Active member
- Joined
- Apr 8, 2018
- Messages
- 314
Today marks the fifth anniversary since the death of Mizoguchi Ryou, also known as siinamota, also known as powapowa p, also known as highcolor_sunz, also known as my favourite music composer (but the last one is a secret).
This young man was born in 1995 the very same date every year some always dwindling fans have marked to give thanks to a fictional, blue twintailed character for her effects on many lives. Incidentally, he used her voice to turn his short, intense life into songs, until he himself became no more than music.
And now he is only music. No matter how hard I continue to study Japanese, there is no hope my efforts will let me meet him and fall into many embarrasing mistakes that would forever haunt my memory along with the joy of having looked right into his colourfully kitsch masquerade for 5 minutes. My always lofty dreams have only allowed me to shortly interact with his (bald) older brother, while my imagination treats me with fleeting images of my own palid reflections.
But what a music he was, and he is. I mean, you are. In some of your songs, my heart is a recipient of the sounds you've created, and it beats to the rhythm conducted by you. And in a few occasions, I feel as if you were trying to steal it for whatever reason and I have to press it back into my chest, or to touch it like an existence inside myself I had forgotten all about.
Siina, I promise in the unlikely event I ever become an astronomer, I will name a star after your name. Because in my head that's how they sound, and no scientific study will convince me otherwise. And if I ever became an astronaut just like you were, while in space, surely not an unrelenting, neverending nightmarish silence, but your songs would be flowing through my ears. If only Pythagoras could listen to your pieces, he would finally scream "Eureka" from the top of his lungs and confirm you the definite proof for his theory of the music of the spheres.
Because probably none of that will happen, I will stick to slowly collecting all of your albums. Even though you didn't take much care on making some of them affordable once they got out of print. And I guess I will keep on thinking of you sometimes, and of all the things I would tell you. The lyrics I liked, those I didn't, and the ones I adore and still remember today. Also of a million ways to thank you.
Maybe I stop listening to you some day. It's not like that hasn't happened in the five years since I met you through your work, although always to come back with double the enthusiasm. However, I can assure you this: that your art is reserved the quality of only the most precious findings, whose far-reaching waves keep on crushing on land, for far, far longer than the earth it helped giving form to is even aware of, as it has become a part of it.
One of my favourites, very fitting actually.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2i4DhGIpFA&list=PLKJ8EBKMKlr-qSaU8e3j6Pwh6nnvpBRYF&index=5&t=0s
This young man was born in 1995 the very same date every year some always dwindling fans have marked to give thanks to a fictional, blue twintailed character for her effects on many lives. Incidentally, he used her voice to turn his short, intense life into songs, until he himself became no more than music.
And now he is only music. No matter how hard I continue to study Japanese, there is no hope my efforts will let me meet him and fall into many embarrasing mistakes that would forever haunt my memory along with the joy of having looked right into his colourfully kitsch masquerade for 5 minutes. My always lofty dreams have only allowed me to shortly interact with his (bald) older brother, while my imagination treats me with fleeting images of my own palid reflections.
But what a music he was, and he is. I mean, you are. In some of your songs, my heart is a recipient of the sounds you've created, and it beats to the rhythm conducted by you. And in a few occasions, I feel as if you were trying to steal it for whatever reason and I have to press it back into my chest, or to touch it like an existence inside myself I had forgotten all about.
Siina, I promise in the unlikely event I ever become an astronomer, I will name a star after your name. Because in my head that's how they sound, and no scientific study will convince me otherwise. And if I ever became an astronaut just like you were, while in space, surely not an unrelenting, neverending nightmarish silence, but your songs would be flowing through my ears. If only Pythagoras could listen to your pieces, he would finally scream "Eureka" from the top of his lungs and confirm you the definite proof for his theory of the music of the spheres.
Because probably none of that will happen, I will stick to slowly collecting all of your albums. Even though you didn't take much care on making some of them affordable once they got out of print. And I guess I will keep on thinking of you sometimes, and of all the things I would tell you. The lyrics I liked, those I didn't, and the ones I adore and still remember today. Also of a million ways to thank you.
Maybe I stop listening to you some day. It's not like that hasn't happened in the five years since I met you through your work, although always to come back with double the enthusiasm. However, I can assure you this: that your art is reserved the quality of only the most precious findings, whose far-reaching waves keep on crushing on land, for far, far longer than the earth it helped giving form to is even aware of, as it has become a part of it.
One of my favourites, very fitting actually.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2i4DhGIpFA&list=PLKJ8EBKMKlr-qSaU8e3j6Pwh6nnvpBRYF&index=5&t=0s
