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the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Kawasaki, 2020.03.20

No sign of the fever today, so I presume that my self-diagnosis of strep throat couldn't have been too far off the mark. It's a new day, it's a new dawn, it's a new start for me, yeah; and I'm feeling good.

Japan has quite a few holidays, and today is the first of this latest round of living/working here. Having spent the past four days working with a laptop with a Japanese keyboard, my mission today was to find an external English-language keyboard that wouldn't so constantly trip me up. I went to the 'downtown' of Kawasaki, the oddly shaped city in which I live, and went to a Bic Camera near the main train station.

I'm by the red oval

It turned out to be rather a frustrating experience, but in the end I was able to stay philosophical about it because I had resolved the issue with the fever. First, none of the display models were to be found in the store, then when I finally did find and buy something (which cost more than $200) and brought it home I discovered that the box didn't match the product and that I'd bought .. a Japanese keyboard. By the time I got home it was evening, so I wasn't going back.

I've also decided to start adding a bit of stock in food to my meager supplies here in my tiny apartment. I've started picking up more 2kg bags of brown rice, and have started buying more tins of vegetables and beans. Because the international situation with this pandemic is not looking at all good. Which is a bit hard to reconcile with the situation here in Japan, which is curiously serene despite some decidedly atypical numbers coming out from the Japanese government. We'll see what happens.

rand()m quote

The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself.

—Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov