The proprietor of the Music One record shop in Abergavenny, which closed after the flooding there last November, now has a stall in the town's indoor market. His stock, though less extensive in this new venue, remains good, just as the prices are still on high side. Even so, one of his less expensive LPs caught my eye when I was there the other weekend, and I was intrigued enough to hand over £15 for it: In The Townships by Dudu Pukwana, an '80s re-issue of an album first released in 1974.

I was delighted to find it's a marvellous record. Pukwana was an alto saxophonist, pianist and composer who had left his native South Africa for London in the ‘60s. In The Townships was recorded at Virgin Records’ ‘The Manor’ Studio. Also featured are Bizo Mngqikana on tenor sax, Mongezi Feza on trumpet, Harry Miller on bass, and Louis Moholo on drums. Its seven tracks are mostly built on buoyant, repetitive grooves over which there's a good deal of unison horn playing, augmented on some of the tracks by chanted vocals. Try 'Baloyi' or 'Sonia' for example, the opening salvoes on sides A & B respectively.

I bought myself a copy of Attila Veres’ The Black Maybe last month, the debut short story collection in English by this Hungarian author. I'd seen it often and enthusiastically recommended, and can now throw one more hearty recommendation on to the pile after finishing it on Sunday. It's as good a set of horror stories as I've read in many years, building on genre conventions (and sometimes undermining them) in original & surprising ways. Veres can layer on the lurid nastiness with the best of them but can do subtlety too, meanwhile leavening his prose with sardonic humour. His characters feel like proper individuals and not merely unfortunate puppets. A second collection of his stories (This'll Make Things a Little Easier) has recently been issued by Valancourt Books: I shall have to get a copy of it soon.

The cheese of the week (not for the first time) has been Gorwydd Caerphilly. It's one whose virtues I extolled in a post on my previous blog. With the local Sainsbury's now stocking it, I've lately been enjoying this excellent foodstuff on a more regular basis.

I reside in the high and holy place, but also with those crushed and lowly in spirit.

This is what Jehovah says:

“Uphold justice, and do what is righteous, For my salvation will soon come And my righteousness will be revealed.

Happy is the man who does this And the son of man who holds fast to it, Who keeps the Sabbath and does not profane it And who holds his hand back from any kind of evil.

The foreigner who joins himself to Jehovah should not say, ‘Jehovah will surely separate me from his people.’ And the eunuch should not say, ‘Look! I am a dried-up tree.’

For this is what Jehovah says to the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths and who choose what I delight in and who hold fast to my covenant:

“I will give to them in my house and within my walls a monument and a name, Something better than sons and daughters. An everlasting name I will give them, One that will not perish.

As for the foreigners who join themselves to Jehovah to minister to him, To love the name of Jehovah And to be his servants, All those who keep the Sabbath and do not profane it And who hold fast to my covenant,

I will also bring them to my holy mountain And make them rejoice inside my house of prayer. Their whole burnt offerings and their sacrifices will be accepted on my altar. For my house will be called a house of prayer for all the peoples.”

The Sovereign Lord Jehovah, who is gathering the dispersed ones of Israel, declares: “I will gather to him others besides those already gathered.”

All you wild animals of the field, come to eat, All you wild animals in the forest.

His watchmen are blind, none of them have taken note. All of them are speechless dogs, unable to bark. They are panting and lying down; they love to slumber.

They are dogs with a voracious appetite; They are never satisfied. They are shepherds who have no understanding. They have all gone their own way; Every last one of them seeks his own dishonest gain and says:

“Come, let me take some wine, And let us drink our fill of alcohol. And tomorrow will be like today, only far better!”

Isaiah 57

The righteous one has perished, But no one takes it to heart. Loyal men are taken away, With no one discerning that the righteous one has been taken away Because of the calamity.

He enters into peace. They rest on their beds, all who walk uprightly.

“But as for you, come closer, You sons of a sorceress, You children of an adulterer and a prostitute:

Whom are you making fun of? Against whom do you open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue? Are you not the children of transgression, The children of deceit,

Those who are inflamed with passion among big trees, Under every luxuriant tree, Who slaughter the children in the valleys, Under the clefts of the crags?

With the smooth stones of the valley is your portion. Yes, these are your lot. Even to them you pour out drink offerings and offer gifts. Should I be satisfied with these things?

On a mountain high and lofty you prepared your bed, And you went up there to offer sacrifice.

Behind the door and the doorpost you set up your memorial. You left me and uncovered yourself; You went up and made your bed spacious. And you made a covenant with them. You loved sharing their bed, And you gazed at the male organ.

You went down to Melech with oil And with an abundance of perfume. You sent your envoys far off, So that you descended to the Grave.

You have toiled in following your many ways, But you did not say, ‘It is hopeless!’ You found renewed strength. That is why you do not give up.

Whom did you dread and fear So that you started to lie? You did not remember me. You took nothing to heart. Have I not kept silent and withdrawn? So you showed no fear of me.

I will make known your ‘righteousness’ and your works, And they will not benefit you.

When you cry for help, Your collection of idols will not rescue you. A wind will carry all of them away, A mere breath will blow them away, But the one who takes refuge in me will inherit the land And will take possession of my holy mountain.

It will be said, ‘Build up, build up a road! Prepare the way! Remove any obstacle from the way of my people.’”

For this is what the High and Lofty One says, Who lives forever and whose name is holy:

“I reside in the high and holy place, But also with those crushed and lowly in spirit, To revive the spirit of the lowly And to revive the heart of those being crushed.

For I will not oppose them forever Or always remain indignant; For a man’s spirit would grow feeble because of me, Even the breathing creatures that I have made.

I was indignant at his sinful pursuit of dishonest gain, So I struck him, I hid my face, and I was indignant. But he kept walking as a renegade, following the way of his heart.

I have seen his ways, But I will heal him and lead him And restore comfort to him and to his mourning ones.”

“I am creating the fruit of the lips. Continuous peace will be given to the one who is far away and the one who is near,” says Jehovah, “And I will heal him.”

“But the wicked are like the restless sea that cannot calm down, And its waters keep tossing up seaweed and mire.

There is no peace,” says my God, “for the wicked.”

Flavour Town – Part 1

Tuesday is always leg day, and it’s something Sev looked forward to. There was something special about it, and it definitely wasn’t something he would have thought he’d enjoy when he started his gym journey. But now here he was, carefully planning out his program to make sure it was built around a heavy compound movement, a squat or deadlift, then a couple of isolation exercises, and finally a small abdominal routine before heading home and finishing the day with 30 minutes of cardio. This whole experiment with the gym still felt surreal to Sev, and often, he still couldn’t believe he was being a “gym guy”. Primarily because there were so many parts of the gym he didn’t like, first and foremost, he wasn’t a fan of crowds – they made him uncomfortable, and he still wasn’t a fan of the more revealing gym clothing.

So, he preferred going to the gym later in the evening, where he could be alone and not have to deal with other people in the weight room. Luckily, the evenings at Living Good Gym were quiet, a place of solitude and sweat where Sev could feel comfortable. Indeed, these last 6 months of initiation into the church of iron had been surprisingly enjoyable, and it was getting to the point where Sev couldn’t imagine his life without it. There was something soothing about the rhythmic pattern of contraction and extension that accompanied weight training. He liked the exertion of pushing weight against the tyranny of gravity and the feeling of triumph as he stood tall in front of the mirror, the barbell quivering in submission to his strength and power.

Stepping into the elevator that led up to the gym, Sev pressed the second-floor button and casually rested his head against the back wall. Turning to the side, his reflection on the mirrored side panels showed a figure he almost didn’t recognize. Sev looked himself up and down, still occasionally in disbelief at the physical changes that had occurred. His normal black joggers seemed to fit snugly around his legs and hips, and his shirts now felt tight around his arms and chest. After years of being skinny, it felt like he was finally beginning to fill out his frame and find some mass. Over 6 feet tall, Sev was a handsome young man with distinct dark features, sharp cheeks bones from his mother and curly hair from his father. The contrast of facial features that his parents had given him gave him a certain ethnic ambiguity that allowed him to blend in wherever he went while simultaneously being rejected by the cultures he had grown up in.

Even speaking Japanese, Sev had always felt excluded, though the exclusion was rarely from overt xenophobia but often expressed in subtle and unintentional ways. Because people could never really tell what he was ethnically, they always felt safe to express their thoughts around him, and through his last 30 years on the planet, Sev had realized that when people feel comfortable around you, they generally start telling you why they dislike other people. It’s even worse when they don’t realize you have a cultural connection to the people they are speaking about. But that had been the story of Sev’s life for as long as he could remember, he was constantly in a cultural limbo, trapped between two parts of who he was and never quite being able to ground himself in either.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it extremely frustrating to be outside of every group, not really having a place where he just fit in. It made him feel isolated and alone, even when he had never suffered for friends, it was more the need to find people like him. That was before he discovered the gym, and since then, the lonely dark thoughts that often seemed to plague his mind have not come as frequently. It was what his therapist had actually recommended.

‘What did you like to do in high school?’ his therapist had asked during their second session. Sev had taken a moment to answer this, it had seemed like forever since he had attended Trudeau High, and even longer since he had given it any thought at all.

‘I was on the senior badminton team’, Sev had recounted. ‘I also practiced Kendo, and I used to like to doodle a lot. But I think that was just because I would get bored in class and it was the only thing I could do.’

‘Do you still do any of those things?’

‘No, I don’t really have a lot of time. Most of my time now is spent in the lab’

‘What do you do in the lab?’

Sev leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. He had been asked this question on several occasions, and each time ended in awkward silence and no second date. Not that Sev was delusional enough to think that his therapist would be romantically interested in him, but the social conditioning from past experience still gave him pause.

‘I do experiments on Rats’, Sev finally answered. ‘I am trying to understand the impacts of dreams on perceived reality.’

‘Rats have dreams?’ his therapist responded, a subtle note of curiosity playing in their inflexion.

‘Yah, they do.’ Sev paused before continuing. This was usually the part of the conversation that had historically taken an already average date to the point of no return. ‘We use electric shocks to stimulate parts of their brains and trigger certain types of dreams’

‘You can make them have specific dreams?’

She seemed genuinely curious and interested, though Sev quickly concluded that it was probably because it would encourage him to continue opening up. That was her job after all, to head shrink, and what better way to do that than to get him to open up about his research. She was, after all, the only person besides his supervisor who seemed interested. Even his RAs seemed to be only marginally interested in the work they were assisting with, and Sev could rarely get them to seriously engage with the project.

‘Well, specific types of emotions,’ Sev clarified. ‘Fear, anxiety, happiness, curiosity, things like that. Once we trigger the emotion, the rat’s brain fills in the rest and creates a dream around those emotions. It’s their attempt at trying to explain and make sense of what they are experiencing. Humans do the same thing, though our imaginative process is a lot more complex, fundamentally it’s the same.’

The therapy conversation concluded with her recommending that Sev pursue hobbies outside his research, and he decided he might give the gym a go. It seemed like a simple enough hobby, and the decision to join Living Good Gym was easy because they were having a sale at the time and were open 24 hours a day. He had been pleasantly surprised when he had found out he actually enjoyed working out, and the body transformation was just a bonus.

‘Good to see you again Sev,’ the front desk attendant said, jolting Sev out of his mind and back into reality. ‘Good day so far?’

Sev moved towards the automatic gates that guarded the weight room floor and scanned his membership card.

‘Just another day in paradise, even better now that I am here.’

‘That's my man!’ the attendant said, smiling broadly and pressing the button to swing the gate open. ‘Hope you enjoy your workout and make sure you try the new equipment we special ordered in from Ohio for the booty buzz zone’

‘Ohio? What’s so special about Ohio?’ Sev asked as he glanced towards the back corner of the gym. Straining to see the equipment that made up the small area the gym had set aside for glute development.

‘It’s from this new company called Fieri Strength, they make all types of equipment, but they’re best known for their twin hip thruster machine. It's supposed to help your glute development by evenly distributing the strength curve through the whole movement’, the front desk attendant proudly recited as he returned to absent mindedly folding towels.

‘Rumour is that it’s an old prototype from the West Side professor. Something he found in an old Soviet strength manual.’

Sev tried to hide his excitement at the prospect of properly stimulated glutes, but couldn’t help a small smile from creeping out at the thought of this mysterious new contraption.

‘I might just have to give it a go’, he said, pushing through the gym turnstile and giving the desk attendant a courteous farewell before steeling his mind ahead of the ravaging he was about to inflict on his body.

‘I could substitute out the goblet squats I was going to do, so I can try out the new machine’, Sev thought as he made his way towards the astroturf area to begin warming up his lower body.

Setting his gym bag down, Sev was already lost in thought, systematically thinking about how he would force his body to sweat and grind out the next hour or so. Going down into a soft lunge, Sev closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the astroturf on his knee, and slowly pushed his hips forward into a deep stretch. Sev focused on feeling his body respond to the new exertion on his tendons and muscles, bringing his hips down and forward, making sure to maintain proper alignment between his front ankle and knee. Pushing off from his half-kneeling position, he began moving through a walking lunge complex to warm up his legs, butt, hips, and joints.

He planned to put his lower body through a punishing gym session and needed his joints warm and loose so that the strain wouldn’t put him out of commission and delay his gains or even worse make standing in a lab all day excruciatingly painful. Midway through the warmup, Sev stripped off his shirt and took a second to catch his breath, enjoying the inklings of sweat that were beginning to percolate across his body. 6 Months ago, Sev would have been horrified at the prospect of standing in a public place half naked, but the gym had instilled a newfound confidence in his corporeal form and as long as he had his legs covered the empty gym felt oddly at home despite his nakedness. Taking a deep breath in and slowly beginning to stretch his neck, Sev drank in the smells that permeated this sacred place. He had come to love the sweet, vulgar smell that hundreds of sweating bodies left in the air and ground around him. This pleasure still didn't quite make sense to him, it was a gnarly smell, but there was something about it which felt intoxicating and alluring.

Maybe it was because of what it represented, every drop of sweat that fell on this floor was the result of some sort of exertion. A memento of the force needed to overpower the weight of an object, brutally subjecting it to your will despite its efforts to crush you. He had come to love the grind, as cringy as that sounds, but it wasn't because of his newly toned back and legs or even the attention it seemed to occasionally bring him. There was a sense of pride that accompanied hard work, and the gym was a temple to it. A mecca of strength gained through exertion and pain, it was a sacred place where everyone was equal, no matter who they were, they were all striving for improvement and embracing pain to accomplish it.

Sev realized that there was a tinge of sadomasochism that was sprinkled through his new outlook on life, but it was so much more than that. Not that he was a philosopher, as a career scientist he had little use for long winded pontifications, but long hours spent on the stairmaster or treadmill often allowed his mind to wander freely through the ether of his thoughts, unrestrained by the confines of the lab. And indeed there was something confining about the lab, with its rigid procedures and formulas. Of course, Sev recognised the necessity of these strict rules, both for safety and experimental consistency, but there was no freedom there. Often, he would look at the rats and wonder if he was any different from them, merely trapped in a small box being played with by some other apathetic being simply trying to find something new to publish so he could make tenure.

‘What a lame idea’, Sev thought to himself, using his now discarded shirt to swipe the sweat from his forehead.

‘I am beginning to sound like a 15-year-old kid who just discovered Reddit.’

But there was an air of truth to the uncertainty and lack of purpose that highlighted the reflective ramble his mind had taken during his warm up. He did feel hollow and apathetic, like his life was devoid of colour and emotion. A life that was constructed of white sterile tiles and eggshell coloured walls, where everything was just a little too shiny but still dull in the absence of any real lustre. Even his thoughts at times felt oddly linear in their logic and need for concise clarity. There was no room for ambiguity or uncertainty within the tyrannical regime of the scientific method, they were a chaotic force which needed to be subdued and carefully reorganized till they could hold a single form of truth.

Gently turning his neck to look to the right, Sev glanced at the new equipment from Ohio that the front desk attendant had mentioned. If his life was just a solid mass of offwhite, strictly regimented and ordered, the gym was the small splash of colour and chaos that he had so desperately needed. And right now, what he needed most was to feel his butt strain against some heavy weight. The booty buzz zone was placed in the far corner of the gym and was always a busy section, with the precious glute-specific equipment occupied by every shmo who thought they could obfuscate their intolerable personalities with dumps the size of trucks. Sev wasn’t one of those types, he knew that strong glutes were at the foundation of a healthy body, but would never be caught intentionally showing them off. Taking his shirt off was one thing, his right bestowed by hours of exertion and commitment to developing and moulding his body, but he hated the idea of showing off his glutes in a similar way. Glutes were to be respected, not simply flaunted.

‘Strong glutes, strong mind’, Sev thought as he bent forward at the hips, continuing his warm up.

Pushing his butt back and engaging his hamstrings, Sev lets his hands hang down, moving his head from side to side to continue stretching out his neck. Closing his eyes again and focusing on stretching, his tranquillity was briefly interrupted by what felt like the sudden ignition of the gym's AC. Shivering at the sudden rush of cool air that seemed to creep over his toned and naked torso, caressing his body and leaving in its wake thousands of goosebumps, Sev opened up his eyes and slowly eased out of his bent over position. Coming upright, he caught a glimpse of an individual at the far end of the astroturf on his left.

Facing away from Sev, this enigma was dressed in a baggy dark hoodie with the hood pulled up, white Nike blazers, and very revealing booty shorts with the words “Heat” across them.

Previously, I wrote about how my rule of life serves as a trellis for my spiritual life, comparing it to the structures I erected in the garden to support the flexible growth and health of the raspberry patch.

The patch of course, left to its own devices would simply wander, grow, and spread all on its own. The sun, rain, and soil provide the nourishment and energy needed for growth, leaves, and flowers; and the local crew of bumblebees, honeybees, and other pollinators take care of bringing the patch to fruition. There isn’t much I can do to help with any of these processes.

What the trellis allows for is protection, partnership, and containment. Gathering and training the canes into one space keeps them from being stepped on or mowed over. Providing access to the base of the plant means that we can feed the soil and provide protective mulch to keep down weeds and promote the health of the raspberry plants. Containment allows for the plant to grow vigorously without overrunning the rest of the garden.

The past few years of intense weather and some less sturdy construction choices led to the slow and steady collapse of the first trellis. The patchwork of extra hooks, ground stakes, and ratchet straps that held it up for the past year seemed almost relieved to be released from their duty this spring.

In its place, I constructed a trellis that was both similar and different. The shapes, guide wires, and positioning mirrored the first structure. The materials and methods shifted. The lumber was replaced with pressure treated material to promote longer life out in the elements. The guide wires used a heavy gauge braided wire and tensioners to replace clothesline and clamps. The posts were sunk two feet into the earth and stabilized with post fixing foam. I even added the solar lantern post caps for beauty and to add an illuminating and reflective quality to the structure.

This major upgrade and repair to this portion of the garden reminds me of the importance of revising, updating, and refreshing my rule of life. While I expect this garden repair to last for many years before it needs to be rebuilt, I try to bring my rule of life under review quarterly as I meet with my own spiritual director and engage with my companion from the order. Furthermore, I make an effort to explore revisions, renovations, and updates to my rule.

Sometimes this can be quite concrete, because there are geographic, vocational, or family and friend changes that need to be reflected in what I hope to do and the values I want to embody in the year ahead. Other times, there are subtle adjustments and changes to strengthen, refocus, or reframe my current answers to the two core pillars of a rule of life: “Who am I called to be?” “How do I want to be in the world?” The awareness of these shifts is at the heart of contemplative practice and noticing when a shift fits within the existing trellis versus when a repair or renovation is needed to protect, cooperate with Spirit, and keep my spiritual practice from overgrowing the garden of my soul.

Practice

If you are living under a rule of life, when was the last time you:

• Read it slowly with curiosity and attentiveness?
• Reviewed whether it accurately matches the circumstances of your present life?
• Considered if there are things to prune (let go with loving gratitude), mulch (protect and strengthen), or plant (test and try to see what grows)?
• Rebuild, revise, or rewrite some or all of it?

Unweit des Stadtzentrums bin ich einem Unverpacktladen begegnet “Hola Retschka”. Mit viel Ausdauer wurde mir auf ukrainisch erklärt wo und wie die verschiedenen Waren hergestellt werden, vieles kommt aus der Ukraine, und wird genau wie in den unverpackt Läden in Deutschland verkauft. Die Preise sind definitiv teurer als im Supermarkt, aber es variiert stark je nach Produkt und Herkunft. Außerdem gibt es ein Regal, wo noch brauchbare Dinge hingebracht werden, die andere gegen eine Spende ans Militär kaufen können. Ein sehr süßer Laden, mit sehr netter Verkäuferin :)

https://holahrechka.com.ua/

https://www.instagram.com/hola.hrechka/

In Lviv gibt es immer wieder große Straßen, mit viel grünem Platz für Fußgängis in der Mitte. Da merke ich sehr, dass deutsche Städte vor allem für Autos gemacht sind. Hier ist auch Platz um zu Fuß durch die Stadt zu kommen, teilweise auch mit Radwegen (wobei Fahrräder das Stadtbild nicht unbedingt prägen, eher E-Scooter).

Beim genaueren Hinschauen kann mensch auch in Lviv den Krieg sehen. Darin, dass Statuen und z.B. Kirchenfenster verhüllt, verbarrikadiert, oder in Sicherheit gebracht worden sind.

In einem Café war außerdem ein German und ein Italian Speaking Club angekündigt. Das gibt es hier im Land oft, und auch zu Themen wie Kunst, Kino, Film, Musik treffen sich junge Leute regelmäßig um sich auszutauschen. Solche Formate habe ich in Deutschland nie in diesem Maß gesehen, aber finde ich sehr sympathisch.

———

Not far from the city center I came across a zero-waste shop called “Hola Retchka”. With a lot of patience, I was explained in Ukrainian where and how the various goods are made — a lot of it comes from Ukraine and is sold just like in zero-waste shops in Germany. The prices are definitely higher than in the supermarket, but it varies a lot depending on the product and its origin. There's also a shelf where people can drop off things that are still useful, which others can take in exchange for a donation to the military. A really sweet shop with a very friendly shopkeeper :)

https://holahrechka.com.ua/

https://www.instagram.com/hola.hrechka/

In Lviv you keep coming across wide streets with lots of green space for pedestrians in the middle. It really makes me notice how German cities are built primarily for cars. Here there's actually room to get around on foot, and sometimes even with bike lanes (though bikes don't really define the streetscape — e-scooters are more of a thing).

If you look more closely, you can also see the war in Lviv. In the way that statues and things like church windows have been covered, barricaded, or moved to safety.

In one café “te amo Lviv” there was also a German and an Italian Speaking Club advertised. This kind of thing is common across the country — young people regularly meet up around topics like art, cinema, film and music to exchange ideas. I've never seen formats like this to the same extent in Germany, but I find it really lovely.

Einige Cafés hier bieten neben Seife zum Hände waschen auch Handcreme an <3

Unverpackt Laden:

dort steht: Das Original werden wir nach dem Sieg bewundern

Nada que hacer. Hay tiempo para mirar la maceta. También las cortinas.

All I need to know who I’m attracted to is their voice and smell.

One of my friends that I was talking with told me how she firmly believes in relentless optimism, and even though a part of me disagrees, I think she is correct. I think specifically with the goal of finding a friend group in person that feels like my tribe, that’s been something where I’ve been pretty doomer about. But I do think that this is something that will take time, and additionally I feel like I am ahead of the curve here. Not counting the months where I was in a very intense relationship, I feel like I have made at least one lasting friendship each month. Not everyone I meet is going to be that ride or die person or my tribe, but definitely an important and valuable part of the life I am trying to build. Also remember how the closest friends I have are not at all the people I thought I would get along with. Have an open mind. And have faith that it will work because it will.

洗面台を掃除しているか。

部屋の床がきれいでも、洗面台に黄ばみがあれば、その家全体がその黄ばみに侵食されてしまう。 外に出ているときでさえ、あの色は目のシミのように残り、視界の奥を泳ぎ続ける。

その黄ばみが視界に入り込んでいると、自分の一言一言にも重みを与えられなくなる。 声はどこか頼りなく、小さくなっていく。

だから、洗面台だけは欠かさず掃除するようにしたい。 床のホコリを取ることよりも、もっと直接的に、視覚的な不潔さに耐えられないからだ。

うちの洗面台は、いつもぴかぴかだ。 そう言えるのが目標の1つである。

例えば、就職に10社落ちたときに、悔しさの中で、「うちの洗面台さえ見てもらえれば」と心の中で思いたい。

あの黄ばみは、なぜあれほど不快なのか。 水垢、皮脂、石鹸カス、カビ、雑菌、それらが絡み合い、あの色になる。 腐敗の色に近いから、人間は生理的に拒絶してしまうのだろう。

ではなぜ、白は清潔に感じるのか。 人間の身体に、あそこまでの白は存在しないのに、あの潔白さは自己への肯定感を大きく押し上げる。 医療や衛生の歴史の中で、白は安全であるという感覚が刷り込まれてきたのかもしれない。 白い壁や白衣は、汚れや異常をすぐに可視化できる。

しかし、その前提は現実と折り合っていない。 区役所や学校の壁には、経年劣化のヒビやカビが目立つ。 汚れることが避けられない場所に、なぜ白を使い続けるのか。

不潔さを把握したいなら、別の方法があってもいいはずだ。 スコープのようなもので測るとか、可視化の仕組みを変えるとか。 現実には汚れた白が溢れていて、ときどき吐き気すら覚える。 汚れた白の多さが、人間の感覚に負担をかけている気がしてならない。

だからせめて、自分の手の届く白だけはきれいにしておく。

洗面台が潔白であること。 それが、自分の言葉にわずかな支えを与えてくれる。

意見を通すのも、交流を広げるのも、結局はその延長にある。 まずは、洗面台の黄ばみを落とすこと。 それが、自分にとっての小さな一歩だ。

Kurt Vile “Chance to Bleed” Single/Video (Verve Records, 2026)

Song of the Summer? It’s got prerequisites: A breezy melody, a chantable chorus, laconic raps and a great video. Peak Vile jam as the weather warms and pollen proliferates.

Greg “Oblivion” Cartwright supplies backing vocals and solos, his aching Memphis drawl unmistakable for us old heads.

The track is from the forthcoming album Philadelphia’s been good to me and the video captures a Philly Saturday night in Fishtown. It's fun, features Schooly D and other cameos you can google. You’ll be joyfully singing the vocal hook out the car window this Summer: “Old time, lo-fi, DIY, Rock & Roll…Nights!”

Loop it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FDq6YTeldcY

#KurtVile #ChanceToBleed #VerveRecords #PhiladelphiaMusic #IndieRock #MusicVideo #SchoolyD #GregCartwright #SongOfTheSummer #Music #Larrys100 #100WordReview