Dazai Osamu -Oblique Sun 3-2

　Four or five days ago, after consulting with my mother, I asked Mr. Nakai, a farmer down the street, to help me, and we brought Naoharu's wardrobe, desk, bookcase, and five or six wooden boxes full of books, notebooks, etc., all the things that used to be in his room at the house in Nishikatamachi, to this place. When he came back from Tokyo, I would set up each of the chests, bookcases, etc., in a position of his choice, but until then, I thought it would be better to just leave them here in a mess. I casually picked up one of Naoharu's notebooks from a wooden box at my feet, and saw that the cover of the notebook had the words

Journal of Evening Glories

　On the cover of the notebook, the words "Yugao diary" were written, and in it, the following things were written all over. It was like Naoji's diary when he was suffering from drug addiction.

　The thought of burning to death. Don't cover up the unfathomable feeling of hell, which is unprecedented since the beginning of the human world.
　Ideas?　A lie. Principle?　A lie. Ideals?　Bullshit. Order?　No. Integrity?　Truthful?　Purity?　They are all lies. The wisteria of Ushijima is said to be 1,000 years old, and the wisteria of Kumano several hundred years old, and the longest flower ear of the former is nine feet long, while the latter is over five feet long.
　They are human children. They are alive.
　Logic is the so-called love of logic. It is not love for a living person.
　Money and women. Logic sneers and slinks away.
　Dr. Faust's brave demonstration that the smile of a virgin is more precious than the study of history, philosophy, education, religion, law, politics, economics, and society.
　Learning is another name for vanity. It is the effort of man to become less human.

　I swear, even Gaete can say that. I can write as well as I can. If you read aloud a perfect novel with no mistakes in the composition, just the right amount of comedy, sorrow that burns the reader's eyes, or solemnity that makes the reader straighten his or her so-called collar, in other words, if you read it aloud, can you write a description of Sukrin, or is it too embarrassing? I'm not sure I can write it. It is a madman's behavior to read a novel and straighten his collar. If that's the case, then you must wear a haori hakama. The better the work, the more it seems to be unpretentious. I wanted to see the smile on my friend's face, so I deliberately wrote one of my novels badly, and ran away, scratching my head and falling on my butt. Oh, the look of happiness on my friend's face at that moment!
　I'll blow a toy trumpet and tell you, here's the biggest idiot in Japan, you're still good.　What kind of love is this?
　What is this love that you wish for? He doesn't know that he is loved.
　Is there anyone who is not a bad person?
　Tasteless thoughts.
　I want money.
　Or else…
　Or I'll die of natural causes in my sleep!

　I owe the apothecary a little over a thousand yen. Today, I brought the head of the pawnshop secretly to my room and asked him if there were any pawnshops in my room that I should take, saying that I needed money urgently. Then take only the items that I have bought with my own pocket money, he said bravely, and gathered up all the junk, none of which qualified as pawnshops.
　First, a plaster figure of one hand. This is Vinasse's right hand. One hand resembling a dahlia flower, one hand completely white, just sitting there on the table. But if you look at it closely, you will see that it is the naked body of Venus, seen by a man, in a whirlwind of astonishment, shame, nakedness, thinness, all that is left of the body, a burning sensation, and this hand twisting the body. You can see that Vinasse's breathtakingly naked body begins to look so pathetic that it makes your heart ache. However, this is what we call an impractical piece of junk. The bannerman priced it at fifty cents.
　In addition, there was a large map of the suburbs of Paris, a celluloid amusement wheel with a diameter of less than a foot, and a special pen nib that could write letters thinner than thread, all of which I had bought as bargains. But he laughed and said, "I'll leave you now." I stopped him and let him carry a pile of books on his back and gave him five yen. The books on my bookshelf are almost all low-cost paperbacks, and since I buy them from used bookstores, their quality is naturally low.
　It cost me 5 yen to settle a debt of 1,000 yen. That's about how good I am in this world. It's no laughing matter.

　Decadent?　But I can't live without it, you know. I'd rather have someone who says, "Die" than someone who condemns me for saying that.　I'd rather have someone who says, "Die! I feel refreshed. However, people rarely say "Die!　But people rarely say "Die! You stingy, cautious hypocrites.
　Righteousness?　That is not the essence of the so-called class struggle. Humanity?　No kidding. I know what it is. It's about defeating the other side for our own well-being. To kill. Die!　If that's not a sentence, I don't know what is. Don't cheat.
　But there are no good guys in our class either. Morons, ghosts, money-grubbers, mad dogs, hooligans, gosaimasulu, pissing from the clouds.
　Die!　It's a waste of time to even give them a word.

　War. Japan's war is a joke.
　I don't want to be caught up in that shit and die. I'd rather die alone.

　Whenever a human being tells a lie, he or she puts on a serious face. That's how serious our leaders are these days. Pfft!

　I want to play with people who do not want to be respected by others.
　But such nice people won't play with me.

　When I pretended to be precocious, people talked about me as being precocious. When I pretended to be a lazy person, people said I was a lazy person. When I pretended I couldn't write a novel, people said I couldn't write. When I pretended to be a liar, people said I was a liar. When I pretended to be rich, people said I was rich. When I pretended to be cold-hearted, people said I was a cold-hearted person. But when I was in real pain and moaned involuntarily, people said I was pretending to be in pain.
　It didn't seem right.

　In the end, I had no choice but to kill myself.
　When I thought that suffering like this would only end in suicide, I let out a cry.

　On a spring morning, the morning sun was shining on the branch of a plum tree with two or three blossoming flowers, and a young student from Heidelberg was strangled to death on the branch.

"Mama!　Scold me, please!
What do you want?
"Wimp!　Wimp!
Yeah?　Wimp. …… That's enough, okay?
　Moms are incomparably good. When I think of her, I want to cry. I'm going to die to apologize to her.

　Please help me. Ima, ichiidodake, oyurushishimasai.

Year after year
As I see it
A crane's chicks
I'm growing up
I'll be back in a few days.

　Morphine, atromol, narcopone, pantopone, pabinal, pan-o-pin, atropine.

　What is pride? What is pride?
　Can't a man, or rather a man, live his life without thinking, "I am superior" or "I have a good point"?
　Disliking others and being disliked by others.
　It's called "Chie-kurabe.

　Solemnity = a sense of stupidity

　Anyway, since I'm alive, I must be cheating.

　A letter of application for a loan.
"Please answer me.
　Please answer me.
　Please answer me, and let it be a good news.
　I groaned to myself, thinking of all the humiliations I had suffered.
　I'm not playing a role. I'm definitely not.
　Please, please.
　I'm dying of embarrassment.
　I'm not exaggerating.
　I have been shaking night and day, waiting for your answer every day.
　Don't make me bite the sand.
　I hear a sneer coming from the wall, and late at night, I'm tossing and turning in the floor.
　Don't make me feel ashamed.
　Sis!

　I closed the journal, returned it to its wooden box, walked to the window, opened it fully, looked down at the garden smoky with white rain, and thought about those days.
　It's been six years since then. Naoji's drug addiction was the cause of my divorce, no, I shouldn't say that. Naoji often asked me for money to pay the apothecary. I had just married into the Yamaki family, so I didn't have that much money at my disposal, and it seemed like a bad idea to secretly lend the money from my bride's family to my brother in my village. My brother sent me a letter asking for some money, and I told him that I was in too much pain and embarrassment to see my sister or even talk to her on the phone. He has a reputation as a vicious person, but he is not such a person. I don't want Mom to find out about this addiction, I'm going to do something to get rid of this addiction without her knowing, if I get the money from her, I'll pay the apothecary all I owe him, and then I'll go to the villa in Shiobara and come back with a healthy body. I swear to God that I will stop using drugs from that day on, and please believe me, I will ask Mr. Uehara at the Kayano Apartments for money without telling my mother. But my brother's oaths in his letters were always false, he never went to the villa in Shiobara, his drug addiction seemed to be getting worse and worse, and his letters begging for money were written in a painful, almost screaming tone. In his letters begging for money, he would swear in a pained tone that he would stop taking the medicine this time, so sorrowful that I wanted to turn my face away from him. Even though I thought he might be lying again, I made him sell his brooch to Mr. Oseki and send the money to Mr. Uehara's apartment.
What kind of person is Mr. Uehara?
He's a small, pale, ugly man.
　He is a small, pale, ugly man," Oseki answered.
He's a small, pale, ugly man," Oseki replied. Most of the time, it's just his wife and his two children, six or seven. This wife is not very beautiful, but she seems to be a kind and well-balanced person. I can leave my money in her hands without worry.
　At that time, I was a carefree person, like a different person compared to the person I am now, but still, the continual requests for more and more money made me worry so much that on my way home from Noh, I returned my car at Ginza and walked alone to Kayano's apartment in Kyobashi.