#47: hateful things
Probably only Tamayo will care and/or know what I’m jabbering about, but I finally managed to get my hands on a copy ofThe Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, so I’m finally reading the thing all the way through, instead of just the snips and snatches that were drifting around the internet. What little I’d already seen was impressive enough that I ended up using the name “Kiyohara” (which was the name of Sei Sh?nagon’s family) rather prominently in this comic. :V But actually reading the thing– my god. It’s pretty astonishing to think that it was written a thousand years ago, since Sei Sh?nagon’s personality comes across so vividly in her writing.Anyway, with all that in mind, a selection from The Pillow Blog of Kiyohara Takako:
53. Hateful things
When one reaches the Underground turnstile and, seeing a train waiting by the platform, frantically swipe oneself in and run through the station in most undignified manner, only to have the doors slam in one’s face and the train thunder off into the tunnels.
In the course of one’s commute on the Underground, the train’s conductor announces that the train is switching to express service, and if one wishes to get off on the intervening stations, one should alight at the next stop and await for a new train right behind the present one. One disembarks and waits patiently, yet a new train does not arrive for fifteen minutes. How hateful!
A politician who talks around pointed questions during a streamcasted debate, and is declared the winner by the pundits who come on after-wards.
A snowstorm which changes into a freezing rain whilst one is walking down the street.
Snow, picturesque when fresh and illuminated by moonslight at night, which has turned to a foul grey sludge by morning.
Westerners who keep dogs as pets, and dote upon them like children.
When a lover, in the midst of a conversation with oneself, finds his Timepiece to be ringing. Instead of ignoring the call, he accepts the call, and speaks at length with some old friend. Hateful!
When the ring-tone of a friend’s Timepiece is a song one enjoys, and thereafter upon hearing the enjoyable song one finds oneself thinking one’s friend has a phone call, and quite incapable of one’s former pleasure at hearing the familiar tune.
Equally hateful is when a song one has placed sentimental value in is appropriated for an ad for a faceless corporation such as a bank or a motorcar manufacturer.
Ordering Kyokanese or Beiguese food in a restaurant in a Western country, and being given a fork to eat it with.
Finding a hair in one’s food, and being quite unable to identify its original owner.
When one’s undergraduate students accost one with questions regarding their marks on an certain assignment, when those marks were given by one’s T.A.s and therefore unknown to you.
Clip-art used on a poster designed within the last 35 years.
When my fucking Ilthmiri Archmagess bitch mother calls goddess damn what is the deal with that seriously
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