http://www.negativespace.net/shots/ en Copyright 2009 Sun, 03 May 2009 08:00:37 -0800 http://www.sixapart.com/movabletype/ http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss I'm having so many Life Experiences lately. God, I'm sick of it! But seriously folks. Naw. It's been a nice week. Went to a farewell party for the junior high school I used to work at, on Tuesday. Held my liquor admirably and gave a pretty good speech in Japanese. Didn't spill anything. Ate ice cream with chop sticks. The new P.E. teacher and I hit on each other for about an hour, to the collective shock of all the other teachers. Went for smoke breaks with my old buddy the janitor. When I finally left and stepped into an elevator, who should be standing there but K, an old co-worker I last saw in January, drunk on a train, when I convinced him to join us for a mad night of clubbing and strife in Shibuya. "We meet again," he said. This Phillipino girl who was also in the elevator screamed, "Why are you fucks always speaking English? I'm fucking Phillipino, desho!" He asked if I wanted to go to a dance party but I didn't; we ran to the station together anyway, split up cuz I needed to go to the toilet, then randomly bumped into each other again on the platform. He turned melancholy and said, "You never looked me up on Facebook even though you promised to." I went home. Went to the gaygaygay bar with a co-worker on Thursday night. I had a hideous problem with my foot that I won't go into here and couldn't dance; stood at the sidelines with hooded eyes, chainsmoking and drinking beers and looking like what Danorama would have described as "a tired old queen." Some boys came up and showed my co-worker and I various pictures of hot men, asking us to select the hottest; we did and it turned out the pictures were of themselves and then they asked to sleep with us. We drifted away. Friday night I met up with Mr. Vice for some sexy adventures. Orgasms and political documentaries and then as usual I couldn't sleep; stared at the fish transcedent in their aquarium at the head of the bed and thought, Who am I who am I who am I? Didn't figure it out but it was okay. Sex in the morning, he made me breakfast, sunlight and that hazy May feeling where the cicadas haven't quite been born yet but you feel they're about to be and it puts a smile on your face, there's a vibration in the air that lets you know they're coming. Limped all the way back to Baba on my fucked-up foot for a joyous reuinion with Sage -- FINALLY she's back from Australia! Caught each other up. For hours. Went to a bbq at Prince Harry's, where I smoked intense cigarettes with intense people and ate fish and salad and sipped Corronoas dreamy-eyed and not altogether there; locked in my own head, an internal choreography. http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006863.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006863.html Sun, 03 May 2009 08:00:37 -0800 Tired, tired, tired: why do I go for salad and wine after work? Wine makes me tired. Today I woke up at 3:30 a.m. Unable to sleep. Smoked cigarettes. Checked my email. Read Murakami Haruki for a while. Stared out my bedroom window at the abandoned building, at the sky beyond, black then grey then blue. Reflected on men I have lost, men I have never found. Made coffee. Didn't put Kahlua in it because it's Monday, a work-day. Had a shower. Listened to a remix of the Killers' "Mr. Brightside," emailed to me by Prince Harry after he heard it for the first time at a gay bar in the wee hours of Sunday morning, struck speechless as he watched two men he had recently, separately, slept with meet for the first time and become enamored with each other. Read the news. Chopped onions and broccoli, sauteed them, added two eggs and cheese. Watched an NHK morning news program, dead-eyed announcers, beautiful shots of Tokyo coming to life on a Monday morning. Brushed my teeth. Got dressed. "Jealousy / Turning saints into the sea." Walked to Takadanobaba station, my iPod playing Justice and Nirvana. Descended into the creepy depths of the subway, thousands of black-haired salarymen shuffling mutely along the concrete. One exception: a 6-foot tall Japanese punk with ragged jeans and dyed hair. He stood beside me on the train and every time it swerved he bumped into my shoulder; he had a hoarse, sexy cough and I wanted to hear it every weekend as we woke together naked and sex-drenched in his hovel of a Shimokitazawa apartment, reaching for pineapple juice and Communist newspapers. He disembarked at Iitebashi and I spend the remainder of my journey missing him and reading "The English Patient." I reached my station and walked through the turnstile and up the steps to the sunlight and the traffic and the cherry trees, blinking like a mole. I don't like the subway but will say this: few things in life can make you feel like a mole, and you learn to treasure them. Walked to work. Stopped en route to smoke a cigarette in a parking lot beside a Chinese restaurant with dusty red paper lanterns that I love and look at with pleasure every single day. Walked the rest of the way. Took the elevator up to my office and said good morning to everyone and poured myself a mug of coffee and sat at my computer. I've switched jobs; I'm a technical rewriter now and spend my days coaxing beauty from sentences describing aerogel synthesis or architectural business management theories. I don't even know what this shit MEANS, but I love this job. Reminded myself, as I do every day, not to become a yuppie. It would be easy enough, even expected, but I'm just not built that way: the clothes I wear are only a costume, and even if I wanted to I couldn't get certain things out of my head: couldn't forget oceans, or alienation, or old men selling me their haikus in Shibuya, or Moloch's familiar and uneasy presence just next to my heart, or drunken mistakes with men who kiss me beside rivers and then vanish from my life, or vice, or childish tantrums where I stomp off stages or or out of kitchens or out of bars to drink alone, convinced that nobody loves me. Couldn't trade that in to love money or status. So I worked all day, happy and absent-minded, then walked back to the subway, listening to John Lennon. Now I'm at a cheap restaurant eating cheap seaweed salad and drinking cheap red wine. As it should be. Frenchy's had a crisis and I'm meeting with him in a little while; Sage will be back from Australia soon; through the magic of Google Images Prince Harry now knows about both clitorises and felching; Butterfly is so pristine and so pretty, arm around my shoulder on drunk Shibuya Friday night; SuperHiro may move to Africa; Mr. Vice broods in Yokohama. All is right. http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006862.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006862.html Mon, 27 Apr 2009 05:58:26 -0800 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. http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006857.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006857.html Fri, 27 Feb 2009 07:43:38 -0800 [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! http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006856.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006856.html Wed, 25 Feb 2009 04:08:10 -0800 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. http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006854.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006854.html Thu, 19 Feb 2009 04:56:50 -0800 [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. http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006852.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006852.html Tue, 17 Feb 2009 02:14:10 -0800 - "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 http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006846.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006846.html Fri, 13 Feb 2009 20:25:01 -0800 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. http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006845.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006845.html Tue, 10 Feb 2009 21:35:30 -0800 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. http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006840.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006840.html Sat, 07 Feb 2009 01:36:27 -0800 Stuff and things. Been spending some time with my new tarot cards, been making hemp necklaces. (Prince Harry, darkly: "DO NOT make one for me. I will not wear it.") Losing myself in strangers' eyes on the train. Drinking unhealthy amounts of coffee. A meeting with Sage to set deadlines for our book project; drank loads of wine at Saizeria and thought perhaps "You Had Me at Konnichiwa" is a title we wish to change ..... Bantered around some ideas, my personal favorite being "Kimochi" ("Feels so good") while Sage is partial to "Sen-yen" ("1000 yen"). Perhaps compromise with "Sen-yen Kimochi"? I like the ring to it, but as Sage said, "Hmmm, it's very Thailand ..." ;) Monday Night Dinner Feast was neat: me, Sage, Jude the Obscure, SuperHiro, and Japhy. This is the first night all five of us were together in my kitchen since the night I first met SuperHiro and Japhy, over 8 months ago. At the time those two were just a couple of guys who were nice enough but didn't make a huge impression, although I liked that they both wore second-hand clothes and didn't shave; it's neat to see how the universe writes way different stories for you than the ones you would have expected. Was thinking the other day about Life Paths and how so many people I know have embarked on the "university / wedding / new condo / baby / new car / another baby" mode. I don't mean to diss this lifestyle at all, and I particularly admire people who are capable of becoming parents, but the more I think about it the more I realize this is not the kind of thing I can participate in. When I was younger and living in Canada I half-assumed that I and my partner at the time would abruptly embrace Respectability some time in our early 30s and wind up with a little house by the ocean and a couple of kids and stable jobs; even though I assumed it, I had difficulty actually getting a mental picture of it in my head and as such it never felt wholly plausible. Seems even less so now. I don't think I'll ever be a homeowner or a middle-class type or a yuppie; I love Tokyo but I avoid the glitzier, more commercial places and look at my salary as nothing more than a means to pay bills/debt and buy food and books and the occasional plane ticket. That said, I have this weird interest in Family Life of late .... I blame reading Zadie Smith's "White Teeth," which has a lot of awesome dysfunctional family scenes under-cut with the most beautiful and complicated atmosphere of love you can imagine. I was raised in what I don't consider to be the healthiest emotional environment, but one thing I can say about our Family Life is, well fuck, it was INTERESTING. We always made a point to eat dinner together every night, which is an awesome idea I think, and our conversations were fascinating ..... You had my little brother J. high as a kite explaining in detail his plans for building a time machine; me wondering aloud about the personal lives of my favorite dead communists; my mother, a master storyteller, spinning complete mini-narratives out of the scrap of mundane and surreal she had seen that day; my father deconstructing the nepotism and in-fighting he observed at the local chapter of his trade union. If my brother L. was there he always looked haunted, hunted -- if pressed, he would share his latest horrific experience with the Law; if my brother C. was there he would deliver exciting stories of life in the big city (Calgary) while quietly playing one family member's aggression off another's, resulting in fireworks that were appreciated by all. Lots of .... I don't know, conversation and life and PEOPLE. Today, 2009, my favorite room in my house is the kitchen, because that's where the housemates and our friends gather. So I guess if I ever DID decide to go the husband-and-kids route, it would be so all of us could go hang out in a kitchen somewhere. But I don't want a fucking CAROL SHIELDS kind of domestic scene. God, I read one of her short story collections a few months ago and it depressed me so much, probably because it's the kind of life I would have ended up with if I'd stayed in Canada: comfortably middle-class, with a bland yet gentle white husband, a couple of kids with mild fuck-ups that we discuss with caustic humor over organic coffee in the breakfast nook; long ruminating walks on Saturdays as we try to figure out why we feel so empty, empty, empty, and then we go to the book club and feel better than everybody else because we pretend to appreciate post-post-post-feminist pseudo-autobiographical poetry collections. I have an idea of the kind of set-up I want, but it's in the planning stages and I'm so prone to changing my mind that it would be pointless to write it here. But you know what's cool, is that lately I've been learning to not give a fuck about controlling all the things in my life and instead watch with interest at the way things unfold WITHOUT INTERFERENCE FROM ME, and it's kind of neat, kind of a break, almost as fun as watching a movie and not having to write a paper on it or anything after you're done. http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006833.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006833.html Sat, 31 Jan 2009 00:34:13 -0800 Savage Love, the creation of sex advice columnist extraordinaire Dan Savage, since I was a wee lass, and this week's column is as awesome as ever, for all the usual reasons, not least being: the votes are in! Saddlebacking officially has a new definition. Word to the max. In honor of Mr. Savage, and as per request of Clifford the Big, Dirty, Drunken, White Trash Dog, here are 2 stories of public masturbation I've been indirectly involved with around Tokyo in the past year. (1) The more indirect encounter: a pleasant spring afternoon, in the heart of cherry blossom season. I'm walking around somewhere and get an appalled , too-drunk-for-2pm call from Sage, who was at a Hanami party in Yoyogi Koen: "You will not believe! What just! Happened to me! Just now! So we have to pee, right? And there's like, 50 girls in line for the toilets, right? So we just go pee in the bushes, right? Cuz like it's HANAMI!!!!!! [scattered cheers in the background] So we go, and we're all SECLUDED, and I'm wearing a SKIRT and everything like you can't even see anything I just crouch down, and this GUY is suddenly there, by the flowers, and he WHIPS IT OUT AND STARTS WANKING!!! Joy! IT WAS SUNNY OUT!! Like this seriously happened 2 minutes ago and the beautiful thing was all I could think was that I wish you could have been here, you would have LOVED it." (2) A preface to this one: my housemate Sage and I are quite often mistaken for a lesbian couple, for reasons unknown. At the supermarket, at parties, in various bars gay and straight, and even, come to think of it, at our current house -- when we first moved in, there was some initial confusion among the new housemates when we MOVED INTO SEPARATE BEDROOMS. "Did you guys have a fight?" one of them asked. I looked bewildered and said, "Um .... What?" "Oh, oh --" backpedaling -- "we thought you two were, um, TOGETHER -- Never mind --" Anyway, the one place this assumption is not unexpected is in Nichome, Shinjuku's gay district, so when we're there and we're drunk enough, we're by no means above playing up to it. So this one particular night, perhaps 3 a.m., we were drinking beers outside a conbini and made friends with a nice gay couple who asked how long we'd been together. "Three years," Sage said. "Holy shit," said one of them. "I know," I said. "That's like at least 15 in gay years." "How did you come out?" Etc. And we were massive drunk and it wasn't like we've never kissed before, so suddenly we were in this huge, passionate French kiss / make-out thing. When I came up for air, the one dude said, "Aww, that's so beautiful." The other dude ...... Said nothing. He looked a little odd. "Um," I said. "Um. Why ...... Okay I hate to ask you this, but ..... Do you have a hand down your pants?" "No," he said. "You do," said Sage, pointing. He was wearing these tacky warm-up pants with clasps down the side so you could tear away the bottom half, which he did, just in time for us to see him cum down his goddamn leg. He took off. "You didn't say your boyfriend was STRAIGHT," I said, upset. "Or we wouldn't have kissed like that." "That wasn't my boyfriend," our new friend said. "Actually I just met the guy in the conbini."]]> http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006830.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006830.html Thu, 29 Jan 2009 05:23:47 -0800 He's looking at everything except his book. People around the TV altar start shuffling, adjusting their ritualistic t-shirts, muttering to each other. "What's taking him so long?" says one. "Some fucking seer," says another. Alec sweats even more, KNOWS he's failing, KNOWS he's embarrassing his mentors, the whole human race, his destiny even -- he was born for this, groomed for this -- he is the Seer of the End of the World -- destiny written among stars and sand before he was even CONCEIVED -- but he's choking, the Lamb's Book of Life heavy in his hands, BURNING them; the millions of TV cameras are too much, the live feeds and the instant bloggers and the vicious secularist protesters -- a whole mob of them -- dimly audible outside the press room -- he's looking at everything except his Book -- trains his eyes on Clara, calm at the front row of journalists, virginal and whore-ish in her clip-on mic -- "Clara," he murmurs, "Clara, without you, I am nothing;" -- he falters -- "Hack!" somebody shouts -- Clara frowns briefly -- in Paradise, the Heavenly Hosts raise their collective eyebrow and shrug, say, "Well, Apocalypse then? Kid obviously ain't gonna get this right." "Yeah, fuck 'em," says Gabriel. Allows himself a private smile. "Bring on the Plagues." http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006827.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006827.html Tue, 27 Jan 2009 06:37:47 -0800 Listening to: DJ Krush Drinkin: Kirin Gold Label Dear Prince Harry: Update your blog, whoreface. I mean really. In other news: pretty chillaxed weekend. Friday after work I did a bunch of reading. Simultaneously: Murakami Haruki, Banana Yoshimoto (not that great) and a non-fiction thing about fetal alcohol syndrome. Got on the Sobu Line going *away* from Shinjuku, headed for Tokyo Unknown, to meet people for a couple street beers and then to a bar for Mike's show. He's in a new band, Mootekkis, with original material and sounding better than ever. Met some interesting characters in the bar, but no grand stories, and was back home in bed by 2. Early Saturday afternoon I was in the kitchen, doing the crossword and sipping my hangover wine, when Frenchy burst theatrically through the door to fix the computer. His eyes were wild and difficult to penetrate. Sensing a need, I offered him a glass, which he gratefully accepted. I didn't tell him it was cheap stuff from the Lawson. He took a couple of sips, then discretely dumped it down the sink. At 3 Jude the Obscure and I met up in Shibuya and bought each other tarot cards. He got me the Thoth deck, and I got him one called "Revelation Tarot," featuring dramatic illustrations with various scenes of the Apocalypse. Intense -- skeletons on horses and what-not. Wandered around Tokyu Hands for a while, cuz Jude wanted to buy a house-warming present for Hiroki. A typical scene that went nowhere: ME: Stop, stop, we have to watch this guy doing magic tricks. [We watch a guy demonstrating magic tricks to naive and fascinated children and 20-something women.] JUDE: [violently grabbing my shoulders] We know that guy! ME: No we don't. JUDE: Yes we do! You remember that International party? At the Butler cafe? With that guy wandering around doing lame magic tricks? ME: That's him? [We watch for a while.] JUDE: Actually, I think that guy was Korean. ME: [losing interest] JUDE: Do you see that girl's teeth? She looks like a shark. Ugh. Let's go. Went henceforth to the Hub, for jumbo gin and tonics. I'm up to 3300 points on my Hub card. We presented each other the tarot cards, me saying something sweet like, "I know you'll be a natural and I'll teach you all I can," and him saying something along the lines of, "I hope you'll finally realize that these things come from the Devil." We opened them up to look at the pictures amid the reek of gin and the swirl of cigarette smoke. The Thoth deck is quite different from the Mythic tarot, which is what I started out with a few years back, so I'll have to re-learn a few things, but they're gorgeous and I can't wait. Jude took off for Yokohama, and I went to Freshness Burger to write. I'd bought a new Kerouac-sized notebook and experimented with one-sentence stories. Horizon came in at 7, and he talked about philosophy while I told him a few stories of public masturbation I've observed in Tokyo. "Nothing people do surprises me," he said mildly. Then I went on a mission Jude had given me earlier, super-embarrassing, involved approaching strangers and asking an awful question, maybe details later. Went home, talked to Sage, and because it was cold and neither of us felt like going to Womb, which was one of the few options that quiet Saturday night, we stayed in and watched British tv. And today .... Pretty mild also. Breakfast with Sage, then we went writing at Doutor. I wrote about the giraffes, Ben! They've made a re-appearance! Then out to Nichome for dinner with Prince Harry, the Indian place by the gay bar. Later, street beers on a bridge. He asked me to describe him in one word, so I said, "Caustic." He thought about me, then said, "I don't know. Intelligent? Non-judgmental? Bubbly?" "I'm not BUBBLY," I said, hurt. A few minutes later I told him a story and in response to his reaction I jumped up on the guard-rail of the bridge and chortled to hide my delight at making him laugh, and he said, "There! There! You were bubbly! And all it takes is a funny story about yeast infections!" http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006825.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006825.html Sun, 25 Jan 2009 04:12:32 -0800 I don't usually transcribe stuff from my personal journal onto this blog, for a variety of reasons, main ones being the writing in my journal generally comes out quite a bit darker than the public offerings, and also by turns it can be much more immature. I'm posting up this following bit though, because all January I've been in a strange sort of head-space, feeling a lot more harmonious than usual -- read, CALM on at least 2 days -- doing some major self-evaluations and what-not, starting a slow process of removing some things from my life, and introducing others. I think it's a concrete result -- or the beginning of a result -- of an experience I had on New Year's Day. Next year I'll scroll back on the Intranets to this entry, read it again, and with any amount of grace, I'll have kept the momentum going. Skip if you're not in the mood for some over-sensitive. An excerpt: "On New Year's Day, Sage and I went to the little shrine in Okubo. It was the morning after that incredibly difficult night, when I hurt a few people by accident, and a few people hurt me by accident, even some complete strangers. I wasn't happy with what I was projecting into the universe and didn't want to go to the shrine -- shrines are too pure -- but Sage made me. It was a tiny, inner-city sort of place. I got in line with Sage and when it was my turn I walked up to the hai-den and took off my hat. Bowed, clapped my hands together twice, rang the bell, and threw eleven yen into the wooden box. Bowed my head and closed my eyes to pray. The gist of what I prayed was, "Please. I want to be a good person. I want to be a fully loving person, for love to radiate out of me and touch other people, and I want their love to touch me also." As we left the shrine, feeling solemn, we passed an old drunk man weaving his way in, SMOKING A CIGARETTE in this sacred place. He flashed us a naughty, mega-watt smile, and we couldn't stop laughing at the sheer delight of it -- he basked in the laughter, a showman: he knew he'd made us happy -- and I realized that there is always, every single second, love around me. A few days later, Japhy and I went to the same shrine. We purified our hands in the water by the entrance, then walked up the stairs to the hai-den together. He prayed, but I didn't. When we left, on the look-out for cheap sushi, he asked me, "Why didn't you pray?" "I prayed on New Year's," I said. "What did you pray for?" I paused. My prayers are very private; I hadn't even told Sage. But Japhy was radiating serenity, as he always does: it hangs in the air around him so tangibly that you feel calm just to stand beside him. So I told him: "I prayed that I would become a good person." He looked a little distressed, smiled at me, and said, "But you ARE a good person." "I know," I said, and lit a cigarette. "But I want to be better." http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006824.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006824.html Fri, 23 Jan 2009 00:31:17 -0800 I remember, shortly after arriving in Japan, telling my students some anecdote from back in Canada that was set in a 7-11, and being surprised when they all look startled. One of them finally asked, "You have 7-11s in Canada?" Much later, on a visit to Canada, I told my family some anecdote from back in Japan that was set in a 7-11 (it probably had something to do with the night that Lithuanian cunt dumped a bucket of water over my head and kicked me out of her house, drunk and sobbing, just in time to see the last train sail by), and they reacted in an almost identical way: "They have 7-11s in Japan?" Neat. -------------- One of the weird challenges of my job is making English grammar forms a topic of interest to young teenagers, a task that is obviously difficult and thankless enough even BEFORE you factor in the sad reality that I myself, a lover of the English language and a hopeless chain-smoker of words, also do not give a rat's ass about grammar. A lot of the time I fail miserably, and compensate by providing the students with mildly interesting "listening quizzes" that involve heavily edited yet exciting discussions of my weekend activities. Other times, it works, and I get a kick out of it and the kids do too. This week's example: the simple future tense or whatever it is, I don't even know, I've got it written down in my class notes, anyway the one where you say "I will .... [bla bla bla]." I was stumped on this for most of my Monday afternoon planning session; the sample sentence in the textbook was something like, "I will sing you a song," and I was at a complete and hungover loss as to what to do with it. Eventually I got the idea to change it to "YOU will .... [bla bla bla]" (consequences be damned), and thought, Well, it's high time they were introduced to Divination. I brought my tarot cards in to class, gave a bit of a speech on the history of divination, and asked for volunteers to come to the front of the class for a one-card spread. I wasn't quite sure how this would turn out; I was horrified that somebody would select the Death card or the Satan card or whatever and there would be trauma and parent complaints, but fortunately there was none of that, the worst one drawn was "The Tower," which denotes deviant sexual practices or impulses about to come horribly and publicly to light; after some thought, I interpreted to the class, "You will reveal a dark secret." I tried to make it sound exciting; the students reacted with derision and glee, and the innocent 14-year-old boy who had drawn the card looked shaken, but that was the worst of it. Step 2: Design your own tarot cards and practice divination yourselves, using "You will" sentences of course. Wanting to avoid any kind of negativity, I encouraged the students to design cards with such themes as Love, Travel, Good Grades, Cute Boy, Cute Girl, Money, etc. Many of them took my advice and deigned some pretty beautiful cards. Some of them went the darker route -- as I'd secretly hoped -- resulting in such dire prophecies as: YOU WILL DIE AND BE FAT! YOU WILL BE POOR! [accompanied by an illustration of a thin man wandering desolately under a bridge as leaves swirl around his bowed head.] YOU WILL DIE TOMORROW AND EVERYBODY WILL BE HAPPY! [accompanied by a corpse and a throng of cheering classmates.] YOU WILL LOSE AT JANKEN! YOU WILL BE AN OTAKU! ["Otaku" = electronics nerd, scorned by all.] YOU WILL BREAK YOUR WRIST! YOU WILL FAIL! Got a huge bang out of it. http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006823.html http://www.negativespace.net/shots/archives/006823.html Wed, 21 Jan 2009 02:57:35 -0800