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Cloudy
There is an anarchist in the house, destroying it: impervious to reason, impervious to threats, impervious to everything. A newborn has no sense of dignity, no sense of intelligence and evil, no respect for the ultimate fundamental human decency. Few things in life can lead an adult to greater distractions than a helpless baby who can’t help crying.
What do you want? He can’t tell you, and nothing you can think of (milk, caresses, a walk, a toy) reassures him. Apparently, the world has already let him down too much; the child will mourn his grief until eternity, and you will have to be in the pictures in the morning.
Last month, Asahi Shimbun published a report on head injuries from abuse in infants and young children. Maximum trivial action can produce maximum tragic results. The baby screams and you’re out of breath. You tried this and you tried, nothing works; Shake or beat the baby, it brings you to your senses and without delay you hate others. Too late: it would probably have altered the child’s progression for life.
A baby’s skull is comfortable and sensitive. A child’s brain knows nothing about adult life: its demands, tensions and tensions. “Me with naps in the office, ” says a young father to the Asahi Shimbun. “My colleagues, I think, are not very satisfied with that.”
A mother tells the newspaper that she was alone with her baby after her husband was transferred to Hokkaido, where she has no circle of family or friends. He has taken, he admits, to “abuse the limit.”
There’s a baby in all of us. He needs what he needs, not knowing what he’s decided to get us anyway, no matter what it costs and what the world says. Maturity brings a secure resignation. Let’s be informed and settle for not having it all. We diminish our appetite, calm down, make peace with the herbal limits of life, some before, others later; a few, of course, never.
Few places defy the herbal limits of life with more enthusiasm and that “the nightless people”. It is a global phenomenon, represented the maximum observed in Japan through the Kabukicho district in Tokyo. You are more likely to read it in those days as an intentional point 0 in the coronavirus outbreak than as a lawn of terrestrial delights; however, the pleasures are still there, as reported through Shukan Gendai magazine last month with an addition of respect and horror. .
It’s hard to suppress a reluctant admiration for others, growing-infested babies, who can face a viral pandemic and say, in fact, “Do your worst, you probably wouldn’t replace my life a bit!” Shukan Gendai introduces us to a representative of the race, a woman in her twenties who works in a hostess club and laughs at a host club.
She’s, she says, “crazy hostess.” It describes the indulgences that seduce her free evenings, with young people whose only goal and greatest illusion is to please her. We are not told how you get the fantastic sums of cash that buy your facilities, probably through similar indulgences for your own customers. In any case, the magazine assures us, a night bill of 6 million yen only impacts the uninitiated.
What you buy is an excess that regularly begins with a champagne tower – a master hand flipping dear champagne bottles over cups arranged to shape a tower and generating (presumed) minimal spill – and is equivalent to forms of close contact that leave people more free. Imagination.
Shukan Gendai asks the question: “Aren’t you afraid of infection?”
He brushes her with astonishing indifference.
“The leading host is my boyfriend,” he says. “Not bringing him together would be worse than dying.”
Besides, even infection, he says, has its advantages.
“I may just pass the virus on to some of my most unpleasant clients,” he says. “Most women in this company feel the same way.”
We leave the city uns dark now and bring the discussion back to earth, where other people overwhelmed by worries face the most productive of their abilities. Last month, Spa magazine introduced a woman whose story is appropriate. She’s not married and 36. He works at a food processing plant. Your son is 3 years old.
Single mothers have been particularly affected by the epidemic. Often deficient at first, surviving in low-paid part-time tasks, they are especially vulnerable to loss of tasks, as restaurants, bars and department stores decrease or close completely. This woman kept her homework, but the day care her son attended closed. The time to take care of him has lowered his salary. Since then, the center has reopened, but it may close again.
She thought of the city without night. Do you have to paint on it? Why not? A solid and lucrative source of income would calm your nerves and ensure a better life for your child. He checked websites, made phone calls. It’s tempting.
She didn’t. What if she’s infected? What would your child think of his mother doing this kind of work? Are the behavior you impose and the brain states you require compatible with motherhood? His doubts grew. She’ll stay where she is for now. She’ll get away with it one way or another, wait.
This month’s Tarzan fitness magazine immerses us even more in the banal. Your concern: the waists. People who stay at home through the virus bite too much, do too little exercise, giving in, for lack of distraction, to the baby’s preference to eat and drink. Encourage self-control.
See a specific danger in a social tradition driven by concern about infection: the online alcohol festival. The “real world” imposes limits: last call, last train, the undeniable desire to remain sober enough to move home. In the absence of these, you will have to impose your own limits. “Last call, nine of the night” suggests the magazine. Is this a joke? Or if you’re not too strict with yourself, you’ll be too lax? In fact, there’s an intermediate floor somewhere.
Big in Japan is a weekly column on issues discussed in the national media. Michael Hoffman’s most recent book, now for sale, is “Cipangu, Golden Cipangu: Essays in Japanese History”.
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