Monologue of the New Moon
I set aside all attributes and labels for a moment. Not as someone's shield, nor as someone's mirror, but simply as a single, vulnerable man. I am on the way to myself.
I'm on the way to myself.
What I do
In the veil of late night, I pluck the raw strings of my guitar and let words run across the screen of darkness.
Currently, I spend my days pouring my soul into the 'raw expression' of films and writing long-form reviews.
What I like
Music, film, reading, and poetry, regardless of era or genre. Or, through these, engaging in a dialogue with the abyss of my own self.
I prefer expressions where human flaws are laid bare over polished entertainment or easy coherence. For me, watching a film is not a pastime; it is akin to the work of reliving another life.
Why I started note
To find a place to set down the monologue of an individual, unbound by societal labeling, attributes, or symbols.
Who is Saku?
I am the survivor of a 10-year-old boy who, on that night over 30 years ago, began measuring the temperature of milk for his crying younger sibling. With a guitar in hand, I abandoned the rails of compulsory education and took it upon myself to protect the lives of my family. Society might call that a 'young carer,' but for me, it was the purest beginning of the existence known as 'me'.
What I believe in
More than the mask of a perfect hero, I believe in the calluses on my fingertips and the will to stare at the screen in the darkness.
People do not have the right to exist because they can do something or because they are useful. I believe in the weight of simply being there as an irreplaceable 'me' and 'you.' I sometimes see that truth in the nameless characters within films.
Why I write here, now
To shed the obsession of being a mirror to someone else and the quagmire of self-justification, and to breathe as a single man.
Whether I finish reading Kierkegaard or drown in the abyss of some heavy masterpiece, in the end, I close the book, turn off the screen, and pick up my guitar. I don't plug in the amp. It would be a disaster if the neighbors complained.
What I will write about from now on
The days spent swimming in a sea of hundreds, thousands of stories, struggling within the cage of social systems, and the raw sound of an unplugged guitar. I will leave it all behind not as an 'aesthetic,' but as a record of a living body. (I'm not saying it will be easy to understand. It almost always turns into a long read.)
Where I am heading
I'm on the way to myself.
If society wants to call my current situation that of a victim, let them call it what they want.
I haven't sold myself so cheaply as to ask the world for change. The weight of the life I protected while covered in mud that night is my only reward now, and a shield that no one can take away.
Call me detached from reality, or say my film reviews are obsessive—say what you like. I take it all as a compliment. (Because I'm an idiot.)
The new moon (Saku) does not shine. But it is certainly there in the darkness.
I begin to play my guitar quietly, all alone, in the veil of late night. I don't plug in the amp. It would be bad if I got kicked out of the apartment.