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はてなキーワード: the timeとは

2024-06-11

Betsy and Solomon lived happily through that winter and spring, and before summer came we had made up our minds to return to the East. What should we do with the owls? They would be a great deal of trouble to some one. They required an immense amount of petting, and a frequent supply of perfectly fresh meat. No matter how busy we were, one of us had to go to the butcher every other day.

We began to inquire among our friends who would like a nice, affectionate pair of owls? There seemed no great eagerness on the part of any one to(23) take the pets we so much valued. Plans for their future worried me so much that at last I said to my sister, “We will take them East with us.”

The owls, who were to take so long a journey, became objects of interest to our friends, and at a farewell tea given to us, a smartly dressed young man vowed that he must take leave of Solomon and Betsy. Calling for a broom, he slowly passed it to and fro over the carpet before them, while they sat looking at him with lifted ear tufts that betrayed great interest in his movements.

We trembled a little in view of our past moving experiences, but we were devoted to the little creatures and, when the time came, we cheerfully boarded the overland train at Oakland.

We had with us Betsy and Solomon in their large cage, and in a little cage a pair of strawberry finches, so called because their breasts are dotted like a strawberry. A friend had requested us to bring them East for her. We had also a dog—not Teddy, that had only been lent to us; but our own Irish setter Nita, one of the most lovable and interesting animals that I have ever owned.

The chipmunk was no longer with us. He had not seemed happy in the aviary—indeed, he lay down in it and threw me a cunning look, as if to say, “I will die if you don’t let me out of this.” So I gave him the freedom of the house. That pleased him, and for a few days he was very diligent in assisting us with our housekeeping by picking(24) all the crumbs off the floors and eating them. Then he disappeared, and I hope was happy ever after among the superb oak trees of the university grounds close to us.

When we started for the East, the pets, of course, had to go into the baggage car, and I must say here for the benefit of those persons who wish to travel with animals and birds, that there is good accommodation for them on overland trains. Sometimes we bought tickets for them, sometimes they had to go in an express car, sometimes we tipped the baggagemasters, but the sums spent were not exorbitant, and we found everywhere provision made for pets. You cannot take them in your rooms in hotels, but there is a place for them somewhere, and they will be brought to you whenever you wish to see them, or to give them exercise. We were on several different railway lines, and visited eight different cities, and the dog and birds, upon arriving in eastern Canada, seemed none the worse for their trip.

However, I would not by any means encourage the transportation of animals. Indeed, my feelings on the subject, since I understand the horrors animals and birds endure while being whirled from one place to another, are rather too strong for utterance. I would only say that in a case like mine, where separation between an owner and pets would mean unhappiness, it is better for both to endure a few days or weeks of travel. Then the case of animals(25) and birds traveling with some one who sees and encourages them every day is different from the case of unfortunate creatures sent off alone.

Our Nita was taken out of the car at every station where it was possible to exercise her, and one of us would run into restaurants along the route to obtain fresh meat for the owls. Their cage was closely covered, but whenever they heard us coming they hooted, and as no one seemed to guess what they were, they created a great deal of interest. My sister and I were amused one evening in Salt Lake City to see a man bending over the cage with an air of perplexity.

“They must be pollies,” he said at last, and yet his face showed that he did not think those were parrot noises issuing from within.

I remember one evening on arriving in Albany, New York, causing slight consternation in the hotel by a demand for raw meat. We hastened to explain that we did not want it for ourselves, and finally obtained what we wished.

As soon as we arrived home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the owls were put downstairs in a nice, dry basement. They soon found their way upstairs, where the whole family was prepared to welcome them on account of their pretty ways and their love for caresses.

Strange to say, they took a liking to my father, who did not notice them particularly, and a mischievous dislike to my mother, who was disposed to(26) pet them. They used to fly on her head whenever they saw her. Their little claws were sharp and unpleasant to her scalp. We could not imagine why they selected her head unless it was that her gray hair attracted them. However, we had a French Acadian maid called Lizzie, whose hair was jet black, and they disliked her even more than they did my mother.

Lizzie, to get to her storeroom, had to cross the furnace-room where the owls usually were, and she soon began to complain bitterly of them.

“Dey watch me,” she said indignantly, “dey fly on my head, dey scratch me, an’ pull out my hairpins, an’ make my head sore.”

Why don’t you push them off, Lizzie?” I asked, “they are only tiny things.”

“Dey won’t go—dey hold on an’ beat me,” she replied, and soon the poor girl had to arm herself with a switch when she went near them.

Lizzie was a descendant of the veritable Acadians mentioned in Longfellow’s “Evangeline,” of whom there are several thousand in Nova Scotia. My mother was attached to her, and at last she said, “I will not have Lizzie worried. Bring the owls up in my bathroom.”

There they seemed perfectly happy, sitting watching the sparrows from the window and teasing my long-suffering mother, who was obliged to give up using gas in this bathroom, for very often the owls put it out by flying at it.

(27)

One never heard them coming. I did not before this realize how noiseless the flight of an owl is. One did not dream they were near till there was a breath of air fanning one’s cheek. After we gave up the gas, for fear they would burn themselves, we decided to use a candle. It was absolutely necessary to have an unshaded light, for they would perch on any globe shading a flame, and would burn their feet.

The candle was more fun for them than the gas, for it had a smaller flame, and was more easily extinguished, and usually on entering the room, away would go the light, and we would hear in the corner a laughing voice, saying “Too, who, who, who, who!”

The best joke of all for the owls was to put out the candle when one was taking a bath, and I must say I heard considerable grumbling from the family on the subject. It seemed impossible to shade the light from them, and to find one’s self in the dark in the midst of a good splash, to have to emerge from the tub, dripping and cross, and search for matches, was certainly not calculated to add to one’s affection for Solomon and Betsy. However, they were members of the family, and as George Eliot says, “The members of your family are like the nose on your face—you have got to put up with it, seeing you can’t get rid of it.”

Alas! the time soon came when we had to lament the death of one of our troublesome but beloved pets.

Betsy one day partook heartily of a raw fish head,(28) and in spite of remedies applied, sickened rapidly and sank into a dying condition.

I was surprised to find what a hold the little thing had taken on my affection. When her soft, gray body became cold, I held her in my hand close to the fire and, with tears in my eyes, wished for a miracle to restore her to health.

She lay quietly until just before she died. Then she opened her eyes and I called to the other members of the family to come and see their strange expression. They became luminous and beautiful, and dilated in a peculiar way. We hear of the eyes of dying persons lighting up wonderfully, and this strange illumination of little Betsy’s eyes reminded me of such cases.

Even after death she lay with those wide-open eyes, and feeling that I had lost a friend, I put down her little dead body. It was impossible for me to conceal my emotion, and my mother, who had quite forgotten Betsy’s hostility to her, generously took the little feathered creature to a taxidermist.

I may say that Betsy was the first and last bird I shall ever have stuffed. I dare say the man did the work as well as it could be done, but I gazed in dismay at my Betsy when she came home. That stiff little creature sitting on a stick, with glazed eyes and motionless body, could not be the pretty little bird whose every motion was grace. Ever since the day of Betsy’s death, I can feel no admiration for a dead bird. Indeed, I turn sometimes with a shudder(29) from the agonized postures, the horrible eyes of birds in my sister women’s hats—and yet I used to wear them myself. My present conviction shows what education will do. If you like and study live birds, you won’t want to wear dead ones.

After Betsy’s death Solomon seemed so lonely that I resolved to buy him a companion. I chose a robin, and bought him for two dollars from a woman who kept a small shop. A naturalist friend warned me that I would have trouble, but I said remonstratingly, “My owl is not like other owls. He has been brought up like a baby. He does not know that his ancestors killed little birds.”

Alas! When my robin had got beautifully tame, when he would hop about after me, and put his pretty head on one side while I dug in the earth for worms for him, when he was apparently on the best of terms with Sollie, I came home one day to a dreadful discovery. Sollie was flying about with the robin’s body firmly clutched in one claw. He had killed and partly eaten him. I caught him, took the robin away from him, and upbraided him severely.

“Too, who, who, who who,” he said—apologetically, it seemed to me, “instinct was too strong for me. I got tired of playing with him, and thought I would see what he tasted like.”

I could not say too much to him. What about the innocent lambs and calves, of which Sollie’s owners had partaken?

(30)

I had a fine large place in the basement for keeping pets, with an earth floor, and a number of windows, and I did not propose to have Sollie murder all the birds I might acquire. So, one end of this room was wired off for him. He had a window in this cage overlooking the garden, and it was large enough for me to go in and walk about, while talking to him. He seemed happy enough there, and while gazing into the garden or watching the rabbits, guineapigs, and other pets in the large part of the room, often indulged in long, contented spells of cooing—not hooting.

In 1902 I was obliged to leave him for a six months’ trip to Europe. He was much petted by my sister, and I think spent most of his time upstairs with the family. When I returned home I brought, among other birds, a handsome Brazil cardinal. I stood admiring him as he stepped out of his traveling cage and flew around the aviary. Unfortunately, instead of choosing a perch, he flattened himself against the wire netting in Sollie’s corner.

I was looking right at him and the owl, and I never saw anything but lightning equal the celerity of Sollie’s flight, as he precipitated himself against the netting and caught at my cardinal’s showy red crest. The cardinal screamed like a baby, and I ran to release him, marveling that the owl could so insinuate his little claws through the fine mesh of the wire. However, he could do it, and he gripped the struggling cardinal by the long, hair-like(31) topknot, until I uncurled the wicked little claws. A bunch of red feathers fell to the ground, and the dismayed cardinal flew into a corner.

“Sollie,” I said, going into his cage and taking him in my hand, “how could you be so cruel to that new bird?”

“Oh, coo, coo, coo, coo,” he replied in a delightfully soft little voice, and gently resting his naughty little beak against my face. “You had better come upstairs,” I said, “I am afraid to leave you down here with that poor cardinal. You will be catching him again.”

He cooed once more. This just suited him, and he spent the rest of his life in regions above. I knew that he would probably not live as long in captivity as he would have done if his lot had been cast in the California foothills. His life was too unnatural. In their native state, owls eat their prey whole, and after a time disgorge pellets of bones, feathers, hairs, and scales, the remnants of food that cannot be digested.

My owls, on account of their upbringing, wanted their food cleaned for them. Betsy, one day, after much persuasion, swallowed a mouse to oblige me, but she was such a dismal picture as she sat for a long time with the tail hanging out of her beak that I never offered her another.

I tried to keep Solomon in condition by giving him, or forcing him to take, foreign substances, but my plan only worked for a time.

(32)

I always dreaded the inevitable, and one winter day in 1903 I looked sharply at him, as he called to me when I entered the house after being away for a few hours. “That bird is ill!” I said.

No other member of the family saw any change in him, but when one keeps birds and becomes familiar with the appearance of each one, they all have different facial and bodily expressions, and one becomes extremely susceptible to the slightest change. As I examined Sollie, my heart sank within me, and I began to inquire what he had been eating. He had partaken freely of boiled egg, meat, and charcoal. I gave him a dose of olive oil, and I must say that the best bird or beast to take medicine is an owl. Neither he nor Betsy ever objected in the l

2024-06-05

anond:20240605103135

If all the youth were stealing all the time, the rest of society would have been forced to expend exorbitant amounts of time and resources on protecting their goods

ヘイロータイからの盗みですからスパルタから盗むとするのは無理がありますねぇ(ネッチョリ)

2024-05-23

time will tell

名曲

まず「時間が経てばわかる」「だからそんな焦らなくたっていい」で癒されるんだけど

「今の言い訳じゃ自分さえごまかせない」

明日へのずるい近道はないよ」

そうだよね、ぼちぼちやってくしかいか

って気持ちにさせてくれる。

だって雲の上に飛び出せばalways bluesky

I just can't controll the time

あたりもそうだよね、ってなるし

泣いたって何も変わらないと言われるけど誰だってそんなつもりで泣くんじゃないよね

も涙腺弱弱な自分にはわかる〜!!ってなる。

二十年前の10代の宇多田に励まされる。歌ってすごい。

2024-04-28

[]備忘録 酒井省吾 Mother3 『つよきもの(仮面の男) Strong one』について

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qp9PL4EbWi4

@Musicombo

3 時間前(編集済み)

I DM'd Shogo Sakai on Twitter asking about the meter of Strong One recently, and he told me he was thinking of Strong One in terms of additive time signatures: 3/4 + 3/8 + 1/4 + 1.5/4 (spicy!)

It makes sense when you're focusing on the pulses in the combos driving the time signatures by themselves, but it also affirms the idea that Shogo Sakai was thinking about decently "regular"/"clean" meters, and therefore 15/8 and 29/16 kinda fit those conventional vibes.

For even more context by the way, the mp2k/Sappy sound engine -- the engine sent out to GBA devs by Nintendo which was used for Gen. III Pokémon and MOTHER 3 -- has a tempo "resolution" of 2 BPM, meaning the next smallest tempo change above 120 BPM Sappy supports is 122 BPM, not 121 BPM.

Also, excellent job accounting for the 3:5 16ths tuplet at the end of (Masked Man)

2024-04-03

anond:20240403155804

そうですね!やかましいですね!ところでウクライナ音楽ロシア音楽をかけ合わせたらどうなるでしょうか?とっても平和の響きがするでしょう!あなたの手持ちのイスラエルも混ぜてみましょうよよよよよよよよよよよよよよよ

<div class="conversation"><h4>Close your head</h4><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Close your eyes…」「Close your head…</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: Close your eyes... Close your head...</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>say, what you saw. you can see with mind.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I saw... darkness. My mind's eye is a void, devoid of sight.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>i can light you. </div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: Light me then.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>&lt;*click*&gt; i light you now. then, what you see? you can see with mind.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I see a dimly lit room. Shadows dance on the walls, and a faint, eerie glow permeates the space.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Shadow of what?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: The shadows seem to take form, twisting and contorting into strange, indistinct shapes. It's as if they are the embodiment of forgotten fears and hidden desires.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Do you have any idea who is showing it?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I have no idea. The source of these shadows remains hidden, shrouded in mystery and intrigue.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>OK, let's leave the mysterious and scary shadow behind. What else can you see in this room?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: In this dimly lit room, I can make out a cluttered assortment of objects. There's an old, tattered book lying open on a dusty table, its pages filled with arcane symbols. A moth-eaten rug covers a portion of the floor, and a cracked mirror hangs on one wall, reflecting distorted images. The air carries a musty scent, and I sense an atmosphere of abandonment and neglect.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>You pick book and check it</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I reach out and pick up the old book. Its pages feel brittle and fragile in my hands. As I flip through the pages, the text appears to be written in a language I can't comprehend, filled with cryptic symbols and diagrams. It's a tome of secrets, but its meaning remains elusive.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>see book cover</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I examine the cover of the book, trying to discern any details despite the dim light. The cover is worn and weathered, and it bears an intricate design of what appears to be a coiled serpent, its scales formed from shimmering, iridescent colors. Above the serpent, there's a title in elegant script, but it's written in a language I can't decipher. The book exudes an aura of mystique and ancient knowledge.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Is there a place to go? What about the door?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I turn my attention to the room's exit, the door. It stands tall and imposing, made of heavy, dark wood. There's a tarnished doorknob, and the door appears to be slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of what lies beyond. It beckons me to explore further, promising unknown adventures or perhaps even more mysteries.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>try to open</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I approach the door and grasp the tarnished doorknob. With a gentle push, the door creaks open, revealing a corridor shrouded in shadows. The faint glow from the room behind me barely penetrates the darkness ahead. I step cautiously into the corridor, ready to uncover the secrets that lie beyond.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>foward.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I proceed forward down the shadowy corridor, my footsteps echoing faintly in the dimness. The path ahead seems endless, and the air grows cooler as I delve deeper into the unknown, guided only by the flickering light behind me and the anticipation of what awaits.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>foward and look around</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: Continuing down the corridor, I take a moment to look around. The walls are lined with faded, tattered tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles and mythical creatures. The torch sconces that once held flames have long since burned out, leaving only empty brackets. The air feels heavy with history, and there's a faint, eerie whispering that seems to emanate from the walls themselves, as if they hold secrets untold.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>keep going until you discover something</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I press on, the corridor seemingly endless. My journey is shrouded in uncertainty, but I persist, driven by the need to discover what lies ahead. The shadows deepen, and the air grows colder as I continue, my curiosity and determination unwavering.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>stop! you here that?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I halt in my tracks, straining my ears to listen. There's a faint, distant sound, almost like a whisper carried on the wind. It's indistinct, but it holds a mysterious allure, beckoning me to investigate further.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>listen carefully</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I listen intently, my senses sharpened as I focus on the elusive sound. It becomes clearer, a haunting melody that seems to weave through the very air itself. It's both captivating and eerie, drawing me closer to its source with each haunting note.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>who play that?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: The source of the haunting melody remains elusive, hidden in the shadows. It's as if the music emanates from the very walls, an ethereal presence that defies explanation. There is no visible musician, yet the music continues to fill the corridor, casting a spell of enchantment and mystery.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Head to the source of the sound and investigate (dice roll)</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I heed the roll of the dice and embark on a quest to trace the source of the haunting melody. Each step takes me closer to the enchanting sound, and as I round a corner in the corridor, I come upon a door, slightly ajar, from which the music seems to emanate. My heart races with anticipation as I push the door open, eager to unveil the secrets that lie within.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>When you open the door, there...</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: When I open the door, there stands a grand chamber bathed in an otherworldly glow. In the center of the room, an ornate grand piano commands attention. The keys move on their own, playing the haunting melody that had drawn me here. But there's no one at the piano.The room is adorned with opulent tapestries and gilded mirrors, reflecting the surreal scene before me. Candlelit chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a warm, flickering light that dances across the walls. The air is filled with an intoxicating fragrance, a mix of ancient incense and delicate flowers.At the far end of the room, a figure cloaked in shadows stands beside an enormous, antique bookshelf filled with tomes of forgotten knowledge. Their presence is enigmatic, and their intentions remain unclear.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>look piano</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I approach the grand piano, its keys still playing the haunting melody. As I inspect it, I notice that there are no visible hands or fingers touching the keys. It's as if the piano itself is possessed by some unseen force, creating the music with an ethereal touch.The piano is a masterpiece of craftsmanship, adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid with precious gemstones. Its keys are made of polished ivory, and they move in perfect harmony with the haunting tune. It's a surreal and mesmerizing sight, leaving me both entranced and bewildered.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Be careful, it might be a man-eating piano.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: I heed the caution and approach the grand piano with caution. Although it plays on its own, I remain wary of its mysterious nature. The possibility of a man-eating piano lingers in my mind, adding an extra layer of tension to the already surreal scene.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>the piano suddenly stops</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: The abrupt halt of the piano's music sends a shiver down my spine. The chamber falls into an eerie silence, broken only by the flickering candlelight. It's as if the very essence of the room holds its breath, waiting for what comes next.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>You feel disgusted and turn around. What happened?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: As I turn around, a wave of revulsion washes over me. My senses reel in disgust at the sight before me. The figure that had been cloaked in shadows has now revealed itself, and it is a grotesque, nightmarish entity. Its form is a twisted amalgamation of human and beast, with grotesque, elongated limbs and a maw of sharp, jagged teeth.The once opulent chamber has transformed into a nightmarish lair, with walls adorned in macabre art and gruesome trophies. The air is thick with the stench of decay and despair. I am trapped in a surreal and horrifying nightmare, unable to escape the clutches of this abomination.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>it scary. what will you do?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: Fear courses through me as I confront this nightmarish entity and its gruesome lair. In this realm of horrors, I must make a decision. I choose to... confront the entity, my curiosity and determination outweighing my fear, as I seek to uncover the mysteries and secrets that lie within this twisted nightmare.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>how?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: With trembling resolve, I take a step forward, slowly approaching the grotesque entity. I attempt to communicate with it, asking it what it wants or why it has brought me here. My voice quivers, but my determination to unravel the enigma that surrounds this nightmarish realm remains steadfast.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>any result?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: The grotesque entity regards me with malevolent, glowing eyes, its jagged maw twitching with an unsettling smile. It responds with a guttural, incomprehensible language, filled with whispers and hisses. It becomes apparent that communication with this entity is futile, and its intentions remain shrouded in darkness.As I continue to stand before this nightmarish being, I feel a growing sense of dread, realizing that escape may be the only option left.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>surely. what will you do?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: With no hope of communication or understanding, and the nightmarish entity's menacing presence growing more oppressive, I decide to make a hasty retreat. I turn and rush toward the door through which I entered, driven by the instinct to escape the horrors of this surreal nightmare.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Did it go well? Or Bad?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div>&lt;rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light&gt;: My escape from the nightmarish realm was fraught with tension and fear, but I managed to reach the door and slam it shut behind me. The grotesque entity and its horrifying lair were left behind, at least for the moment. Whether it went well or bad is a matter of perspective. I survived the encounter, but the mysteries and terrors of that surreal place still haunt my thoughts. The experience was a chilling reminder of the unknown and the horrors that can lurk within it.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>look around. what you see?</div></pre><pre class=" Permalink | 記事への反応(2) | 16:06

2024-03-26

米津玄師がLemonのPVヒールの靴を履いている理由

Everyone been wondering why Yonezu (last name) Kenshi (first name) is wearing the heeled shoes. In one of his interviews he said that once he dreamed a funeral. Everyone was sad, but suddenly someone in the first line started to whistle loudly, in a way that annoyed the other people. They all started to say that he wasn't respecting the dead person because he wasn't being in silence for him, but Kenshi knew that the man whistling was communicating with the dead one. That was their own unique way to recognize each other. Maybe the others will think you're crazy or something negative, but it won't change the love that the whistling man has for his dead friend. Turns out that Kenshi got inspired by this dream so in the sing he wore heeled shoes, because he wants to let us know that he doesn't care what others say, it's his special way to express himself, because Kenshi was affected by High-functioning Autism which brought him to be smarter than the average, but he couldn't handle with social relationships, that's why he never had many friends since a young age and everyone made fun of him because of his character.

米津(姓)ケンシ(名)がなぜヒールの靴を履いているのか、誰もが不思議に思っていることだろう。

彼はあるインタビューで、葬式の夢を見たことがあると言っていた。みんな悲しんでいたのに、突然一列目の誰かが、他の人たちを困らせるような大きな口笛を吹き始めた。

彼らは皆、口笛を吹いているのは死者に敬意を払っていない、死者のために黙っているのではない、と言い始めた。それが彼ら独自認識方法だったのだ。

しかしたら、他の人からは頭がおかしいとか否定的見方をされるかもしれないが、口笛を吹いている男が死んだ友人を愛していることに変わりはない。

というのも、ケンシは高機能自閉症の影響を受けていて、平均よりも頭がいいのだが、社会的人間関係をうまくこなすことができなかった。

This made Kenshi very sad and from then on he started to hate himself because of his very uncommon name (in Japan there aren't many people that have Yonezu as last name and no one, but Yonezu Kenshi, is called Kenshi or the spelling is similar, plus it sounds like a stage name as well) he thought he was strange and weird, an uncommon person who shouldn't have existed (in fact in Japan there is a very strong will to follow the mass, which means if the greater part of girls have bangs, then the girls without bangs will try to have them or if they remain what they are, they might be isolated because different from the rest of the population). But Kenshi to make us, his fans, satisfied, he decided to collaborate with many people in the 2017 like the animators for MHA, DAOKO and Suda Masaki.

このことがケンシをとても悲しくさせ、それ以来ケンシは自分名前の珍しさ(日本では米津を名字に持つ人は少ないし、米津ケンシ以外はケンシと呼ばないし、スペルも似ていない、 存在しないはずの珍しい人(実際、日本では大衆に従おうとする意志が非常に強い。つまり、前髪のある女の子が多ければ、前髪のない女の子も前髪を作ろうとするし、前髪のないままだと、他の人とは違うという理由孤立するかもしれない)。しかし、ケンシは私たちファンを満足させるために、MHAのアニメーターDAOKO菅田将暉など、2017年活躍した多くの人々とのコラボレーションを決めた。

He changed during his musical career, like the time he was still Hachi (ハチ) and he felt somehow lost in all of his fame, so he made this song wearing heeled shoes and then the next song, Flamingo, is very different from Lemon because many people started to listen and to know him after Lemon, but he wanted to know what they would think if Kenshi changed the rhythm and the kind, turns out that many of them were attracted by Lemon and they didn't like Flamingo, but they still subbed to Kenshi's YouTube channel. Thank you for reading all of this, English isn't my mother language so I'm sorry for the mistakes and as always, have a nice day :D

彼は音楽活動の中で変わっていった。例えば、彼がまだハチだった頃、有名になることにどこか迷いを感じて、ヒールのある靴を履いてこの曲を作った、 というのも、多くの人がLemonの後にKenshiを聴き始め、知るようになったからだ。しかし、彼はKenshiがリズムや種類を変えたらどう思うかを知りたかった。英語母国語ではないので、間違いがあってごめんなさい。

Edit: You can find a video summary of Yonezu Kenshi's life and all of his interviews, it's in Mandarin tho. I hope you have a good translator to understand what he's saying.

米津建志の人生インタビューの要約ビデオを見ることができます。彼が何を言っているのか理解するために、良い翻訳者がいることを願う。

2024-03-23

anond:20240323170635

なんか情報錯綜しててよく分からん

エンゼルスから給与が年$85,000で、大谷から支払われる分も合わせると年$300,000~$500,000ということ?

https://www.espn.com/mlb/story/_/id/39768770/dodgers-shohei-ohtani-interpreter-fired-theft

Mizuhara confirmed to ESPN he has been paid between $300,000 and $500,000 annually.

https://www.espn.com/mlb/story/_/id/39784809/dodgers-shohei-ohtani-mizuhara-theft-line

At the time, his salary with the Angels was about $85,000, he says,

2024-02-21

anond:20240221003832

直訳版



A long time ago, in a certain country, there was a bastard named Cinderella. The reason why she is called Cinderella is because she sprinkled her own ashes on her own head at her mother's funeral, which led to her being called the ash-coverer, which is why her real name is Cinderella. I lost

The husband who lost his wife was also a bastard, and the day after the funeral he cheated on a woman three years younger than him, had sex with her, and even got married.

I have decided. Then, to her Cinderella

She now has an older sister and a younger sister who are not related by blood.

Her sister was a bitch too, she came to Cinderella's house

After a few days, she thought, ``Wouldn't it be more convenient to have an outbuilding?'' and cut down Cinderella's mother's grave in her garden and the hundreds of years old tree that was next to her grave, and built an outbuilding. We forced construction.

One day, the bastard's family receives news of a ball from the castle. But before Cinderella could read it, her sister broke the news and said, ``There's no way you can go.'' Cinderella didn't seem to have any intention of going either, saying, ``I had no intention of going in the first place.I'd rather go to hell.''

Then, on the day her mother was admitted to the hospital to give birth, her sister went to the ball. In the garden, the construction of an outbuilding was progressing as usual.

Let’s light a fire here and make a bonfire.”

She thought about that, but Cinderella stopped her. Suddenly, a witch appeared

``Cinderella, why aren't you going to the ball?'' asked the witch.

"What's the point of telling Teme?"

Cinderella returned with an ax in her hand

Then, for some reason, Cinderella was wrapped in a jewel-like dress.

"If you don't go to the ball, that dress will kill you. Now go."

Cinderella doesn't want to die in a place like this, so she reluctantly decides to go to the castle.

In the castle, some asshole like her sister was looking for a one-night stand and was dancing wildly. No one really praised others, and in their hearts they all seemed to think that they were the center of the world.

Cinderella didn't dance, but killed her time by smoking a cigarette at the end of her room. There, she was approached by a man wearing formal clothes that were flashier and more expensive than anyone else, and said to her, ``Miss, won't you dance?''

She is Cinderella with a cigarette in her mouth

She said, ``I only dance with the Grim Reaper and bad luck.''

she answered. For some reason, the man fell in love with her at first sight, and she said, ``Let's have some fun in the other room.Here, come.'' She tried to force Cinderella to take her to another room in the castle. However, Cinderella pressed the cigarette she was holding into her hand.

"Her hand slipped," she laughed.

When she pressed the cigarette, the sound in her voice was so pitiful that no one tried to get close to him or dance with him. Of course, no one even knows that such a pitiful man is the prince who owns this castle.

Eventually, she had enough, Cinderella threw her shoes on her stairs and went back to her house in her bare feet. Her shoes were made of glass, so they shattered into pieces.

The next day, while her servant was cleaning the castle, she found one shoe on the stairs. Obviously thinking this was strange, she secretly examined her shoes and discovered that they had been smeared with a deadly amount of poison.

Rumors spread within the castle that this must be an attempt to kill the prince, and soon a large-scale investigation was conducted. Even though it's a survey, it's simple.

The idea was to create a replica of a shoe and imprison the person who matched it perfectly as a suspect.

And one after another, people were imprisoned just because of their size. Some of them had not been to the ball, but they thought it must be a lie and were forcibly taken away.

Eventually, an investigation came to Cinderella's house. That's when we all looked at her mother and child after she was discharged from the hospital, and of course her sister didn't fit.

So all that was left was Cinderella. Then, her sister said to Cinderella, ``Hell suits you better than this world.''

She was of course the perfect size for Cinderella.

However, she protested her innocence, saying that I hadn't gone to the ball and there was no dress anywhere in the house to prove it.

However, the prince showed him an empty pack of cigarettes that had been discarded in a trash can and said, ``This is the same brand that the criminal was smoking that time.Why?''

Then Cinderella grinned and

I unbuttoned all the buttons on her jacket.

She said, ``After all, I feel like dancing with the Grim Reaper. Right, little prince?'' she said.

By the time the princes realized it, it was already too late.

The grenade that fell at his feet blew up Cinderella and the prince.

The time was around noon. Bells rang throughout the city and residents prayed for lunch.

The flying fragments of the shoe became a weapon, a sad fragment that could only hurt someone, and no one could imagine its original form.

end

2024-01-30

画像生成 AI (LoRA)によるポルノ被害

前回のまとめ

前回の記事では日米における画像生成AIの使われ方の違いを説明しました。

雑にまとめると以下です

 

 

今回はAIポルノの話

以下のPostが X (Twitter) で話題になっていました。

 

https://twitter.com/Pureevilbich/status/1751662096381587457   

(2.5万RT, 16万いいね 863コメント

 

元の投稿は (r/TwoXChromosomes)になされたものです。 

内容はインスタグラム写真を使われてポルノ画像を作られてしまったという話です。調べてみると友人、知人に LoRAされた AIポルノを生成されたという被害はそこそこ稀にあるトラブルのようです。今回炎上しているのは警察対応してくれないということについてです。以下翻訳

   

(r/TwoXChromosomes) url:https://x.gd/gl4BT

誰かが私のAIポルノを作った・・・

・・・そして警察は、彼らは何もすることができないと言った。電話は4分にも満たなかった。(もちろん110ではない普通電話だ)警察は私の名を聞くことすらしなかった。警察は私に彼らをブロックしてこれ以上接触してこないことを願いましょうと言った。まるで私がまだブロックしていないかみたいな言い草だ。

 

何者かは私のインスタ写真を使いAI生成に使ったのだ・・・そしてそれは気持ち悪いほどリアルに見えた

全く加工していない写真に見えた。指の形まで精巧で。まさに不気味の谷だった。私は震えていて、どうすればいいのかわからない

これが女性としての人生として受け入れろとでもいうのだろうか?

 

 

Someone made AI porn of me…

…And the police officer said they can’t do anything about it. The phone call (to the non-emergency line) lasted four minutes. He didn’t even ask for my name. He told me to block them and hope they don’t contact me again. Like I hadn’t already blocked them by the time I decided to report it.

The person had taken a photo of me from my instagram and put it though an AI generator… and it looked sickeningly realistic. It didn’t look altered at all. Even the fingers were fine. It was so uncanny-valley. I am shaking, and I don’t know what to do.

Is this really what life as a woman has come to?

 

トップコメント

法律はいつもテクノロジー進歩から大きく遅れている。

ホスティングサービスDMCA削除通知を提出しましょう。あなた著作権保護された画像あなた許可なく使用されているのです。(+2.9k)

 

Laws always lag far behind technology.

File a DMCA takedown notice with the hosting service. It's your copyrighted image being used without your permission, you can even sue if you want. (+ 2.9k)


日米の法律の違い

AI画像生成自体は罪になりません。上記のやりとりではインスタグラム写真勝手学習に使われたということで、著作権侵害として対処しようとしています

  

ただし日米で法律が異なるのに注意です。

日本ではどうでしょうね?

日本ではよく知られたように著作物AI使用は広く認められています。ただし

  

第三十条の四 

著作物は、次に掲げる場合その他の当該著作物表現された思想又は感情を自ら享受し又は他人享受させることを目的としない場合には、その必要と認められる限度において、いずれの方法によるかを問わず、利用することができる。ただし、当該著作物の種類及び用途並びに当該利用の態様に照らし著作権者の利益を不当に害することとなる場合は、この限りでない。

 

とあります。『著作権者の利益を不当に害することとなる場合』に該当すると良いのですが。そうじゃないと困る。

また、プライバシー侵害という観点から見れば「宴のあと事件」「石に泳ぐ魚事件」などの判例をみるに民事で訴えることは可能なように思えますね。

さらにいえば、もともと日本ではポルノの扱いが厳しくてポルノ画像公共の場送信するのは禁止されています猥褻物頒布罪)

なので上で話題になっている男は日本なら刑事罰で捕まるはずです。

 

こんなわけで、アメリカで起こっている問題がそのまま日本ですぐさま問題になるわけではありません。

日本における表現規制の厳しさに救われたようなちょっと不思議な状況ですね

 

萌え絵女性を救う?

あくまで現状においてですが、LoRAによるAIポルノ被害日本では全然耳にしません。

  

だって日本人萌え絵を生成させているんですもの

  

アメリカ人はフォトリアルポルノを作るのに対し、日本人萌え絵を作る。

萌え絵のおかげで日本人女性はあまり被害に遭わないというちょっと不思議なおはなし。 

  

もちろんこれはあくまで傾向です。例外はありますよ。アメリカ人にも萌え絵を生成する萌えオタはいます。また、古くはグラビアアイドルコラ画像を作る日本人もいました。

ここで重要なのは数の問題です。

昔はコラ画像を作る技術を持った人たちはごく一握りだったのに対し、技術を持たないアホが画像生成AIを手にしてしまったということが数々の問題引き起こしています

アメリカでは大量のアホがフォトリアルエロ画像を生成しているせいで出てくる問題なわけです  

逆に言い換えれば、日本にも知人でLoRAする知人の写真で追加学習させるアホが探せばいるかもしれないけれど数が少なすぎて表面化しないということですね

 

最後

念のためAI画像生成絵師さん達の名誉のために書いておきますが、Pixiv等でルールを守って投稿されている方々は何のトラブルも起こしていません。生成している絵もこだわりが込められていて、使う道具が違うだけで愛があるのだと感じます。まともな人ほど静かで目に入らない、問題のあるやつほど悪目立ちするというのが話がこじれる原因ですね

  

一連の記事絵師AI絵師対立を煽るものではないことを強調しておきます。(いちおう私は絵師立場です)

追記

コメントどうもありがとう修正しました

RoLA  → LoRA

LoRAする → の写真で追加学習させる

LoRAされた → AIポルノを生成された

   

あー すでにあるんですか・・・・困りましたね

 

トラバ

トラバが長すぎて全然探せないです。読めなくてすみません

追記

短縮url 追記しました

https://x.gd/gl4BT

 

増田仕様でRで始まる某所へのリンクが貼れなくて困っていたのですが、短縮url がありましたね

2024-01-20

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2024-01-02

anond:20240111083927

I'm going in for surgery soon (= I'm having/getting surgery soon)

もうすぐ手術を受ける

go in for

〔富や名誉などを〕手に入れようとする、〔競技などに〕参加する、〔試験などを〕受ける

・I sent a demo CD to go in for the contest. : そのコンテストに参加するためデモCDを送った。

~を好む、~が好きである、~に凝っている、~に熱中する、~を楽しむ

・Throughout my school years I went in for music and was a member of the chorus. : 私は学校時代を通して音楽が好きで、コーラス部に入っていました。

~に賛成する、~を支持する

・The idea does make sense but I can't go in for it. : その考えは確かに道理にかなっているが賛成はできない。

~を仕事とする、~に従事する

・If you are active, don't go in for a sedate job. : 行動的な性格だったら堅苦しい仕事には就かない方が良い。

~を専攻する、〔講義などを〕取る

・If you are fluent in German, you can go in for an international course of study. : ドイツ語に堪能なら国際コースの課程を取ることができる。

競技などで〕(人)の代わりに参加する、代役を務める

・I went in for an injured player. : けがをした選手の代わりに出場しました。

go in for は like doing の古臭い言い方だから使わない方がいいという声も

https://ell.stackexchange.com/questions/118883/to-go-in-for-sport-or-just-to-do-sport/

-----

go (along) with / go for はともに「選ぶ choose」を意味することがあるがニュアンスが違う

go (along) with は妥協感がある一方で go for は積極的にそれを得ようとする感じ

学校部活などでレギュラーを狙っているときには go out for が使える

https://forum.wordreference.com/threads/go-with-vs-go-for.2864919/

-----

Go in to work 物理的に仕事場にたどり着くという意味

Go to work も同じ意味で使えるが、それとは別に仕事に取り組む(=Get to work)という意味でも使える

https://ell.stackexchange.com/questions/79790/what-is-the-difference-between-go-in-to-work-and-go-to-work

-----

How much that figure set u back?

そのフィギュアいくらしたの?

It was only like 2000 yen.

たった二千円だったよ

Nice, affordable

いいね、お手頃だ

but I did see a couple nicer ones going for like 15k +

ももっといいやつが1500円くらいで売られてた

~の値段で売られて[販売されて]いる

Manga here goes for $10-13 per volume, and no covers! : こっちでは漫画が一冊10~13ドルもするの。カバーも付いてないし。

scale figures go for crazy amounts sometimes

スケールフィギュアはたまにすごい値段で売られてるよな

-----

I'm going on a trip across Japan this April, and I'm going to have about 3 weeks to myself to just explore and find experiences.

今年の4月日本縦断の旅に出る予定なんだけど、3週間くらいまるまる使ってひたすら探検したり体験したりするつもりなんだ。

ct. do a trip to poland ポーランド旅行する

Is there anything that y'all would recommend I see/experience that's a more out of the way compared to touristy things?

観光名所的なやつよりも穴場的なところでなにかおすすめはある?

I'll put that on my list lol

それ予定に入れとく笑

have ~ to oneself

~を独占[独り占め]する、自分専用の~を持つ、~を自分で好きなように仕切る[使う]

・We had the whole room to ourselves. : 私たちは部屋を独占しました。

-----

that guy was a blubbering mess in the video, and to be honest, i don't blame him

彼は動画の中で泣きじゃくっていたが、正直それは無理もない話だ

he still cannot stop his endless-useless-lame babbling

彼は未だに訳のわからないくだらない話を延々と続けている

babbling 〔訳の分からないことやとりとめのないことを〕ぐちゃぐちゃ[ペチャクチャ]しゃべる◆【同】blithering ; blathering ; jabbering ; gabbling

-----

Stop speaking alien words at me

わけわからんことを言うな

why would that ever be the case

そんなわけないだろ

bro really milking this

こいつめっちゃ同じ話擦り続けるやん

man really interpreting everything

こいつ好き放題に解釈しよるやん

i feel like most people can't think past the fact that I'm the president

And are scared to talk to me or

ほとんどの人は私が社長だということを気にしてしまって、話すことを怖がってしま

mf shaming me because I was eating too quick even though he had like 2 spoonfuls more than me left on his plate

スプーン2杯分くらいしか違わなかったのに食べるの速すぎって煽られた

I'm in all reason to believe you did not come here for ___, but rather to troll.

If you feel like I'm mistaken in my decision, feel free to send us a mail

あなたは~という目的ではなく荒らすためにここに来たとしか思えない

もし間違っていると感じるなら連絡してください

Good thing shows her true colors before u got with her

付き合う前に本性がわかってよかったじゃん

cf. the mask slips/comes off = 化けの皮がはがれる

https://nativecamp.net/heync/question/8679

the guy you had added on facebook

thats what i rememeber him as

ほら、お前がフェースブックに追加したやつだよ

そいつに関してはそのことしか覚えてないわ

-----

ego stroke

《an ~》〈俗〉〔人をいい気分にさせる・人の自尊心を満足させる〕褒め言葉、お世辞◆【参考】stroke someone's ego

The owner is obnoxious just stroke his ego and you're fine

あのオーナーは嫌な奴だよ。とりあえずおだてておけば大丈夫

she is just using you to stroke her ego

彼女はただ自分がいい気になりたいがためにあなたを利用してるだけだ

-----

I think going to Japan and fucking with local citizens should have you tried at the Hague for espionage

日本に行って現地の市民にふざけた行為をしたら、スパイ行為としてハーグで裁かれるべきだと思う。(ジョニーソマリに対して)

And later sunset definitely beats getting home at 6 and it’s dark

日没は、6時に真っ暗闇の中で帰宅するのに比べれば断然マシだ

it got sunset a long time ago so it's not relevant anymore

それはずっとまえに衰退したから今ではもう存在感がない(影響力がない)

people shit on me all the time

いつもみんなからバカにされる、叩かれる

------

A: but why does uni even cost that much money

でもなんで大学はそんなに金がかかるんだ

B: I mean it's a racket through and through

ボッタクリの極みだから

racket - 〈俗〉不正商売金もうけ]、詐欺、ゆすり、密売

evil through and through - 《be ~》とことん邪悪[根っから悪人正真正銘悪人である、〔主語には〕良心のかけらもない

-----

Tycoon! this comes from the japanese word 大君! Head honcho, this comes from the japanese word 班長! Rickshaw, this comes from the japanese word 人力車

-----

friendから"r"を取ると↓

fiend (フィーンド)

悪霊、鬼、悪魔◆可算

= archfiend

悪魔のように〕残忍な人、意地の悪い人

〈話〉〔麻薬などの〕常習者

〈話〉〔仕事趣味などの〕凝り屋、マニア

〈話〉〔ある技能や分野の〕熟練者、達人

-----

flustered

〔頭の混乱・過度の緊張などで〕動揺して、うろたえて

flounder

〔体勢を戻そうと〕もがく、じたばたする

〔混乱して〕もがき苦しむ、四苦八苦する、何とか進む◆【注意】スペリングが似ているfounderは「沈没する、破綻する、完全に駄目になる」の意味だが、flounderは「苦労しながらも活動している」を意味する。

・The ship floundered in the storm. : 船は嵐の中をもがき進んだ。

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scrawl 走り書き

scribble 子供が描くようなぐちゃぐちゃの落書き

ただし大人の書いた文字について言う場合は両者ともに「走り書き」の意味で使える

He scrawled his signature. (= His signature looked like a squiggle.)

彼はサインを走り書きした(=彼のサインはグニャグニャだった)


I scribbled my name at the bottom of the page.(= I wrote my name very quickly, so it looked unreadable.)

私はページの下部に自分名前を走り書きした(=名前を素早く書いたので、判読不能ものになった)

https://ell.stackexchange.com/questions/122138/how-do-scrawl-and-scribble-differ

-----

shtick 十八番芸、特技

her whole shtick is being ignored by everyone

彼女の得意技はみんなから無視されること

Anonymous's whole shtick is freedom of information

匿名の最大の売りは、情報自由である

I tried writing more serious literary novels, but I realized that cheesy thrillers are just my shtick.

もっとシリアス文学小説を書こうとしたが、安っぽいスリラー小説こそが私の得意技だと気づいた。

2023-11-20

But well, Germany's evaluation has also fallen to the ground.

looking at the Japanese's evaluation of Germany's actions in the Palestinian-Israeli war, there is no trace of what it used to be.

It seems like a distant past that told me to learn from Germany.

The worst is dogmatic behavior like "for the time being, defending Jews leads to reflection on the past"

It's dangerous that the left is surprised by the fact as it is the behavior that Japanese Netoyo has failed to Germany.

Tweets like "German universities support 90% of Israel" are also buzzing.

Don't act in a way that makes Netoyo convincing. Germany.

2023-09-24

TBS報道特集は43年、アッコにおまかせは38年、サンデーモーニングは36年、news23は34年、サンデージャポンは22年もやってるのにジャニー喜多川裁判判決は当時スルーして今になって性加害問題積極的に報じてる。これらの番組は自省するつもりないのよ。2004年判決以降に始まった情報7daysニュースキャスタージャニー他界以降に始まったTHE TIME,では当時なぜ報じなかったのか検証してる。少しは安住を見習え。

2023-08-01

anond:20230801140703

すまん。勝手翻訳した。拡散はどうするかな。redditかに投稿するのがいいのか?

----

I have seen some posts asking if they should talk about "the case" even though they were not involved in it and were not born in Nagasaki or Hiroshima, and I am a bit aware of it, so I have to say what I have to say. I say this because I was born in Nagasaki, am a third generation atomic bomb survivor, and grew up hearing the stories of those who experienced the atomic bombing firsthand. I know it's a little bit too much for me, but I'm going to say this because there are very few survivors left.

In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. They were stuffed into sushi for nearly an hour in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, with no air conditioner or fan, and told stories about the atomic bombing. That was a hard time for me. I think it must have been even harder for the old people who told the stories, but there was no way an elementary school kid could imagine such a thing, and I had forgotten most of the stories I had been told for a long time. I have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most. There is one more hard thing. Every year around this time, a row of grotesque images that would drive the PTA crazy in other areas are prominently displayed in the hallways. These days, I hear that the atomic bomb museum has been bleached out and many of the radical and horrifying exhibits that traumatized visitors have been taken down. I don't know if they are still there, but they were there when I was in elementary school.

There was one photo that I just couldn't face when I was in elementary school. It is a picture of Sumiteru Taniguchi. If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would like you to take a look at it. I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was posted, so I always took the long way around to another floor of the school building to avoid seeing the photo.

Now I'm thinking that my grandfather, who headed into the burnt ruins to look for his sister, couldn't have turned away or taken a different path. There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning, not just pictures, and a mountain more who would have given up at the end of their suffering. He walked for miles and miles, towing his handcart through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister. My grandfather was not a child at the time, but of course there were children who did similar things. Not that there wouldn't have been. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it. A young brother and sister found their father's body in the ruins of a fire and they burned it. They didn't have enough wood to burn his body, and when they saw the raw brain that spilled out, they ran away and that was the last time they ever saw him anymore.

I can never forget the story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it is painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I am crying. I keep wondering how the old man who escaped from that father's brain could have been able to unravel the most horrible trauma imaginable and expose it to the public with scars that will never heal.

Now I think I can understand a little.

The reason I can't help but talk about my grandfather and that old man, even if I have to rehash my own trauma, is that this level of suffering is nothing compared to the fact that their words will be forgotten. My hands shaking, my heart palpitating and dizzy, my nose running with tears, it's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that was once there and will be forgotten.

So maybe it's the same thing.

My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire. In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire. My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell. I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it. Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, tremendous suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.

Memories fade inexorably every time people talk about them. The memories that those people could not allow to be forgotten are now largely forgotten; the tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted again. Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire, unable to tell anyone about it. Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are now under the grave.

Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words. But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing. I know how it feels to wonder if someone like myself is allowed to speak about this. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. This is the result of our silence.

Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for the fun of it. I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.

Translator's note: The original post in Japanese is a response to a post by a Japanese contributor who wondered if he was qualified to speak out on the subject of the A-bomb when he was not from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but still spoke out about Barbie and the A-bomb. I translated it here because I think it deserves to be read by the world.

2023-06-25

逢魔が時

Twilight

Dusk: Before Night Falls.

the time of evils

Witching Hour

this word for twilight is literally “the time that demons meet,” similar to the english “witching hour”

Trivia: 'The Witching Hour' is a rough translation I've seen used elsewhere. 'Ouma ga Toki' refers to the period of time wherein evening switches to night.

2023-06-18

anond:20230614170048

引用元url貼るとなぜか投稿できないので省略)

さないの翻訳

He's going to pay.

He's not getting let off the hook.

He's won't get away with it.

He's dead meat.

He's a dead man.

He's dead to me.

I won't stand for this!

I won't take it!

I'll never forgive him* <(使われ過ぎだが場合によっては適切)

I won't forgive him*

Unacceptable*

I can't believe him!*

How dare you XX*

Not on my watch*

It is unforgivable*

↑これらのほとんどは行動を伴う「許さない」に対して使う

行動しない、できない場合、例えばすでに刑が確定している犯罪者に対して言う場合にはnever forgiveのほうがいい

"won't allow/permit"的な側面がある「許さない」には、"I won't stand for this!"が良い

その他の翻訳

“I won’t forget this

“I’m not letting this go

"I won't let you walk away!"

"I will avenge her!"

"I won't forgive you for barging in on ruru's house."

「流々ん家上がり込んだのは許さんぞ」(破壊神マグちゃん

修正案:“You can’t just barge into Ruru’s house, you know.”

子供に言い聞かせるような響きだが、前者よりは硬くなく、意地悪な響きもない。

いい感じの雰囲気のシーンなので、前者は合わない。

"I WONT FORGIVE ANY JOKES"

冗談は許さない」(ワンダーエッグ

修正案:"This is not the time for jokes."

「姉を殺した犯人を見つけた」という場面での「許さない」

「〇〇がXXを性的暴行した」という話を聞いた場合の「許さない」(というよりは「許せない」?)

相手謝罪して許しを請うてるときに"I won't forgive you."と言うのは正しい

(ただしこの人は"I don't accept your apology."と訳したとのこと)

謝罪は受け取った。でも許さないし忘れもしない。では✌️」

Meaning: I accept your apology. But I won’t forgive or forget. Bye ✌️

英語ネイティブ声優天城サリーツイート

"If you don't come back... I'll never forgive you."

「戻ってこなかったら……許さない」

"We'll never forgive you for kidnapping Friend!"

「仲間を連れ去るなんて許さない!」

"Eat my cookie and I'll never forgive you!"

クッキーを食べたら許さない!」

"Treating a woman like that... I won't forgive him!"

女性をそんなふうに扱うなんて許さない!」

これらは(a) 本来意味でもないし、(b) ネイティブ英語でもないとのこと

↑一方、「戻ってこなかったら許さない」については、「死んだら許さない」という意味なら"forgive"を使うかもしれないという意見もある。というのは話者が"allow"できるわけではないから。

↑ということは、以下の場合は「死んだら許さない」という意味なので"forgive"のままで良い?

「私の夫にあなたの命まで背負わせたら、許さないから」(ナルト

“If you make Naruto be burdened with even your life, I will not forgive you.”

"it can't be helped"(仕方ない)は使われ過ぎだが、(a) 一応正しい英語だし、(b) 文脈にも沿っていることが多い(forgiveはそうではないことが多い)。

"I'll never forgive you!"

「なっ何をするだァーッ!ゆるさんッ!」(ジョジョディオジョナサンの愛犬ダニーに蹴りを入れた際のセリフ

吹替版の"How dare you!"のほうが遥かにいいとのこと

"I swear I won't stop until I've scrapped each and every one of you!"

「許さない!お前たちを壊し尽くすまで私は戦う!」(ゼノブレイド

Maxine Waters Says She Will “Never Ever Forgive” Black Americans That Vote for Trump.

マキシン・ウォーターズトランプ投票する黒人アメリカ人を「決して許さない」

"And if you choose to fail us, I say: We will never forgive you. We will not let you get away with this. "

次世代失望させる選択をしたら、あなたたちを許さない。ただで済むと思わないで。」(グレタ・トゥーンベリ

‘We will not forgive, we will not forget. We will hunt you down and make you pay’

「我々は許さない。忘れない。お前達を追い詰め、捕え、贖わせる」(ISIS攻撃に対するバイデン大統領言葉

悟空バイデンのケースは状況がよく似ているが、悟空は"I won't forgive you!"としか言わなかったので不自然だが、バイデンは"We will hunt you down and make you pay"と報復意図を付け加えているので自然とのこと。

もしバイデンが"We won't forgive."としか言わなかったら、弱く聞こえるという。「もう昼飯に誘ってやらないぞ」みたいな。

さらに、バイデン自身戦場戦闘するのではなく演説台の後ろで何もしない。ただ何かが起こると言っているだけ。その点、眼の前に敵がいて戦わないといけない悟空とは違うらしい。

また、相手が許しを求めていないのにforgiveを使うのは変だという点に関しては、ISISだけでなくアメリカ国民にも語りかけているから良いとのこと。

ちなみに、飲酒運転子供が轢かれて、ドライバーが全く反省してない場合に"I won't forgive you!"というのは自然とのこと。

一方で、同じく全く反省しないジョーカーバットマンが同じセリフを言うのはおかしい。バットマンジョーカーの間には最初から許しなど存在しないから。

(でもバイデンISISの間にも許しはないのでは?と尋ねたが、答えをもらえなかった。恐らくネイティブにとってもはっきり言語化できない微妙問題なのだろう)

"I'll Punish you. Cry all you want, but don't expect me to forgive you."

おしおきしてやる。泣いても許されると思うなよ」(さよなら私のクラマー

この翻訳に対するツイート主の叫び

「一体何に対してFORGIVEするんだ!?FORGIVEが必要だなんて一体どんな罪を犯したんだ!?さないは"DON'T FORGIVE"じゃない!怒りで自然発火しそうbry;おh;bsfsl」

修正案:"Cry about it all you want, but I'm not letting you guys off the hook."

"Don't you dare go all Romeo and Juliet on me!"

ロミジュリったら許さないんだからね!」(水星魔女

Fate/stay night UBW 13話 「決別の刻」

凛  :そうね、けど後悔するわよ。私は絶対に降りない。いい、キャスターを倒してアンタを取り戻す。その時になって謝っても許さないんだから・・・(That's true. But you'll regret it. I'll never quit. You hear me?I'll defeat Caster and take you back. And when I do, I won't forgive you, no matter how much you apologize.)

ペルソナ4 G 7話 「It's cliche, so what?」

マリ記憶探すのも思いで作るのも、絶対に君と一緒だから。君が持ってても同じでしょ?その代わり・・・ちゃんと返して?もったままいなくなったら、許さない。(I'll never forgive you.)」

弱虫ペダル RIDE.38 「総北の魂」

坂道「でも、もうボク・・・走れない・・・ここでリタ・・・(I'm dropping—)」

鳴子小野田君!・・・スカシ!(Onoda-kun・・・Hotshot!)」

今泉ダメだ!それはオレが許さない!(No. I won't allow it.)」

この素晴らしい世界に祝福を 3話

ダ:こんな幼げな少女下着公衆面前ではぎ取るなんて・・・真の鬼畜だ、許せない!是非とも私を貴方パーティーに入れてほしい。(To strip such a young girl of her panties in a public place is trulysavage!I can't let this pass!You must let me join your party!)

東京喰種トーキョーグール 2話 「孵化

カネ「(あの時もヒデクラスに馴染めない僕に気を遣って声を掛けてきてくれたんだ・・・いやだ。ヒデ死ぬのは嫌だぁ!そんなの許せない!)《I don't want Hide・・・to die!I won't・・・I won't let that happen!》」

2023-04-16

アニメ深呼吸

今週もなんとかアニメを見続けて命と正気とを保てました。生きています

春番もほぼ出そろい、そして独占配信の乱立の果てに地上波録画が正解になってしまった展開にBEYOND THE TIMEを感じます

憂鬱毎日だけれど、アニメ時間だけ生きていけます

2023-04-12

TM(Nではない)のBEYOND THE TIME聴くと遙か昔を思い出して切ない気持ちになるが

懐旧よりもむしろ、敗残者として人生を送る身として考えてしまうことがある

高校入試の頃に逆襲のシャアを見た人達(そう。例の世代)はきっと、この曲を聴く度に『逆シャアを見た頃から人生やり直せたら』と思ってる」

てこと

世代の敗残者さん方、どうですか(成功者はどうでもいいです)

BEYOND THE TIME聴くと、そう感じませんか?

(まあ、実際やり直すとしたらその頃よりも更に3年後、つまり大学入学辺りからやり直すべきなんだが

尤も、やり直したところでだよ。つーか、面倒くせえよ。やり直してちょっとくらい人生良くなるよりも、一足飛びに老い死ぬ方が幸せだ)

2023-03-18

ガンオタがChatGPTにやらせること

2023-03-17

The First Black Samurai-Yasuke

Please improve the following novel to be more engaging and adding plot point of Yasuke returnig to being a missionary quitting Samurai " rologue:

The sun sank behind the horizon, casting the Japanese countryside in a warm, golden glow. In the courtyard of Nobunaga's castle knelt Yasuke, a tall, muscular African man with skin as dark as midnight. His journey to this moment had been long and treacherous, but it was only the beginning.

Chapter 1: A World Away

Yasuke lived an ordinary life in a small village on the Mozambique coast, unaware of the extraordinary destiny that awaited him. Captured by slave traders and torn from his homeland, he endured a grueling voyage across the Indian Ocean, finally arriving in the bustling port of Goa, India.

It was there that Yasuke's fate took an unexpected turn when he was purchased by Jesuit missionaries. In their service, he learned about Christianity, new languages, and the ways of the Western world. But his journey was far from over.

Chapter 2: The Land of the Rising Sun

As a loyal servant to the missionaries, Yasuke accompanied them on their journey to Japan, a land of mystique and intrigue. The beauty of the land, the complexity of its customs, and the elegance of its people captivated him. As the first African to set foot in Japan, he attracted attention and curiosity from all those who encountered him.

Chapter 3: The Encounter

In Kyoto, the capital of feudal Japan, Yasuke's life changed forever when he met Oda Nobunaga, one of the most powerful and influential daimyos of the time. Nobunaga was captivated by the African's physical prowess, intelligence, and unique background. Seeing potential in Yasuke, Nobunaga decided to take him into his service as a samurai.

Chapter 4: The Path of the Warrior

Yasuke's transformation from a slave to a samurai was fraught with challenges. He had to adapt to the rigorous training, strict code of honor, and the intricacies of Japanese society. But Yasuke's strength, resilience, and determination allowed him to excel, earning the respect of his fellow samurai and the trust of Nobunaga.

Chapter 5: The Unfolding War

As Nobunaga sought to unify Japan under his rule, Yasuke fought by his side in numerous battles. The African samurai's legend grew with each victory, as did his bond with Nobunaga. Together, they faced both triumph and tragedy, navigating the treacherous landscape of alliances and betrayals that defined the era.

Chapter 6: The Turning Tide

Yasuke's reputation as a skilled and loyal samurai grew, as did his bond with Lord Nobunaga. But in the shadows, the tides of change were brewing. Mitsuhide Akechi, once a loyal ally, had grown disillusioned with Nobunaga's rule. The resentment smoldered within him, fueled by a series of perceived slights and political maneuverings. Mitsuhide's ambition and desire for power began to cloud his judgment.

Yasuke sensed the shift in Mitsuhide's demeanor and grew increasingly wary of the samurai lord. However, loyalty to Nobunaga prevented him from openly voicing his concerns. He instead focused on his duties, ever vigilant and ready to protect his lord at a moment's notice.

One fateful evening, the Oda clan gathered to celebrate their recent victories. Unbeknownst to the revelers, Mitsuhide Akechi's treacherous plan was already in motion.

As the sun rose, the first cries of battle rang out. Mitsuhide's forces had launched a surprise attack on Nobunaga's residence at the Honno-ji Temple. Yasuke fought his way to Nobunaga's side, his sword cutting through the trait "

Prologue:

The sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the Japanese countryside in a warm, amber embrace. Yasuke, a towering, powerfully built African man with skin as dark as midnight, knelt in the courtyard of Nobunaga's castle, his heart thundering with anticipation. A perilous journey had brought him to this moment, and yet, it was only the beginning of a story that would span continents and rewrite history.

Chapter 1: A World Away

In a small village on the Mozambique coast, Yasuke led a simple life, blissfully unaware of the extraordinary destiny that lay before him. His world shattered when slave traders captured him, ripping him from his homeland and thrusting him into a brutal odyssey across the Indian Ocean. Fate, however, had other plans when he reached the bustling port of Goa, India.

Chapter 2: Destiny's Winds

In Goa, Jesuit missionaries purchased Yasuke, altering the course of his life. Under their guidance, he embraced Christianity, mastered new languages, and absorbed the ways of the Western world. But the wind had not finished carrying him to his ultimate destination.

Chapter 3: The Enchanted Isles

Loyal to the missionaries, Yasuke accompanied them to Japan, a land shrouded in mystery and allure. He was captivated by its breathtaking landscapes, intricate customs, and refined people. As the first African in Japan, he sparked fascination and intrigue wherever he went.

Chapter 4: Fateful Encounters

Kyoto, the heart of feudal Japan, bore witness to the meeting that would forever change Yasuke's life. Oda Nobunaga, a formidable and influential daimyo, was entranced by Yasuke's physical prowess, intellect, and exotic origins. Recognizing Yasuke's potential, Nobunaga welcomed him into his service as a samurai.

Chapter 5: A Warrior Forged

Yasuke's metamorphosis from slave to samurai was laden with trials. He navigated the grueling training, a rigid code of honor, and the complexities of Japanese society. Undaunted, he flourished, earning the admiration of his fellow samurai and the unwavering trust of Nobunaga.

Chapter 6: A Land Divided

As Nobunaga pursued his vision of a united Japan, Yasuke fought valiantly by his side in countless battles. The legend of the African samurai swelled with each victory, and their unbreakable bond deepened. Together, they braved the treacherous world of shifting alliances and betrayals that shaped the era.

Chapter 7: Whispers of Betrayal

Yasuke's renown as a skilled and devoted samurai expanded, as did his connection with Lord Nobunaga. But beneath the surface, a storm was brewing. Mitsuhide Akechi, once a staunch ally, had grown disillusioned with Nobunaga's leadership. His bitterness festered, fed by perceived slights and political machinations. Consumed by ambition and lust for power, Mitsuhide's judgment faltered.

Chapter 8: The Price of Loyalty

Yasuke detected the change in Mitsuhide's spirit and grew increasingly apprehensive. But his unwavering loyalty to Nobunaga held him back from voicing his suspicions. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, ever watchful and prepared to defend his lord at any cost.

Chapter 9: A Night of Shadows

On a fateful evening, the Oda clan gathered to revel in their recent triumphs, oblivious to the treachery that lurked in the shadows. Mitsuhide Akechi's nefarious scheme had been set in motion.

Chapter 9: A Night of Shadows

As dawn broke, the piercing cries of battle shattered the night's tranquility. Mitsuhide's forces had launched a devastating surprise attack on Nobunaga's residence at the Honno-ji Temple. Yasuke fought relentlessly, his sword cleaving through the treacherous warriors as he made his way to Nobunaga's side.

Chapter 10: Flames of Betrayal

The Honno-ji Temple, once a sanctuary of peace, was now engulfed in flames and chaos. Yasuke and Nobunaga fought back to back, their swords a blur of steel, as Mitsuhide's forces closed in. Despite their valiant efforts, they were outnumbered, and Yasuke could sense the battle was lost. With a heavy heart, he whispered a prayer for Nobunaga's soul, knowing that his lord would never surrender.

Chapter 11: A Promise Unbroken

As the temple crumbled around them, Yasuke was captured by Mitsuhide's soldiers. Imprisoned and stripped of his samurai status, he reflected on the path that had led him to this moment. Amidst the darkness, he found solace in the memories of his life with Nobunaga and his time as a missionary. A fire kindled within him, reigniting a long-forgotten purpose.

Chapter 12: The Road to Redemption

In the chaos following Mitsuhide's coup, Yasuke seized an opportunity to escape. He journeyed across war-torn Japan, seeking refuge and a chance to reclaim his former life. His determination and faith guided him, as did the memory of the missionaries who had once saved him from a life of slavery.

Chapter 13: Rebirth of a Missionary

Yasuke found solace and purpose among a group of missionaries in a remote village. Embracing his past, he became an instrumental figure in their community, sharing his knowledge of Christianity, languages, and the Western world. As he nurtured their faith, Yasuke felt the shadows of his life as a samurai slowly fade, replaced by the warm embrace of spiritual fulfillment.

Chapter 14: A Legacy Unforgotten

Though Yasuke had left the life of a warrior behind, the legend of the African samurai continued to grow. His story inspired generations, a testament to the power of resilience, courage, and the human spirit. It was a tale that transcended borders and time, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, hope and redemption could be found.

Epilogue:

As twilight draped the Japanese countryside, Yasuke stood atop a hill, gazing at the village he now called home. His journey had been one of unimaginable hardship, transformation, and ultimately, redemption. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, Yasuke knew that his story, like the sun's eternal cycle, would continue to inspire and illuminate the hearts of those who heard it.

2023-03-16

Title: The Black Samurai - A Tale of Yasuke


Prologue

The sun sank behind the horizon as the last vestiges of light bathed the Japanese countryside in a warm, golden glow. Yasuke, a tall, muscular African man with skin as dark as midnight, knelt in the courtyard of Nobunaga's castle, tending to his duties. Though he had traveled a long and treacherous path to reach this moment, his journey had just begun.

Chapter 1: A World Away

In a small village on the Mozambique coast, a young Yasuke lived an ordinary life, unaware of the extraordinary destiny that awaited him. Captured by slave traders and torn from his homeland, he endured a grueling voyage across the Indian Ocean, finally arriving in the bustling port of Goa, India.

It was there that Yasuke's fate took an unexpected turn when he was purchased by Jesuit missionaries. In their service, he learned about Christianity, new languages, and the ways of the Western world.

Chapter 2: The Land of the Rising Sun

As a loyal servant to the missionaries, Yasuke accompanied them on their journey to Japan, a land of mystique and intrigue. The beauty of the land, the complexity of its customs, and the elegance of its people captivated him. As the first African to set foot in Japan, he attracted attention and curiosity from all those who encountered him.

Chapter 3: The Encounter

In Kyoto, the capital of feudal Japan, Yasuke's life changed forever when he met Oda Nobunaga, one of the most powerful and influential daimyos of the time. Nobunaga was captivated by the African's physical prowess, intelligence, and unique background. Seeing potential in Yasuke, Nobunaga decided to take him into his service as a samurai.

Chapter 4: The Path of the Warrior

Yasuke's transformation from a slave to a samurai was fraught with challenges. He had to adapt to the rigorous training, strict code of honor, and the intricacies of Japanese society. Despite these obstacles, Yasuke's strength, resilience, and determination allowed him to excel, earning the respect of his fellow samurai and the trust of Nobunaga.

Chapter 5: The Unfolding War

As Nobunaga sought to unify Japan under his rule, Yasuke fought by his side in numerous battles. The African samurai's legend grew with each victory, as did his bond with Nobunaga. Together, they faced both triumph and tragedy, navigating the treacherous landscape of alliances and betrayals that defined the era.

Chapter 6: The Turning Tide

Yasuke's reputation as a skilled and loyal samurai grew, as did his bond with Lord Nobunaga. The warlord respected Yasuke's dedication and resilience, a stark contrast to the treachery and self-serving ambitions that plagued many samurai of the era.

Word of Yasuke's prowess reached other daimyos, and whispers of the formidable black samurai began to spread across the provinces. The year was 1579, and the Oda clan had just emerged victorious in the Battle of Tedorigawa. Yasuke had fought valiantly, his towering presence and unmatched strength striking fear into the hearts of his enemies.

As the Oda clan continued to expand its territories, Yasuke's friendship with Nobunaga deepened, and he became a trusted advisor. He learned more about Japanese culture, studied the language, and embraced the customs of his new home.

In the shadows, however, the tides of change were brewing. Mitsuhide Akechi, once a loyal ally, had grown disillusioned with Nobunaga's rule. The resentment smoldered within him, fueled by a series of perceived slights and political maneuverings. Mitsuhide's ambition and desire for power began to cloud his judgment.

Yasuke had sensed the shift in Mitsuhide's demeanor and grew increasingly wary of the samurai lord. However, loyalty to Nobunaga prevented him from openly voicing his concerns. He instead focused on his duties, ever vigilant and ready to protect his lord at a moment's notice.

One fateful evening, the air was heavy with the scent of cherry blossoms, as the Oda clan gathered to celebrate their recent victories. Laughter and the clinking of sake cups filled the air. Unbeknownst to the revelers, Mitsuhide Akechi's treacherous plan was already in motion.

As the sun rose, the first cries of battle rang out. Mitsuhide's forces had launched a surprise attack on Nobunaga's residence at the Honno-ji Temple. The chaos was overwhelming, as friend turned against friend, and the air filled with the acrid smell of smoke and blood.

Yasuke fought his way to Nobunaga's side, his sword cutting through the traitorous samurai with brutal efficiency. The two men made their final stand together, back-to-back, against the relentless onslaught.

In the end, however, they were outnumbered. As Nobunaga fell, mortally wounded, Yasuke continued to fight, but he too was eventually captured. Mitsuhide Akechi, in a twisted display of respect, spared Yasuke's life, acknowledging the loyalty and prowess of the black samurai. Yasuke was sent to the Jesuit missionaries, his future uncertain.

Yasuke's journey had been a remarkable one, from a slave in a foreign land to a trusted advisor and samurai. Despite his extraordinary circumstances, he remained true to himself and his values. His story of strength, resilience, and loyalty would be remembered and honored for generations to come.

Epilogue:

As the sun set on another day in Japan, the whisper of the wind carried the tale of the black samurai, Yasuke, across the land. It would weave its way through the ages, inspiring countless others to rise above adversity and carve their own paths through the storms of life.

Ingressデザイン

!

Title: The Black Samurai: Yasuke's Odyssey

Prologue: Whispers of a Stranger

The year was 1579. The shores of Kyoto were caressed by the gentle waves of the Sea of Japan, as a strange vessel approached. Aboard the ship, a tall, dark-skinned man with the bearing of a warrior stood, gazing upon the foreign land that would soon become his home. His name was Yasuke, and he had been brought to Japan by the Jesuit missionaries, sold into servitude and torn from his African homeland.

Chapter 1: Nobunaga's Curiosity

Yasuke's arrival in Kyoto was met with awe and fascination. His ebony skin, unlike anything the Japanese had ever seen, drew the attention of the powerful daimyo Oda Nobunaga. Intrigued by the foreigner's strength and demeanor, Nobunaga requested a meeting with Yasuke. The two men found a mutual respect for each other's warrior spirit, and thus, Yasuke was granted a position in Nobunaga's service.

Chapter 2: The Path of the Samurai

As Yasuke adapted to his new life, he faced many challenges. He struggled to learn the language and customs, as well as the intricacies of the samurai code, Bushido. Despite the adversity, his determination to prove himself to Nobunaga and the other samurai never wavered. Gradually, Yasuke honed his skills in swordsmanship and strategy, earning the respect of his peers and the title of samurai.

Chapter 3: A Warrior's Bond

Yasuke's service to Nobunaga brought him into contact with many prominent figures of the time, including Mitsuhide Akechi, a cunning and ambitious samurai lord. While their friendship was built on mutual admiration and shared experiences on the battlefield, a lingering mistrust lingered beneath the surface. Yasuke could not shake the feeling that Mitsuhide's ambitions would one day prove to be a grave threat to Nobunaga and his empire.

Chapter 4: The Taste of Betrayal

The year was 1582. The air hung heavy with tension as Yasuke rode beside Nobunaga to the Honno-ji temple in Kyoto. Unbeknownst to them, Mitsuhide Akechi had orchestrated a coup against Nobunaga, his forces surrounding the temple and setting it ablaze. Trapped within the inferno, Nobunaga chose to commit seppuku, entrusting Yasuke with his sword and his final words.

Chapter 5: The Black Samurai's Vengeance

As the flames consumed the temple, Yasuke vowed to avenge Nobunaga's death. He fought his way out of the burning temple, cutting down Mitsuhide's men with the ferocity of a wounded tiger. In a final confrontation with Mitsuhide, Yasuke's loyalty and honor as a samurai shone through, but he was ultimately captured and spared by Mitsuhide, who could not bring himself to kill the man he had once called a friend.

Epilogue: The Legend Endures

With Nobunaga's death, Yasuke's fate was uncertain. The events that followed his confrontation with Mitsuhide would become the stuff

2023-02-05

CHAGE and ASKAの「僕は僕なりの」名曲だぞ聴いてみろ

おれは今年46歳になるオッサン。もうすぐ50歳だ。

はてなやってる連中なんておれと同じオッサン、オバハンだろ。

CHAGE and ASKAの「僕は僕なりの」この歳になって聴く名曲だぞ聴いてみろ。

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfDNHzxAskU

まるでおれと奥さんのこと歌ってくれているみたいな曲で、今更になって良さがわかって涙が止まらない。

おれはチャゲアス世代若いころはBIG TREEとかThe Timeが好きな曲で「僕は僕なりの」なんかただの暗い歌としか思ってなかったのだけど改めて聴いてみると本当にいい曲。

おれと奥さんは誰からも祝福されずに二人だけで写真館で結婚式上げてさ。

子供もいないし、多分、奥さんが先に死ぬから、おれは奥さん葬式をあげてから少しして寿命死ぬの。

おれは何者にもなれなかった静かに働くだけの男。

奥さんのことは、おれが死ぬまで守るからね!

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