How to improve your life

You know what really annoys me these days? Productivity blogs. Why? Cos they're almost cultish in their devotion. Many was the time I would read posts, trying to find a quicker way to do something other that is meaningless, dull and adds little or no quality to my life. Now they're like a whole industry and you know what? They have no wisdom to impart other than "Relax. Too much stress is bad. Throw away the crap that you don't need." And people read through the same advice recycled ten different ways and reposted with addendum on a bunch of other productivity blogs. Then "Buy the book that is basically this blog but maybe some other stuff we wrote so people who read the blog don't feel like total mugs."

The only help you will ever need by Marc Jones.

Be healthy. This means do exercise sometimes and get fresh air. Don't eat just chocolate. Walk sometimes. Don't smoke. Try not to drink, and certainly don't drink enough to get a hangover.

Relax. Stress is bad. Nothing matters. If the apocalypse happens tomorrow, nothing you have done will really matter, nor will anything you haven't done. So you burned some bridges. Wow. Don't worry. If you really are worried, try to change what you're worried about. Eliminating all stress is unrealistic but try not to stress about the minutiae.

Throw away the crap you don't need. For those in the West, there's EBay. For those of us in Japan there are Yahoo Auctions or second-hand shops or the dustbin. You don't need it all. You don't even have the room for it.

There probably isn't a shortcut. Persevere. Life's a bitch.

Buy my book. There isn't a book, certainly not for advice, but you can always email me if you want to get my address to send me some money. About a million quid would do.

Ramble

In place of any structure I was going to put into this post I think I'm just going to ramble.

My week has been one of minor illness, anpan, Earl Grey and reading due to said minor illness.

Normal service is being resumed, slowly but surely, even though I have yet to type out todays self-imposed mandatory 1000 words but have managed to eat an entire pack of anpan and a bar of chocolate in a sitting.

You should consider checking out Light Plays Tricks as well.

But I couldn't avoid posting this

The first time I have ever seen substantial snow in Tokyo. From my flat's window.

Sticking around

I'm committing to keeping this going. I've renewed the domain today so all should be grand.

I'm ill by the way, hence shortness. Need more tea and I also need it to stop flipping snowing.

A weekend

Friday (a day off) Edo Tokyo Museum: nice, too many models (of buildings, not people who wear clothes for a living), near restaurants where I spilled miso soup on a cushion and tatami mats like a pillock.

Saturday (a day off that I had to book) Shibuya: drank, got drunk, met Pete + significant other and friends. Unexpectedly met a workmate and former Japanese teachers (still Japanese teachers, former only to me and my friend Shawn I think).

Now. Oh, chocolate. And maybe a bit of reading. I finished Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro the other day and it made me cry, so maybe something different.

Something About Love

There are many great things about being in love. It's well documented, mainly in popular song. There can also be hurt. I'm writing about that hurt, but more specifically I'm talking about the hurt of over-analysis.



It's the self-centred point of view where you start thinking everything is related to you that causes it. The whole what-have-I-done question. But not everything is me, me, me. I'm getting to know that now, slowly. There are outside factors. I am not my girlfriend's entire life; though in my more egotistical moments I would love it to be so, I know I can never be her entire life and I know it would be scary if I were all she did with of her non-sleeping and non-working time.

Relinquishing responsibility is something I thought I wanted but now I know it is what I crave.

No Man's Land

I went to the French Embassy yesterday. Not because I am French, though I am called Marc. Nor did I want to practice my piss poor schoolboy language skills with a "Bonjour, pour aller l'exhibition?" No, I was there for art, darling.

They're going to knock it down, you see, so they've given it over to a number of Japanese and French artists. It's a full on two hour wander around the building, ducking in and out of rooms. It's 100 yen, so basically all but free in, with proper real artists exhibiting.

There was a bad point: a million middle-aged women shouting at the top of their voices at each other. What makes some post-menopausal women in Japan need to converse at ten decibels louder than even American tourists? Honestly! And it was inane babble, as in utter bollocks.

Regardless of harridans, you should go there. Highlights are Korean photographer, J.Jo, Christophe Valery and a lovely girl who makes tartan paintings but whose name I forgot. Anyway, it's near Hiroo station but head down toward Tengenjibashi on Meiji Dori and you'll be on the right track. It was a grand afternoon.

Varie

I'm going to be experimenting with different writing styles over the next while, I think. While it appears I may have gotten more misanthropic than usual, please allow me to tell you that I am very happy at the moment.

The reason I'm going to be experimenting is I was hit by this article about Boy's Own fanzine, and how they felt there was a duty to be critical of the house scene itself. That said, maybe I should be more critical of my social scene, and seeing as my girlfriend is perfect then that probably means basically myself (N.B. This is exaggeration.)

###

Here is New Year at Zojoji shrine:



###

Shoes say a lot about people. Everybody's shoes are different, even if they're the same. Example, my Converse have walked in different places, will be worn out in different places than yours. Shoes are statements, but sometimes questions, exclamations and explanations.

37.2 degrees from paper

I sat on Saturday and devoured the whole of 20 Fragments of a Ravenous Youth by Xiaolu Guo. It may be my new favourite novel. It is a growing up story set in Beijing. There are cursings, moanings and a youthful determination to succeed that cry out all the way through this book. I dare you to try to hate it: I feel it must be impossible.

My novel in progress

For those of you who follow my Twitter feed, it will not be a surprise that I haven't been posting anything of much substance recently.

The reason for this is because my novel has been gaining momentum, especially over the Christmas/New Year holidays. This has led me to ecstatic highs and I am writing this post to myself as a sort of challenge. So, laying down the gauntlet for myself, I think I may actually have the current fourth draft finished by the end of February and a final draft done and dusted by the end of March. These may be foolish words but unless I set myself some kind of deadline I will probably sit on my arse looking at Flickr more often than is healthy.

I would like to thank Pete for reading the first third with a critical eye, and giving me the encouragement I need to keep going.

I will keep going, and keep attempting to find the time to write some halfway decent posts for this blog (decent by my standards anyway).

Thanks for reading and keep checking. You can also subscribe by clicking the little orange square up top in your location bar too.