Riding the Wind

New writing in Finished Writing Projects

Mike — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 14:56:48 +0000

As some of you may know, I’ve recently embarked again on the path to higher education. I’m in an Access Course for Arts, Humanities and Social Sciences at City College Norwich. Should I do well enough in this course, I should be able to get into University next year and start my degree. I’d like most of all to get into the English Literature and Creative Writing program at the University of East Anglia, so I’m hoping that will happen. My current classes are Cultural Studies, History and English Literature and so far, I’m really enjoying them. I recently finished the first units of these classes, for which I was required to write some essays. I’ve posted those up in the Finished Writing Projects section, for anyone interested in reading them. They’re probably a bit dry, but feel free if you want to:

History – The Key Changes of the Industrial Revolution of Great Britain

English – Close Reading of a Passage of Hard Times

Cultural Studies – Conflicting Attitudes to Class in 1950s Britain

After the rain

Mike — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 01:13:08 +0000

I’ve recently taken up walking and running again for exercise and went out today just after a thunderstorm. Everything was wet and glistening, the birds were out grabbing worms and the scent of foliage and rain was in the air. It was wonderful. I’ve resolved to try to go out more often just after the rain, even at the risk of getting a little wet and muddy. It’s so worth it.

On another note, HandRooster is back in business and has a redesigned site and I’ve been writing on simplicity, productivity, technology, happiness, etc over at my new site, mindreap. I fully intend on posting on Riding the Wind in the same way I always have, so don’t worry about that.

The Night Watchman

Mike — Thu, 07 May 2009 03:04:37 +0000

Frozen by the shining sun, my mind is set alight by her long breaths. Liquidity. My transformation is complete as full dark slips over the world. I stare at her face, so peaceful in its repose. The ache of my love is so strong now that I fear it will wake her. My mind races across our life together, finding pain. I immerse myself in it so that it can’t defile her.

I am the night watchman.

I guard the innocent light of the day, battling darkness so that the sleeper can rest without worry. Silently waiting for the next wave of foes, I direct my gaze to the window and wait for the birds to sing.

Explanation

Mike — Sun, 03 May 2009 01:47:28 +0000

“Why do people have to be this lonely? What’s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the Earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?
I turned face-up on the slab of stone, gazed at the sky, and thought about all of the man-made satellites spinning around the Earth. The horizon was still etched in a faint glow, and stars began to blink on in the deep, wine-coloured sky. I gazed among them for the light of a satellite, but it was still too bright out to spot one with the naked eye. The sprinkling of stars looked nailed to the spot, unmoving. I closed my eyes and listened carefully for the descendants of Sputnik, even now circling the Earth, gravity their only tie to the planet. Lonely metal souls in the unimpeded darkness of space, they meet, pass each other, and part, never to meet again. No words passing between them. No promises to keep.” (Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami, translated by Philip Gabriel)

I live in phases. Up and down I go, from periods of great productivity, joy and vigor to periods of something else altogether. Like Murakami’s strange Sumire who was so cherished by the story’s narrator, I too use writing as a means to think. Just as she did, I go through low phases which find me unable (or more likely unwilling) to think and therefore I avoid the act of writing. I recede from the internet, from books and from anything which may challenge me to think only to come crashing back later, like the returning tide. I don’t know how to prevent these cycles other than to force myself to continue to read, write and engage with my thoughts. I don’t even know if that will work, because my dark days come in force and unexpectedly, gripping me with an unwillingness to engage with the world. I prefer instead to dull my mind and dwell in nothingness until drawn out. Perhaps I need to make a stand or a decision, like in the book. I have love and companionship, but maybe I need a narrator of my own to draw me back from the twin world.

I’m back, for now.

Frigid Morning Walk

Mike — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 12:52:38 +0000

Frigid Morning walk
by M.J. Adams

frigid morning walk
winter caresses my cheek
while I wait for spring

Stupid Argument

Mike — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 21:03:27 +0000

Stupid Argument
by M.J. Adams

stupid argument
hot tears stinging my chapped face
as she holds my hand

Dream journey

National Treasure

Mike — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 19:44:28 +0000

It’s been a while since I posted any Poetry Challenge related material, but I thought I’d quickly post one I actually received and wrote a while ago, but never got around do posting. This was poetry challenge number five and it was sent by my friend Frank:

“Here’s a challenge-

Panda attack in Beijing

‘The panda is a national treasure, and I love and respect [him], so I didn’t fight back,’ Zhang said. ‘The panda didn’t let go until it chewed up my leg and its mouth was dripping with my blood.’”

Well, at first this just made me laugh and then I looked it up. It turns out this panda (named Gu Gu) is something of a bully and has attacked more than one person. More details can be found here including this wonderful gem:

“A year earlier, state media reported that a drunken tourist tried to hug the panda, who bit him. In an odd twist, the tourist reportedly bit back.”

Anyway, I didn’t have a lot of time to do the challenge so I just did a quick humorous (hopefully) haiku. I hope you enjoy it.

National Treasure
by M.J. Adams

national treasure –
the leg loving panda and
his blood-stained muzzle

Kafka on the Shore

Mike — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 15:14:56 +0000

“Those are life-and-death-type experiences he goes through in the mines. Eventually, he gets out and goes back to his old life. But nothing in the novel shows that he learned anything from these experiences, that his life changed, that he thought deeply now about the meaning of life or started questioning society or anything else. You don’t get any sense, either, that he’s matured. You have a strange feeling after you finish the book. It’s as if you wonder: what was Soseki trying to say? It’s as if not really knowing what he’s getting at is the part that stays with you. I can’t explain it very well.”

The excerpt above is from Haruki Murakami’s famous bestseller, Kafka on the Shore. In this quote, Kafka is trying to explain his take on a book he’s just read called The Miner by Natsume Soseki. This scene really stuck in my head as I real Kafka on the Shore, because it really described how I felt about Murakami’s novel.

The main character of this book is young, but rather grown up for his age. He leaves home and sets out on a rather strange and confusing journey through love, hidden worlds, and unseen connections to people he’s never met. The thing which really struck me is that Kafka seemed to be apart from the world when he started and remained strangely apart during the whole novel. He had little direction, but maintained strong opinions. He was sort of an intellectual child in the process of gaining manhood yet somehow the core of his being wasn’t changed by his experiences. He may have gained some hidden insight we don’t see as the reader or perhaps he gained some new direction, but we are rather uninformed about this direction other than observing a few small decisions he’s made at the end of the story. It’s as if he’s passive to the events of his life, but perhaps we’re to understand that this is how reality is. Maybe Murakami is trying to tell us that to some extent, all of us are passive in our own lives and that maybe fighting doesn’t really change the outcome.

I found it interesting that cats played an important role in this book, as they did in The Wind-up Bird Chronicle. They must have some importance to Murakami, and I can understand that, having cats of my own. I often wonder if their world is anything like Murakami suggests. I found myself much more drawn to Nakata, the elderly character who tracks lost cats. To me, he lived a simple and quite pleasant life despite his lack of intelligence. It contrasted quite sharply against the backdrop of Kafka’s complicated and strange life, but perhaps this is to remind us of the sort of strange alien life Kafka lives. It certainly felt that way to me. While reading about Nakata I felt reassured and comfortable, despite some of the strange powers he seemed to possess. While reading about Kafka, I felt nervous and uneasy, as if something wasn’t right.

I can honestly say I really enjoyed this book, but it didn’t have the same emotional impact for me that Norwegian Wood did. It was gripping, interesting and otherworldly and it definitely made me think of my own life and how I may have reacted if in Kafka’s place in the story. This isn’t a relaxing mindless book. My mind was crawling through the pages, attempting to puzzle through the various mysteries encountered. Heavy on symbolism and metaphor, with an urgent sinister feel to it, there is a reason why this novel has done so well – it is very good.

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle

Mike — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 02:44:48 +0000

I’ve recently started to read books by Haruki Murakami after having a friend recommend one of his books, Kafka on the Shore. I actually started out by reading Norwegian Wood and then moved on to the former, and I’ve recently finished The Wind-up Bird Chronicle. I plan to post reviews on the other two books soon, but The Wind-up Bird Chronicle is what I’m writing about today. I had heard that this was hailed by critics as possibly Murakami’s best work and while I haven’t read all of his books, this one is probably my favorite so far, with Norwegian Wood a close second.

The book starts out in a seemingly normal world but soon enough, things descend into a strange mix of realms, including World War 2 history, dreams, surrealism and symbolism. Unlike many books I’ve read, while the main character is trying to solve a mystery, he eyes aren’t always closed to the symbolic and surreal nature of things. In fact, in Murakami’s work the characters often talk openly about symbolism and its role in their world. I suppose you could say that his characters aren’t always very realistic, but that isn’t always the point. They’re wonderful creations, their characters a mix of normalcy and intellectualism, some of them with very real human faults. I have a feeling that Murakami casts himself in the main roles, but not his complete realistic self. Instead, he conjures up a dream version of himself, stripping away aspects of himself and adding others. His work is about him and the way he sees the world without ever nearing the realm of autobiographical fiction.

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle is essentially the story of a man fighting for his normal life in extremely abnormal ways. It isn’t a short book because it isn’t a short story. His life is transformed from normalcy into insanity. He encounters highs and lows along his journey, and sometimes those lows are masquerading as highs and vice versa. He walks through his world collecting stories from the strange people he meets on his path and using those stories as both weapons against his foes and keys to the mystery he needs to unravel. In some cases, it almost seems that he becomes each character he encounters, making him stronger for his battles. Somehow, he’s fighting for all of their futures.

One thing I’ve noticed about Murakami is that certain things seem to resonate strongly in him. It’s obvious he loves all types of music, especially jazz and classical varieties. Food is always a welcome topic for me, and I can appreciate how he weaves it into his stories. What I found strange was the fact that he mentions springs (not water, but mechanical springs – things you apparently have to wind in some way) in both Norwegian Wood and in The Wind up Bird Chronicle. I can’t recall if he used this in Kafka on the Shore, but I understand the idea. I just wonder if it is a Japanese cultural thing or if it is just a personal thing for the author. I also wonder this about his continual mentioning of the ears of women as a source of sexual attraction. Is this indicative of a wider trend in Japanese culture/society or is this just Murakami? I can get that ears can be cute, but I just don’t seem to have the level of appreciation for them that he does.

In summary, I really enjoyed this book. It isn’t a quick read, but it is a worthwhile one. For me, the reading of this book was even better when I was taking my time. It is something to be savored, as each tiny fragment of information can mean more than it may initially seem. That being said, even if you figure out some key parts of the mystery, you’ll never unravel the whole tapestry and you’ll still be left wondering what could happen next. Whether you’re in for an intellectual challenge, a mystery, pure escapism or simply a good story, this novel really is worth a read.

Winter Photos

Mike — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 22:55:58 +0000

I’ve recently gone out a couple of times during the morning and taken some photos of the surrounding area. The first time ws just a frosty day and the photos were a bit meh and the second time was a very foggy day and there was frost around as well. So, without any further fuss, here are a few of the photos I took. You can see the rest (15 in total) here.