It's the Mark of Mischief That They Wear

Dear readers, have you ever pondered the curious ways we measure time? Certainly we recognise days, months and years, and have created minutes and hours and so on, but what about the less uniform aspects of time? When, for instance, you scrape out the last bits of margarine from a tub, or use the last roll of toilet paper in a pack, have you ever had a peculiar "Oh, that's finished, is it? Gosh, tempus fugit!" kind of feeling? I think people who live alone are more prone to experience this, as in family households supplies get used up much faster. In Buddhism there's a measurement of time called a "Kalpa." If I remember rightly, a minor kalpa is described as the amount of time it would take to wear down a stone by brushing it with a feather once very four years. Then there are twenty minor kaplas to a major kalpa, of which there are four - Creation, Abiding, Destruction and Empty.

Why all this talk of time? I suppose since coming to Japan I view time a little bit differently, a strange combination of needing time to study, wanting time to go faster so as to arrive at my next meal, and counting down the days until the next big party and until I leave. Hence ideas of how we measure and perceive time sort of interests me - at time of writing, nearing the end of my first toilet paper kalpa - so please forgive me my ramblings.

Not a lot went on Thursday or Friday, except the arrival of a letter asking me for money for health insurance. A tad irksome, but at least it's a one-off expense. Saturday, though, has been one of those days where I feel like I was definitely in the right place at the right time. I made my way to Osu Kannon temple, where a Street Performers' Festival was being held. Lots of stalls selling various kinds of food, but of course the main selling point were the performers! The first lot I saw were some musicians strolling down a street in very colourful attire, playing not only traditional percussion instruments, but also accordion, banjo, clarinet and saxophone, giving them a rather jazzy sound. After that there was also a group of drummers, quite a few jugglers, a pair of acrobats, a very amusing living-statue/robot sort of fellow, and a woman who did caricatures in a very elaborate and entertaining fashion. Everything was thoroughly enjoyable; I only found out about it by chance earlier on in the week, so I'm really glad I managed to see it.

I might also mention that while I've been writing this entry the birthdays of both P.G. Wodehouse and Oscar Wilde have passed by. Take a moment or two to remember these great men?