Rain Rambling

The rains of the Japanese summer are becoming a bit of a myth to me. A legend if you will. I always see the signs of rain. Cloudy skies, wet sidewalks, hordes of brain dead girls dragging umbrellas behind them, but the actual rain never comes.

Well let me revise that. About a week ago I was awoken by strong wind and loud thunder entering through my open window. Of course it was raining. It was also 4:30 in the morning. That didn't stop me from standing my naked ass outside in what was arguably the best weather of my summer vacation.

Today, the sky never made good on its promise of rain. I'm not really sure who I should file a complaint with, but something has got to change. I don't have the funds to set up a system of rain alerts for myself. Is that even necessary?

It might be.

I don't want to go dancing in the rain or something. I just want to enjoy the sound and the peace. Some of my most wonderful thoughts came to me while it was raining. Actually that reminds me of a story.

When I was in the tenth grade I met my first boyfriend. He was great; Intelligent to a point, funny within reasonable limits, and not dead set on getting into my pants. Actually he was but I silenced him with a few well placed blow jobs. Unfortunately he was destined to never get into my drawers.

During my year my parents decided, mostly because the couch in the den had sprung a leak, to get new furniture. I saw no reason to for them to completely dispose of the all of the old furniture so I negotiated with them for custody of the old love seat.

That was either the most intelligent or most unbearably stupid thing i had ever done. As I said the couch had sprung a leak. My father and I somehow squeezed that humongous thing in my room, and then I immediately started thinking of ways to stop the damn thing from spewing foam all over my room. I eventually went with the pick all the shit up and stuff it back into the couch approach. It worked for a good while.

The condition of the couch really isn't the point of this poorly constructed story though. I won't even get into the true hideousness of its early 80's inspired brown shit designs. (It was unforgivably ugly!) I had great memories on that couch. My first blow job was given and received on that couch. I got spanked on that couch. My sister burned a hole in it and eventually I realized that my first boyfriend, as "wonderful" as he was, was really not good for me. If I had stuck with him there was a chance, albeit small, that he could have dragged me down into whatever hole he was slipping into.

I don't even know if he was truly slipping anywhere. We were just growing apart. It happened over the course of about two years. He just gradually slipped out of my life. I went to university one year and when I came back he was completely gone. I have no idea where he is now. I actually would like to talk to him again, but knowing my current mindset I am more than likely to fall madly in love with him again.

Actually that mindset is why I'm currently avoiding Jun. He tried to stay over last night. I know he just wanted a blow job or something. I actually think that on some level he actually feels lonely. Like he works all the time and is just surrounded by his coworkers. You would think that would create some kind of family for him, but this the land of the 4 layers of yourself. I would go into those layers, but will jut sum it all up by saying that the layers never actually complete a picture of yourself. The image actually ends up being something society friendly and overtly heartless. Dangerous. Not to be trusted.

I think I can trust Tomo though. I actually made a nickname for him recently. I would write it here but I think I would feel a little silly when SemiSpecial started to tease me about it. I know Peanut might "try" to hold his tongue until he had something truly funny to say.

I had a brief discussion with Tomo about why foreigners might be afraid of the police here in Japan. He thought it was because they didn't speak the language, and in truth that is true. There is more to it though. The police, actually a large part of the population, is racist. Or irrationally distrustful of foreigners.... sometimes violent.... exceptionally rude.... bitches to foreigners. I told him about the case of an African man who was denied medical treatment for a broken leg for 10 days by the Tokyo police. The police would not allow him to be treated until he signed a confession. You can read about it here. The case is going to court soon.


This rant is going for way to long.