Major Moments
Tonight, I was invited to an impromptu dinner with Kiomye's American teacher, his Japanese wife, and their infant daughter. It was so enjoyable. We ate gyoza and drank red wine, which is remarkably good together.
On the late walk home, Kiomye and I came across a woman walking a sheltie dog. i asked her if if was OK if Kiomye pet her dog, and she said sure. The dog was so nice and pretty, and I said so. I told the woman that my old dog in America was also a sheltie. She responded by saying that her sheltie was so big, but I laughed and said that mine was so much bigger. I thanked her for letting Kiomte pet her beautiful dog and said good-bye and goodnight. Then we went on our way. Not very interesting? Well, here's the amazing part. I walked about ten steps and then stopped and smacked my head.
THAT ENTIRE CONVERSATION WAS IN JAPANESE!!!I am so proud of myself. It's taking me so damn long to get even a basic grasp of this language. Me, who is a member of Mensa and so freakishly arrogant about my intelligence. But, man oh man, has Japanese beat my snooty smarty-pants ass! But talking with that woman felt so natural. I didn't panic or even think very much. The words just popped out of my mouth.
It was a major moment. You had to be there. Kiomye said, "Good job, Mom."
Of course, Japanese comes easy to her. Oh, to be 4 and brilliant. I envy my own daughter. Speaking of which, here is a recent picture of her chillin' on my hammock on the balcony. Please leave your comments telling me how gorgeous and cute she is. One at a time, please. And, hey, Toru, you are my most faithful reader. I know you can type out some English. Come on, be daring and leave a comment! My friends don't think you really exist.
One last little note: Our school is being overrun by student teachers. They are all so adorable - an entire legion of 21-year-old college boys dressed in stiff new black suits. But, the funny thing is that they are just like the students. They roam the halls in packs and it requires a group conference to decide if they will say to me "good afternoon" or "konnichiwa". Of course, by the time they squawk out weak "hellos", I've already passed them on my way to class. This makes them all titter and laugh together at their bad timing. This is EXACTLY the same as the first year students. So funny. My third year students are ten times more sauve. At the very least, they'll yell out to me "Good morning, Ms. Nelson! Nice fashion today!" Yep, totally smooth.
Art Appreciation - Yakuza style
I’ve learned recently that the Yakuza (Japanese Mafia) have a taste for fine art – particularly that of French Impressionists such as Monet and Camille Carot. Some of these paintings, they have even taken from famed Paris museums at gunpoint. Suddenly the romance of the Gambino’s pale in the face of such a violent pursuit of beauty. This peiece, Monet's Impression of Sunrise, was one of the paintings that were stolen. It has since been recovered.
There is a Marc Chagall exhibit this month in Osaka. If I can manage a time to go, I will keep my eyes peeled for men in sharp black suits with crisp white dress shirts, accessorized by tattoos and hands without pinkies.
The desire I have for unsuitable men is an age old tradition. Women have been falling for thugs since the Spanish conquistadors, since the Russian revolutionaries, since James Dean and Marlon Brando. Attraction to dangerous, terrible been has long been a derailment of the civil lives of women.
My internet connection was down for a week. I felt like I was in solitary confinement. I’m back again.
I was hoping Toru would visit me, but he was unable to. I was feeling rather disappointed, but my friend Laura (the girl from downstairs) spent the weekend playing with me. On Saturday, we walked around the Okamoto area with Kiomye. Then yesterday, I got a babysitter and we went to an open-mic reading in Hommachi. It has been so long since my stories have had a live audience, I forgot how gratifying it is to see and hear people respond to my ideas and art. I feel very lucky to have finally found the English-speaking literary community of Osaka. I will be a regular fixture on the scene.
I got a call from one of the women from the community class I used to teach. She was asking me out to lunch. (Using English that I taught her! Very cool!) Apparently, six of my old students have planned a lunch to meet with me. I’m so touched. It’s been two months since I had to quit. (My full-time gig got all huffy about my little class on the side.) I can’t wait to meet with the ladies.
Support all the good causes
I support products with clever packaging the same way I support fair trade coffee and organic produce. I thank the designers and cool headed thinkers that made my every-day life a little more beautiful. Sure, there slick packaging might pump up the price to twice that of plane jane crappola, but it's a cost I'm willing to pay for the pretty.
Recently, while stubling more than half-drunkenly through the high end boutiques of the OPA department store in Osaka, I ran across Too Faced Cosmetics. I don't know who puts this stuff out, but I want to french kiss every person behind these fabulous things. Time to insert a picture, eh? This is the outside for a small face-kit of gloss essentials and shadows. The text on the back is even more brilliant. As I choose the "Sweet Tart" collection, the back gave me this description of character:
She was an expensive girl who lived in a luxiurious penthouse, drank imported champagne and dripped herself in diamonds. This Sweet Tarte flaunted her money, and why shouldn't she? She earned every penny; and they loved every minute! It didn't bother her if the other girls talked behind her back; they had ugly shoes and bad make-up. She was a true glamour girl and she knew how to get to the top!
That totally slayed me. There are other versions, complete with little fantasy character bios and matching color palette, the Heartbreaker, the Sex Kitten, The Man Eater and so on. Of course, I plunked down a hefty 5800 yen (about $55 US) for this set, but today I found out that there is much more available online for just $25. Sigh, the high cost of living somewhere fabulous. The website is rather kitschy and cute as well.
Have a look.
Insects like me
Junichiro Tanikazi wrote that in Japan, before a home is built, first the roof is constructed, as though opening a great parasol to throw a shadow upon the earth in which to make a dwelling place. Beauty and comfort find welcome and reflection in the shadows of darkness.
Divorce. Before I could rebuild myself, I threw a great shadow over my existence. I plunged myself and all that surrounded me into darkness. Only in the shroud of artificial twilight was I able to gather enough strength to break my marriage into pieces small enough to sweep out the door.
My actions horrified almost all that bore witness, but that is the point of dim light, to conceal. I need to act without concern for the eyes that track me. If I gave mortal judgement audience, I would falter and stall. All my terrible momentum would be lost. My marriage would defeat me.
I stole away today, alone, to the
florist’s café. Her handsome young brother is making me coffee. The sound of the waterfall blends with the tumbling arias flowing from unseen speakers. At the marble table behind me, a woman is practicing ikebana (Japanese flower arrangement). The sweet sting of fresh cut greens envelopes me.
Ahh, the sage advice of
LL cool J: Remember hot mama, sweet mama, little mama, there is no love until you love yourself.
So here I sit, with book and pen and strong black coffee, trying desperately to love myself. I am not yet ready to return to the light.
The entire country of Japan I treat as though my sullen dark corner. America is the center of the world (room), proudly naked and bare, lit by fluorescents. I sulk in the shadows on the edge of the world. Keep your bright lights averted. This year I seek the audience of fireflies, common roaches and other people like me drawn to dark depths.
The sisterhood of the roaches – how I love the name, the deep repulsion, sweet embrace and graphic possibilities. I see roaches in high heels, roaches with glitzy handbags, roaches with books and black ink, roaches crawling across red red lips. Thing of the t-shirt possibilities. Excuse my while I go doodle….
I steal into the bathroom to contemplate this roach princess in the gilded mirror. This past year of grief and excess that left me prettier than ever before. The weight I lost gave me back my mother’s sharp cheekbones. I have grown confident in my sexuality and comfortable with my girlhood, so my hair is no longer cropped short or dyed three shades too dark. It hangs in loose, soft waves around my face, my shoulders and is lit by natural highlights that haven’t been allowed to see the light of day since I was a freshman in high school and discovered Clairol hair coloring. And, now I am lonely. The wide eyes of a hungry, open heart are irresistible – if not else,
completely terrifying.
All hands on the bad one
That hungry creature "restless" is stiring in me once again. I've been homebound, well-behaved, lonely. I've been counting flowers on the wall and conversing in my mind with people I never actually speak to anymore. I remember the girl that ran through the inside and out of this city and the next in tall heels and slinky back dresses split open way down to there. I miss Osaka after dark. I miss the swish swish zoom on the shinkansen on the way to Tokyo. And yes, and yes, I miss all the hands that laid claim to the bad one.
Pure as ivory soap, the woman sang, but I know that every girl likes to get dirty once in a while.
Sports Day
Yes, it's that time again: Sports Day! I enjoy sports day because some of the competitive group games the boys play are actually very dangerous and there is NO WAY the insurance companies back in the states would let schools host such events. My personal favorite is when long, heavy wood beams with flags attached at the end are held up by one team and the other team tries to snatch the flag off by scrambling over the bodies and stepping on the heads of their opponents. Truly fabulous fun. Our school nurse does brisk business Sports Day.
This picture is from practice. We lose our last period of class in the week leading up to Sports Day so the kids can learn the games and practice standing, sitting and marching. (These standing and sitting rules apparently require a LOT of practice.) We were supposed to have the main event yesterday, but we got rained out. We're going to try for tomorrow, but heavy clouds have formed again. I don't know if we'll be able to do it.
Here's a few of my favorite suck-up students. These are ones I never have to yell at. Don't they look sweet and eager to please? I've started speaking to my students in Japanese outside of class. They are thrilled. They are also learning how little I actually know, which surprises them. They all thought I spoke Japanese much better and was simply hiding it. Um, nope. I guess it's a shock to find out your teacher isn't half as brilliant as you thought she was. Or, maybe it's just delightful for them to know that their crude little side conversations go right over my head.
Photobooth Fun
Laura lives in the apartment just below us. Kiomye and I took her out to Keiten sushi last night - her first experience dining off a conveyor belt. We stumbled across the photobooths and HAD to take some snaps. Much fun was had by all. After dinner, we went on a big shopping spree at the hyaku yen store. ($1 for folks back home) We loaded up on glow sticks, hello kitty notebooks and fans with funky English printed on them. You know, necessary stuff.
Boys calling, NOT FOR ME!
Kiomye got her first phone call from a boy today. Wow! Masaki, the son of one of the women I used to teach. I tried to put my head close to hers to hear what he was saying to her, but she told me I was stinky and to go away. I did catch that he was speaking Japanese. She aswered back in English. I have no idea if he understood her at all, but I could hear his tantrum in the background when his mom and I took over the call to arrange a lunch date for the four of us. He wasn't finished telling Kiomye what he needed to say. He was pretty pissed that he didn't have control of the phone anymore.
The secrets that pass between four-year-olds, a great mystery.
Oh yes, final note, I can't believe that Asashoryu is out of the rest of the May Basho due to injury. I wonder if he just freaking out because he lost a match so early. The dive his took was pretty spectator, but I think he pride was damaged much more than his arm.
Two wonderfully wasted days
My beautiful new TV was delivered yesterday. Hooray! It's big and a flat screen. Thank you KG University! My employers occasionally astound me with their generosity. I love my job so much that instead of preparing for this week's classes, I spent the rest of the weekend playing my new game on my new TV.
Oh yes, now I remember why I don't play video games. Mix my addictive personality with an engrossing, role-playing Mafia game and enough tortilla chips and mango salsa sustenance from costco to last a week and *poof*, the woman we once knew as Kelsye is gone gone gone.
My daughter is so forgiving. I was only going to play after she went to sleep. But, today I couldn't resist and picked up where I left off while she was coloring in her notebook. I thought she was too busy to watch. I knew I had to stop when I got in a sticky spot and suddenly I heard her sweet little voice call out "Shoot them with your big gun, Mommy! Your BIG gun!"
Uhem. No more violent games during Kio's waking hours. (Even if it means I have to leave the damn thing at the neighbors apartment during the day so I won't be tempted.)
Joyful days
Yesterday, Kiomye and I headed over to Okamoto for some shopping and to have cake at the florist's cafe. We were browsing French stationary and kitchen rugs decorated with dancing dogs when we first heard the drums. "What's that music?" Kiomye asked. I told her I had no idea and we went back to shopping. But the drums got louder and louder. We could hear people yelling. Kiomye exclaimed, "It's coming here!" and ran out of the shop into the sudden crowd that had gathered on the narrow street. That's when we saw this coming our way:
We stumbled upon a Danjiri celebration. We dropped our goods back on the shelves and rushed out to follow the procession. We were led to one of the main roads. There was a huge crowd and about ten of these portable shrines racing up and down the street. We happened to grab a front row spot right across from the main bandstand, where the men would stop and do death-defying drops and turns and such. It was fabulous.
When we'd had enough of the banging drums and crowds, Kiomye and I retreated to our beloved florist's cafe. We haven't been there in months, but they remembered us well. After we scarfed our delicious cakes, Kiomye played cards with the owner's brother and I inked this drawing in my sketch book.
I'd love to have it made into a tall window, with twisted metal work to form my letters. We lingered in the cafe a long long time. There's flowing water, leafy greens, opera arias, and real swallows that have built a nest above head.
Peace seeps into my blood like cream stirred into coffee. We will not let so much time pass before we visit again. Here is a picture of the florist with her son.
Fox Confessor
I just sent this
CD to my mom via Amazon (How I love the internet!) with this noter on the invoice:
Mom, I love Neko Case. Neuvo folk/country/twangsoul. Post-Modern Andrew Sisters meets Janis Joplin, with a bit of Patsy Cline thrown in. Moody Low sliding moans. Good for late night kitchen table, spiral notebook and bic pen jam sessions. Listen and love her. -K
The Malady of Time
I talked to Christy on the phone this morning for about two hours. It feels so good to have chosen family. I miss her. I'm so impressed with her strength of late; the difficult past that she is facing, the future she is creating, the new love she has for herself. I'm inspired. This picture is from Christy's bachelorette party in Seattle last summer. (Karaoke, yea!)
This afternoon, the sweet neighbor girl came to spend the afternoon playing with Kiomye. The girls were fine for about an hour, spilling water on the table, drawing with markers on my carpet and dragging all of Kio's toys out to dump in a big pile in the living room. Then Angie said to me, "My body feels cold." She went and laid down in Kio's bed and fell promptly asleep. I let her sleep for about half an hour, then she started to moan and whimper. I went in to check on her and she felt so hot. I took her temperature and it was 39.2 (102.5f). Yikes! Poor little girl. I felt strange giving another woman's child medicine, but she was crying and so miserable, so I gave her some kid's non-aspirin and we spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled on the couch with blankets sipping water. (We couldn't even watch movies, as my damn tv is broken.)
Some play date.
Now, I'm bored. Kio and I went out to dinner. I had a long bath this evening, re-reading my favorite Kundera book. My house is clean. I have many other projects to work on, but no mental focus. I feel like getting drunk or having sex, but those options aren't available to me tonight. Sigh. Free time can really be a bitch when I'm not used to dealing with it.
I want to go to Tokyo, but I have no one to leave Kiomye with.
Double sigh.
Physical love is unthinkable without violence
"But deep down she said to herself, Franz may be strong, but his strength is directed outward; when it comes to people he lives with, when it comes to people he loves, he's weak. Franz's weakness is called goodness. Franz would never give Sabina orders. He would never command her, as Thomas had, to lay the mirror on the floor and walk back and forth on it naked. Not that he lackes sensuality; he simply lacks the strength to give orders. There are things that can be accomplished only by violence. Physical love is unthinkable without violence."
-Milan Kundera
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Yes. I'm reading this book again.
Everything break right.... NOW!
Golden Week. I don't have to work, but everything is closed. Plus, last weekend my tv broke, followed quickly by my washing machine. Fantastic.
I'm lucky. The washing machine repairman is here right now, on his hands and knees with the innards of my washer spread around him. Kiomye is on her hands and knees too, intently watching everything he does. The university told me I would have to wait until next week, but I threw a fit. I have a toddler. We go through a LOT of clothes. We'd be naked if we couldn't wash clothes for over a week. Thankfully, they finally found someone willing to come out on a holiday. He's been here for a while. He's still in the taking things apart phase. I don't want to turn around and check on his progress anymore. It's not looking good for my washer.
When I told the university that my tv was broken, they sent out a commitee of three to check it. I had to leave work early to be home to let them in. The three "experts" stood in front of my tv. One bent down and pushed the button a couple times. Nothing. One checked the plug. Yep, still in the wall. They spoke in low, serious Japanese for about five minutes, then left without saying anything to me.
My boss called me the next day to tell me that the university was going to buy me a new tv (Yea!), but that the paperwork and approval would take at least a week. Oh, great. So, now I have a weeklong holiday when everything is closed and my tv is not working.
AND, I just got the new Godfather game for PS2. I can't wait to play this game! I am a HUGE fan of the Godfather movies. Ever since I was a teenager, I dreamed about being part of that world. I was going to marry Vincent Gambino (the Gambino's were the top family in New York 10 years ago, I knew there had to be a "Vincent"), we would have a wonderful love, then he would die young and I would take over the mafia. Well, that didn't work out for me. But, the
reviews say that playing this game is just like living in the Godfather movies. Sweet!
WHY oh WHY did my tv have to break now?!?!
Oh, yes, and I STILL wish Toru would come visit me! I know my tv is broken, but I PROMISE we will find something fun to do.The repairman just told me my washer is fixed. Horray! I asked him how old the machine is. (This is the second time it has broken.) 14 years old he said. Sheesh. That's even one year older than my broken tv.
My blue things: click to see the labels
Spring Renewal
The other day Kiomye and I were invited to a bar-b-que at Kio's teachers' new condo. The picture above is Kiomye playing with her puppy toy on the rooftop. Yoshiko's condo was so incredibly cute. It was creative and colorful and simple and open. I was inspired. When Kio and I came home in the evening, I started cleaning and organizing my crap.
Around midnight, I stopped cleaning and pulled out the big blue canvas I stopped working on months ago. I played Esthero, danced around and put the final strokes of paint on the canvas.
I spent the first half of Sunday continuing with my cleaning. Then I rewarded myself by going to Muji and buying new storage boxes for Kiomye's art supplies, a big glass frame from my large-format artwork that my friend had printed for me in Bangkok and a sweet pink lounging chair for Kio.
My place looks so much better. There are still pockets of mess and clutter, but the overall asthetic is much improved.
Of course, Japanese comes easy to her. Oh, to be 4 and brilliant. I envy my own daughter. Speaking of which, here is a recent picture of her chillin' on my hammock on the balcony. Please leave your comments telling me how gorgeous and cute she is. One at a time, please. And, hey, Toru, you are my most faithful reader. I know you can type out some English. Come on, be daring and leave a comment! My friends don't think you really exist.
