Tis a couple of videos from this group called Morning Musume. Check out the beauty of the sexybeam.
THis video doesn't include the sexy beam but it is hilarious.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Friday, September 29, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
September 27, 2006 Another Wednesday
4:00pm
Day 2 of the worst headache I've had in a while. Someone is to blame for this. Perhaps me. Coming to Japan could have been a mistake. Maybe. Perhaps this is just the headache talking to me. Through me. For me. Shit my head hurts.
5:30pm
Recently I've been meeting guys. a few. One sticks out though. He is 35. I don't think he wants to date me but he'll make a nice friend. He cited our ages as a reason for us to not get together. He says I'm probably playing the field and I suppose that's true. I like him though. a lot. He like the first genuinely good guy I've met. Like documented good. He did something amazing....
8:00pm
We had been drinking for like two hours and I was feeling a little tipsy and easy. So I said that I wanted to "pull" his belt. He said I could but he would never see me again if I did. I was taken back. I was so amazed. I was pleased. To tears. He gained like 35000 cool points with me. I mean hella cool points. I mean there are cool, COOL, and hella cool. He bypassed the first two to line his pockets with hella. I was amazed and even more aroused, but held it in because I couldn't imagine not seeing him again. I was amazed. I am still amazed. I can't get him out of my mind.
Maybe he wants something more than sex and that excites me. Are all older men like him? If they are I think I will have to change my dating age limit. Maybe edge out the 20-somethings and start sampling the world of 40.
8:34pm
I just realized a new wednesday fact. If you avoid eye contact with your japanese coworkers as if were a cancerous element and completley refrain from anything beyond short two word answers they won't give you work. Also the J-guy working in the office has the most crazy hair I've seen in quite some time. Like it feathers out and shit. Its like a puffier, fligtier version of that whole Farraf Fawcett do. Occasionally he pauses to wrangle a piece that has become too enamored withthe idea of flight. Its really funny. His feather hair almost draws attention from the fact that he never closes his mouth. Ever. He sufferes from an extreme case of fat lip or open-jaw or whatever the hell you call it when the shit is always hanging open like a door with a broken hinge. At any rate I often consider lobbing paper clips into his open maw, but change my mind because I would hate to see his hair fly away with his head.
Day 2 of the worst headache I've had in a while. Someone is to blame for this. Perhaps me. Coming to Japan could have been a mistake. Maybe. Perhaps this is just the headache talking to me. Through me. For me. Shit my head hurts.
5:30pm
Recently I've been meeting guys. a few. One sticks out though. He is 35. I don't think he wants to date me but he'll make a nice friend. He cited our ages as a reason for us to not get together. He says I'm probably playing the field and I suppose that's true. I like him though. a lot. He like the first genuinely good guy I've met. Like documented good. He did something amazing....
8:00pm
We had been drinking for like two hours and I was feeling a little tipsy and easy. So I said that I wanted to "pull" his belt. He said I could but he would never see me again if I did. I was taken back. I was so amazed. I was pleased. To tears. He gained like 35000 cool points with me. I mean hella cool points. I mean there are cool, COOL, and hella cool. He bypassed the first two to line his pockets with hella. I was amazed and even more aroused, but held it in because I couldn't imagine not seeing him again. I was amazed. I am still amazed. I can't get him out of my mind.
Maybe he wants something more than sex and that excites me. Are all older men like him? If they are I think I will have to change my dating age limit. Maybe edge out the 20-somethings and start sampling the world of 40.
8:34pm
I just realized a new wednesday fact. If you avoid eye contact with your japanese coworkers as if were a cancerous element and completley refrain from anything beyond short two word answers they won't give you work. Also the J-guy working in the office has the most crazy hair I've seen in quite some time. Like it feathers out and shit. Its like a puffier, fligtier version of that whole Farraf Fawcett do. Occasionally he pauses to wrangle a piece that has become too enamored withthe idea of flight. Its really funny. His feather hair almost draws attention from the fact that he never closes his mouth. Ever. He sufferes from an extreme case of fat lip or open-jaw or whatever the hell you call it when the shit is always hanging open like a door with a broken hinge. At any rate I often consider lobbing paper clips into his open maw, but change my mind because I would hate to see his hair fly away with his head.
September 25, 2006 9:59pm (on the train, again)
Yokkaichi, the station for the overly styled and hideous, appeared out of nowhere tonight. The train stopped and the gorgeous boy in the brown pants exited without so much as a glance in my direction. I his place appeared "bony ass", the snake charmer. He's not very good. All that his swaying back and forth is doing is drawing my attention to his annoyingly pointy shoes and complete lack of ass. That's just a damn tragedy.
*
*
*
My prayers have been answered, he just found a seat. I don't like to write on the train, but I feel as if I have no choice (destiny?) because my mp3 player died on me and the book that I brough is total shite! I realy don't want to examine the passengers on tonights meat train (the train back to nagaya on weekdays at night time is always packed with men). Well I'm looking a little but not as much as I normally would.
I like Japanese guys in pink shirts. How's that for random? Not very I know.
This train takes for fucking ever to get back to the damn city and its fucking hard to wirte. Its bouncing so much that it looks like I'm writing arabic or something.
*grrrrr*
*
*
*
My prayers have been answered, he just found a seat. I don't like to write on the train, but I feel as if I have no choice (destiny?) because my mp3 player died on me and the book that I brough is total shite! I realy don't want to examine the passengers on tonights meat train (the train back to nagaya on weekdays at night time is always packed with men). Well I'm looking a little but not as much as I normally would.
I like Japanese guys in pink shirts. How's that for random? Not very I know.
This train takes for fucking ever to get back to the damn city and its fucking hard to wirte. Its bouncing so much that it looks like I'm writing arabic or something.
*grrrrr*
September 25, 2006 (from the train)
Today I go to a place called Tsu. I don't like it. I don't want to go there, but *sigh* I'm already on the damn train.
I don't really feel like talking about it though. Today, actually lately, my mind has been drawn to more meaty yet still totally pointless discussions. (this is your chance to stop reading before you get really aggravated.) Lately I think about things like destiny and bills. Yes, I know that that is a very odd pair, but I assure you they go together. I can't put my finger on the link, but like peanut butter and jelly they go together. Now that is a truly odd pair. Imagine if you will the nature of the twisted soul who delivered peanut butter and jelly to the unknowing masses. That soul, undoubtly a sugar crazed bi-polar six year old should be canonized and demonized in the same breath.
Destiny. Recently, not recently maybe a couple of weeks ago, my friend and I had a conversation about destiny. I honestly don't understand destiny (or the insane bouncing of this train) . Destiny to me is a horrible thought. When people speak of something as inevitable, or decided by a greater power, or as simply being their destiny I think of a prison sentence. For some people, I think my friend falls into this number (correct me if I'm wrong), destiny is comforting. Destiny does away with the sensation of floating helplessly in a whirlpool that simply can't or won't pull you down. Destiny changes the whirlpool into a river and gives a direction to life. That is comforting.... I suppose.
Whirlpools as a group are evil things, so I suppose having a direction is good. Circles bother me. Still though, I feel differently. To me destiny, is the oars being slapped from my hand and my raft being pushed along by the river. No matter how hard I kick, pray, rock the bloody boat I can't effect its direction. I have no way of preventing the river from smashing me against rocks or depositing me safely on the shore. Destiny is a lack of control and I need to feel control in my life.
******
ah, my stop
I don't really feel like talking about it though. Today, actually lately, my mind has been drawn to more meaty yet still totally pointless discussions. (this is your chance to stop reading before you get really aggravated.) Lately I think about things like destiny and bills. Yes, I know that that is a very odd pair, but I assure you they go together. I can't put my finger on the link, but like peanut butter and jelly they go together. Now that is a truly odd pair. Imagine if you will the nature of the twisted soul who delivered peanut butter and jelly to the unknowing masses. That soul, undoubtly a sugar crazed bi-polar six year old should be canonized and demonized in the same breath.
Destiny. Recently, not recently maybe a couple of weeks ago, my friend and I had a conversation about destiny. I honestly don't understand destiny (or the insane bouncing of this train) . Destiny to me is a horrible thought. When people speak of something as inevitable, or decided by a greater power, or as simply being their destiny I think of a prison sentence. For some people, I think my friend falls into this number (correct me if I'm wrong), destiny is comforting. Destiny does away with the sensation of floating helplessly in a whirlpool that simply can't or won't pull you down. Destiny changes the whirlpool into a river and gives a direction to life. That is comforting.... I suppose.
Whirlpools as a group are evil things, so I suppose having a direction is good. Circles bother me. Still though, I feel differently. To me destiny, is the oars being slapped from my hand and my raft being pushed along by the river. No matter how hard I kick, pray, rock the bloody boat I can't effect its direction. I have no way of preventing the river from smashing me against rocks or depositing me safely on the shore. Destiny is a lack of control and I need to feel control in my life.
******
ah, my stop
Monday, September 25, 2006
thought from the shower
Japan is supposed to be the Land of the Rising Sun, but honestly I'm not sure if they should even hold that title any longer. I have 1) never seen the sunrise here, or even set. The sun is just always there in the sky annoying you with its presence, or the evil bitch is hiding and allowing this insane wind to come and chill your bones. Yes, it gets cold here. 2) Why would Japan be the land of the rising sun if its not the place where time starts. Shouldn't Greenwhich be the land of the rising sun, and Japan be a little place where years and years of closed borders have resulted in inbreeding on a completely unheard of scale. Yes, I think they are inbred. Not insanely, but enough to ensure that a large amount of the population is dependant upon eyeglasses.
I'm not ranting. I'm just thinking. I like Japan... days.
I'm not ranting. I'm just thinking. I like Japan... days.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Could it be.... me?
Could this one day be me? Probably not, but there is a small chance that on one cold saturday night in November I could be taking my first and probably only dip into the world of *gulp* drag.
I went out last night and this cute little Japanese guy said that he could imagine me in drag and that he would love to photograph me in drag. At first I was insulted, because I normally don't like drag queens. There is just something about about the type of hyperfeminity that drag queens embody that I just can't vibe with. It is similar to my feelings about rappers. I guess they are on the other end of the spectrum in a little place called hypermasculinity. I can't feel them either. I am not about grabbing my dick and calling girls bitches and shit. Well I do call girls bitches sometimes. I also call guys bitches. I suppose that makes it ok. some people wouldn't agree but whatever.
Me in drag. I just can't see it. Well actually I can see it. After the cute Japanese guy said his little piece an actual drag queen popped up and agreed that I would look great in drag and demanded/encouraged me to come let him help me get in drag at his party in November.
I don't know about all this. I'm not into this. I've always been anti-drag... for me. Maybe it works for other people, but in my world it doesn't fit... but now I'm curious. I keep imagining myself walking in heels and a short skirt. (shortly after i picture that i stab myself with a needle.) I really want to let that guy take my picture. I saw some of his stuff and he does good work. Me in drag. 
This is the drag queen who wants to help me get into drag. He... she... this person says they'l let me use their clothes and shit, and i can drink for free and basically act a damn fool at the club.
I don't know, but I do like to drink. That much I know.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Tuesday
Finally my apartment is starting to feel like a home. I have been able to slowly acquire things through new friends or people who were ust leaving the country. I have a bookshelf now, a bed, a little white fan, and a very temperamental iron, but I believe that I am making progress in develoing a relationship with it.
This past friday I began what I hope will be a quite fruitful study into the sexual and relationship (there should be a better word for this but i can't remember) habits of Japanese men. Basicaly I met a guy, invited him, back to my apartment and had sex with him. That ended my four year hiatus from the world of sexual activity. Do I feel any different? No, just a little more horny than I did before. This little episode, which I wanted badly to actually be a date, but fell miserably short and was only worthy of episode status, did not come with that many bells and whistle. Actually, it came with an "Oh shit!" alarm.
You see, this episode started about a week and a half ago with me breaking down and finally putting an ad on one of those online dating sites. I say break down because to me online dating has always been silly. I'm a people person. I like to examine a person, in person, and see their good points, bad points, and all those little points that blur the lines. You know things like talking with a mouth full of saliva (bad), but being able to say things in such a way that you find yourself unable to even breath (good). Those two things together makes for a gray. I like gray. I find gray to be a happy color. The color of uncertainty, the color of a storm, the color most of the strongest building materials in the world.
Anyway, I put the ad up and was immediately overwhelmed with responses. Keep in mind that my ad was basically about 15 words that included the headline, "Cool American Guy," and nothing more really. I guess too much ifo just makes things confusing. Eventually after responding to a few e-mails I slipped into a rythym of texting with this one cute Japanese guy, Yuji. We would send messages all day asking each other all kinds of mundane little questions: favorite movie?; can you cook?; dance?; etc. Eventualy we both grew tired of this and cooled to simply commenting on our days. He is in college and has a part-time job. I work full time all over the fair city of Nagoya. We are both boring. Basicaly. Eventually we also become really bored with this. One day I reported to him that I was watching Finding Nemo and he blurted... well texted in all caps that he wanted to "see Nimo" too. So we set a date which just happened to be this past friday.
Now I was thrilled. I knew this would turn into a sexual thing and I was thrilled. Like I said its been a crazy long time for me. Anyway, when firday came I agreed to meet him at the train station near my apartment. (I spent the better part ot three days cleaning my apartment. Just so you know.) When 5 came I went to meet him at the station and was greeted with a quite attractive guy. Nice ass, nice skin, nice face, nice clothes, etc. I said, hi. He said, hi. I then began to lead him to my apartment and that is when the package started to come undone a little. As he attmepted to speak I realized that his accent was a bit... horrible. I could barely understand him, and then he basically shot me with the most deadly question I have ever heard:"Do you speak Japanese?"
Okay! Yes, I am in Japan. It makes perfect sense for me to learn the bloody language, but when someone who has been sending you messages for the last ten days asks you can you speak Japanese it means that they fucking can't. That's what I realized almost immediately. As he waited for my answer my mind was overwhelmed with various conversations that I had in the past with Japanese and English speaking people in which we all agreed that in this damn country almost everyone can read and write in English a little, but they get almost triaing in speaking. So their written vocabulary can exceed their spoken by.... fucking powers. At any rate this is what I was now leading to my apartment. I of course answered, "only a little." And tried to string together a short sentence that basicaly said I can only speak a little. I plastered my best fake smile on my face at that point and carried on with leading. When we got to my apartment we watched fucking Nemo and then had about an hour and a half of us trying vainly to penetrate the differences in our languages and find some way for us to communicate.
Then we watched TV for like thirty minutes. I apologized for being a bad host. He didn't understand. I was very horny so eventually I asked to see his dick. He said sure an then I gave him the best blowjob of his life. I wouldv'e fucked him, but condoms here seem a little small and painful. No that is not a testament to the incredible length and girth of my penis. Its average. End of story. Anyway, I made him suck my dick and was pissed because he sucked at it (no pun intended)
Ok this little story is getting a bit long in the tooth. So to wrap up. The bastard hasn't contacted me at all since he left my apartment on friday. I don't know if I'm upset by that. I did meet him on a website called manhunt, we both speak different languages, and we were both really horny. So should I really expect more? Probably not, but one can hope.
hmmm... why should I hope?
I'm gonna stop writing now. If I continue I think I may just write myself into an early grave.
Oh and here is a totally unrelated photograph.
This past friday I began what I hope will be a quite fruitful study into the sexual and relationship (there should be a better word for this but i can't remember) habits of Japanese men. Basicaly I met a guy, invited him, back to my apartment and had sex with him. That ended my four year hiatus from the world of sexual activity. Do I feel any different? No, just a little more horny than I did before. This little episode, which I wanted badly to actually be a date, but fell miserably short and was only worthy of episode status, did not come with that many bells and whistle. Actually, it came with an "Oh shit!" alarm.
You see, this episode started about a week and a half ago with me breaking down and finally putting an ad on one of those online dating sites. I say break down because to me online dating has always been silly. I'm a people person. I like to examine a person, in person, and see their good points, bad points, and all those little points that blur the lines. You know things like talking with a mouth full of saliva (bad), but being able to say things in such a way that you find yourself unable to even breath (good). Those two things together makes for a gray. I like gray. I find gray to be a happy color. The color of uncertainty, the color of a storm, the color most of the strongest building materials in the world.
Anyway, I put the ad up and was immediately overwhelmed with responses. Keep in mind that my ad was basically about 15 words that included the headline, "Cool American Guy," and nothing more really. I guess too much ifo just makes things confusing. Eventually after responding to a few e-mails I slipped into a rythym of texting with this one cute Japanese guy, Yuji. We would send messages all day asking each other all kinds of mundane little questions: favorite movie?; can you cook?; dance?; etc. Eventualy we both grew tired of this and cooled to simply commenting on our days. He is in college and has a part-time job. I work full time all over the fair city of Nagoya. We are both boring. Basicaly. Eventually we also become really bored with this. One day I reported to him that I was watching Finding Nemo and he blurted... well texted in all caps that he wanted to "see Nimo" too. So we set a date which just happened to be this past friday.
Now I was thrilled. I knew this would turn into a sexual thing and I was thrilled. Like I said its been a crazy long time for me. Anyway, when firday came I agreed to meet him at the train station near my apartment. (I spent the better part ot three days cleaning my apartment. Just so you know.) When 5 came I went to meet him at the station and was greeted with a quite attractive guy. Nice ass, nice skin, nice face, nice clothes, etc. I said, hi. He said, hi. I then began to lead him to my apartment and that is when the package started to come undone a little. As he attmepted to speak I realized that his accent was a bit... horrible. I could barely understand him, and then he basically shot me with the most deadly question I have ever heard:"Do you speak Japanese?"
Okay! Yes, I am in Japan. It makes perfect sense for me to learn the bloody language, but when someone who has been sending you messages for the last ten days asks you can you speak Japanese it means that they fucking can't. That's what I realized almost immediately. As he waited for my answer my mind was overwhelmed with various conversations that I had in the past with Japanese and English speaking people in which we all agreed that in this damn country almost everyone can read and write in English a little, but they get almost triaing in speaking. So their written vocabulary can exceed their spoken by.... fucking powers. At any rate this is what I was now leading to my apartment. I of course answered, "only a little." And tried to string together a short sentence that basicaly said I can only speak a little. I plastered my best fake smile on my face at that point and carried on with leading. When we got to my apartment we watched fucking Nemo and then had about an hour and a half of us trying vainly to penetrate the differences in our languages and find some way for us to communicate.
Then we watched TV for like thirty minutes. I apologized for being a bad host. He didn't understand. I was very horny so eventually I asked to see his dick. He said sure an then I gave him the best blowjob of his life. I wouldv'e fucked him, but condoms here seem a little small and painful. No that is not a testament to the incredible length and girth of my penis. Its average. End of story. Anyway, I made him suck my dick and was pissed because he sucked at it (no pun intended)
Ok this little story is getting a bit long in the tooth. So to wrap up. The bastard hasn't contacted me at all since he left my apartment on friday. I don't know if I'm upset by that. I did meet him on a website called manhunt, we both speak different languages, and we were both really horny. So should I really expect more? Probably not, but one can hope.
hmmm... why should I hope?
I'm gonna stop writing now. If I continue I think I may just write myself into an early grave.
Oh and here is a totally unrelated photograph.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
August 30, 2006 @ work... again
Once again doing the yes-i'm -busy song and dance. Today I'm at a different school, not one in the fucking boondocks of japan. I'm here as an extra teacher today. A kind of servant in waiting. my job today is to be availible for any class or work that they (the japanesesesesesessss) can dream up to dump on me. Usually they are on ly able to dream up some meaningless office work. So foar today I have:
1) spent about an hour stamping the company logo and this schools address to a pile of white envelopes. (truly a great way to fire up the old fun receptors.)
2) contemplated the meaning of life and a winter trip to Thailand while tearing the perforated edges off of a pile of about 400 pages. I was almost killed by the joy until my Australian coworker decided to regale me with tales of poorly reported shark attacks in Australia. Apparently, "drowned and never found" is Australian for "eaten by shark." Also he informed me that Thailand is just a great big brothel. I don't know if that makes me want to go more or what. You learn something new every day.
3) cringed at the crusty looking rash on my students arms and neck. I know its a skin condition and that she is probably doing all she can to control it, but these types of thins are like candy for my eyes; no, heroin. Out of a see of nearly perfect looking Japanese people comes this crumbling woman wanting to learn english. I have to stare. Don't worry though, I remained extremely friendly and appeared to make eye contact several times. I'm sure she never thought that i was screaming and pointing in my head.
Lie with your eyes, not your mouth.
1) spent about an hour stamping the company logo and this schools address to a pile of white envelopes. (truly a great way to fire up the old fun receptors.)
2) contemplated the meaning of life and a winter trip to Thailand while tearing the perforated edges off of a pile of about 400 pages. I was almost killed by the joy until my Australian coworker decided to regale me with tales of poorly reported shark attacks in Australia. Apparently, "drowned and never found" is Australian for "eaten by shark." Also he informed me that Thailand is just a great big brothel. I don't know if that makes me want to go more or what. You learn something new every day.
3) cringed at the crusty looking rash on my students arms and neck. I know its a skin condition and that she is probably doing all she can to control it, but these types of thins are like candy for my eyes; no, heroin. Out of a see of nearly perfect looking Japanese people comes this crumbling woman wanting to learn english. I have to stare. Don't worry though, I remained extremely friendly and appeared to make eye contact several times. I'm sure she never thought that i was screaming and pointing in my head.
Lie with your eyes, not your mouth.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
August 28, 2006 @ work
Currently, I am testing a theory. As long as you appear to be busy people will assume you are and will not bother you. i have nothing to do right now. My day is planned. All I have to do now is greet my students when they arrive... in 10 minutes. If I appear unbusy my japanese coworkers will put me on fan detail. (basically I will be given a bottomless box filled to infinity with fans and either a stack of stick-to-your-fingers-and-clothes stickers or a slice-deep-into-your-fingers flyers to attach through prayer and staples to the fans.) I don't like fan detail. If you haven't noticed. It feels like a cruel punishment for being one of the few english speakers in the office. I've had a thought recently, fan detail could possibly be the key yo stopping violent crimes... in the whole world... and select portions of the universe
Yes. Fan detail is an unmatched force of control.
I work with an almost limitless number of beautiful japanese women. Its like beauty is a prerequisite for working for my company. All of the women are beautiful and if they lack it in the face they make up for it with their bodies. I've seen mothers of three who look like they just exited high school. If I were like most men i might be in Heaven, but all that i see is frustration. Why can't the number of beautiful women be matched by the number of beautiful men. Sure, we have some lookers, but to see them you must muscle your way past all of the women.
This is just wrong on so many levels.
Yes. Fan detail is an unmatched force of control.
I work with an almost limitless number of beautiful japanese women. Its like beauty is a prerequisite for working for my company. All of the women are beautiful and if they lack it in the face they make up for it with their bodies. I've seen mothers of three who look like they just exited high school. If I were like most men i might be in Heaven, but all that i see is frustration. Why can't the number of beautiful women be matched by the number of beautiful men. Sure, we have some lookers, but to see them you must muscle your way past all of the women.
This is just wrong on so many levels.
Friday, September 01, 2006
august 7, 2006 2:04 am
I am afraid that tonight sleep will not come. For some reason I am worried about my sisters. My older sister primarily. I think she may get in a car accident soon. Not a bad one. She’ll be okay. But I still worry about it. Once, when we were younger, we were riding together in a go cart. I was driving. I remember driving quickly around a corner and my sister flying out the side of the cart and sliding along the ground. I keep seeing this in my mind. Every time I close my eyes it’s the same thing. It has been that way for the last few nights. Tonight Its even worse. I don’t think I’ll be sleeping today. I remember the same thing happened with my younger sister when I was driving the go cart. She fell on grass though… then I drove over her foot. She was okay.
I want to call home and check on them but I really can’t afford it and my cell phone isn’t letting me call internationally for some reason. I hope everything is ok. I guess that is al I can do. My mom would call me if there was a problem. It’s 12:10 pm in Houston right now. My sister will be leaving church shortly. She is an avid church goer. She’ll be riding on the Houston highways…. She’ll be ok.
My mind is just inventing things because I miss my family. that’s all. I do miss them. I really want to talk to them.
I think I’ll have to call for money some how. I’m like really on my last dime. I got a credit card from my bank here but I’m scared to go over board using it. I actually have only bout some food, a pan, and, um…., that’s actually it. A pan and some food. I wanted to buy a TV or a play station 2 or a rice cooker, but since I have had very little food in my refrigerator or my stomach I easily ruled those three out. A rice cooker is starting to sound nice though. I know I commented once that I was starting to be sick of rice. I think I may have been wrong. Everything goes with rice; it’s the perfect filler food.
Ok I’m gonna try sleep again.
I want to call home and check on them but I really can’t afford it and my cell phone isn’t letting me call internationally for some reason. I hope everything is ok. I guess that is al I can do. My mom would call me if there was a problem. It’s 12:10 pm in Houston right now. My sister will be leaving church shortly. She is an avid church goer. She’ll be riding on the Houston highways…. She’ll be ok.
My mind is just inventing things because I miss my family. that’s all. I do miss them. I really want to talk to them.
I think I’ll have to call for money some how. I’m like really on my last dime. I got a credit card from my bank here but I’m scared to go over board using it. I actually have only bout some food, a pan, and, um…., that’s actually it. A pan and some food. I wanted to buy a TV or a play station 2 or a rice cooker, but since I have had very little food in my refrigerator or my stomach I easily ruled those three out. A rice cooker is starting to sound nice though. I know I commented once that I was starting to be sick of rice. I think I may have been wrong. Everything goes with rice; it’s the perfect filler food.
Ok I’m gonna try sleep again.
August 3, 2006
I have officially been living in Nagoya for a month… I have been in Japan for approximately 4 months. The time here seems to be creeping by at a steady pace. Not exactly fast, but definitely not slow. In 4 months I’ve had three jobs, owned two apartments, amassed a small fortune in credit card and student loan bills, and for some reason unknown to me managed to add a year to my life.
Its true. I’m 24, but recently I suffered under the belief that I was twenty five. I told countless students that I was 25. Often times they didn’t believe me. I believed me, but one day one of my students… actually a week ago today, asked my birthday and we realized that we shared the same birthday. He was 26 and I 25. We were thrilled until he started to do some very simple math and realized that I simply could not be 25. 24, he concluded and then proceeded to question if I was entirely sure of the year in which I was born. I took it all in stride, but could feel a considerable amount of my credibility as a teacher slipping through my fingers.
When I explained the situation to my mother she replied in her best motherly fashion that I have simply been under a lot of stress, a conclusion that I find quite easy to accept. While accepting her theory I have also created one of my own. Several of my students often comment that I look like I’m in my early thirties. For Japanese people that isn’t odd because every one here looks extremely young. SO telling the age of a foreigner is not a skill that I expect them to have developed in great detail. Still, I’ve been told I look thirty so many times that I think I subconsciously began to add days and months to my life to eventually get my age to match what people are seeing.
I look old… very old. I’m 24 but appear thirty. I’m starting to see how plastic surgery can appear appealing to people. I want to be young forever damn it or at least young when I should be. I think the difference in people’s actual age and the age they are perceived to be is what makes people lay willingly under the surgeons knife. Japan is gonna make me buy all kinds of look young creams and shit next time I go home. Which once again may be around Christmas. My friend who moved to Okinawa quit his job after a day and returned swiftly to the mainland. Eventually he will come to Nagoya for a while and then proceed back to the US. What will he do ? I don’t know, but I’m glad to help. He did let me crash his place for almost a month after I lost my job.
That’s one reason why I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to have to recount the details of me losing my job to my family repeatedly . Maybe they won’t ask… immediately . Eventually I know they will. Who am I fooling. I’m not going home at Christmas. It would simply be too expensive. The trip alone would probably drain my meager resources. I don’t even want to get into my innate desire to buy stuff.
Shit. Christmas would wreck my plastic surgery fund. I will of course do things to naturally regain my youth. Exercise and shit. But I think a happy bitch is gonna need a facelift.
Its true. I’m 24, but recently I suffered under the belief that I was twenty five. I told countless students that I was 25. Often times they didn’t believe me. I believed me, but one day one of my students… actually a week ago today, asked my birthday and we realized that we shared the same birthday. He was 26 and I 25. We were thrilled until he started to do some very simple math and realized that I simply could not be 25. 24, he concluded and then proceeded to question if I was entirely sure of the year in which I was born. I took it all in stride, but could feel a considerable amount of my credibility as a teacher slipping through my fingers.
When I explained the situation to my mother she replied in her best motherly fashion that I have simply been under a lot of stress, a conclusion that I find quite easy to accept. While accepting her theory I have also created one of my own. Several of my students often comment that I look like I’m in my early thirties. For Japanese people that isn’t odd because every one here looks extremely young. SO telling the age of a foreigner is not a skill that I expect them to have developed in great detail. Still, I’ve been told I look thirty so many times that I think I subconsciously began to add days and months to my life to eventually get my age to match what people are seeing.
I look old… very old. I’m 24 but appear thirty. I’m starting to see how plastic surgery can appear appealing to people. I want to be young forever damn it or at least young when I should be. I think the difference in people’s actual age and the age they are perceived to be is what makes people lay willingly under the surgeons knife. Japan is gonna make me buy all kinds of look young creams and shit next time I go home. Which once again may be around Christmas. My friend who moved to Okinawa quit his job after a day and returned swiftly to the mainland. Eventually he will come to Nagoya for a while and then proceed back to the US. What will he do ? I don’t know, but I’m glad to help. He did let me crash his place for almost a month after I lost my job.
That’s one reason why I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to have to recount the details of me losing my job to my family repeatedly . Maybe they won’t ask… immediately . Eventually I know they will. Who am I fooling. I’m not going home at Christmas. It would simply be too expensive. The trip alone would probably drain my meager resources. I don’t even want to get into my innate desire to buy stuff.
Shit. Christmas would wreck my plastic surgery fund. I will of course do things to naturally regain my youth. Exercise and shit. But I think a happy bitch is gonna need a facelift.
April 4, 2006
My Microsoft Word demo has expired and so I had to dig around on my computer for this. Microsoft Works. I had no idea that my computer was harboring this little gem. Anyway. Lets see if I can bring the world up to speed on were I am. I am in Japan. There. Are we all on the same page. I still don’t have a cell phone. My apartment, though nice, is extremely boring. My desire, some might call it inherent, to decorate is rearing its ugly head. This isn’t the need to decorate out of sheer desire. If it was something as frivolous as desire I am certain I could club that bitch with a pole and shove it kicking and screaming back into the room that we will call submission. No, this desire to decorate comes from the simple realization that I fucking live in Japan and I can’t go visit my family and friends tomorrow… or even next week for that matter. My home like it or not is in Japan and I really need to make that realization be reflected in my living space.
Currently I don’t even have a table. The apartment came with a crappy computer desk. This desk comes complete with an equally crappy chair. I say crappy because my big ass or anyone who is not “Japanese-size” was never considered when this chair was being designed. It hurts my butt. Plain and simple. The floor or my bed… futon… pallet is far more comfortable than that chair. The point that I was trying to make is that the largest flat surface in my apartment is really shitty and not really useful for anything of substantial weight. My apartment also came with a small dresser, a book shelf and various household electronics. None of which makes this place feel like anything more than a glorified dorm room. I need to change that and I believe I’ll start this weekend by going to Nagoya to find a poster for me room.
Currently I don’t even have a table. The apartment came with a crappy computer desk. This desk comes complete with an equally crappy chair. I say crappy because my big ass or anyone who is not “Japanese-size” was never considered when this chair was being designed. It hurts my butt. Plain and simple. The floor or my bed… futon… pallet is far more comfortable than that chair. The point that I was trying to make is that the largest flat surface in my apartment is really shitty and not really useful for anything of substantial weight. My apartment also came with a small dresser, a book shelf and various household electronics. None of which makes this place feel like anything more than a glorified dorm room. I need to change that and I believe I’ll start this weekend by going to Nagoya to find a poster for me room.
july 30, 2006
Now that I think about it the really chill painter guy that used to come on pbs was fucking awesome. Sure his voice had a certain melody that could easily lull the most ADD cursed child and his should have been registered as a crime against humanity or at least good taste. The man was a freaking genius. I know nothing of true art, but I do no that making a picture appear in 45 minutes with cameras rolling and giving full narration must have been incredibly difficult. I don’t think I could do anything requiring a personal touch in 45 minutes.
How’s that for random.
I honestly don’t know why I’m writing. I guess in some ways I might just be a little bored… restless… hungry? I’m definitely getting back into the old swing of things here in Japan. I live in Nagoya now. I have an apartment. I recently bought a refrigerator and I am awaiting the day that I get paid. Sounds just like me before doesn’t it. Of course some things are different. I work for a different company doing basically the same job. I still find my coworkers attractive (curse the stupid bitch who thinks that wrong!) but now I don’t really bother with the tedious task of learning my coworkers names. Doesn’t matter how cute they are. This job has me bouncing all over the Aichi and Mie prefectures. This last week has had me reintroducing myself to a new group of people every day. If they can’t stay he same I see no point in memorizing their names. That’s silly isn’t it. I don’t care.
I’ve not been eating normally lately. At university I was famous for declaring ramen to not be a meal, but lately I find that I eat it, and often times nothing else, everyday. It goes without saying that I’m losing a great deal of weight. I just wonder how much longer I can keep this up. This doesn’t seem like a very healthy way to live. If I could substitute the ramen with something that I heavier in more nutrients than sodium I would be very happy. But for now my budget only makes room for ramen.
I will hopefully be starting judo soon. I figure that I have an unfathomable amount of anger and tension still built up in me, you can only drown so much in alcohol, that judo might be a good outlet for me. Sure I don’t really like being thrown around, but knowing that I can eventually throw someone too makes me very happy and willing to accept the pain. I may join a gym too. I would like to see how far proper exercise can take my new weight lose. My “skinny boy pants” are fitting me now. I don’t exactly feel cute in them, but I’m still happy that I can get the evil bitches on.
Recently I was made aware that a legend has been growing back home. My friends back at university have discovered that I lost my job and for some reason think that I have gone crying to Florida, the land of heat, humidity, and hurricanes. They are making me think of writing a story for the Int’l literary magazine here. They gave me a title. The Knight’s Legend. I think it would make an excellent story. Of course I know that almost all good stories don’t begin with a catchy title, but I would like to think that just this one time the laws of sense and sensibility would look the other way and let this story take wing. Even as I type this entry… this letter almost to an audience that I know is not there I can feel the wheels in the back of my head straining to break free of the vines and roots that have certainly taken root in their workings. I think I will write a story… a good one. I think that I have finally lived through a bout of shit so severe that it needs to be written about.
The Knight’s Tale will begin shortly.
How’s that for random.
I honestly don’t know why I’m writing. I guess in some ways I might just be a little bored… restless… hungry? I’m definitely getting back into the old swing of things here in Japan. I live in Nagoya now. I have an apartment. I recently bought a refrigerator and I am awaiting the day that I get paid. Sounds just like me before doesn’t it. Of course some things are different. I work for a different company doing basically the same job. I still find my coworkers attractive (curse the stupid bitch who thinks that wrong!) but now I don’t really bother with the tedious task of learning my coworkers names. Doesn’t matter how cute they are. This job has me bouncing all over the Aichi and Mie prefectures. This last week has had me reintroducing myself to a new group of people every day. If they can’t stay he same I see no point in memorizing their names. That’s silly isn’t it. I don’t care.
I’ve not been eating normally lately. At university I was famous for declaring ramen to not be a meal, but lately I find that I eat it, and often times nothing else, everyday. It goes without saying that I’m losing a great deal of weight. I just wonder how much longer I can keep this up. This doesn’t seem like a very healthy way to live. If I could substitute the ramen with something that I heavier in more nutrients than sodium I would be very happy. But for now my budget only makes room for ramen.
I will hopefully be starting judo soon. I figure that I have an unfathomable amount of anger and tension still built up in me, you can only drown so much in alcohol, that judo might be a good outlet for me. Sure I don’t really like being thrown around, but knowing that I can eventually throw someone too makes me very happy and willing to accept the pain. I may join a gym too. I would like to see how far proper exercise can take my new weight lose. My “skinny boy pants” are fitting me now. I don’t exactly feel cute in them, but I’m still happy that I can get the evil bitches on.
Recently I was made aware that a legend has been growing back home. My friends back at university have discovered that I lost my job and for some reason think that I have gone crying to Florida, the land of heat, humidity, and hurricanes. They are making me think of writing a story for the Int’l literary magazine here. They gave me a title. The Knight’s Legend. I think it would make an excellent story. Of course I know that almost all good stories don’t begin with a catchy title, but I would like to think that just this one time the laws of sense and sensibility would look the other way and let this story take wing. Even as I type this entry… this letter almost to an audience that I know is not there I can feel the wheels in the back of my head straining to break free of the vines and roots that have certainly taken root in their workings. I think I will write a story… a good one. I think that I have finally lived through a bout of shit so severe that it needs to be written about.
The Knight’s Tale will begin shortly.
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