Momoko Yoshino & Sei Yoshino Interview Part 2
About Momoko Yoshino’s books and the pair’s island life
The two members of Momo-Sei currently live on a small island somewhere in the Seto Inland Sea. Momoko Yoshino has published two books so far, as well as other self-published booklets.
● “Jidō Keshi Gomu” (2023, Yobel Booklet)
● “Letters from a Fluid Body of Indigenous Life (1) - Feel free to bail (laughs) -” (2023, Niji Books)
— Both covers are quite surreal yet have a soft, hazy feel. Are they prints made by Momoko?
M: The prints on “Jidō Keshi Gomu” are mine. The “Letters from a Fluid Body of Indigenous Life” uses prints by someone named moineau. I had seen their work on Twitter for some time and thought it was really cool, so I asked them because I wanted to entrust them with the cover. I like both making and looking at woodblock prints. It’s also one of the simplest forms of self-publishing, after all. I think both covers turned out well. I like them.
— To start with, did you write the first book, “Jidō Keshi Gomu,” after moving to the island?
M: Yes, though it was quite a while later. First, for one year, from February 2019 to February 2020, I wrote a fragment of a novel equivalent to one page of a paperback each day. No one told me to do it; I did it on my own. After continuing for 365 days, I left what I had written untouched for a long time, but nearly two years later I suddenly decided, “I’ll start again from the beginning and turn it into a novel,” and wrote it.
— What prompted you to publish it? Is the published “Yobel Booklet” self-published?
M: The reason I decided to write a novel using the fragments I had left untouched for so long was that I suddenly wanted to submit something to a newcomer’s prize run by a certain minor literary magazine. That said, I had never read anything like a literary magazine, and I had no interest in awards whatsoever... Just as when I write and sing songs, I had absolutely no desire to “make my debut” or anything like that, so under normal circumstances I should never have felt like submitting something to one.
However, one of the award’s selection committee members was Sumito Yamashita. When I first read his novel “Hoshinoko,” I thought, “Oh, so you’re allowed to write something like this in this way.” That was probably in the fall or winter of 2018, and it likely led to my movement the following year to “write a fragment every day.” So when I saw Yamashita-san’s name among the committee members, I became intensely curious: “What would happen if Yamashita-san read this thing about those gathered-together people?” I immediately pulled the neglected fragments out of a drawer and impulsively wrote them up and submitted them.
At that point, I thought selection committee members were supposed to read every submission. I firmly believed they would at least look at every entry. That’s why I sent it in. But in reality, there were gatekeepers before the selection committee: the gatekeepers read the submissions first, narrowed them down to about five works, and only then passed them on to the committee. I learned this just before the results were announced, and I was shocked. I had thought that simply applying would mean Yamashita-san would read it, but because “Jidō Keshi Gomu” was rejected by the gatekeepers, he hadn’t read it at all!! (laughs) ...Now, what was the question again?
— What prompted you to publish “Jidō Keshi Gomu”? (laughs)
M: Ah, I see, yes. I thought it was strange that Yamashita-san wouldn’t read “Jidō Keshi Gomu” merely because a gatekeeper had rejected it, so I contacted him directly and asked, “Would you please read what I wrote?” Yamashita-san is, how should I put it, a very independent-minded person... at least from my perspective. In any case, he took exactly what I said at face value and read it normally. I think he immediately understood that I hadn’t written it because I wanted to “make my debut” or anything like that. He said, “I was surprised as soon as I started reading it. You don’t often come across a novel this readable.” That made me realize there really were people in this world who could read it normally, and it gave me the resolve to publish it myself as a booklet. The actual work was no different from what I had done extensively with an independent record label in the 1990s, so once I made up my mind, producing it was easy and almost second nature. It was getting to that point that was endlessly tedious (laughs). I was already working on the other book at the time, and its editor kindly helped typeset “Jidō Keshi Gomu,” even though it had nothing to do with that book. I’m very grateful.
— The perspective through a fantastical (?) creature and the rhythmic expression were striking. Phrases that resonate with everyday life, such as “I realized that being unable to move meant I had been moving all along” and “I realized that things are always the same, yet always different,” also felt philosophical. What was the overall concept? Was there a message behind it?
M: I think the reason Kodama felt it was rhythmic is probably that Zalamanwu isn't a creature that relies primarily on sight. Or rather, it may have a stronger tendency to perceive the world through things other than vision. In any case, I simply believed the words Zalamanwu spoke when it first appeared and introduced itself by saying, “I am Zalamanwu,” and followed along. Of course, I’m the one “writing” it using language, so everything I’ve lived through up to that point is reflected in it, as is everything that happened here before I appeared here through this human body. But what do you mean by “concept”?
Were there concepts centered on positive encouragement, such as becoming aware of “a feeling of gratitude for little things in everyday life” or the idea that “thinking positively makes everyday life more enjoyable”?
M: When writing Jidōkeshi-gomu? You mean, did I think of them as forward-looking… encouraging…? Hmm, I’d never thought about it. I really just followed Zalamanwu desperately. But I don’t think I was being pessimistic while writing it (laughs). More like, “Oh, I see, you’re alive,” or something.
— This may just be me, but I also felt as though I were reading a picture book. The characters who appeared were each distinctive and dimensional, or perhaps mysterious. Did you have any images or forms in mind for each character, Momoko?
M: Rather than characters, those assorted beings are more like cells or organs… Um, they have names, right? All of those came from sounds. This time, they happened to be English sounds: Eye’e from “eye,” Iyare from “ear,” Nodge from “nose,” Habi from “heartbeat,” and Ma—which I didn’t realize myself when I wrote it—from “mouth.” I was trying, over and over, to express in writing how Zalamanwu observes these beings, which are constantly changing places yet are each one of a kind and affect one another. The comment that it felt like reading a picture book was really interesting because, actually, a little while ago Sei suggested that maybe it would be nice to have a graphic novel version of Jidōkeshi-gomu. We had just been talking about wanting to read a manga adaptation, so… Sei, please explain.
S: What? …Um, about twenty years ago, maybe even longer, I read lots of Paul Auster’s novels, but I haven’t read him at all recently. I think I gave away the books when I moved or something, so I had completely forgotten about them. But some time after reading Jidōkeshi-gomu, I somehow remembered Paul Auster’s novels. They might be completely different, but I felt there was some connection between Auster’s novels and Jidōkeshi-gomu, at least for me. In particular, I thought the graphic novel version of City of Glass seemed somehow close to Jidōkeshi-gomu, and I wanted to check that, so I bought it again and read it. Then I thought, maybe Jidōkeshi-gomu could have a graphic novel version too. Perhaps I bought it again because I had that thought before rereading it, but in any case, after I finished reading it, I still felt something close to Jidōkeshi-gomu.
M: I didn’t know who Paul Auster was until Sei brought him up. I feel like I may have heard the sound of his name, but I didn’t know what kind of writer he was, so I just thought, “Oh, I see.”
S: You hadn’t even read it?
M: None. Until then, I was rather skeptical about turning novels into films or manga. I thought it was enough for readers to see the images they each freely create in their minds; if someone turns them into pictures, it limits the imagery and might actually get in the way of the imagination. But for some reason Sei’s idea felt right… Maybe Jidōkeshi-gomu is just right with a single guiding line like that to serve as a starting point, or something. More than anything, I wanted to read a manga version of Jidōkeshi-gomu myself. I was just thinking that there must be at least one person in the world who wants to draw that story, who wants to turn it into manga.
— It’s already been issued in three printings. How has the response been?
M: Well, this simply means that it was printed three times, literally (laughs). I didn’t have much of a budget and didn’t want to be stuck with inventory, so I printed it in small batches. I printed quite a lot of the third edition even though there was no prospect of it selling, and I still have plenty left, so I plan to keep selling it leisurely over the next several years. The response… I wonder what it’s been like. I’m not really sure. But not counting people who simply praised it, there are about four people so far who have sent me reactions that really hit the mark—scooped! right into the core—and that alone makes me feel it was worth turning it into a booklet.
— The content changes completely in the books that follow, but do you have any new ideas for this “Jidōkeshi-gomu” type as well?
M: I’m not quite sure what you mean by the “Jidōkeshi-gomu” type, but fragments that might possibly grow into a novel do occasionally flit through my mind. I suppose it depends on the timing. I intend to keep writing forever, even when I’m an old woman. I’ll probably write one someday, won’t I?
— You sold handmade mini-booklets at the Momo-Sei live show in Himeji, and they were wonderful. The cute, childlike bindings of Yoshino-Sei’s Secret Encyclopedia, Haijima’s Me, and Momo-Sei Lyrics Notebook felt like books you might read in a secret base. And the handwritten flyers, too. Were you in the newspaper club, Momoko?
M: I was in the drama club, but I’ve always liked writing things such as wall newspapers.
— The second book, The Domin Seikatsu Ryudotai Collection of Letters (1) - Feel Free to Bail (lol) - (hereafter, the Domin book): How did it come to be published by this “Niji Books” label?
M: In 2020, someone in Shizuoka Prefecture happened to pick up and read something I had written and had a revelation. It wasn’t signed “Momoko Yoshino,” but through sheer determination and grit, they tracked me down across the vast ocean of the internet and contacted me, asking, “Would you publish a book with our label?” They didn’t know me from Adam. That’s incredible enthusiasm, isn’t it? They left it up to me what to turn into a book and how, so I decided to compile writings by Domin Seikatsu Ryudotai that I already had on hand, and got to work. At first, without giving it any thought, I handed it over saying, “The manuscript is ready!” and had them typeset it, only for it to end up being over 400 pages (laughs). We decided that such heft was unsuited to the project and would publish it in about three volumes. It took three years to release the first volume.
— By the time I finished reading, it was covered in sticky notes (laughs). The ideas that led to your island life, which embodies “being alive,” were extremely stimulating. Is this more or less nonfiction - a true story?
M: No, that was fiction, of course. There's no way such a conveniently mysterious and interesting letter would be unearthed at the place you move to. But I don't really understand the boundary between nonfiction and fiction very well. I also wonder whether it's that important. Anyway, in the 《here》 I see, there was a movement called “Dommin Life Fluid Entity.” It was neither an individual nor an organization, but the movement itself, and there was a person on this island who wrote down, in a rush on the backs of flyers and such, things that emerged from that movement itself, without being asked by anyone and without intending to show them to anyone. “Who that person was” doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all, does it? (laughs) Since it emerged from the movement, it isn't pure fantasy, is it? The “letters” included in this book are what I compiled from those things that had simply been written down in a rush, with the assumption that they would be read by various people. “Compiling” includes “writing.” I think it's best for each reader to use all five senses - or even a sixth sense - to fully grasp for themselves what is what and where the boundaries lie.
— “I want to bring unpredictability back into everyday life and remain amazed every day by the uncontrollability of 《living》 (page 113).” I take it to mean enjoying unpredictable events through positive thinking, but what surprised you most? (laughs)
M: I don't think you need to rephrase it as “enjoying things through positive thinking.” I mean it literally: “I want to remain amazed every day by the uncontrollability of 《living》.” In other words, I try to read what's written exactly as it is. In my current life, I keep being surprised by all the things that don't turn out as expected. The movements of crops, wild animals, and insects - I'm constantly amazed, to the point that I couldn't say which surprises me most.
— You wrote about the specific hardships of “I wanted to actually try what I could and couldn't do besides ‘buying’ (page 142),” but what about the excitement and happiness beyond that?
M: This is about me rather than the Fluid Entity as well, but I don't feel excitement or happiness. Every day is simply a repeated cycle of experiments and practice. I'm pretty desperate most days.
S: I don't particularly feel anything like happiness in my everyday life either, but sometimes, for example, when I've caught a wild boar, hung it from a tree, butchered it with a knife, and tossed the meat into a bucket piece by piece, I'm suddenly seized by the strange feeling, “Wait, when did I learn to do all this?”
— What turned out to be different from your image before moving, or better than you expected?
M: I had no particular image of what life would be like before moving to this island. If anything, I wanted to go beyond my expectations. There are many things I've tried here and thought, “Oh, I can actually do this.” As Hijiri was saying earlier, things like driving, dealing with insects, slaughtering chickens and turning them into meat, replacing screen doors, and making repairs often make me think, “Oh, I'm managing to do this too!”
— Expressions like “self-exile to an island,” “the ring of consumerist sumo,” “the key to the stomach,” and “I want to keep it out of my sight” were unique and interesting in their perspectives. Do they occur to you through a different sensibility from your songwriting and composing activities when you were active in music?
M: Hmm, I don't know, but at any rate, I think it was Osugi Sakae who said “the key to the stomach” (laughs).
— There are many books introduced and quoted in the work. I was interested too, so I found used copies and read them, and they were all incredibly fascinating. Did you happen to find them in used bookstores in Tokyo, or buy them on someone's recommendation?
M: I understand, because I often end up buying books that appear inside other books, too. So when the Dommin book was released, I thought, “There must be lots of bookstores that will want to gather and display all the books mentioned in it and put together a feature, because that's what bookstores do!” But I was surprised to find that apparently this wasn't the case at all. So far, Kodama-san's reaction may be the most vivid one, actually (laughs). Also, this is slightly off the question, but I almost never read a book because someone tells me, “You absolutely have to read this!” I read books I encounter directly myself.
— My daily experience is that when I'm excited, interesting things and things I'm curious about naturally come toward me. Were you excited when you encountered those books, or when the two of you decided to leave the city?
M: I don't know... I don't think I was thinking about much of anything. I feel like all I could think was, “If we can find a house somewhere to live, let's get out of here already!” (laughs)
S: How did I feel? I don't remember... Oh, I may have thought, “This is a beautiful place.” There was the sea and there were mountains.
M: There were also things like figuring out how to transport our belongings and how to handle the school transfer procedures. It felt like we were simply buried in practical matters... But overall, since we had absolutely no idea what would happen next, there was also this feeling of, “It'll be fun to see what happens,” so I suppose that could be called excitement?
— “How Farmers Teach You to Start Self-Sufficient Farming” and “The Manure Doctor's Travels Around the World” seem like practical books directly connected to your life on the island today. What was easy, and what was difficult, about each of them?
M: The “Manure Doctor” is too eccentric to be much of a reference, I think... (laughs) Masaru Nakajima's book is a complete guidebook, isn't it? If you follow it, I don't think you'll fail all that often. Though things hardly ever go exactly as written.
S: As for the chickens, I tried it by referring to what Nakajima-san had written, and somehow I've managed to keep it up for eight years, but the upland rice he recommended in the book - rice grown in fields - was a complete failure no matter how many times I tried. Weeding in summer and dealing with things after the harvest were hard.
— The expressions in the book mentioned earlier, and in the “ayatori” entry of this book, such as “compost bodies” and the processes of life and death, could be read as a powerful antithesis to or warning about consumer society, as well as a punk-like idea and a proposal to return to a perfectly natural way of living. Are there still things you’d like to try in real life?
M: I think so, but what Donna Haraway talks about is probably something like this: when we call something a “perfectly natural way of living,” that “nature” doesn’t actually exist anywhere, does it? We aren’t in a position to stand back as detached observers and deliver something like “a powerful antithesis to consumer society.” In the first place, that position doesn’t exist, does it? How long are we going to keep reducing everything to “stories by humanity, for humanity, and about humanity”? I don’t know. Hmm, as for things I want to try in real life... I’ve worked pretty hard at quite a lot of things already, so I think I’m done. (laughs) I’ve gained a fairly solid minimum level of confidence that I can survive.
— Did you refer to the ideas of the British band CRASS?
M: I didn’t. I’ve heard the name.
S: I only vaguely know that there’s apparently a band called CRASS that works on things like self-sufficiency.
— The older man who was introduced as the protagonist of “The Fighting Bookshop of Harlem” was one of the pioneers of the civil rights movement, wasn’t he? I only knew musicians around Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Sam Cooke, Nina Simone, and Bob Dylan, so it was educational. What prompted you to buy that book?
M: I suppose it was because I was researching Malcolm X? I’m not sure.
— The idea that we should break through the “fall in line” mentality and expand individuality is a wonderful one that connects to the future of the country. I was contrary myself as a student, so I agree, but did you actually apply it to raising your child?
M: When you watch a child grow up on their own from the closest possible vantage point, helping out here and there and lending them things, there’s no room for that kind of “perspective” to enter in. A child is a completely different living being from Hijiri-san and me. Even if we intervene with some result in mind, things will never turn out exactly as intended. I thought that as long as the child ate properly, slept properly, eventually found home uncomfortable at the appropriate age, and left the nest of their own accord, anything else was fine. I’m a worrier, so I do end up voicing all sorts of opinions, but Hijiri-san is completely different in that respect, which helped us maintain a balance. Though I don’t know what our son thought about it.
— It was mentioned briefly in the work, but I was surprised that Keshacho (Hijiri-kun), with that adorable appearance, captures “wild boars,” even if there are circumstances behind it. What prompted him to start?
M: This is the same as what I said earlier: since the book only says “Keshacho,” why not just take it at face value—“Oh, so there was someone called Keshacho”—and, assuming you’ve been fooled, go along with it for now? When I want to write about Hijiri-san, I’ll make sure to write “Hijiri-san.” (laughs)
So, as for what prompted Hijiri-san to start capturing wild boars, I wrote about it in the second volume of the Dommin book. In the second volume, rather than simply compiling the fluid “letters,” Yoshino Momoko, who was the editor, also began writing about her own experiences. I go into it in detail in the “Yoshino section,” so please do read that. However, the fact that “Yoshino, who had been the compiler, suddenly began writing about herself” differed from the editor’s original concept, or rather, there was a period when we waited to see how to handle it. As a result, production of the second volume is running a little behind schedule. The release may perhaps be quite a while away, but the account of how Hijiri-san came to obtain his hunting license already exists, so I believe the day will eventually come when you can read it. Please look forward to it.
— I was surprised to hear that many of those wild boars swam over from Honshu, but when I searched, apparently there are quite a few similar cases in different places. I think they’re real challengers, but as fellow challengers who crossed over to the same island, do you have any thoughts about them? (laughs)
S: When we came to the island, the wild boars were already here, so we saw them ravaging places near people’s homes and fields and thought, “Oh, there are wild boars here. Well, that’s going to be a bit of a problem.” Since it had been that way from the start, we just accepted it as normal. But the people who had originally lived on the island were mostly older men and women who had never seen a wild boar in their lives. Their fields had never been damaged for decades, and then, in just a few years, the island was swiftly taken over by wild boars, which attacked and wrecked places all over the island. So I constantly heard people saying things like, “I hate wild boars!” and “They make me so angry!” I don’t personally feel one way or another about wild boars, but I can certainly tell that everyone hates them. People are unbelievably happy when we capture one. They often call out things like, “Keep up the good work!” and “We’re counting on you!”
— Maybe they fantasize, “There might be some tasty food on that island!” Or perhaps they hear about it telepathically from the advance team. I wonder, why do you think they swim all the way here, risking their lives? (laughs)
S: To begin with, I don’t think they would go all the way to somewhere like this if there weren’t too many wild boars on the mainland. But perhaps there got to be too many, and individuals that lost territorial disputes or competition for food crossed over here. Or maybe there are areas around here where hunting pressure is high, and individuals driven toward the coast came over because they had no other choice... Those are possibilities, anyway. But only the wild boars know why they did it, so it’s all just speculation.
— I imagine you see the way they ravage crops as an effect of human consumer society, but wouldn't you hate them if they actually did it to you? (laughs) There’s also the idea that it’s human society’s own fault and that “what you give comes back to you,” isn’t there?
M: No matter what kind of society humans have formed, wild boars probably haven't changed what they do since long ago, and their strength has probably always been far greater than ours.
S: The more humans improve their technology through selective breeding, fertilizer inventions, and so on, enabling crops to be grown faster, larger, and in greater quantities, the more wild animals probably won't overlook it. For example, rather than waiting in the mountains for tasty fruit to ripen and fall, it would be more efficient to go to human fields, where there's delicious food all year round.
M: “Those hairless, smooth creatures are pretty convenient—they gather food in one place for us.”
S: When they get into the fields, it's infuriating, so the first step is prevention: putting up fences so they can't get in.
— “Harmful animal” is from the human point of view; from their perspective, humans themselves must seem like “harmful people.” Sadly, I think this is the cumulative result of the collapse of both sides' living territories. Aren't they trying to tell us something with their eyes? Haha.
M: I often see people on social media who like the story that goes, “These days, humans have developed and ravaged the mountains, leaving wild boars with no food, so they have no choice but to come down into human settlements...” But that's probably not right, is it?
S: The indigenous inhabitants of the Japanese Archipelago were probably the wild boars, and humans were invaders from the very beginning. When we encounter a wild boar, we act differently from before: we get startled and make a noise, stop working to drive it away, and so on. But if we keep a certain distance and do nothing, it probably doesn't really care about us either.
M: It's the same on our side, isn't it? If they're just wandering around and don't do anything, I don't really mind them.
S: But when wild boars “do something,” it can become truly serious, haha. They can knock down a stone wall overnight, eat all the crops in a field overnight, dig up the entire area...
M: They're just too strong. They can easily total a car. Senmatsu's book said something like, “There is damage from wildlife, but there are no harmful animals,” and I really think that's true. What definitely exists there is “damage”; it's simply that we have to somehow stop that damage or we're in trouble.
S: After invading what was originally wild boar territory and making it suitable for humans to live in, it's only natural that wild boars would gradually make a comeback as the human population declines and abandoned farmland increases. I think I read somewhere that the situation over roughly the past hundred years, with wild boars in the mountains and humans in cities, as if we had achieved complete separation of habitats, was actually the unusual one.
M: We've been talking about wild boars for a long time, haha.
— Compared with the era before the internet, humans now work at dozens of times the speed and handle dozens of times the workload. From an animal's perspective, they must seem like abnormal creatures, and I imagine that before long nature will self-select us out and bacteria will take over. As a composting professional, what do you think? Haha.
M: Surely wild animals don't regard humans as anything that special! They recognize the ones that really get involved with them, like hunters, but otherwise it's probably more like, “There's something annoying over there.” Though I don't know.
S: I don't have anything to add, haha.
— I was struck by your attitude of enjoying as “lucky” the situation where prime Ginza real estate is rising in value while rural land prices are falling, as shown by the official land-price survey. What do you think Japan's countryside will become as the population declines? How lively is the island currently?
M: Did I write in this book, “I’m enjoying the situation where rural land prices are falling as lucky”? ...I probably didn't. I don't feel that putting a price on land itself makes sense, so whether prices rise or fall anywhere really has nothing to do with the way I live. No one can measure what will happen where from now on on a human scale, and I don't know how lively this island is because I wasn't here before, but in any case, there are no people. I think there definitely aren't enough hands to maintain a lifestyle like the one of the past few decades. Whether it needs to be maintained is another question.
— You might think you're relaxing on an island, but you seem to be living an incredibly busy life. Is the quality of that busyness different from being busy in the city?
M: The kind of busyness in which people's motives become intricately entangled is mentally exhausting, while the kind in which you can adjust the pace yourself but have an endless amount to do is physically exhausting. I think that's the same in urban and island areas. Maybe the proportions are a little different? There's more of the latter now, so I'm healthy.
S: I don't think work that requires being employed by someone suits me, because you have to pretend to be busy, or make a show of working. But that wasn't really related to whether I was in the city or on an island, haha. Now it's nice that I don't have to show anyone that I'm working.
— We’re also planning to sell the two books mentioned above when the album “umareta” is reissued. If you have a message or any self-promotion for “Momo-Sei” fans, please go ahead.
M: I wrote a song called “Automatic Eraser” around 1997, when I was 23, and after I happened to encounter that phrase, something that had been vaguely following me around ever since somehow started moving again in 2019, becoming the seed of something that was no longer even music, but a novel. That doesn't mean the content of the lyrics to “Automatic Eraser” became “Jidō Keshi Gomu,” though. People who can enjoy listening to self-produced demo tapes might be able to read this novel just fine too. You can't buy it at major bookstores or on Amazon, but if you feel like it, please get a copy and read it.
S: Anyway, I keep thinking, I wish someone would draw a manga adaptation of “Jidō Keshi Gomu.”
M: Haha, you've got to emphasize that, right?
— I look forward to you continuing to write great songs and great books. Have a wonderful time. Thank you again for taking so long with this second interview.
(Interviewer: Kodama, representative of Timebomb Records)
You can purchase the two artists' works and Momoko Yoshino's book here.