Wednesday, January 26, 2005

You crazy kids, what will you think of next...

So the weekend (or my weekend), when panned out across the floor and plucked at delicately with chopsticks, just doesn't seem to make anysense. I think for the benefit of all rather than go into some drastic detail of what went on I'll make a list of its contents and then just let the imagination run wild. You know, dip stuff in all sorts of other stuff, it's okay.

~Chicken

~Liing to my boss

~Lectures on economics as given by a large breasted thirty-seven year old white women...in Japanese

~Architecture

~Old men of the narcoleptic variety

~Old men of the inebriated variety

~Rambunctiouse Karaoke

~Missed trains

~Penis towels

~Rather inteligent discussions on travel, the weather and family with a five year old boy and his pre-occupied three year old sister

~Tissue

~Very friendly internet workers

~Twenty-seven year old pudgy philipino virgins

~Disney shows I watched when I was twelve

~Ladies whose wallet I found, and the lunch invitations

~Large stores with a pechant for arson, and their security

~Chance meetings with people I work with

and enough snow to drown a puppy in. Imagine when the whole list congeals into something; let me tell you what. Perhaps it wasn't as exciting as people may have conjured up in their heads but broken a part it sure was interesting. You crazy kids, what will you think of next...

Thursday, January 20, 2005

...

Things from the past that come back to ?haunt? me...

"Every man wants a worn sundried woman; lord knows I've rode that road"
-Jude

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

She likes white things, like white people...

So I never finished the tale of the Sapporo lady. Well, she showed up right on time, or five minutes late depending on which clock you were watching; I was watching the big one. We had coffee, of all the places in Japan, Starbucks. It was good, I like coffee. She...she likes white things. Like when asked what kind of pet she would like to have she said "polar bear". Why? Because she likes white things. Her second choice was a raccoon...your guess is as good as mine. And yet it was interesting; something hard to beleive the way I faded in and out of the conversation so, further amplified by the oh so small splinter of things we have in common. What do we have in common? Well we both share a distinct hatred for the 曖昧 feelings of japanese women (and in her case men, so I guess I could have just written "Japanese people" but that sounds so racist).

曖昧 (aimai), by the by, is a beautiful japanese word that they love to toss around which means neither yes nor no but doth suffice as an answer, hazah. This word is closely followed by the slightly less ambiguious うん (oon) which probably means yes, but hey, we're not that sure.

So we'll meet again, I think, in a few weeks to...I don't know...talk about white things. She likes white things, like white people...

Monday, January 17, 2005

social constipation

A recent letter to my friend をを regarding Japan and Martain Luther King Jr. Day...

Hey をを ,

No I'm sorry we don't have Martin Luther Kings in Japan. Well actually we did have a large stock of them back during the Endo period; I think they were imported from Taiwan or China or something; they were highly prized for their "freedom songs" and the shapes of their skulls which were often sported around the necks of Shogun and even the emperor. But they took to drinking, and gambling, and general trouble making, so they were told by the emperor to "pack up your shit and leave before we call the cops". There hasn't been a Martin Luther King in Japan ever since. Sad really; they had such beautiful skulls.

Oh don't go to a foreign country ; it's stupid...we're stupid. I can't wait to get out of this damned Japan and I've just about had my fill of it. Japanese people are absolutely impossible; I have like no real social life, or a hose has been stuck up the vagina of my social life and washed it spring fresh clean of friends or generally dependable peoples. I've been douched. These people suffer from social constipation that a dump-truck of fiber-o's couldn't clear (some Japanese people live their whole lives without any friends; at all, they just work, go home, and watch T.V.; for years on end!) My only urge for America is the simple fact they there is a social system that works outside the rules set up during Middle school. I've got cootties so all the popular kids stay away from me (plus I once came to school with a Power Rangers lunch box; you know the one with the thermos that has the picture of the red ranger doin' a totally bitchin' karate kick; and everybody pointed and laughed and pushed me in the mud! Oh をを it was horrible ; I hope they all go to hell; I hope they all go to hell and they die!)

Other than that not much has been happening; I've taken up the guitar and midnight intrusions on my friend Oniichan or Big Brother (formally known as Kanada; but I find this name more effective as he is older than me and it also contains a secret joke involving the Japanese word for masturbation). Maybe someday I'll venture outside my thin plaster apartment walls and my slightly frosted fish bowl and attempt to join the Japanese world again. But not any bloody time soon. Stay in America so you can coe made-up jewish words in my ear and tell me it'll be all better and yadayadayada...

Oh yeah, and good luck with that zombie movie thing!

Keep the peace,
Monk

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

The Indigestable Man
Just try and eat me