Since I had a fairly good day today, after a really depressing romp here for some time, I'm going to start on a positive note. Hopefully, I can spin it positive the whole duration of this entry. I'm not sure yet. For the first time in quite some time, I'm totally confused at my feelings. Mostly, I just feel completely dead inside. Spiritually dead--I'm used to. Emotionally dead--this is a bit new. Not much hope and not many aspirations. I'm sort of hoping to just ride this out for two years and see what happens to me.
There is a common complaint amongst the JET community that some JETs never leave their apartments and are anti-social. I can somehow see this happening to me. The weird thing is... I'm sort of starting to think that anti-social is about the best reaction to have. God, if I had simply been transplanted to another country--I'd cringe at the thought. There's something weird about this program. It's sort of fraternal. It's sort of like you have to fit a mold/stereotype in order to make it work. I hate it. It reminds me of many things I've experienced like this. Travel should not be this way. Travel should enable people to feel free, not bound to a preconceived notion. I don't want to have a designated role to fill. I want to find things out on my own. So far, there's a lot of telling. So far, there's a lot of expectation for me to be someone other than me. Either these other JETs are all putting on a major fucking act, or I'm a bit off (compared to them).
I have to sincerely (since I've bashed everyone in the program, pretty much) that many of them seem like good people. It's just the same old game that I'm tired of playing. They have it really easy blending in, and I stand out like an awkward broken and bloodied blue thumb. Thumb. I'm a thumb and they're fingers.
But, I really wanted to get away from this stuff tonight. I wanted to get to the good stuff that happened to me today. It was as good of a day as I could have had under the circumstances.
I fucking love driving in Japan! God, it was my biggest fear, but driving that big ass fucking van... I don't know. It's like I've got an identity again. It's a glorious piece of machinery. And it agrees with me. I haven't had a hard time adjusting to the driving on the left thing (many say it's because the driver's side is on the right); but overall, I feel like a king of the road. It's nice to see the city, and I haven't gotten lost (or even close to lost) even though the streets have no names. I've just been counting numbers of streets and guessing--so far, that's worked just great. I got a bit gutsy and pushed the radio button--one of Chris' cds came on (it was actually really good) and I got to drive with music. I wanted to give myself some time to get used to the difference before rocking out, but tomorrow, the ZUNER comes with me and we rock out to J. Richman in the Schmoobile.
I'm having a tough time with the name. It doesn't feel like a Schmoo V like I had promised I would name it. It doesn't have a Schmoo sort of personality. It's more of a Simpson or Noodles. I'll have to construct this idea.
Listening to Jonathan Richman's solo work right now. God, I need to get in his mindset. This is what I need in this country. Simple and direct. "At night, at night... that's when I get my bright ideas... bup buddy bup bup." He's quite brilliant and direct.
I have so much else to say. I almost feel like I need a numbered list, as I'm wont to do when I'm overwhelmed with things to report.
Ok. I guess this will go from least pressing to most pressing, since I'm going to need to finish with my bug story. There will be many things. I'm drinking my first bottle of red wine that I've had in weeks (since I've left), and I've forgotten how it goes to my head. God, I love glorious glorious red wine. This bottle ain't half bad, either. Only about 700 yen, too.
1. I can't complain that I get to be alone in a small apartment in Japan, drinking red wine out of my beloved bunny mug, listening to Jonathan Richman (or whatever). It's nice to not have to answer to anyone. Also, there's more of a pressing need to do this sort of thing. I need to write and read and think and play guitar. It's fucking great to be alone. I'm officially taking a long time away from everyone. No contact with people here or at home for a while. I need to get my head around things and just enjoy what will inevitably be two years of talking to no one.
2. Songs I've been playing on guitar. Well, I'm trying to do two a night (getting really good at them). So far... meh. They need some work. But I've got "Breakdown" by Suede, "Walking in Space" from the Hair Soundtrack, "One More Night" by Bob Dylan, "Two Crows" by Herman Dune, "Mandolin Wind" by Rod Stewart, and "Bad Kids" by Black Lips. God, if some motherfucker played that shit at a Potbelly's, I'd ask him (or her) to marry me. It's a bad ass set so far. I'm hoping to get ten really eclectic and fucking awesome songs together for a set--where I don't even have to look at the sheet music. We'll see how it goes. Godawful youtube videos to follow.
I've often wondered if I'd get along with a clone of myself. My answer. We'd probably condemn out heterosexuality and fuck.
3. School today: Well, I'm officially in the shit. It's not even affecting me whatsoever, though. I don't care if I fail. God, that's even more badass than Rush Limbaugh's comment. But, I'm working hard (as I always do as a teacher) to make my lessons fucking impenetrable. I'll do well. I need to be kind. I need to be patient patient patient. I can't get upset about anything. Even if it's fucking terrible, it's far worse if I get angry or emotional. (Ok, enough affirmations, I should do that on my own). But, I do have to give a speech each of my four schools entirely in Japanese. I'm looking forward to it, though in a weird way. Ever since I stopped being shy (or so I though before this trip) I have looked forward to being in front of an audience. I fucking love the audience. I'm such a pathetic ham, but there's a part of me that has wanted it so badly my whole life, that I'm grateful for the chances that I get to be in front of people.
I remember times, though, when I wasn't welcome in front of people. When I had to go to GODCAMP for Montini, I was expected to present prayers, homilies, cornucopias, and bullshit to the staff. Man, we really tried hard to make some magic happen. Even me (as a fagnostic) tried hard to make those cockknockers see the light. I felt like Billy Corgan. Except, instead of screaming to hear "Cherub Rock" rather than an art rock piece, they wanted to simply get out of the meeting early. Artistic Buddhist silence under a tree was not welcome. Fucking philistines.
4. I met a really nice Japanese person today. Embarassingly, I didn't remember that I had met her. Further embarrassment followed when I didn't remember that I had already met the kocho-sensei (principal) at Katsura High School. Bugger! Oh well, though, I'm just a dumb American and it doesn't matter. But she (god, I can't remember her name), was very kind and generous with her conversation. She talked to me for a good three hours and was curious about all my pictures and everything else. She even said she wanted to hang out. It was a nice thing to have happen after feeling like ET (but an ugly unlovable version) for quite some time. Man, I'd rather be ALF than ET. Actually, I'm not even comparable to ET. I'm more of a hissing green antennaed gooey pile of alien shit that people just want to autopsy. Not even autopsy. They just want to flush it down the toilet. But, I'm feeling better than that today.
There were two really funny moments today. They were the stereotypical funny Japanese moments that people have been asking me to tell them. Here goes:
They both involve my self-introduction. I need large pictures from home to help explain myself.
a. I tried to print said pictures at Homei High School because dude (ach, forgot his name also, but his first name is Osama, so he goes by "Awesome". Yikes? I don't even know anymore!). He clicked (from his flash drive) to the "Stretch it Out" picture I was going to use. No one could figure out how to print it. So about half the staff gathered around the computer looking at the really awkward picture of me in my crab pose (KRAB IF YOU WANT IT!). No one really asked about it as I just sort of shuffled awkwardly, trying intermittently to help out if possible. Then the computer couldn't even shut down as they tried to switch another computer. The other half of the staff came to help as my really awkward picture remained on the screen. Eventually, I was able to print the pictures in a terrible black and white. I thought the guy told me I could print large and in color! Oh well, 3000 yen later, I got them glossy and delicious. My self-intro will kick ass.
b. The kind woman at Katsura looked at my pictures as I explained them to her. When we got to the one from Pitchfork, she stumbled for her comment. She said, "you look like... you look like..." I couldn't wait for it. "You look like, hicks". It was awesome. Sort of true. Especially Chrispy in his shirt that had cowskulls on it. Me too, in my shirt that I've worn for about the last five weeks religiously without washing (Evan Dando tribute). Yeah, we're all pretty much hicks. I've never been called one, and I have to say that I enjoyed it much more than expected.
5. I got out today. I got to go to Aeon (I think I already reported this, but it was so great) in order to get my pictures developed. I stretched the time out a bit and ended up eating sashimi and ice cream. I got a sundae from Baskin Robbins and some fresh tuna sashimi. All in all, it only cost me about 700 yen. That's not a bad way to play hookie. Aeon is so incredible, and the food looked better than any food I've ever seen. I can't believe how cheap the sashimi is. I'm going to go there nearly every night, now that I have wheels. It's a godsend!
There was a weird feeling that came over me at the grocery store. It was like the freedom that I've been craving. It's like a mall grocery store--it's so massive, and everyone just hangs out and rock and rolls it. I was fairly giddy and had a shit-eating grin on my face the whole time. Just like the mall in Strasbourg, I felt like I "got" the culture while hanging at the mall. It's tough to explain. Things are similar--exactly the same--but Japanese or French rather than American. This brings me to point number six.
6. I went to McDonalds. God, I know. Why? I got the McBrick in my stomach. My order was somewhat massive without intention. I got Nuggets without realizing that I ordered them. I also got the special burger with a fried egg and bacon on it. It would put that Chili's burger to shame (the one that won the Yahoo award for most fattening). But it was fucking great.
That famous scene from Pulp Fiction--it's sooooo worthy of its recognition. It's a brilliant scene, but no one really gets why it's so fucking great.
When you go to a foreign country, the differences stand out, but the "little differences" are the things that sometimes define the experience. I've noticed that people (since I've often traveled in groups) are always curious about how the fast food is different from one country to another. It's the same, but it's different. I've never cared a whole lot for this. I guess I'm sort of crazy about the differences at bars, restaurants, and grocery stores (especially), but I've never been vapid enough to find enlightenment from fast food. It's all shit on a shingle to me.
Anywho, I got this outrageously huge meal. I was sitting at a table ready to eat it when a family of Pakistanis came in. The youngest male bowed to me and greeted me. I nodded my head and said, "Kon'nichiwa!" Confusion. Was this the "Harsh Gupta" I've heard about? Was he simply happy to see another person that wasn't Japanese? Hmmmm....
His father came over to my table. Ah, they own the curry restaurant in town where I ate when I embarrassingly forgot my lunch and Ono-Sensei had to take me out because I'm a fucking fool. Yeah, that's them. All I could manage to say was, "Oishii desu!"--it is delicious. I hope he knows that I was referring to the curry, not the McDonald's. I was the American in the McDonald's. And I had a meal that could feed probably eight in a third world country. Oh well. Let my hick flag fly, right!?!
7. I guess I have to indulge in my social life so far. I tried to make it positive, but I guess I need to get out my awkwardness that has brought me down thus far. I'd rather not, but I had an interesting four days in Akita City. I wish it had only been two days. I might have been ok if it had been two or three days. There are some things that brought me down at the end. And I once again felt my Achilles' heel give me hell.
Actually, after a break from the blog (I wrote and read and e-mail), I'm not going to bother with it. I'll wait until it gets better. I'll just wrap this up with my most enlightening moment thus far. God, this little story is going to sound artificial. It's so hokey and stupid. In reality, I didn't feel anything while all this happened, but it makes for something that might have some emotion on paper. That's all a soulless, emotionless, fucking wastoid alien can do for the moment.
8. I returned from my four day Intensive Language Course in Akita City. I was happy to get back to my digs and not have to talk to anyone. But there was a festival going on out my backdoor. I couldn't miss it. It felt like it felt in Chicago, staying in when bands I liked were playing on Division Street or something. I had to go simply to go.
I called Matt. He and his wife Sam were there already, so I'd put three tall boys in a bag and drag my ass to the festival. They set fire to the "Daimonji" kanji character in the side of the mountain. Burning it down. It was a bit of a long and scary walk to the festival. Dark streets with a beer in my hand. So dark that I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. But there were enough cars; I could see ok. I found the spot, got some food, met up with Matt and Sam, and talked and was pleasant.
It seems they're having a tough time as well. I think I'll get along with them ok. I could tell from subtleties that Matt felt intimidated with how I talked to Jesse about movies and music and stuff. He felt like he didn't fit in. I subtlety tried to change that, but I'm fairly ineffective at being subtle. Matt and Sam are really good people. They're familiar to me. I think we'll stumble through this thing together all right.
Yeah, fire, fireworks, chisaii inu, food, Mormons, static conversation, blankets, etc. Festival in Japan, and I liked it, but I was only there out of obligation. I was fucking exhausted from the four days in Akita City.
We left each other, and I was left to find my way home. I went too far on my little path thinking that I could get up the big hill to the big street above me. It was pitch fucking black. The darkest day of the year. I tried to take video of it to capture my absolute solitude in the dark. Part of me loved it while part of me felt like I felt when I was hiding during ghost in the graveyard at age eight. There was a moment when I was in tunnel under a bridge that felt like I was being sucked inside a vortex. I had to go in and out. Back where I came. One car came, and my footing slipped. I barely avoided certain injury (I would have slipped down a steep steep hill into a bunch of trees and bushes), when a sole car drove by. It was fucking terrifying, but I found my way fairly quickly. I have to say, my thoughts during that time were really crazy and unhinged. I've always wanted to lose my mind, and I was close. But I found civilization quickly, and it wasn't enough to endure to make me lose my shit.
Once upon the hill near the main road by my apartment, I heard a buzzing/hissing that made me turn my neck. The largest bug I've ever seen appeared under a street light. My mother used to say that every bug she saw was the size of her fist. If the bug were especially large, she'd say that it was the size of her head. I never trusted people that said bugs were large. They can only be so big, or so I thought.
I don't want to try to quantify the size of this bug, but it could have been a stuffed animal that I (or children) could have cuddled with. It was upside down and totally helpless. I had the courage to look closer at it. I'm not particularly afraid of bugs, so it wasn't like I overcame anything. I'm not crazy about them, though. Especially ones that looked like they came out of the anus of a cow.
I had a moment in Amsterdam with one of Van Gogh's paintings. It was of a crab that was on his back. Adriana didn't like it much and told me that she though it was stupid that I stared at it for an hour. But I did. That fucking crab made so much sense to me as our friendship/relationship fell apart. This fucking bug made a lot of sense to me as I considered my time in Japan so far.
I thought it seemed like it was crawling upside up rather than upside down. It was tough to tell what was wrong with it. All eight of its legs were striving to get solid ground, yet, it didn't seem like it wanted to go anywhere. God, what a metaphor. Upside down and struggling to stay upside up. I'll need to write more about this. I don't necessarily get it, but I felt a lot looking at the little fucker. I bet he wanted to die rather than move his legs anymore.
I (like a fucking TMZ bastard) videotaped it. Let's all watch Bud fucking Bundy fucking scream at a prostitute while we all laugh at our TV screens. Bug voyeur. What a fucking life I'm living here.
I couldn't help it, though. Of course, the moral dillema followed. I took a beer can out of my bag and started trying to flip it over. As soon as it hissed at me, I'd jump back in terror, but I helped the fucker. God, it took me about eight tries before my flip landed him right side up. Maybe it was downside down. Who knows with gravity on the other side of the planet. But, I can say with certainty, that guy didn't want to go anywhere. He relished in being upside down. Upside up, whatever. He was like a loaded die. I'd imagine that he felt like he'd have to find somewhere to go if he were on his legs rather than his back.
Don't we all? God, if we actually got on our good eight legs, we'd feel like we'd have to do something with our lives. Maybe it takes someone (like me?) to move people to get off their ass and get upside up--the right way.
So, I asked myself, "am I obsessive with upside down flailing creatures because I'm one myself?" And, "If I'm one myself, should I simply flip over and make shit happen?"
There's a song by Pulp, "Common People". It has a line, "Dance and Drink and Screw". Shouldn't we all just do that--without conscience? Shouldn't we just fucking relish in this small window we have to dance and drink and screw as much as humanly (or bugly, or crably) possible. Why do I (and so many others) overanalyze all this shit in this world? Why do we not only allow ourselves to get upside down, but why do we allow ourselves to stay that way even when people try to flip us over with beercans? Why?
I'm guilty of it. Especially since arriving in Japan. I'm making this more complicated than it is. I need to get three things in my mind--dance, drink, screw--repeat. I'm an idiot on this planet. Three things make me happy. Let them happen as much as they can before all my hair falls out or I die (depending on which happens first). Fuck depression. Fuck art. Let's dance.
I do realize that I'll have to dance alone for some time. These people that I'm supposed to be dancing with are the type that might have gone and stepped on that big awkward lazy bug. Or they might have just tried to guilt him into turning over. Either way, it doesn't work.
So, as an end to my glorious story, I flipped him over. He crawled away slowly. He fucking lumbered to godknowswhere... it was like watching an old man go get his umbrella because there was a 20% chance of rain reported on the news.
God, it took so long for me to get him on his legs. Hopefully, it won't take so long for me. I don't know who will throw the beercan in my direction; maybe it'd just have to be me. I just know that I need to find a way to dance and drink and screw here. Otherwise, I might just end up throwing in the towel... all eight of them... with all eight of my legs.
There is a common complaint amongst the JET community that some JETs never leave their apartments and are anti-social. I can somehow see this happening to me. The weird thing is... I'm sort of starting to think that anti-social is about the best reaction to have. God, if I had simply been transplanted to another country--I'd cringe at the thought. There's something weird about this program. It's sort of fraternal. It's sort of like you have to fit a mold/stereotype in order to make it work. I hate it. It reminds me of many things I've experienced like this. Travel should not be this way. Travel should enable people to feel free, not bound to a preconceived notion. I don't want to have a designated role to fill. I want to find things out on my own. So far, there's a lot of telling. So far, there's a lot of expectation for me to be someone other than me. Either these other JETs are all putting on a major fucking act, or I'm a bit off (compared to them).
I have to sincerely (since I've bashed everyone in the program, pretty much) that many of them seem like good people. It's just the same old game that I'm tired of playing. They have it really easy blending in, and I stand out like an awkward broken and bloodied blue thumb. Thumb. I'm a thumb and they're fingers.
But, I really wanted to get away from this stuff tonight. I wanted to get to the good stuff that happened to me today. It was as good of a day as I could have had under the circumstances.
I fucking love driving in Japan! God, it was my biggest fear, but driving that big ass fucking van... I don't know. It's like I've got an identity again. It's a glorious piece of machinery. And it agrees with me. I haven't had a hard time adjusting to the driving on the left thing (many say it's because the driver's side is on the right); but overall, I feel like a king of the road. It's nice to see the city, and I haven't gotten lost (or even close to lost) even though the streets have no names. I've just been counting numbers of streets and guessing--so far, that's worked just great. I got a bit gutsy and pushed the radio button--one of Chris' cds came on (it was actually really good) and I got to drive with music. I wanted to give myself some time to get used to the difference before rocking out, but tomorrow, the ZUNER comes with me and we rock out to J. Richman in the Schmoobile.
I'm having a tough time with the name. It doesn't feel like a Schmoo V like I had promised I would name it. It doesn't have a Schmoo sort of personality. It's more of a Simpson or Noodles. I'll have to construct this idea.
Listening to Jonathan Richman's solo work right now. God, I need to get in his mindset. This is what I need in this country. Simple and direct. "At night, at night... that's when I get my bright ideas... bup buddy bup bup." He's quite brilliant and direct.
I have so much else to say. I almost feel like I need a numbered list, as I'm wont to do when I'm overwhelmed with things to report.
Ok. I guess this will go from least pressing to most pressing, since I'm going to need to finish with my bug story. There will be many things. I'm drinking my first bottle of red wine that I've had in weeks (since I've left), and I've forgotten how it goes to my head. God, I love glorious glorious red wine. This bottle ain't half bad, either. Only about 700 yen, too.
1. I can't complain that I get to be alone in a small apartment in Japan, drinking red wine out of my beloved bunny mug, listening to Jonathan Richman (or whatever). It's nice to not have to answer to anyone. Also, there's more of a pressing need to do this sort of thing. I need to write and read and think and play guitar. It's fucking great to be alone. I'm officially taking a long time away from everyone. No contact with people here or at home for a while. I need to get my head around things and just enjoy what will inevitably be two years of talking to no one.
2. Songs I've been playing on guitar. Well, I'm trying to do two a night (getting really good at them). So far... meh. They need some work. But I've got "Breakdown" by Suede, "Walking in Space" from the Hair Soundtrack, "One More Night" by Bob Dylan, "Two Crows" by Herman Dune, "Mandolin Wind" by Rod Stewart, and "Bad Kids" by Black Lips. God, if some motherfucker played that shit at a Potbelly's, I'd ask him (or her) to marry me. It's a bad ass set so far. I'm hoping to get ten really eclectic and fucking awesome songs together for a set--where I don't even have to look at the sheet music. We'll see how it goes. Godawful youtube videos to follow.
I've often wondered if I'd get along with a clone of myself. My answer. We'd probably condemn out heterosexuality and fuck.
3. School today: Well, I'm officially in the shit. It's not even affecting me whatsoever, though. I don't care if I fail. God, that's even more badass than Rush Limbaugh's comment. But, I'm working hard (as I always do as a teacher) to make my lessons fucking impenetrable. I'll do well. I need to be kind. I need to be patient patient patient. I can't get upset about anything. Even if it's fucking terrible, it's far worse if I get angry or emotional. (Ok, enough affirmations, I should do that on my own). But, I do have to give a speech each of my four schools entirely in Japanese. I'm looking forward to it, though in a weird way. Ever since I stopped being shy (or so I though before this trip) I have looked forward to being in front of an audience. I fucking love the audience. I'm such a pathetic ham, but there's a part of me that has wanted it so badly my whole life, that I'm grateful for the chances that I get to be in front of people.
I remember times, though, when I wasn't welcome in front of people. When I had to go to GODCAMP for Montini, I was expected to present prayers, homilies, cornucopias, and bullshit to the staff. Man, we really tried hard to make some magic happen. Even me (as a fagnostic) tried hard to make those cockknockers see the light. I felt like Billy Corgan. Except, instead of screaming to hear "Cherub Rock" rather than an art rock piece, they wanted to simply get out of the meeting early. Artistic Buddhist silence under a tree was not welcome. Fucking philistines.
4. I met a really nice Japanese person today. Embarassingly, I didn't remember that I had met her. Further embarrassment followed when I didn't remember that I had already met the kocho-sensei (principal) at Katsura High School. Bugger! Oh well, though, I'm just a dumb American and it doesn't matter. But she (god, I can't remember her name), was very kind and generous with her conversation. She talked to me for a good three hours and was curious about all my pictures and everything else. She even said she wanted to hang out. It was a nice thing to have happen after feeling like ET (but an ugly unlovable version) for quite some time. Man, I'd rather be ALF than ET. Actually, I'm not even comparable to ET. I'm more of a hissing green antennaed gooey pile of alien shit that people just want to autopsy. Not even autopsy. They just want to flush it down the toilet. But, I'm feeling better than that today.
There were two really funny moments today. They were the stereotypical funny Japanese moments that people have been asking me to tell them. Here goes:
They both involve my self-introduction. I need large pictures from home to help explain myself.
a. I tried to print said pictures at Homei High School because dude (ach, forgot his name also, but his first name is Osama, so he goes by "Awesome". Yikes? I don't even know anymore!). He clicked (from his flash drive) to the "Stretch it Out" picture I was going to use. No one could figure out how to print it. So about half the staff gathered around the computer looking at the really awkward picture of me in my crab pose (KRAB IF YOU WANT IT!). No one really asked about it as I just sort of shuffled awkwardly, trying intermittently to help out if possible. Then the computer couldn't even shut down as they tried to switch another computer. The other half of the staff came to help as my really awkward picture remained on the screen. Eventually, I was able to print the pictures in a terrible black and white. I thought the guy told me I could print large and in color! Oh well, 3000 yen later, I got them glossy and delicious. My self-intro will kick ass.
b. The kind woman at Katsura looked at my pictures as I explained them to her. When we got to the one from Pitchfork, she stumbled for her comment. She said, "you look like... you look like..." I couldn't wait for it. "You look like, hicks". It was awesome. Sort of true. Especially Chrispy in his shirt that had cowskulls on it. Me too, in my shirt that I've worn for about the last five weeks religiously without washing (Evan Dando tribute). Yeah, we're all pretty much hicks. I've never been called one, and I have to say that I enjoyed it much more than expected.
5. I got out today. I got to go to Aeon (I think I already reported this, but it was so great) in order to get my pictures developed. I stretched the time out a bit and ended up eating sashimi and ice cream. I got a sundae from Baskin Robbins and some fresh tuna sashimi. All in all, it only cost me about 700 yen. That's not a bad way to play hookie. Aeon is so incredible, and the food looked better than any food I've ever seen. I can't believe how cheap the sashimi is. I'm going to go there nearly every night, now that I have wheels. It's a godsend!
There was a weird feeling that came over me at the grocery store. It was like the freedom that I've been craving. It's like a mall grocery store--it's so massive, and everyone just hangs out and rock and rolls it. I was fairly giddy and had a shit-eating grin on my face the whole time. Just like the mall in Strasbourg, I felt like I "got" the culture while hanging at the mall. It's tough to explain. Things are similar--exactly the same--but Japanese or French rather than American. This brings me to point number six.
6. I went to McDonalds. God, I know. Why? I got the McBrick in my stomach. My order was somewhat massive without intention. I got Nuggets without realizing that I ordered them. I also got the special burger with a fried egg and bacon on it. It would put that Chili's burger to shame (the one that won the Yahoo award for most fattening). But it was fucking great.
That famous scene from Pulp Fiction--it's sooooo worthy of its recognition. It's a brilliant scene, but no one really gets why it's so fucking great.
When you go to a foreign country, the differences stand out, but the "little differences" are the things that sometimes define the experience. I've noticed that people (since I've often traveled in groups) are always curious about how the fast food is different from one country to another. It's the same, but it's different. I've never cared a whole lot for this. I guess I'm sort of crazy about the differences at bars, restaurants, and grocery stores (especially), but I've never been vapid enough to find enlightenment from fast food. It's all shit on a shingle to me.
Anywho, I got this outrageously huge meal. I was sitting at a table ready to eat it when a family of Pakistanis came in. The youngest male bowed to me and greeted me. I nodded my head and said, "Kon'nichiwa!" Confusion. Was this the "Harsh Gupta" I've heard about? Was he simply happy to see another person that wasn't Japanese? Hmmmm....
His father came over to my table. Ah, they own the curry restaurant in town where I ate when I embarrassingly forgot my lunch and Ono-Sensei had to take me out because I'm a fucking fool. Yeah, that's them. All I could manage to say was, "Oishii desu!"--it is delicious. I hope he knows that I was referring to the curry, not the McDonald's. I was the American in the McDonald's. And I had a meal that could feed probably eight in a third world country. Oh well. Let my hick flag fly, right!?!
7. I guess I have to indulge in my social life so far. I tried to make it positive, but I guess I need to get out my awkwardness that has brought me down thus far. I'd rather not, but I had an interesting four days in Akita City. I wish it had only been two days. I might have been ok if it had been two or three days. There are some things that brought me down at the end. And I once again felt my Achilles' heel give me hell.
Actually, after a break from the blog (I wrote and read and e-mail), I'm not going to bother with it. I'll wait until it gets better. I'll just wrap this up with my most enlightening moment thus far. God, this little story is going to sound artificial. It's so hokey and stupid. In reality, I didn't feel anything while all this happened, but it makes for something that might have some emotion on paper. That's all a soulless, emotionless, fucking wastoid alien can do for the moment.
8. I returned from my four day Intensive Language Course in Akita City. I was happy to get back to my digs and not have to talk to anyone. But there was a festival going on out my backdoor. I couldn't miss it. It felt like it felt in Chicago, staying in when bands I liked were playing on Division Street or something. I had to go simply to go.
I called Matt. He and his wife Sam were there already, so I'd put three tall boys in a bag and drag my ass to the festival. They set fire to the "Daimonji" kanji character in the side of the mountain. Burning it down. It was a bit of a long and scary walk to the festival. Dark streets with a beer in my hand. So dark that I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. But there were enough cars; I could see ok. I found the spot, got some food, met up with Matt and Sam, and talked and was pleasant.
It seems they're having a tough time as well. I think I'll get along with them ok. I could tell from subtleties that Matt felt intimidated with how I talked to Jesse about movies and music and stuff. He felt like he didn't fit in. I subtlety tried to change that, but I'm fairly ineffective at being subtle. Matt and Sam are really good people. They're familiar to me. I think we'll stumble through this thing together all right.
Yeah, fire, fireworks, chisaii inu, food, Mormons, static conversation, blankets, etc. Festival in Japan, and I liked it, but I was only there out of obligation. I was fucking exhausted from the four days in Akita City.
We left each other, and I was left to find my way home. I went too far on my little path thinking that I could get up the big hill to the big street above me. It was pitch fucking black. The darkest day of the year. I tried to take video of it to capture my absolute solitude in the dark. Part of me loved it while part of me felt like I felt when I was hiding during ghost in the graveyard at age eight. There was a moment when I was in tunnel under a bridge that felt like I was being sucked inside a vortex. I had to go in and out. Back where I came. One car came, and my footing slipped. I barely avoided certain injury (I would have slipped down a steep steep hill into a bunch of trees and bushes), when a sole car drove by. It was fucking terrifying, but I found my way fairly quickly. I have to say, my thoughts during that time were really crazy and unhinged. I've always wanted to lose my mind, and I was close. But I found civilization quickly, and it wasn't enough to endure to make me lose my shit.
Once upon the hill near the main road by my apartment, I heard a buzzing/hissing that made me turn my neck. The largest bug I've ever seen appeared under a street light. My mother used to say that every bug she saw was the size of her fist. If the bug were especially large, she'd say that it was the size of her head. I never trusted people that said bugs were large. They can only be so big, or so I thought.
I don't want to try to quantify the size of this bug, but it could have been a stuffed animal that I (or children) could have cuddled with. It was upside down and totally helpless. I had the courage to look closer at it. I'm not particularly afraid of bugs, so it wasn't like I overcame anything. I'm not crazy about them, though. Especially ones that looked like they came out of the anus of a cow.
I had a moment in Amsterdam with one of Van Gogh's paintings. It was of a crab that was on his back. Adriana didn't like it much and told me that she though it was stupid that I stared at it for an hour. But I did. That fucking crab made so much sense to me as our friendship/relationship fell apart. This fucking bug made a lot of sense to me as I considered my time in Japan so far.
I thought it seemed like it was crawling upside up rather than upside down. It was tough to tell what was wrong with it. All eight of its legs were striving to get solid ground, yet, it didn't seem like it wanted to go anywhere. God, what a metaphor. Upside down and struggling to stay upside up. I'll need to write more about this. I don't necessarily get it, but I felt a lot looking at the little fucker. I bet he wanted to die rather than move his legs anymore.
I (like a fucking TMZ bastard) videotaped it. Let's all watch Bud fucking Bundy fucking scream at a prostitute while we all laugh at our TV screens. Bug voyeur. What a fucking life I'm living here.
I couldn't help it, though. Of course, the moral dillema followed. I took a beer can out of my bag and started trying to flip it over. As soon as it hissed at me, I'd jump back in terror, but I helped the fucker. God, it took me about eight tries before my flip landed him right side up. Maybe it was downside down. Who knows with gravity on the other side of the planet. But, I can say with certainty, that guy didn't want to go anywhere. He relished in being upside down. Upside up, whatever. He was like a loaded die. I'd imagine that he felt like he'd have to find somewhere to go if he were on his legs rather than his back.
Don't we all? God, if we actually got on our good eight legs, we'd feel like we'd have to do something with our lives. Maybe it takes someone (like me?) to move people to get off their ass and get upside up--the right way.
So, I asked myself, "am I obsessive with upside down flailing creatures because I'm one myself?" And, "If I'm one myself, should I simply flip over and make shit happen?"
There's a song by Pulp, "Common People". It has a line, "Dance and Drink and Screw". Shouldn't we all just do that--without conscience? Shouldn't we just fucking relish in this small window we have to dance and drink and screw as much as humanly (or bugly, or crably) possible. Why do I (and so many others) overanalyze all this shit in this world? Why do we not only allow ourselves to get upside down, but why do we allow ourselves to stay that way even when people try to flip us over with beercans? Why?
I'm guilty of it. Especially since arriving in Japan. I'm making this more complicated than it is. I need to get three things in my mind--dance, drink, screw--repeat. I'm an idiot on this planet. Three things make me happy. Let them happen as much as they can before all my hair falls out or I die (depending on which happens first). Fuck depression. Fuck art. Let's dance.
I do realize that I'll have to dance alone for some time. These people that I'm supposed to be dancing with are the type that might have gone and stepped on that big awkward lazy bug. Or they might have just tried to guilt him into turning over. Either way, it doesn't work.
So, as an end to my glorious story, I flipped him over. He crawled away slowly. He fucking lumbered to godknowswhere... it was like watching an old man go get his umbrella because there was a 20% chance of rain reported on the news.
God, it took so long for me to get him on his legs. Hopefully, it won't take so long for me. I don't know who will throw the beercan in my direction; maybe it'd just have to be me. I just know that I need to find a way to dance and drink and screw here. Otherwise, I might just end up throwing in the towel... all eight of them... with all eight of my legs.
fuckin hick.
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