How to find my articles
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Thursday, May 21, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Eiko Onoda - Corrosion
Eiko Onoda - Slashdot Archives I
Eiko Onoda - Personal Letters
Eiko Onoda - Technocrat.net Journals
Eiko Onoda - Images
Eiko Onoda - List of Communities
Eiko Onoda - Slashdot Comments
Eiko Onoda - Slashdot Journals
Eiko Onoda - Slado Archives
Eiko Onoda - MySpace Archives
Eiko Onoda - Slashdot Archives III
Eiko Onoda - Slashdot Archives II
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Thursday, March 19, 2009
Eiko Onoda's interview
About me
This 'journal of mercedo' is totally dedicated to one woman whom I met with in Trecca, Kyoto, Japan on the 23rd of December, 1986 for the first time and probably the last time in our life. We will never see one another again, but my journal entry will continue till I receive a reply from her that'll never be likely to occur. She came into pieces and shining in the sky, and not in the least existing in my mind. I can see her smiling at me. Don't worry, she had just got married to another guy. Born in Kokura, south-west Japan, 1961, I raised up as a most prosperous guy who'd always been located in second to none in all school I attended, now I started my trek to see her again till the end of time, waiting your reply. I published my first novel 'The Eve' in 1978, now those who noticed who I am, please keep secret. For the moment I would like to enjoy being anonymous. My trek continues...
I'm looking for
Love
Friends to go out with
I'm living
Alone
I'm living
in an appartement
Colour of your eyes
Brown
Colour of your hair
Black
Weight (pounds)
170 cm 62 kg
Clothing style
Bohemian
Jeans
Favourite clothings brand
Levis
What are you wearing now?
training wear
Favourite tv channel
BBC1
BBC2
Mobile brand
Motorola
Favourite car brand
MERCEDES-BENZ
How many times did you try to get your driving-licence?
3 times
Favourite journal
Herald Tribune
Best travelling experience
Travelled all over the world
Worst travelling experience
All travels were fine.
Favourite cities abroad
Paris
Cologne
Brussels
London
Berlin
Cork
München
Milan
Venice
Dublin
Smoker?
I've stopped smoking!
Tobacco brand (if smoker)
Rothmans
Do you drink a lot of alcohol?
No
Favourite non alcoholic drink
Schweppes
Favourite radio channel
BBC
Favourite books or writers
Moby Dick
What do you think is romantic?
Walking on the street full of yellow leaves
The best thing ever happened to you
Awarded by Minister of Science and technology Agency at age 13
What do you hate?
Those who hate people
At what time do you go to bed?
Depends
Do you have friends that are living abroad?
Yes
Homepage
www.blogger.com/profile/11854854
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Thursday, January 01, 2009
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Frequently use site
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Sunday, June 03, 2007
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Onoda
Onoda - A Record of An Age -Lists of all journals &The Seal of Mercedo
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Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
groupehudson.com
User mercedo http://groupehudson.com/postnuke/index.php
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Monday, January 30, 2006
Change
Starport, http://starport.dnsalias.net/
Technocrat.net, http://old.technocrat.net/~mercedo/journal/ includes my comments in the past and journals, and in http://new.technocrat.net/ I intend to post a comment, I will relocate my comments here to the old site, journal section.
or in Slashdot.org http://slashdot.org/~mercedo/
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I Am Usually In..
Starport,
http://starport.dnsalias.net/
Technocrat.net,
http://old.technocrat.net/~mercedo/journal/
or in Slashdot.org
http://slashdot.org/~mercedo/
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Thursday, January 26, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Monday, January 09, 2006
Monday, December 05, 2005
Friday, December 02, 2005
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
The Eve - Complete Version
The Eve - Complete Version
2005.06.21 0:09
For what to be is, not to be is, soul, God....for what greens, flowers, rivers, forests are...... No water, my head is dried up. And again, not to be. Music, subsequently again, a woman. .........Sense! Thus my head thinks. And again I am. And again it's music. Subsequently again......One woman. And again I,Never am dubious I am. I am never dubious I am. And again flowers. Once flowers are my foe......it's too small. And again my friend......it's too big. And again it's not to be, that's it. From next to not to be.My mind is too big, because my capacity is too small. My mind is just a being. I respect to be existing. A woman is a child. Because a man is a dog. And again, my head thinks. I think senses. Nobody can write. Therefore I can't write.
Marriage in natural consequences. Meaningless discharge. Excess. Eyes listen to all the voices, a mouth sees some voices, and my head to eat. Because as if a horse sees fire, mist implies an atomosphere, there's no word. Substance that just exists, life derived from inconsistency, Sycamoreleaf tree born from the soul, then again a rotten head. A big pot, this dried up hair that brought me former victory. The acts of butchery is so sore in my eyes, once I loved the perfect darkness, and there's something, the epitaph on the grave that relish having them freezed the hands that's unable to grasp anything.
I had seen in sequence. I thought the fear and remained it in the brain. And again the thought of genius injured my brain, and had me drink fresh tomato juice. I had seen in sequence freely. My world has two, and was completely different. One is I had seen the fate in sequence, and the other is I had seen...... what I understand. Those are a man and God, a sphynx and a lion. Delirium is order, because I had seen it.
What I saw the next was just a vacant hole, glass and lenses, a carriage and light, a brain that thinks nothing, something without eyes, a woman who has got a clot blood from a nose to a head, it's the eve, everyday I stop thinking, everyday I am just the things, power and light, dream and substance, tepid crisis, and crisis, oh my head, I will follow my head!Oh I see, and my head felt. My consciousness keeps on, a treason drowned, a freeman crossed the car, tomorrow night I will see a woman, talk to a guy who has got fish hands.I am never aware of it. I came to be violent extremely.
It's night. A thought never exists. I am the only poet, and a bunch of flowers. A man wearing suits stepped downstairs, heading for the car, as if a bull were slipping away from cliff.
What did I see? I saw everything, the whole things that exist now. Arthur Rimbaud signified me extremely. He is a big being, a human, a bull. That's not connected to Satan. Light is aware of him and being made him mad goes ahead from the deep mountains now. The eve is long.
If everything exists, there's no my nose. Because into my nose I had given a mad screw, a ballpoint pen like a watch, little by little for a long time. If I've got a thought, it's a sound. No news. A primitive figure changes since long ago, a deep light my head is aware of, and it's also a cool drop as if it were pouring. One big needle in the air of wrath as if it were boiling. They've got no chances to get out of it, rule over me, annihilate me, annoy me, oppress the feeling whether summer is better than winter, smashed the wild pig and put them into my eyes, decrease my sense extremely, killed my reason which ordered that I should hate a guy, am I serious that order I should know God, am I me?
I am exhausted. If I had things to see to seek for a console land, an upper arms of a woman, I feel comfort, the bosoms that are her figure are as natural as possible. That's also a life, and an integration. Therefore I feel tired and went to a distant desert, found three stars, admire Magi as Angels, breathed a sacred breath to the Tristar, hate the ones who want to be the art themselves.
I deny. I'm exhausted, totally exhausted. I saw an upgoing shooting star far away.
As if God wants to be God, men want to be men, I am to be me, passing through night and day, hens provide fresh blood at dawn, I will face 33 men with the help of women. When I found them just a breath I hugged women, went to the town of St Lous in the north, gripped the powdered milk, cried as a mad man, she went up to the heaven there, when I saw it she was contained by an angelic light, when my mouth swallowed everything passing through day, night and morning, and again I myself fell into being, day by day saw men, towns, a cross and saw music and I found human culture stands on the roof and the extraterrestrial's real image that has been making a great effort to establish the human symbol in it, and submit to the day to come, is that OK? What I saw at the same time becomes past, present and future over time, over lands, over the sea, over the green eyes, sink into the bottom of the sea, melt with modern science, over men, over women's body, I would rather feel hot than I perspire seeing the dream, melt with humans who live in the vessel of the hands than being harmed by animals that direct the cruel tanks. ______
Someone let him know where I'm heading for. I saw what I saw. I am insisting I saw what we are unable to see. I'm saying I see tanks in the violet, a big face near rthe horizon.
Blood is a piece of buttonWhen I look into it, that draws the archWhen I look down it, that is above the head
Mountains respect the valleyBecause the high is bloodThe low is button
As such I came madAs if I were eatingAs if it were a mad tailIt sprung it dispersed as if eyes were hurt by it
There's no guaranty for Self to be the same as the self being concious at present. As well, time comes over the description and men eat quicksilver in the thermometre. What they eat is as good as decay or my gray matter is, prosecute the fruition in perseverances, and why not prepare for the day to come
Yet, yet it's eve. Tomorrow I will find myself to be sober, oh, witches. ____
Stop. It is necessary for me to take a rest for the day to come. I perspired. I saw the moon. At dawn over the mountains, over the valley, over the dream, pick out a piece of stone, throw it to the tristar far away on the top of the mountain, stars include the night, praise the 'world' we live___in order for us to need a finger to point, direct the clock.
To the bottom of the muddy pondTremendously big stone was thrownDispersed black dyed the stars in the night
Then'Cat's Eyes'Gave off the light suddenly from the utter blackSignified the universe all at once
After thatFrom the Alps MountainsTremendously small piano came out
Don't be afraid ofNow Mrs XXFell off and passed
-Jul/27, 1978
II - Before Dawn
When the flowers submerged deep into being which exists in dried up hairs of head brought about the praise of light for us with noisy crowdsTo the houses of daughters who have had various spores on their bodiesFootsteps of young workers who make an offer for help
Several feelings of touch by Gods in heaven that approve such everythingIn short pigs love a treePraise songs for Christmas whips these badly And again the skins of our hands fell into being I tried to laugh at
With some reason or other it seems to look white for meWomen's bosoms laughing at the lightIn front of me, without time to breathe Cats go up
In sequence a car begins to moveWhen the donkies that feed smoke and live in the mist on the road with harsh trees as if they are dried ink in the penBecause that brought the biggest relish for me, in consequence women eat worms in their houses
It's like an odour under the armpitThen the lights in the houses are put off The reason black colour makes yellow colour be conspicuous isSeems a cobra beside the hedge is licking my hands Trees are green
Why here is a road before a railway stationPeople take such as these living feet to the tower It's easy though of women to be pregnant in the book's numerous pagesBeing unable to recover from tiredness When I drank up...
When I drank up the canned mineral there soon I find the shape that has been openning the universeIron chains build the gate a bunch of angels are come off their wingsAlong with me are an eye of a woman and the piece of her legs bully meWere I not told I knowFor iron to start eating from papers a bunch of leathers are destroying a scale a footstep in Amazon is always the first
The bullets from the helicopterAlways I pretend to see them when I eat clamsDream of rhino in the water of the river that bears fatigue starts giving off the light soon When I know their eyes I dance and break their cornsThat the breathing of Hercules spreads a piece of papers from the darkness of the universe from ancient times to nowIt means adversary by the Devil against God the sound of typewriter my eyes that imagine from various forms of women tomorrow
Soon the morning comesSpin makes the use of colour pencils the drops of the eyes flow never forgive itThe world of geology is closed women's eyes opened the everything adorned the eyes seems to know in their feet
But the day I saw armadilo in my dreamIt seems I am about to know the lactose like camels that means a womanSo it seems as if it were like a magicInquery bears various naughty deedsDandy murmering seems to have the road that want the slopeThe grasp of story makes the development of mountains easier, the pond that see it has been losing its waterA flock of birds turn around and go to the east in sequenceI don't know from when but seem unable to tellYet then since Jona in rivers uses the petIt is noxious of me the feeling of delight the mistery bearsThe woman said so these few daysBecause she opened her eyes in her hairstyle -ponytailSeems I am here and a bike keeps on running why not enjoy days of running across the hellYet, certainly because the bossom of that woman is a cry of animalsThough it's fine story I suck though my mouth the eye of figs it sucks though I grip It is interesting that is better than the ones of a woman whose head is big and no contentsThe man saying so in the rice fieldsSeems trying to catch and kill eelsJust in time the fighter planes go aroundSeems to cut a head in sequence is namely as followsSince no meal tomorrow on the matt because I found the evening the moon appears in simply mountains I come to look for a bunch of these men uneasy to know we have to watch againover the tent a flock of sheep seeking for water in riverIt seems they come somewhere they ask where the face of big man of birds flying over the skyThe fact that the face may flyis similar to the fact that it is useless for you to try to stop for nothing to stick
Such these arebecause the shooting stars like bullets in the bulls in a ranchI wonder why I seem to start learning the fellows that inspire
Even though I am looking down our school building thusA woman's legs a little bit distinguished flying in my big sky Seems between mountains in the left and rivers in the right my way to live can be foundThe preys I aimed at here running away moreMy rifle is not like thatBecause the footsteps of a woman I saw in the snowfall of Himalayas presumesIt is not permissableAnyway flowersAre looking down the skies spectacularly, so it is no way for me to try to compare such various events with a good night sleep of virginsThe pen's needle that run on the figure boardIs the same as to be vacant of windmills even the clock can't see soSince it is not applicable to me, anyone that knows the secret of girls is similar to the mountain clibming party in search of Sascatch primates that always see mists in the wind dare not try to run a risk, that's me Then a cry in the blood comes out of the arms in my right leg start opearating slowlyOr the height limit of bridge of friends that drops day and night had sufferred me
Being reevaluate me soon in the dayI feel so mysterious as the cutting edge of handkerchief appears to be painted in blood By the way as I know itSince nothing other than a woman in front of a mirror seems to be conscious of me so beautifully
In the moment I know the face of men that got wet housewives in nude on the shinning pacific ocean performedThings reached in these stages the battle makes platoons in Guadalcanal scattered
Glasses are broken Seems men in suits Are attempting to strungle schools through always passing the narrow path along the streamI was unable to see it the fear, since I like the girls first of allTo hear it is necessary to smell the blood of bossoms of cradles for a woman to walk makes dirty the staircase
Though it's incredibly good feelingI declare I don't know I pull out of the one I stick soonMistresses that are told I am sleeping with a very good feeling from the unexpected places are happy
Because the movement of pen that draws this time from the long animal's life is the length of a neck of swan that gives a woman happinessThis I am afraid to have the days autumn's evening dusk that is not thought to be extraordinarily unusual of me to have snowfall is splendid
Summer days though I'm afaid it is my weakness
Erase ink stop killingEvening dusk is the sunset in the morning that draws on the waterIrons kick out of stonesFuture makes this timeSince astronomy is openIt is summer evening dusk of flying days
Even though I've got to be accused of what I was unaware to have doneVictims dyed foeigners in blackBlack sunset is not allowed to be limited thereAnd I try licking the hands
In variousevening sunset my head is vacant
Yet I goI don't think it's a curse realityAs if birds are pricking on the verge of watersI keep secret on what I ever didI must go in order to leaveIt is more that thoseBecause dead corpse is said to be dirtyAs I sought for vivid woman bodies
Then few days passedMid-winter days that appears the days which do not have to hold my palpitation
Summer sunset I go in time of sunriseThat means 'approval'I hear the sound of clear stream that says go as it isFrom the foot of that mountainWe were supposed to have seen the figure of townsI've got to give up this winter daysBanish summerOn the burning woman's bodiesSince I was about to know extraordinary things
Since everything such these are the concerto on the water I was totally unable to catch up withIt is as good as hotels since it seems to know the collapse it comes to clear by using detergent
In the storm one ship go sailingA mouse diesI wonder he knew this dayI would rather like a small insectI saw the avenue in the bathtub
I passed half of this dayI am here not knowing I always stand in front of us
Sep/20/1980
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Previous Posts
- How to find my articles
- Eiko Onoda - CorrosionEiko Onoda - Slashdot Archiv...
- Eiko Onoda's interviewAbout meThis 'journal of mer...
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About Me
- Name: James Mercedo
Born in Kokura, Japan, 1961. Kokura High School, High skills technical school (2017). Works; Metaphysical Pure Poesy( 1978 ) The Eve ( 1978 ) A Letter of The Wise ( 1979 ) The Declaration of War ( 1980 ) A Letter of Universal Man ( 1980 )
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