The title got me.

“Who Are Your Ancestors?” by Hidenori Takahashi

I ordered it on Amazon after seeing a tweet from Horie-san, who is currently incarcerated.

As expected from Horie-san, it’s surprisingly interesting.

Here’s an excerpt.

I suddenly thought of my grandfather, Toyokichi.

He was 95 when he passed.

Walking was his daily routine, and one day, while walking in the neighborhood, he felt unwell

and was rushed to the hospital. He insisted he was fine, but those around him were worried.

When they said, “But Grandpa, you look like you’re in pain,” Toyokichi replied,

“Now that you mention it, I suppose I am in pain.”

Those were his last words.

My grandfather’s personality was such that if someone suggested something, he’d start to feel it,

and I, having inherited that trait, must surely be susceptible to the “qualities” of a noble lineage.



Then, after a long time, Takahiro Morita from FESN’s LIBE BRAND UNIVS. came to visit.

His brand’s catalog is also superb,

and by superb, I mean it’s filled with the creator’s dedication, you know, down to the finest details.

It’s a catalog like that, and it also features

We are still ichimiya, Ichinomiya Town, Higashiyatsushiro District, Yamanashi Prefecture – Japan’s number one peach-growing region.

Still Ichimiya, a hip and hop hometown group from a rural town found anywhere in Japan.

It also comes with a fun CD from Still Ichimiya. And, oh, I see.

Suddenly, Morita-kun started asking about the origins of Snakeman Show,

“Alright, I understand what you’re aiming for.”

Keep thinking. Please.



Naomi Kazama FLAT WHITE

I enjoyed his solo exhibition in Harajuku.

The emotional shift from monochrome to color,

the visible world and the world reflected in the heart…

Kazama-kun’s subtly conveyed mood was refreshing.

Speaking of which,

he’s also close with my old friend Yuri Shimojo, who lives in Brooklyn.

The demeanor of a creator living independently, not belonging to any organization, is truly pleasant.

Ah, if only I could end these restless days, like a cactus with its behind on fire,

and live a life like a cactus that blooms only once a century.

I’m not thinking that at all. *sniffle*

That’s right, it’s hydrangea season.

← Diary-T 74–79