It’s been a pretty rainless rainy season so far. The weather’s lovely–not always sunny, but mild and warm. I’ve been trying to force myself not to be outdoors too much too soon, without much success. (I burn very easily.) Since it’s officially early summer, and I haven’t posted about poetry for, like, ever, here’s yet another from the Princess Shokushi:

声はして雲路にむせぶ郭公涙やそそく宵の村雨

式子内親王

koe ha shite / kumodji ni musebu / hototogisu / namida ya sosoku / yoi no murasame
Shokushi-Naishinno

Your voice, I can hear–
as you cut a sobbing path
through clouds, O cuckoo,
are your tears pouring down, too?
A burst of rain at twilight
–The Princess Shokushi

Imagining that the fleeting rainshower is caused by the equally fleeting flight of the cuckoo overhead, the princess wonders whether its crying voice (which she can hear) is accompanied by falling tears (which she can’t see).

Jane Galt wants to spread the word about Sony VAIO customer service, which is apparently as bad in the States as it is in Japan. Actually, I don’t know that Sony customer service is considered all that bad here; it’s just that everyone knows Sony products break down quickly. Hence the expression ソニー時間 (soni jikan: “Sony time”), which is…well, the (unusually low) amount of time it takes your Sony gizmo to conk out. A friend told me the expression started with an urban legend saying that Sony actually rigged its products to break down after a certain period of time, though I don’t know that there’s any way to verify that.

Of course, reputation doesn’t tell you everything. Toshiba in Japan is known for having surly and unhelpful customer service, but when the CD-ROM drive on my laptop started having seizures, everyone I talked to was great. (And by “everyone,” I’m referring to a half-dozen people. The drive would seem to be fixed at the end of each call and then start going on the blink a few days later. The last guy I talked to finally told me I’d just have to send my machine in.) I hope Jane finally gets some satisfaction out of Sony.