In the beginning, there was chaos.
No, that’s not right.
In the beginning, there was nothing.
An empty space spread out, big and empty.
Time flowed by, two years to be specific. Various things were brought in.
Among them, a desk, a bed, a computer, shelves, chairs (two of them), a folding table,
An electric piano, a fax machine, and then lots of newspapers.
Books. Magazines. Fliers advertising plays. Envelopes. CDs. Faxes from different folks.
Letters from different people. Unimportant things. Important things.
Things that might be important one day.
(Now, all these things, no longer important,
Fill all the available space.

Cleaning the room
Involves starting at the top of the piles and digging.
The various things I put in this pile one by one
Because they are handy or important or because I like them
Are things I love, so I cannot easily get rid of them.
Papers are harder to deal with than books—that is common knowledge so
I just let the books be. I just wanted to do battle with
The pile of papers. But the papers already in neat rectangles
In other words, the ones that are bound together neatly to form
Booklets
And
Notebooks
And
Files
And
Two-ring binders
And
Weekly magazines full of photos
Are the hardest to deal with.
The thicker they are
The more trying.

I like binders with two rings inside.
Just use the classic two-hole punch once
And with the satisfying click of the rings snapping shut
Papers are stored in colored binders in their proper place. Neatly
They are put in order. However if these files, with all their weight,
Are lined up on top of the desk, they always fall to the left or right
Forming a slovenly angle (even when you use bookends).
Push them from the left, they fall right,
Push them from the right, they fall left,
Causing a snow-slide (an avalanche)
To spread over the desktop
(Pushing the whole pile of meaningless things
Onto the floor in one fell swoop.

When my bicycle key fell onto the floor, I almost cried.
All it did was fall down but
It got sucked right in
I moved all the files, all the books, all the garbage,
Inspecting them piece by piece, then setting them down elsewhere
I took apart and went through the bag for the Hitachi Household Sweeper
Even though the “Empty Bag” light had not switched on yet
Oh man, it’s getting dark. And I won’t even be able to ride my bike anymore.
This is how life gets all screwed up, just one thing after another
These were the thoughts running through my head as I leaned absentmindedly on a pile of books.
They collapsed, making a mess in the middle of the room.

Tons of things
Spread out before my eyes.
I feel like there is sand between my teeth. What on earth is this gritty, unpleasant feeling?
There is something over here labeled “Shinch_ Japanese Dictionary”
And over there, something else labeled “World of Literature”
But I no longer understand the temporal or spatial relationship
Between these things and me who lives among them.
Love and courage.
Courage and strength.
Those are what I really need. Ah! I want to go outside, join hands with people from all over the world,
And talk about these struggles with meaningless things
Until I finally get these thoughts off my chest. To make my way through this wilderness.

From the other side of the room
I see the sign that says
“Take your garbage home to keep the mountains clean.”
The paper bag from ICI-Sports. That’s the bag I got that time I took my bike
To Jinboch_ to get some supplies to climb Mount Nanntai in Okukuji.
My problem today, however, is what to do with the junk back at home.
Maybe the junk is in messy piles is because I am turning my eyes from other problems
And trying to escape into meaninglessness.
For instance, my worries about when I’m going to get married
Or when I’m going to visit the dentist . . .

It’s hot in summer alright! I bought some very functional shelves that roll on casters.
They’re a handy size and even have two nice rows of drawers.
“The top surface is even heat resistant!
We use
Melamine boards.”

Oh yeah? That’s nice. There, in the only space available,
I lead my elbow on the plasticized surface and rest my chin on my hand
And wait, distracted, for summer to go by.