July 9th, 2003
Me and my big mouth
So I ride the train to work everyday, it’s something people do here. ~2.50$ to the office, 2.50$ back. Not bad. Government mandates that the company pay for it too. Even better. Anyway, I try to sleep, but usually there’s too much to notice. Japan is a very dense country in more ways than one, synaesthesia not being the least. So this girl gets on around Meidaimae and takes the seat next to me. But before she even sat down I picked up on her scent, wafting in through the open door. Oh yeah. So stimulating, so arousing… hot dogs. Now, don’t get me wrong, I _loved_ it. It was great, made the trip home. However, if I _told_ her that, she’d probably slap me. I truly would have meant it as a compliment too. Anything that assails my senses to trigger a cavalcade of memories and faded imagery is a big win for me. Because it wasn’t _just_ hot dogs. It was the fourth of July (oddly enough), it was bone dry dirt on a city baseball diamond, grass making the bottom of your feet itch as you run over to get some of the metal-tasting water from the beat fountain next to the rusty green trash can that somehow is sitting crooked on the flat ground. All those times sitting on the swings next to a girl at 11:45pm when you know your father wanted you home at 10:00. I thought of all that, in about three-quarters of a second; a gift from wherever this girl had been that day and picked up. But usually I have to keep those things to myself. You can imagine what happened when I told one girl her orange shirt was fantastic because it reminded me of a pumpkin, or another that I absolutely loved her turtleneck because my grandmother used to wear one just like it. Yeah.
On to more serious matters, my friend Brandon is approaching one of those crossroads that some men crumple under. Fortunately, there’s still hope as his posts are riddled with allusions to fantastic gems such as Mr. Mom and Grosse Point Blank. He gets a two star minimum for that ladies and gentlemen (who the hell am I talking to?). But anyway, the company’s being hard on him, the girl is being hard on him, he’s estranged from the `rents, and he doesn’t have any cash. Wow, he sounds just like me…except for the girl thing. So let’s all blow our shed eyelashes in his favour, and secretly hope he does what everbosy thinks he’s going to and just FLIP OUT, subsequently moving to a certain Pacific island nation for trancendental rehab with the guru of simple living (25$ / day) and therapeutic raves.
“We may be through with the past, but the past is not through with us.”
