Tetsuaki Fujimoto

Tonight I read three poems aloud again.
In front of my wife. Inter curled up in the corner.
Rimbaud's "Bad Blood," translated by Sōshi Suzuki—my wife said it was good.

Monthly reviews on Japanese poetry journals. The final installment's draft is now finished.

Tigers, Let’s go again next year.

Tonight, in front of my wife, I recited several poems. When I finished reading Kazuko Shiraishi's poem in a quiet voice, my wife clapped her hands softly.

He's not in this world, not in this world turning to shit. There's a part of me that refuses to accept it.

The email contained the following passage: "Poetry collections"—whether they're amazing or terrifying, anyway,
Even if there is no future for you as a person, you exist, and there is a future.

When I sent him my second poetry collection, Where Dionysus Resides, he emailed me right away.

His presence, his very way of life, has touched me so deeply. Now I am simply speechless.

『王国（あるいはその家について）』（2018 草野なつか）を元町映画館にて。一昨年末に海外のサブスクで観ていたが、スクリーンで観直す必然性のある映画だった。役が役者の肉体に結実していく過程とはまさしく、emotionによるmotionへの憑依なのだと知らしめるものがあった。観る側の感情までもがここまで揺さぶられる所以だろう。一つひとつの表情や発声の極めて微細な動きは同一シーンの反復を経てそれ自体差異を生み出し続けていく。映画による「差異と反復」の共存が一種の奇跡のように成立している。なお、タイトルに含まれる「王国」と「家」という二つの実在の対置は普遍的な問いを内包しゆくだろう。

『真夜中の虹』（1988 アキ・カウリスマキ）をAmazon Prime にて。労働者階級の悲哀、可笑しみ、優しさを乾いた抒情で包み込んでいる。

ーーある暖かい戦後の群れ。みえる、みえるよ。その温みがいまのぼくには／とても眩しくて、ツラい。（17th Nov. 2021）