November 4th, 2004
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Rain, Elle, socks, and turning twenty-five
Without great amounts of fanfare I turned twenty-five last Saturday. I’m trying to remember when birthdays went from being hair band CD gift showers at Village Lanes duckpin bowling, to a feigned sense of surprise and a rainy day alone with a ten-thousand yen bill from the office.
Let’s wind back the clock and watch the calendar days fall. Saturday the 16th I had a joint birthday party with my undergraduate friend Yoshiki at the infamous Taiheisan restaurant/bar, known among Japanese programmers for its cosplaying waitresses. Luckily, I was able to summon enough acquaintances (and sake) that I was quite entertained and the two hours just zipped by over laughter and presents including pig spice dispensers and a replica Ichiro jersey. The downside is I really didn’t pay much attention to the waitresses this time, only snapping a single obligatory photograph.
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Afterwards, high on hot rice wine I proclaimed the continuation of our revelry at a nearby karaoke hall and sang a lot of things I don’t remember, but if it was my standard repertoire, probably something along the lines of “New York, New York”, “Sweet Caroline”, and “Yume no Naka e”. All in all, kick… ass. I consider myself especially lucky that I could get a dozen people together in a city where no one ever has time for anyone.
Jump ahead thirteen days to last Friday, whereupon I receive the yearly all too on the mark Hallmark gem from my mother, and over an impromptu lunch at Mother Leaf, plans are made for me to be celebrated by my coworkers after I squeak out the door at half-past eight. We go to a sports bar in Meidaimae. Due to some wormhole through time I manage to spend over five _hours_ in the same establishment (mostly thanks to the unbelievably slow service), watching Italian soccer on a really poor projector/wall setup and drinking one of just about everything on the menu. [You must understand how much of a feat this is for me, as normally I go mad if I'm in the same place of business for more than an hour and a half.] These things are starting to become ever so slightly less painful than they were a year ago as I’m able to participate in enough of the conversation that I can appear mildly entertaining.
At half past two goodbyes are said and everyone takes a taxi, some of which run upwards of fifty dollars for Kawasaki. Fortunately I live close enough that I could (_could_) walk home, but share one anyway with a guy that lives near me and it’s like eight bucks (which he pays). Then, after working another seventy hour week and having over half a dozen drinks, I instinctively shirk the sensible man’s calling to go home and feel that ten thousand yen bill burning a hole through my satchel. So I do what I always do when I get home late, alone, and half drunk- I go to Marie, the “hostess” bar above the ratty Venga Venga supermarket and just barely make it in before the three am closing time. But since it’s my birthday, two forty-five is good enough for a beer and a song. And from some other perhaps related temporal disturbance, I end up hanging out alone and chatting with the mama-san that runs the place until about quarter after five when she politely asks me to leave when I finish my crab leg and tofu soup. Wow. Where did the energy come from? Jack Daniels I guess. As a bonus for my continued patronage I receive two pair of birthday Burberry socks (about four centimeters too short) from Isetan. I’m honored, despite how the idea of wearing the stocking-thin old man dress socks makes me queasy. The owner tells me that the embroidery on the ankles indicates they are in the top tier as far as socks go, and I have no trouble taking her word for it.
Feeling sheepish but content, I bicycle home to call my mother and blather on about something until about the fortieth time she tells me to go to bed. [Aah, the nostalgia...]
Saturday I meant to get up at eight and ride my bike until the wheels fell off (or my camera died), but mother nature wanted to screw with me some more and bring out a bone-chilling rain for the first day I’ve had to myself in about a month. Figures. I don’t let that totally ruin my plans though, and after a failed attempt to claim a parcel at the post office, I wander around the temple near my house for about half an hour, reading gravestones and touching worn stone Buddhas.
It was actually really nice, the kind of cold where your nose turns chilly and taut, but a couple shirts on top of each other keep you warm. The best part were these basins positioned right under the rain spouts on the eaves of the temple roof. Rain water fell in perfect, sputtering columns of icy daggers to land in the overflowing basins and burble over the sides. I couldn’t resist putting my hand directly in the stream of water plummeting from three meters above. The synesthaesia of the cumulative temperature and force with which the water fell was amazing. I turned my palm facing up and got the stream to hit right in the center, at the weakest part of the hand. The stabbing pain was simply fantastic. It was mildly agonizing and pleasurable at the same time, like I was aware of how it hurt but the way that it hurt was so peaceful and natural that it just seemed right. I wish I could explain it better, but it was the most tranquil I’d felt in ages.
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Unfortunately, as if driven by a mysterious force to destroy any brief flashes of zen, I was compelled to stop by a convenience store on the way home and somehow managed to spend thirty dollars on sandwiches, Oreos, and a copy of Dorimag. On a whim I serviced a biannual need to purchase a fashion magazine and picked up a copy of Elle, partially because I wanted to study the photographs and partially because Kirsten Dunst was on the cover. Oh well, so much for piety.
Saturday night Mikiko took me out for my birthday and we saw Frankenweenie and The Nightmare Before Christmas at Cinecitta. We had dinner at a garlic restaurant and of course the next day was the parade.
So, that’s about it. Aside from the card my mom sent, I haven’t gotten anything in the way of remote birthday congratulations, but one or two people have said they were thinking about me. I’m a little hurt that one or two people in particular didn’t say anything, but I guess that’s the way it goes. It was nice here, anyway.
