Lost in Translation captures the entire gamut of emotions and mind states that runs through one during a trip - a new world with new people but most of all a new yourself - you wake up in you but nobody knows you ... it takes you back to how you felt when you were young and the world was new.. shows you all possibilities, how the trip infuses a bit of life into you, some hope, some energy, one dance..... and then it all ends. like a dream you wake up in yourself as yourself.
I only watched it coz william gibson was big on Japan, and his stories were full of strange dimensions of it. I had read Rising Sun and couple of books on zen on pGutenberg. I thought i saw a bit of Pattern Recognition in Lost.. I watched akira , ghost in the shell, bought the comics, and waited for the future to blow all known futures out of the sky
now, the future is here and gone, like an exit we drive past, and Japan hasn't quite delivered (tbh) what others promised, and others are sneaking up on it, if not past
I am way past gibson and pattern recognition gets only a kind thought now and then (unlike terry pratchett) ,but Lost.. perseveres. it hits harder, sinks deeper. and rips a gash, and a chasm so wide .....
when you look back, the beloveds, the cherisheds, the darlings, the lodestones of youthful days seem like somebody else's narrated dream that you don't understand very well.... and your life seems more autopilot than anything else
"... I don't want all that pasta. I would like to start eating, like, Japanese food..." is so much like bringing home chopsticks from a holiday, promising you'll eat with them once a week, so that you can be _that_ person you became on the holiday, and holding on to boarding passes....
the silence which follows "Why don't you stay there, then you can have it everyday" ... in which the emotion is so strong but the words don't come cos there aren't any to be said , not to any meaningful effect or result, is when we realise the universe has moved past us, that our cool,our inherent 'value' , won't cut it any more, that people aren't excited to see us anymore
oh, for a friend....
not all stories have an ending like winged tales
some people are just born to cry over spilt milk. and milk that hasn't spilt but might.
