’s poem ‘The Swan’. 

Poems about absence made my heart leap.


The tale of the Heike


Corps sans Orgues et Amour (English)

Deleuze et Guattari
She had a pregnant pause that only literature could confess.

Georges Bataille, Literature and Evil

Sory now rewriting(2022年12月30)

When the Catholic Mass begins, there is always time to reflect on one’s ‘evil’. How many of us really have a clear view of our own heart while we look back there? The human mind is multi-layered and polysemous. It is not an easy thing to do. The Catholic Church is not meant to be a ‘building’. The agape Jesus is the heart and the believer is the ‘body’. That is why the ‘body’ needs to ask its heart before Mass. That mind is Jesus. It ‘thinks’ by repeating differences in self-awareness and cognition. Even if the prayer is the same every day, that time never comes back. Like ‘introspection’, which was the beginning of psychology, it is a religious kneeling and return to the primitive.

In 2018 I came back from the brink of death; in 2019 Adam the cat came into our home. His presence was a ray of light that came into my life. To touch the blue eyes that pooled light, the mystery of life, was a step away from death for me. The beginning of life from now on gave me a budding. Since when did the world plan for this child to be born, I had no way of knowing the plan for this little soul to be born. In the past I could not wait for happiness to come this way. Like Osamu Dazai’s schoolgirl, ‘I waited and waited for happiness, and finally, unable to hold back, I ran out of the house’, reflecting the nature of people who could not wait for the generation of time. (According to Deleuze, the daily repetition is the repetition of difference, and the failure to wait for the generative change of new things to come.)

 Whereas Bergson said that time is connected, Hume said that time is disconnected.

The being I am has no substance. I am nothing but a ‘theatre’ in which perceptions appear and disappear, a ‘bundle of perceptions'”.

Deleuze incorporates both Bergson and Hume. For me, ‘expectation’ is Bergsonian and judgement is Humean. For Christians in particular, everything is a deus ex machina, a cycle of returning to the Bergsonian. Deleuze is again collating the time frames that Hume worked on. In the first time, Deleuze is ‘present’ and the time of sensibility, based on Augustine’s theory of time. In the second time, it is the time of memory, the past and Bergsonian. The third time is also known as Thanatos (desire for death) and is future, Nietzschean. This implies an infinite ‘straight line’. Deleuze was also drawing on Bergson in Augustine with regard to the first time. What becomes important in this is ‘repetition and difference’, but ‘repetition is Hume’s famous assertion that nothing changes in the thing that repeats itself, but something changes in the contemplation of repetition, and the reading of a story (literature) is at the heart of this.

Consider the stages of a novel before it is considered a reading. First there is the author’s time-line, the completed work, which is read, and then it is read by a third person who repeats it. The quality of the person’s voice and performance, which may not completely match that of the author, nor may they be able to play the part of the story. Readings have a different appeal from voice acting. The ‘signifier’ that Deleuze did not disregard may also be the sentence. Writing is a series of sensations, but it is also a symbol. A voice actor acting does not try to make a text remain a text. It means that the images and characters try to come alive. Sometimes, it may even smack of life lessons. A reading, by contrast, is different. Just as Jean Renoir’s ‘acting instruction’ suppresses emotions and bars and inspires the actor, a reading is not about becoming a character or setting the scene for a work. It gives the reader imagination from a unique perspective while maintaining both the chain of images and symbols of the text. It is not the author’s voice, nor the voice of the characters, but the symbols they represent that speak.

So what if it is not read out loud by a human voice, but by a machine? I reflected back on Deleuze and Guattari’s concept of the ‘body without organs’. Today’s Vocaloids have become so precise that they are indistinguishable from the human voice, but they lack the vital breathing.

An organless body is not inorganic. Even if it is stripped down to symbols, it still must not forget to breathe. This is also what philosophy itself tries to be a living discipline. It is a language, but it must not be inorganic. Just as Deleuze and Guattari wrote about writing together, with concepts moving autonomously in a space between them that was neither, so author and reader are bound together without seemingly having the same roots. They are the creation of two beings that have no boundaries and waver.

Narratives continue to breathe invisibly behind the symbols. I think that what makes this world possible is a symbol that is a symbol, but a breathing symbol at the same time.

Descartes’ ‘I think, therefore I am’ also begins to exist by being aware that one’s heart is beating, but this is not always the case with art. In the real world, we do not check to see if the hearts of the people we pass by are beating, but art was meaningless unless it made us want to see the other person’s heart beating.First, the existence of a work of art is a first time, living a habit, while having a second time.Second, the existence of a work of art is a second time, living a habit, while having a first time. After all, you cannot love yourself in the moment. Habits and achievements, the accumulation of the past, leave behind only a seemingly ‘present’ production. The date of publication, the date of publication, is shown, but if you delve into the history of the symbols of those years, you will find that people will perceive the time line in a more complex way. And a work of art lives a third time in the end. It passes through death and becomes a linear time entity. Why is it a loss when a masterpiece is damaged? It starts with the fact that the artist’s soul is only seen in the body after death. To place the value of a human being solely on his or her body and while he or she is alive is not ultimately valuing the person.

People have forgotten the importance of posthumous paintings because of the high price paid for them. As the saying goes, “Man shall not live by bread alone.”
As the saying goes, a person’s value includes what is beyond his or her body. I do not value only my body and soul. I believe that everything around me represents my existence.

It is obvious that what constitutes me need not be my organ, but it is constituted by the other, and that is the only explanation for ‘otherness’ and ‘polysemy’. By the other I exist, it is not so. For the body without organs is ‘unidimensionality’. René Chérère, who further delved into Deleuze’s term nomadism, took the selfhood itself, in which I am me, as a new image and said that through the constant hospitality of the Other, I deviate from my fixed self-identity and generate myself into the Other. It is not only the assertion of self-territory and belonging, but also the hospitality of the Other, which is also ‘love’.

Love, to return to the story of Jesus’ apostles, was rich in diversity. God’s love would be for anyone at random if the only purpose was conversion. This is because if conversion is the only purpose, it is enough to force them by force. That is unity without the love of God. Jesus did not force his apostles’ hearts by violence or brainwashing. In testimony to this, Judas betrayed Jesus, and Peter said he did not know Jesus. If Jesus was brainwashing, none of that would have happened. And anyone who understands modern religion knows that liking Paul does not separate him from Jesus.

They are ‘unities’ connected by love (agape).

Future philosophy will go further, confronting religion, but if we trace back to the source, we find that they are like one with each other, and that these two beings are also ‘bodies without organs’. Confining each part to a certain role, it has meant mutual decline. When religion dominated, it was important to get out of it. However, the same invisible precepts have been created for the non-religious as well. With this trapped perception, the perception of love is constantly distorted. The same applies to philosophy. A philosopher who has never read the Bible is, after all, accompanied by Deleuze’s ‘stupidity’. The possibility of diverse combinations must seek new conjunctions.

Deleuze and Guattari may also have embodied the ‘body without organs’. The two contrasting figures became rhizomes (eternally identical rhizomes) between conjunction and separation, and succeeded in becoming the kind of ‘being’ that I can hold in my hands today. Philosophy is not a mere inorganic treatise. It gives pleasure to reason and intellect from generation to generation. It must be the same with the love of God.

 In 2018, that line, similar to Dazai’s “because I can no longer write”, made me experience a false third time. In the midst of all this, at the end of 2020, I met someone with a beautiful voice. It was so beautiful that I wanted her to read something for me to try. So I suggested that she read Dazai Osamu, from his critique of Dazai, which she had been working on before the accident in 2018. The famous line, ‘Mine has been a life of much shame’ – that’s where we began.

There was no visual information in the recorded reading. However, his voice seemed to lend itself to recitation. For me, at least, more than hearing and little linguistic information, synaesthesia was about to be created. It brings with it colours, music and even scents. His voice was not just a trendy voice, there was subtlety in his voice and an impermanence deep within the gentle personality that was apparent. His voice generated an imagery of different emotions in me. The world of words was not simply visible, and the words of the great writers of the past could not replace his recitation. He just fascinated me with the invisible everyday life. Just as the scenery I always see looks different, just by putting his voice to beautiful music, the music becomes my own personal ‘sound’ and memory. Music and literature, which were beautiful when listened to alone, became my own personal ‘sound’ and memory. The addition of others, the generation of which was the ideal formation of the world.

 He has always chosen to read only words that have some love and light in them. The destination of the literary world is not to change people. It is to empower people’s thinking. Words can empower people in all kinds of ways. Words and silence, in silence I gaze into the abyss. His and my abysses are never connected. We have different ‘roots’. Yet we become unities.

Recently, I was asked to read ‘God bless you’. It is well known that Jesus’ choice of apostles was not outstanding, except for John, but it seems that he didn’t need even more people who could perfectly embody God’s teachings. Why was this the case with Jesus? It was because he always wanted ‘hospitality’. That is why the soul must ‘confess’ at the beginning of Mass. Just as Jesus is connected to those who pray, even though they are apart. May you be able to understand the Bible reading and the role one day, even if you don’t understand the meaning, even in the ‘bar reading’. Always remember that the Bible is a way of life.

‘God bless you’ is a phrase I like very much. I told a friend of mine who died of an absurdity that God had blessed him. So much so that I have chosen this word carefully and have never taken it lightly. I let him read a lot of things to me because I sincerely wanted to bless him. I hope that God’s love will be extended to him and that he will realise it. How we, with different roots, are generated, was in a dark dream. It loves without any lasting plan, even on days when I don’t want to think about anything, even in the darkness when I am tired and can’t think of anything.

God bless you.

We are feeble but strong.
We have the poorest talent.
Just until the day we can be in the past tense.
God bless you.


ジョルジュ・バタイユ 「文学と悪」

























処女作品の「Pangaea Doll」を器官なき身体と評価された。


To the poorest talent (English)

My dear, I implore you, will not die. Blind affection, as it calls itself,If you die, your Vacancy will be at my side forever.
Osamu Dazai, The Defeat of Thought


 Butterflies passing through the sea lie on the surface of the sea. And the wings, weighed by the water, fly away. Even if the little existence by the side of death disappeared, the ocean would only stir. The scent of the waves swallows you up, and Garcia Marquez compares the sea of dead bodies with the scent of roses. The smell of the tide is mixed with the smell of the rose and the perfume of the dream rose becomes thicker with the dark at sunset.

It falls asleep, the sun’s reverie.

Only the sound of the wave remains, and reverberation attempts. Nobody goes looking for the body of the butterfly.

Just the right amount of desperation, Debussy’s music called La Mer.

2018 was the centenary of Debussy’s death,

In the end, consciousness didn’t move a finger.

Psychology is the study of life and death, and the mechanism of mind has been proven and tested many times. Even what is natural to the mind is still at the research stage.

The research is released and then buried, In our epoch, Christianity was strong in its total affirmation of life. Doctrines existed as doctrines, the assumption that God’s love existed unchecked, and yet my heart was dry.

As for love, as far as human love is concerned, it is deduced in psychology through scores and circumstances. However, he may still be interested in me, he may still look at me sexually, but an inner love is unimpeded as faith. It was more certain that this supreme thing was God’s love than man’s ever-changing love.

Believe or not believe, the condition exists as a good response apart from consciousness.

Should I ask for the love of God to heal me, or the love of a man to heal me?

I couldn’t believe it either.

First of all, I couldn’t form words with my consciousness any more, if not in fragments.

Keeping it hidden, I kept quiet about how I couldn’t write my work anymore. In the middle of all this, I lied, thinking of my dried-up love.

I took a pill mid-way through the meeting,Another day I had to take a pill before I got to the hotel.

I paid extra for the water,The shell of the drug resembled this butterfly which was never searched. All secrets lie in my belly, devouring me alone.

There was an earthquake of magnitude 6 in June 2018. The earth quaked and I had no idea what had happened. I thought I could die, but I didn’t call the guy I was dating back then.

Because it would hurt me if he walked out on me,I avoided it because I was scared of the result. I should have said goodbye before.

Ugliness and malice exist in human love but love also includes believing. Love between human beings falls and becomes sinful, but the love of God goes beyond human understanding.

Human beings believe in protection,Human beings choose their own selves rather than the love of others, but God does not.

Psychology, philosophy, this unholy notion that without this ugliness, there would be no vitality in life. We are raised by fate, so we mix them together and, blushing through our enthusiasm, we are still precious today.

Each time I repeat a bit of despair, a smile fills my face and Little by little, we become increasingly convinced of our limitations.

――The angels come and mock us because we are not so happy in heaven.

Only today, 3 years later, did I read part of the suicide note. I was writing as if I didn’t hate anyone, when I really did. And the writing was terrible.

I can understand that my language was broken and that I could not write any more. It seems like I’ve been in a desperate situation, but I couldn’t write, not just today, I couldn’t write long ago.

It was in October, always warm and damp, the day of the International Mass. I was afraid of something, afraid of something, and hate spread from one form to another.

My friend cleaned the bloodstain and Adam the cat came. So I thought he was an angel. I remembered Lucifer that day, but he was missing. Adam had many blessings. Adam, why I need him forever brings me back to that day.

We often see people who have been victimized by others reveal their worst days when they succeed. People say” ” I took revenge on those who discriminated against me, I overcame the fact that I was oppressed” Well, people usually connect to their worst days and So we stay away from the best.

Quiet tames the bad days, but the best days are crushed by the bad days,Tranquility tames the worst days, but the best days are crushed by the worst days.

On this day in 2021, I did not dare choose any part of the Bible. I chose those words by Osamu Dazai, who says that if you die, I will miss the empty space. I was under the impression that his love for me was a divine word. Perhaps this is what I wanted to hear,But I couldn’t hear that.

I’ve been helped by so many people that I don’t know who thanks everyday.

I don’t know where I’m going since the most unwise day.

And that voice reading gave a beautiful voice to my long-lost world. It has been a long and thoughtful journey. I want to rest beside this beautiful voice now, so that the worst days are far away. I want to write something that will use that beautiful voice. The butterfly has awoken from sleep. I promised you a trip, and I’ll go someplace with you.

Readers and writers

To the poorest talent



2016 I called an ambulance for chest pains.

2017 I was constantly on stabilizers, anti-vertigo, and various medications.

2018 Words became choppy in my consciousness.

2021 Recovering on heart and liver medication.(Stop taking psychotropic medication and change to heart medication such as Vasolan )

It was Dazai Osamu who wrote this suicide note: “I can no longer write”

I had no awareness of the words, but I knew them.

It’s not that I couldn’t think about a story, it’s just that there was a time when my words went missing. I don’t mean whether it was a psychological problem or a side effect of the medicine,It took me a while to settle everything without it getting too heavy.

Even after my Catholic conversion, in some of the best days of my life but I got flash backs from that day.

For instance, when people succeed, they expose the worst days of their lives.

I declare that I am overcome.

In my best days, I can’t stop thinking back to my worst days. For me, in the past three years, there has not been one day that I have been able to really rejoice, except for Adam.

I want to reorganize my articles and, in a number of ways, reconstruct them.

Starting with him doing the readings.

I would like to thank everyone for their help. Thank you very much.

The poorest talent, from the gospel. ” Blessed are the poor in spirit”. でブログを始める.

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