Partitions came into my life today in an actual concrete way, a physical way, in the form of an apparatus used to isolate one of my special-needs students who was going through a difficult morning and couldn't bear the physical stimuli of his classmates. Made me sad because it was an intense moment, an indication of despair that can't be dealt with on your own, and for a moment I felt grateful that no matter what state things reach for me personally I'll never have to undergo the same thing; on the other hand, I wondered if my psychic barriers might be due for a rest, need to be abandoned once and for all as I sew curtains between me and the people I can't deal with: fuck social convention and create a physical distance rather than one that has to be negotiated by careful word-riffs and the delicate treading above emotion and language and feelings. The temptation is there but I'm so human I'm a dog: I'll never trade in a maybe for a definite.
In other news: my middle brother is suffering in Canada and I'm sad and helpless because we are not, have not ever, been compatible and I haven't had a real conversation with him in over 10 years. Never-the-less: I love you. You'll never see it or hear it, but I love you. I know I can't help and I honestly don't know if I would help you even if I knew what to do, but we've got the same crazy-blood and the same vacant-blue-intense eyes and that counts for something, I think.
[Incense: White Musk
Music: DJ Shadow
Beverage: Kirin Gold Label]
A week of stuff and things ....
A bit of an experience at the Indian place around the corner: the two chefs treated us with barely concealed contempt as we ordered our curry, then the owner, a man we had met before, careened into the room, saw us sitting forlornly at a table waiting for our take-away, and immediately shouted at the chefs to bring us special tea. They brought it in equal mixtures of sullen and ashamed, and we chatted with the owner of his family, his wild adventures around the continents, his dangerous friends, as our bag of food grew cold on the counter and the chefs smiled shyly and lost all their bitchery. Odd.
Watched a couple episodes of "Project Runway: Canada." I rarely watched TV in Canada and never do in Japan; Sage introduced me to the various Project Runway incarnations on youtube and I'm horrifyingly addicted. Interesting thing about the Canadian one was listening to Canadians TALK -- they talk like *I* do, and it's unsettling because I have no Canadian friends in Japan, not a one, so I'm un-used to it. Some of the things I heard that I haven't heard from people other than me in over two years:
- "How's it hangin'."
- "Dude, it tripped me out, dude."
- "Hey, buddy, could you [...]"
- "Dude, like [...]
- "I've got no freakin clue, dude."
- "I mean, for fuck's sake!"
- "It's a bad scene, man."
Went and saw Lennon's gig on Saturday, another electrifying noise-rock thing with howling and smashed microphones and flailing arms, and awesomely, a sax solo --
Cheese party at our place, hosted by Frenchy.
Went out with a group of reputable Japanese guys who were interested in "talking to foreign people." One of the first topics of conversation they brought up: "Are you more a sadist or a masochist?"
Studying, studying, studying. For six hours on Monday, then seven on Tuesday and seven today. Intense. I'll learn this fucking language if it kills me. A couple points of contention: katakana! As Horizon once said, "Why invent a WHOLE EXTRA ALPHABET specifically for spelling foreign words, and then NEGLECT TO INCLUDE the SOUNDS used in foreign words?!" (ie "l," "m-at-the-end-of-a-word," etc.) Agreed. And: thousands and thousands of individual kanji? Dude, English may have more words, but we only have 26 LETTERS. God. That said I'm having fun; I've always got a kick out of conjugating shit, English or otherwise, and kanji is fun to write, even if I never remember what it means. Look for the metaphor!
I'd throw my eggs all in one basket cuz I'm irresponsible that way but I'm way more apt to hurl them against a concrete wall and watch the yolk drip down to the pavement like solitude and then there would be a group of people to point and deconstruct and go out for chocolate shakes at some sort of non-existent Mom 'n' Pop diner thing where we play songs on the juke box we couldn't hope to understand and steal things we know aren't worth it. All that really matters is: we ruined those eggs before they ruined us. Smirk and hide the disappointment.
[Currently ......
Incense: Cannabis
Drink: Merlot
Music: the Scissor Sisters]
Last Saturday I ventured out to Ageha with a group of friends, notable not only for their stunning good looks but also their book-smarts: loads of them just passed either level 2 or level 3 of the JLPT -- Japanese Language Proficiency Test -- and not by the skin of their teeth either, but with FLAIR! Call me vain, but I like my consorts to be hot geniuses ..... Congratulations, each and every one of you.
Ageha is widely known as the largest night club in Asia, and I've never been there before because you have to take a special chartered BUS from Tokyo to the mysterious netherworld location of this club. That first bit is not the problem -- it's making my way BACK, plastered and unhinged at 5 a.m., that worried me and had held me back in the past. (Note the foreshadowing! Observe if you will the Knife on the Mantelpiece!) But it was Mika #2's birthday, and to Ageha we went.
All around good scene -- some amazing DJ's, free-lovin' people, and the pinnacle: a rooftop swimming pool. It was this last location that got me into a little trouble, as it was deemed non-smoking. Bear in mind, PREMATURE-BIRTH NURSERIES in Tokyo permit smoking, practically, and so of course I lit up. When the samurai-faced bouncer came glowering my way, I shrugged and thought, Well, ya can't win 'em all. I began to douse my cigarette, when the bastard, without saying a word, grabbed it out of my hand and ground it beneath his Doc Marten. I was livid and, although I have never before been in a fight with a bouncer in Japan, said some words that would have done my grandfather proud. He moved on. I immediately lit another smoke. When he finished his lap of the pool and saw me, his eyes bulged, I unwisely said something belligerent, and again had my cigarette taken. I took solace in the arms of a punk-boy Japanese guy who I kissed for 20 minutes or so, until he said he needed the restroom and would be right back. Hook-ups in clubs have said this to me before, and I'm always slightly suspicious that they mean only to get rid of me, but fortunately it has never happened and they always come back. UNTIL NOW! 10 minutes went by and I tearfully turned to leave when I saw Jude the Obscure looking mournfully at the glittering turquoise pool, lost in his own despair.
"I've been rejected," I said. "Hey, I've been rejected."
"He'll come back," said Jude, and waited, me with my head on his shoulder and both of us gloomy, until we admitted defeat.
Several other things happened that night: I have vague snatches of drinking water as though it were gin, which saved me, and rescuing Sage from the toilets when they were shut for cleaning but she was still, inexplicably, puking within -- and then it was hideous dawn and none of the people we came with were around, it was just Sage and I wandering unsteadily onto the outdoor pavement, wondering where to catch the bus.
This was my worst fear, mind. We were ages from home, it was only the two of us, and I was less drunk (which isn't saying much) which left the responsibility to me. A cab home would have, literally, cost more than a plane ticket to Korea. I was staring into space trying to come up with a rational plan when a suave-talking man from Ghana with a beautiful car came up and offered us a ride to Tokyo.
"Mmm, no," I said.
He got massive insulted and insinuated race was an issue. I began telling him a list of my former lovers from Africa and then discarded it in favor of the ethical argument: "SAY," I slurred, "that you know, you have a DAUGHTER, and she's drunk at Ageha? And some guy she doesn't know offers her a ride? And even you know, if he's a really nice guy, like you'd tell her not to, yeah?"
He swiftly changed the subject, and Sage and I found ourselves suddenly in the company of two Japanese guys with flashing rave-rings. We hung out with them for a while, sparks flew etc., I exchanged numbers with my favorite one, and when we rejected THEIR offer of a ride home, they took us to the train station, bought us tickets, and carefully explained the long complicated journey we would have to make in order to get home. We accomplished it in the end -- and oh! at one point their was a taxi driver from China, I engaged him in conversation about the Cultural Revolution, which his father had experienced -- and finally we were home, probably close to 7 a.m., and that's the last time I go to Ageha. Womb is way better, and I know Yellow is gone now, but I liked that one better too.
- "Stories From the Vinyl Cafe" by Stuart McLean (on loan from my mum)
- "The Razor's Edge" by W. Somerset Maugham (a gift from my eldest bro)
- "Goodbye Tsugumi" by Banana Yoshimoto (awful!)
- "Big Sur" by Jack Kerouac
- "Oswald's Tale: An American Mystery" by Norman Mailer
- "Japanese Handbook" (Lonely Planet phrasebook, stolen from Hello House I think)
- "Over to You" by Roald Dahl
- "Switch Bitch" by Roald Dahl
- "The Procrastinator's Handbook" by Rita Emmett (clearly didn't help, as I'm writing this list ...)
- "Ring" by Koji Suzuki (not as scary as I thought it would be -- may work my way up to the film)
- "The Lovely Bones" by Alice Sebold
- "Interzone" by William S. Burroughs
- my dream diary
- a scrapbook that goes back to 1999
- 21 filled notebooks
- "New Testament Amplified Bible"
- "A New Empty" by Mike Hannah (the only guy I ever knew who was EVICTED from Hello House)
- "Kaddish" by Allen Ginsberg
- "Howl and Other Poems" by Allen Ginsberg
- "Eat That Frog!" by Brian Tracy (recommended by Darren)
- "Step-By-Step Tarot" by Terry Donaldson (cashier at the Blue Parrot judged me as he took my payment)
- "One Hundred and One Ways" by Mako Yoshikawa
- "For Esme with Love and Squalor" by J.D. Salinger
- "Being a Broad in Japan" by Caroline Pover
- "The Cleansing Blood of Christ" by Everton Weekes
- "The Dharma Bums" by Jack Kerouac (the same copy that gave birth to Booze Cruise 2000 with Trev and Steve-o)
- "My Legendary Girlfriend" by Mike Gayle (male chick lit; call it dick lit?)
- "The Broken Cord" by Michael Dorris (kind of crazy and scary book about fetal alcohol syndrome)
- "The Book of Laughter and Forgetting" by Milan Kundera
- "The Qur'an"
- "The Chakra Handbook" by Shalila Sharamon and Bodo J. Baginski
- "The Secret Language of Dreams" by David Fontana (beautifully illustrated)
- "Ego and Archetype" by Edward F. Edinger
- "Genki 1: An Integrated Course in Elementary Japanese" by lots of people
- "The Perfection of Yoga" by A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada
- "How to Meditate" by Lawrence Leshan
- "The Malahat Review #154"
- "The Joke's Over" by Ralph Steadman (Christmas present from Ben)
- "Make Your Creative Dreams Real" by Sark
- "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron
Yesterday marked another professional high in my career as an English teacher: I managed to transform a lesson on "Passive Voice" into "Ways Japanese Men Have Disappointed Me (Especially Last Sunday)," to a class of 40 fascinated 14-year-olds. Part of my job description includes "cultural exchange," a directive I am very conscientious about.
I'm a little bit closer to getting a tattoo. Details pending.
The supermarket next to my house is a nightmare. The aisles are too narrow and the elderly housewives too legion. "Foreign bitch," say their eyes, as they refuse to move either from the aisle or the seafood cooler as I stand politely and Canadianly with my basket, unwilling to shove my way through. "Fucking white-ass whore."
On the domestic front: "Vacuum cleaners have disappointed me my entire life."
Off to the Blue Parrot for words in a little bit. Lennon has told me I need to get my hands on some Knut Hamsun.
Went out drinking in Shibuya last night with Jude the Obscure, and an awful thing happened.
He'd brought along this friend of his with whom I've clashed in the past, and I wasn't overly thrilled to see him -- we'll call him Rasta -- and I took out my displeasure on Jude, not him. So far, so good.
We were in a bar I'd never been to before, with clients including an Irishwoman who bellowed a lot and elderly Japanese men (okay one) who hit on me, so I decided to have just a drink or perhaps two and then leave.
Five drinks later I realized I was completely insane to have disliked Rasta all this time, that he was a complex and sensitive individual who deserved better than stuck-up Canadian girls ruthlessly judging him for no good reason under the sun. Deeply moved, I polished off my Singapore Sling and said, "Wow, it's been really nice talking to you tonight, what I admire most about you is that you've got deep emotional flaws and that makes you more approachable somehow."
I meant this as a sincere compliment but of course shit hit the fan, I don't think I've offended someone so much in YEARS, he laid out all the reasons why what I had said was insulting and when he did this I got angry and defensive and Jude had to jump in and say something like, "You don't know her very well so you're unaware that she's socially inept but she really did mean that as a nice thing," and then try to EXPLAIN me, which was quite touching in its own right because I don't think Jude has ever actually defended me before, he usually just deliberately makes the problem worse, but Rasta would have none of this. We left shortly after.
Icing: when I got home I was chatting online with Horizon and drunkenly told him the story and asked how HE would have responded, but he got it mixed up and thought that Rasta had said that to ME, and said something like, "Well, I would have said Fuck you." God, God.
In other news:
Midway through the school year I gave special notebooks to the top student in each of my classes. Yesterday I asked for votes on what sort of prize I should offer at year's end, which is a month away. The top 3:
1. Money.
2. A slow kiss.
3. A house.