Scribbler's Cafe

unsnap judgement

2007-02-12T09:50:00.001+09:00

Kiomye and I are taking the train to Osaka. It's already 6pm and we're both tired out from our days at work and school, but we don't care. We want to get O-U-T.

The man standing on the platform behind us reeks of alcohol. The smell oozes from his rumpled clothes, from his hot breath on my ear, from his very pores. Kiomye steps forward to peer down the empty tracks.

"Abunai," he says. It's dangerous. I pull her back behind the yellow line and thank him for his concern.

Our train comes and we pile on. I know with a sickly certainty that he will sit next to us. I am right. I put an arm around Kiomye, pull her into me, then open an English book on my lap.

The man is mumbling at me. I can understand his words, but can't put them together to form sentences. So, I nod and turn the pages of my book. He thrusts a small wrapped bouquet of pink and red flowers at Kiomye. Her eyes are huge saucers of happiness.

"Arigatou," I say. Thanks. I look at him again. He carries two shopping bags. One holds another bouquet. All white. Exotics, giant, barely contained by the bag. The other bag is full of novels, stacked and packed tight. I burn with the shame of my judgment. I turn to face him properly, close my book.

"Hontoni arigatou." Really thanks a lot.

He rambles along in slurred Japanese and I catch that he is going to see a woman and then something about she either loves him a lot, or not at all. I can't figure out which it is, only that whatever direction her affections take it is surely to the extreme.

His stop is before ours. Juso. I thank him again for the flowers, apologize for not understanding Japanese better.

"It's OK," he says. "I drank too much anyway." Shockingly perfect English. Almost no accent at all.

He bows and I bow. He stumbles off the train. His bag of books knocks against his knees and he crashes into a wall. He regains himself and descends the platform stairs as smoothly as if he were riding an escalator. My train bumps forward. Kiomye sits beside me, her entire face buried in the blossoms.

Currently reading :
Buddha, Volume 8: Jetavana (Buddha)
By Osamu Tezuka
Release date: By 01 December, 2005

Naked dinner

2007-01-19T17:31:00.000+09:00

Yesterday, I dined in the nude. I ate my dinner in the spa café, completely naked save for a bright orange towel wrapped around my brow to keep my sweat from dripping into my microwaved chicken nuggets. A few other women ate with me, all with feet dangling in the warm water river that ran beneath our chairs, all with bright orange towel atop their crowns and breasts hanging free. Chicken nuggets and chopsticks. Naked bottoms flat against wooden swivel chairs. I ate my dinner with a bemused smile.

Later, I took another lap around the bath circuit. 10 minutes under the waterfall in the Atlantis room, a dip in the wine bath, a dip in the mint bath. I spent a few minutes in the rooftop Grecian bath to ponder the stars above Osaka, and far longer than necessary in the jetted massage tubs. Then finally, I rubbed myself all over with a rough salt scrub, scooped by the handful from a giant roman urn, and took a sit in the dry sauna.

I passed over all the cold water treatments completely. I've been swimming in Glacier lakes. (Remember that day… Christy, Dan and the old crew?!) I felt no need to recreate the painful experience in a spa, regardless of the sparkling temptation of the golden tub.

A year has passed since I last fell in love. One. Year. At work, I retreated to the back room to weep. But then my work was done and I rushed to the city spa to melt my body and fuse my heart cracks in all that steamy unrelenting heat. I walked home in the darkness, sauntering and singing. My joy restored.

Currently reading :
Memories of My Melancholy Whores
By Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Release date: By 25 October, 2005

Time to wake up

2007-01-08T21:57:00.000+09:00

At the moment, Kiomye and I are dining at the florist's café. There is running water, opera music played at a perfect level, and the overwhelming scent of flowers from the floral arrangement class taking place behind the paper screen. I love this place. I've had a crush on the waiter forever. He takes Kio by her hand and leads her around the shop. She always leaves with a pink rose or two tucked into her pockets.

These have been quiet months for me. I feel as though I've withdrawn into hiding and reprise. I am looking to rest and heal. My heart has been so smashed these past two years that I just wanted to stop and be still for awhile. I haven't even been able to write my own words as much as I am too closed off for that kind of thinking and vulnerability.

My style of loving men has changed as well. I ponder commitment, but worry about yoking my raging ambitions to a calm and quiet man.

But then, raging ambitions don't seem to be much of a concern for me as of late.

This is what I do. I teach my classes with love and attention, but no great devotion or inspiration. I straighten my hair and pull on tall boots and go to the parties of all my marvelous friends. Kiomye and I spend afternoons in cafes or concrete bound animal sanctuaries. I read many good books. I am in bed by nine. I give very little thought to either my past or my future. I haven't even opened the novel files on my computer for three months.

For that I feel shame – and the horrible dread of eternal incompletion.

I have vague ideas about what I will do when I return to America (if I return), but none create sparks in me. I don't think I am lonely much, or even very lost. For a while, I think I am just less.

But ennui can not hold me for my lifetime. I have spent too much time in these doldrums. It's time to get out. Time to wake up.

Currently reading :
The Most Beautiful Woman in Town
By Charles Bukowski
Release date: By June, 1983

Be patient (unlike me)

2006-09-21T11:33:00.000+09:00

Life in Japan is suddenly jam-packed. The term has started with it's whirlwind of classes and events and little dramas. Upon exposure to my students (or, dirty little carriers, as I'm referring to them now), I came down with a wicked cold that I am still fighting. I was invited to the hyper-glam wedding of two internation super-models, which was surreal enough in itself. But attending while suffering a fever of 102 turned the whole thing into a real fear and loathing kind of experience. The bride draped me in her diamond chains and spun me around the room and I felt as though all of Osaka was twirling with us, and didn't bother to stop even after we sat down for fois gras and champagne sherbert.

But, no more diamonds for me. I'm back in the reality of gradebooks, wrinkled homework papers and cold cups of coffee. Now this is glam.

The longest lunch

2006-09-03T08:05:00.000+09:00

Lunch at Megumi's parents house in the country took about five hours. We sat in their shaded carport, around hot little grills covered in juice dripping meats and vegetables. Yakiniku. My favorite way to eat in Japan. As soon as the meat stops showing red, or as soon as the vegetables threaten to burn, you pluck them off the grill with your chopsticks, dip them in your bowl of sweet seaseme sauce and pop it in your mouth. Megumi's father also presented us with giant grapes the size of golf balls, which we peeled and ate like plums.

We ate so much. As soon as the food on the grills was getting low and I'd think we'd eaten all that we could, Megumi's mother would come outside with more platters of raw meat and chopped vegetables and cover the grills again. Our kids gave up on stuffing themselves and instead spent the rest of the afternoon using the garden hose to turn the dirt drive into a mud pen. The water rushed to the street and filled the deep gutters, which Kio and Masaki deemed their "pool" and jumped right in.

We sat in the shade eating and drinking tea and sipping beers and watching the kids run circles around us. Eventually, we roused ourselves for a short walk to the kiwi vines to pluck some fruit, but returned quickly to the shady carport. By then the kids had discovered a new use for the rubber boots we gave them to keep their feet dry. They would fill them to the brim with hose water, then slide their feet and legs into the cold water. They chased each other around in those water-filled boots - squish squish squish!

Megumi's English is still at a very beginner level, and her parents don't speak any at all. Kiomye had no problem, but I had to strain my brain to use Japanese to communicate. I managed fairly well, but there were definitely moments when I had no clue what we were talking about.

Late in the afternoon, the flow of food finally stopped. We dried off our kids, took a couple group pictures, then stuffed ourselves into Megumi's little car. We drove back in the papercuts between the mountains listening to the kids sing nursery rhymes in their native tongue. Dreamy and beautiful.

Under the Japanese sun

2006-09-03T07:49:00.000+09:00

Kiomye and I were treated to a trip to the country yesterday by my friend Megumi. Megumi was in the English class I used to teach at the local community center and has been wonderful about keeping in touch and acting as host to her country. She drove us (along with her two kids Masaki and Miki) out to Tanba to pick grapes and kiwis on her parent's land.

The day was very hot, but much cooler once we ducked under the vines and walked deep into the vineyard. The grapes were wrapped in white bags while still on the vines to keep the bugs and birds from eating them. Pre-packaged! We selected some bunches and held our kids up so they could cut the stems with rusted scissors. We laid out gray tarps on the ground and sat down right in the vineyard and ate grapes until we could burst. (tabe-hodai!)

Megumi's daughter, Miki, squealed in horror when she saw that Kiomye and I were popping the grapes into our mouths and eating them whole. Megumi explained that Japanese people NEVER eat grape skins. "Why?" I asked and Megumi got that look I get when someone asks me something about my language that I have never noticed or thought about before, but used on a regular basis.

Why do words that are spelled exactly the same sound different?
What is the difference between capitol and capital?
Why can't I say the "blue big house" instead of "big blue house"?

uhhhh...... blink blink blink

Finally Megumi said, "Because we are Japanese." and nodded her head to show her pleasure with her logic and the resoluteness of her answer. Kiomye and I stopped eating the skins.

Grape flavored kisses

2006-09-02T19:06:00.000+09:00

a haiku:
sunbeams sliced through vines
light upon my pale skin like
grape flavored kisses

Sex in Milwaukee

2006-09-01T06:26:00.000+09:00

(Well, Waukesha actually, a little bit West.)
This is my lovely friend Jenny whom I visited during my visit back home. She will be rightly horrified to see her picture under the title I gave this post. I had a great time visiting her, partially because she introduced me to four new best friends: Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte.

Yes, I am now a believer. I had never see this show before, but Jenny and I staged a major "Sex in the City" marathon and now I'm an addict. We spent almost an entire day in our pajamas, splayed out on comforters thrown on the floor, drinking a pitcher's worth of cosmopolitans and watching the first two seasons. This show is brilliant. And yes, Jenny is SO Charlotte, despite her weak arguments to the contrary. And yes, I am SO Carrie, except for when she's whiny and I find her annoying. Now that I'm back in Japan, I have to find a video store that carries the DVDs so that I can get my fix.

Also in the exotic city in Milwaukee, I met up with the famed blogger Brettanicus for some walking and talking and memory making. Delightful, but so brief.

Sisters

2006-08-27T09:16:00.000+09:00

OK, here begins the slow trickle of pictures from my vacation back home. I was gone a long time and took a lot of snaps, so the processing will take me awhile. These are from the day I visited my sister and niece. We took their meccha genki dog "Roxy" on a little hike to the beach. Puget Sound in gorgeous in the summer - sparkling sapphire outlined by bleached pebble beaches. A wonderful place to spend the day.

My niece Evynne is frightfully adorable. We pretend that she's MY daughter when we go out in public. She's an amazing kid.

Peeking into secrets

2006-08-27T06:55:00.000+09:00

I stole this book from my sister's collection to read on the plane back. This is a PERFECT airplane book. It's so engrossing and fast-paced that I actually was annoyed when the flight attendant would interrupt me to give me fruit snacks and drinks. Chuck Palahniuk also wrote "Fight Club" and this book is full of the same intensity and mystery. Except it is entirely different.

This book tells a story about a middle-aged woman (worn-down and exhausted with her dismal life) who may possibly be the greatest painter in history and the only person who can save her idyllic island community from throngs of tourists who destroy it. It covers stockholt Syndrome - a physical sickness one gets from witnessing extreme beauty. I don't know if something such as this really exists, but the concept is fascinating. Because this is a Palahniuk, it's full of twists and a satisfyingly unexpected ending.

Now I'm on to "Sex, Murder and a Double Latte." My sister had a great bookshelf. I wonder how long it will take her to notice that half a shelf has gone missing.

Foreign yet familiar

2006-08-27T06:44:00.000+09:00

Kiomye and I made it back in one piece. The whole struggling through a foreign country on sleep deprivation, lugging suitcases that combined weigh 60 pounds more than I do and a toddler who hasn't had the energy to walk since we transferred in Korea is quite a.... strengthening exercise. Yep. I am a better person for it. I'm sure.

We're recovered now. I spent all of yesterday hanging up my pretty new clothes and reorganizing my bathroom cupboards to make room for the 30 pounds of lotions and gimmicky products I bought in America. That was actually fun. I love my things. I know that it is a horrible, materialistic thing to say, but I do. I I love my things.

Kio says the bubbles in her bath are over her head. This I have to see.

Extended disconnect

2006-08-22T13:26:00.000+09:00

It's amazing how a month-long vacation can fly by in the blink of an eye.

We had some family drama. Just one day into our camping trip, we got a call on the cell that my grandfather had had a heart attack and was at the hospital in critical condition. My mom, Kio and I cut our trip short, jumped on a ferry to hurry to our family across the Sound and spent the next four days at the hospital.

My grandfather had a double bypass surgery. He made it through just fine, but is having a TERRIBLE time adjusting to life without bourbon. The doctors were worried about him going into toxic shock and they ended up having to restrain him because he kept pulling out his IVs and trying to leave. He didn't even know where he was.

An entire brigade of Aunts kept manning the post by his bedside. I had Kiomye with me and wasn't much help. Luckily, my sister lives nearby and so I was able to stay with her. I just got back to Olympia today. (My vacation base camp.) I only have three more days until I return to Japan and only about 10 more people I have yet to see.

I hate when I can't see everyone I promised to. Please forgive me, friends.

Out of service

2006-08-17T00:35:00.000+09:00

I know I've been terrible keeping up with my email and blog lately anyway, but it's going to be a bit worse for a few more days. Today I'm heading into the Olympics for a camping trip with Kiomye and my mom. (Yea!) I am TOTALLY without internet/phone connection for a few days. I'll reconnect when I return.

Tripping home

2006-08-03T07:39:00.000+09:00

My last week in Japan was plagued by the curse of possibility. I could not sleep and spent my waking hours online looking up odds of survival and treatment options. Then I sent out a desperate plea for Toru to come and save me and he answered. We should all be blessed with friends so sweet. My most tender friend accompanied me while I ran errands, walked my daughter home from school and sat with me patiently while I battled with worry. I had to walk away quickly at the train station when it was time to separate myself from him, fast enough to duck behind the corner of a building before the tears started to flow.

The fight over the Pacific was long and torturously uncomfortable, as expected. Kiomye did well. She slept soundly with her feet jabbed into my waist, her heavy head on my arm and all my blankets piled over her. As we disembarked in Seattle, the woman who had been sitting in front of us on the plane complimented Kiomye on her poised travel demeanor. Of course, I thought, my daughter is always good. (Even when she’s not.)

The evening after our return, I borrowed my mother’s car and drove into town to buy familiar toiletries and catch a moment of solitude. In the scant year since my last visit, large developments have spring up – strip malls and box stores. I soaked in every change with wide attentive eyes. The sun was setting and creating a bright Maxfield Parrish sunset for my mother’s clunky Oldsmobile to roll beneath, obtaining painted grace.

I had anticipated some sort of moment of clarity upon return to my homeland – as if contact with the soil of my land of origin would spark some magnetic impulse or synapses whose latent activity has been responsible for my lack of direction. No such luck. Still lost as ever.

Attempting to close off possibilities, I visited the doctor that delivered my child four years ago. He told me not to fear, his authority resting on the quick sweep of his eyes over my body. I have no answers for your questions, he said, but I don’t like to see those worry lines on your face. He was no help at all.

I slept two nights in my mother’s house. Spent two more walking between my bedroom and the dining room, the dining room and the backyard, the backyard and my bedroom, trying to find where my sleep was hiding.

When we drove into Seattle, Kiomye shouted with joy. There it is! She yelled - gesturing at the tall buildings and sparkling bay filled with tilting sailboat. We drove in circles. I pointed out the sights to my daughter. There is my old high school. That is the drive-in where I had my first job and met your father. There is the hill I used to run up with my red-haired track coach. She oohed and ahhed appropriately. It all feels unreal to me, as if watching a movie. I am not really here; I am simply playing back an old reel from my past. If we stop the car and go over to the store where I used to buy my notebooks and give the front a good shove, it will fall over like a fake-plywood stage prop. I am certain of it.

We landed at my father’s house. There he was, not at all older, with a dog beside him that looks the exact same, but is not the exact same as the one from a year ago. (People aren’t the only ones that get cancer. We are just more difficult to replace.) My stepmother offered me doting concerned sweetness that melted my heart and I knew instantly that I had found a safe place for my daughter to stay while I went to find my friend.

Christy. It isn’t until she was standing before me, all energy and smiles and bounce, that I finally felt if I have come home. I let out a long deep breath and wanted to wrap my arms around her and cry for a day, but instead I flipped back my hair, told her how great she looks and reclaimed my rightful place in the passenger seat in her car.

It was block party night in Seattle. We ate a mix of foods donated by neighbors and sat on plastic lawn chairs in the middle of the street while a sweet young crooner sang his Seattle songs and strummed his guitar. Christy’s husband is gorgeously delicious like a piece of butterscotch candy and smiles sweet and sublime whenever Christy floats into his view. Nevertheless, I stole her away and we sat somewhere dark where I could sip red wine and marvel at the woman she has become.

Today my daughter was reunited with her father. I find myself alone and unencumbered. Totally discombobulated. What do I do with myself? I can’t quite shake the feeling that I am missing something, like my keys or my cell phone, but really it’s my daughter whose existence I keep trying to reassure myself of. So I do what I did when I was 17 and feeling lost in the world. I retreat to my old coffee shop, the one with the upstairs loft and the creaky wooden floors. The name has changed and it is much cleaner and swankier now than I remember, but the feeling of sanctuary is the same. Yes, sometimes it is good to be home.

I will spend the rest of my fortuitous free time today searching out the perfect book of Baudelaire for the man I’ve never actually met. Maybe then he’ll forgive me my absorption in my life. Please.

even MORE photobooth fun

2006-07-23T10:14:00.000+09:00

Kiomye and Kelsye hit the Umeda arcades with predictable results...

Beautiful death

2006-07-17T17:47:00.000+09:00

Look at this gorgeous picture that my friend Diana took! She took this when she was visiting me in New Orleans six years ago. That's me in the picture. I was 21. We thought that the graveyards would be a wonderful place to spend a sweltering afternoon. We were so right. Diana sent me this picture a few months ago, but I put it in a drawer and forgot about it. I just found it again today.

taking the reigns

2006-07-17T13:30:00.000+09:00

Lately, I’ve found my way into the lines of a bohemian poet. He is stealing one of my memories to warm the verse of prose. (Although, I must admit he has onwership of that memory as well.) But it shocked me to see those lines, so when darkness fell, I sat on the balcony with the city lights and the passing trains and cried buckets of cold tears into my tiny cup of lukewarm tea. Old sensations I cannot control, that creep up on me and run their rough finger tips up my spine and into my brain, cause me such unfettered grief.

Please let me forget this thing I want so badly.

Moving on. AFTER JAPAN, WHAT WILL COME?

It is time once more – to sweep and dump and plan and daydream. All my life, I have been naturally skilled in this act – the decisive choosing of the “next” and the dramatic embarkment onto my new path. But this time, for the first time, I don’t even know where to begin. I falter. I can’t seem to find in my weary body a single spark of interest.

Grad school or a job? Teaching or editing? Seattle or New York. South Africa or America? Celibate or coupled? Near family or far from the familiar?

I don’t know what is best for me, but worse, I can’t even feel the pull of my own desire.

The Queen of Sumo

2006-07-16T08:58:00.000+09:00

Two days ago, I became the first woman in the 100+ year history of my school to referee in the sumo tournament. I felt quite a rush when I slipped off my sneakers and stepped my bare feet onto the cool packed dirt of the dojo. Being gioji was great fun. I didn't do the whole procedure exactly right, but none of the teachers do. I did call all of the matches correctly and that's what's important. Here I am in the dojo starting a match between two first years:

The day was horribly hot and humid. No breeze blew through the dojo, so I quickly became covered with sweat and dirt. So pretty. After the tournament, I ran home to towel off and change into something not convered in grime and then hurried back to meet some of the teachers. A small group of us were treated to dinner at a very nice French restaurant. It was the kind of place where each course warranted the waiters to give us a new set of cutlery and china, even though each consisted of only about 1 square inch of decidedly decadent food lost in the center of a plate the size of a hubcap. We all drank wine and laughed and talked about our school and each other's feeble private lives. So civilized. Such a contrast from the yelling, screaming sweaty sumo tournament earlier in the day.

After dinner, We all headed over to a karaoke snack bar. The "snack" part means that it's a hostess bar, which means that there were four lovely and pleasant women refilling our drinks, twisting the stems off our cherries and yelling bravo when we finished our karaoke numbers. I love hostesses. I really do. The PE teacher had been practicing Nat King Cole's "Unforgettable" so that he could duet with me. His voice is amazing, mine is just passable, but I love to sing with him. The hostesses made us all dance with each other, very funny stiff backed formal dancing. We laughed the whole time. In my honor, the teachers sang English songs - Bob Dylan and Celine Dion. I have no particular connection to these songs, but they were in English and therefore what they chose to sing for me. Very sweet.

Around midnight we split taxis home. Nice happy chatter in the back seat of the car while being driven through the lit city. None of the teachers I went out with have a very good command of English, but all can speak just a little bit. I was forced to use all my feeble Tarzan Japanese, but was surprised that we could actually maintain decent conversations. I was not isolated and I was not nervous about communicating. There were definitely some jokes that flew right past my comprehension, but otherwise I was able to do just fine. The day was long and exhausting, but highly satisfying.

Gettin' down with Black Eyed Peas

2006-07-12T21:45:00.000+09:00

I went to the Black Eyed Peas concert last night with my friend from work. It was great, fabulous, tush shakin' fun. These two kawaii girlies were sitting next to us. They had the same miniscule denim skirts and wiggle clap wiggle clap move that they did through the whole show. When I asked for their picture, they hapily agreed, but then took five minutes before they let me snap to add another layer of make-up. So adorable and hilarious.

Surreal moments: When WillIam would call out to the audience for a response and only me and five other people (out of about 10,000) understood his English and would yell out. Also, when Fergie asked everyone to sing along to Guns and Rose's Sweet Child of Mine and me and my friend were the only people who knew the words. Ahhh, Japan.

I love the end of the term. I had a so much fun with Toru last week (who is now in Europe just to see a concert!). I got to go to the baseball game, then yesterday I got to go the BEP show. Tomorrow the sumo tournament starts at my school and then on Friday a group of the old guys I work with are taking me out to a steak dinner. Sweet. Good times. Good times.

pop my baseball cherry

2006-07-09T17:19:00.000+09:00

Toru came down from Tokyo to chase my loneliness away for a couple days. He brings me such peace. I am so grateful for his friendship. We did many fun things. I took him to the trippy pseudo-catholic-goth restaurant in Umeda and showed him one of my favorite jazz hideouts. It was very enjoyable for me to dress up and play adult for a night. But, the highlight was easily the baseball game.

We went to my FIRST BASEBALL GAME EVER!!! The Yokohama Baystars were playing the Hanshin Tigers at Koshien Stadium. Toru was cheering for the Baystars (with about three other people). The Tigers are my local team, so I joined in with the massive hoards in yelling for them. Japanese baseball fans have a reputation around the world for being crazy and over the top. In Japan, it’s the Tigers fans that are thought of as the most extreme. Yep, they were pretty crazy. Everyone had sticks to bang together and knew the special cheers and clapping patterns for each player and special play. My favorite moments were when all ten gazillion people (me included, Toru refused) blew up giant sperm-shaped balloons and then released them at the bottom the seventh to rally the team. Amazing sight. We got to do it again at the end of the game because the Tigers won. There was tons of beer, just like in America, but I couldn’t find hotdogs. There was sticky squid on a stick and that looked pretty good. The baseball game itself was fairly interesting as well. Yet, it was very easy to forget about the game with all the action in the stands.

AND not only did we get to see this great game, we got in for FREE! We got to the stadium late (delayed by dinner in Namba’s Noodle World). When we started to approach the ticket booth, a couple came up to us and offered us their tickets. They didn’t even ask to be paid. We happily took them and went in to figure out where the heck our seats were. We were even more surprised to find that they were AMAZING box seats – second row, on the baseline. No one even sat in front of me so it was like being in the first row. We were feeling pretty lucky that night.

eh?

2006-07-03T22:09:00.000+09:00

Sorry, kiddo. This is one I really can't explain.

Dekita!

2006-07-03T20:54:00.000+09:00

Look at what Kiomye and I did to our wall! We can't paint our walls because we live in an apartment. But, we found these cool vinyl stickers by a company called DOMESTIC in a shop in Okamoto. They are just sticky enough to stay up, but you can take them off and move them around however you want. They're pricey, but oh so design-a-riffic! I want more. This is the set I want next:

Recent Media Favorites

2006-07-03T20:32:00.000+09:00

New band: Feist. My fabulous friend Christy sent me a burned copy of this via post. I really love getting mail. Even more, I love hearing excellent new music. Maybe this isn't new, I don't really know, but it's new to me. Moody and gorgeous and flowy. She sent other good CDs, but this is the one I've been playing the most.

New Book: Yakuza: Japan's Criminal Underworld. So, it's taking me forever to read this book. The content is enthralling, but it's written with a heavy academic style that does match well with my late-night reading brain. One of the surprising side-effects of reading this book was to learn so much more about my own governement and how exactly we develop "alternative governing bodies" in countries we are trying to guide (or control).

The gift of loneliness

2006-07-03T20:13:00.000+09:00

My footsteps progress on autopilot and lead me back to the train station. A few blocks from the entrance, the bright lights of Umeda’s entertainment district catch my eyes and it dawns on me that I don’t have to go straight home. I still have three more hours of babysitting gifted to me tonight. I turn left and enter the throngs of people swarming the karaoke boxes, hostess bars and plink plunking paccinko parlors.

Everyone is smiling. Everyone is with someone. Everyone is Japanese. Everyone, except me.

I pause with the crowd at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn and take me wherever it is that I am going. I stand on a step and sweep the crowd with my eyes. Men in business suits, red-faced and laughing, handsome young punks with orange-haired lolitas on their arms, musician types gesturing with their hands and carelessly knocking their over-sized cases through the crowd.

I wish that I could speak Japanese. The desire solidifies within me, turns into a deep ache that expands to fill my entire body cavity.

I find myself on Sakurabashi, in Kitashinchi – a tightly packed section of Osaka filled with the highest priced hostess bars in all of Japan. I know that when I walk these streets alone, at this time of night, all around perceive me as a hostess, possibly even a prostitute. (Yes, there is a huge difference between the two. Can you guess what it is?) But, such is the decorum and good manners of Japan that no one will leer or approach me. I am safe as long as I stay on the streets and out of the bars and designated pick-up places.

So, of course, I head to a bar.

Yet, Pocket is no hostess bar, or dark cavernous beer hall. Pocket is tucked away 9 stories up. All the seating is low leather loungers, pushed near plate glass windows that looks out onto the action below, if you so trouble yourself to look. A large shining grand piano fills the center of the room. When no one is tapping its keys, Norah Jones’ sultry ballads drip from the overhead speakers.

There is one other party here tonight, a group of businessmen (I count 12) impeccably turned out in black suits and crisp white shirts. They drink and laugh together, but stay firmly planted in their set of loungers. One even takes a turn at the piano, plays “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and “Someday My Prince Will Come” with a fair bit of flair and a slight jazz trill.

It is here that I pen these pages, sipping a bourbon on the rocks, entirely alone on my side of the room, still made up and beautiful from my tragic meeting with the artist earlier this evening.

I tire of this loneliness, but I also appreciate the new bravery it has birthed in me.

Unintentional Partial Nudity -or- Cover yourself up, Woman!

2006-07-03T19:43:00.000+09:00

The emerald green shirt I am wearing out tonight is held together across my chest by only four tiny pearlescent buttons. The threads that hold them to fabric are already stretched to their maximum load bearing weight. It’s Friday night. Everyone wants to go where I am going, apparently. I push my way onto the train, certain that I will be the last person to fit – yet a good five or six people push on behind me. Even with the air conditioner on high, it is hot and humid on the train. My bare arms are mashed up against those of the other glamour girls heading out tonight and it takes only a moment for a sticky wet film to gloss our touching skin.

My body is tightly compacted by the crowd, my arms pressed against my sides. We ride like sardines for 5.32 long minutes. Bump, jostle, bump, jostle. A grievous side effect develops in response to my shrunken frame. Those stretch loops relax in the bump and sway, expand and lift over my shiny pearlescent buttons. I don’t notice, of curse, because there is no great movement to draw my attention and I’m pressed so hard into the back of the person before me that his solid form holds me together nicely.

Then the ride comes to an end. The doors whoosh open the people pour out. That sticky hot air is blown away by a gorgeous gust of wind and space. Yet, it quickly dawns on me that my relief was too swift and too generous. My shirt has flown open in the wind, not a single button hanging on to preserve my modesty.

Oh, crap.

Luckily, I wore my lovely new blue satin bra, admittedly inappropriate for public wear, but if I have to be caught in my underwear, this is my best option. Luckily, my writing habit has trained my fingers to be nimble and quick. Luckily, the large group of my homebound students was one car back. I had just enough time to manipulate my buttons and get decent before they caught up with me.

When they saw me, they nodded their heads and mumbled solemn greetings of “sensei.” I nodded back with all the reserved grace I could manage, obasans gawking all around me.

Strongbad dreams of sisters

2006-06-29T21:16:00.000+09:00

Tee hee! This made me laugh:
http://podstar.homestarrunner.com/sb_email_sisters.m4v

Oh, strongbad, how I love thee!

Madness

2006-06-28T20:00:00.000+09:00

Zoom. Zoom. Zoom. This past week has been crazy. Here are the highlights:

Last Monday, after running with our students in a billion degree afternoon humidity, the part-time teacher trailing me collapsed onto the pavement. He fell over backwards, cracked his head open on the cement and started convulsing. I was the only other teacher around. Oh crap. Instead of trying to remember the CPR I've learned at least five times and forgotten just as many, I sprinted to get the nurse. I told her to bring the AED (electronic shocker machine) and to hurry hurry hurry! When we got back to the collapsed teacher, he had no pulse and was not breathing. The PE had started CPR, but he wasn't responding. That was a terrifying moment. He did NOT look good. He looked rather... dead.

The nurse affixed the the connectors to his chest, pushed the button, got the go-ahead and shocked him. His pulse came back and he started to breathe again. Within five minutes, he was doing much better and mumbling about being sorry for the trouble he caused. (No problem!) The ambulance came and took him away.

The hospital called our school later that day and told us that if we hadn't responded within three minutes that he would have died, and even so, the odds of the AED working are very very slim - about 1 in 30. I am very thankful he is alive and doing much better and that I was able to help in some small way (even if just to get better help than me). But, I have to admit, that scared the crap out of me. When I heard how close he came and that if we hadn't of acted quickly he would have died, well, that makes me very nervous.

So there was that. Of course, last week was a very hectic week at school anyway. I had a full load of classes to plan and teach, 186 English compositions to decipher and grade, a toddler that wanted my full and undivided attention, and all that lovely teacher drama that I manage to stir up.

Kiomye has also been feeling the stress that work is causing me and demanding more attention so that she can feel secure. One frantic morning, my babysitter didn't show up and I had to find a safe place for Kiomye just 20 minutes before I needed to teach my first class of the day. Plus, my students have recently discovered that I'm divorced and have made it their personal mission to try set me up with all sorts of inappropriate teachers, or else themselves. I had to clean out my apartment top to bottom because on Saturday I had 23 of my favorite students over to have the last movie class of the term in my livingroom. (amazingly successful and easy)

I managed to get out to the last Reading Words event in Hommachi (Osaka) this Sunday and had a great time. I read twice and got very strong and positive responses to my work. I also made a lot of friends, which is wonderful. One woman picked up on the erotica sub-lines in my writings and confessed to me later about her own personal work along those lines. We're going to meet-up and swap dirty stories - brilliant fun! Also, a few of the writers were very interested in what I had to say about collaborative writings and now we're starting up a group that will meet as soon as I have a break in my classes. (SOON!) I also made friends with Goth (Yes, GOTH) who is an excellent performer and photographer and we're going to meet up sometime this week to hang out, see his gallery and shoot the shit. Yes, that was a good night.

Today I taught the last of my regular classes and had a late night staff meeting. I teach on Friday, but it's an easy day, after that, it's just final tests, meetings and a sumo tournament. Toru might come visit me next week, which will be wonderful and relaxing if he actually does. Kiomye and I have plans to hit up the Osaka aquarium next week. This Sunday I may go to another literary event being held in a bar. (fun!)

Many more things happened, but now I'm having a hard time remembering them all. Things have just been crazy busy. I'm so glad the term is almost over.

Come on over to my house!

2006-06-24T16:17:00.000+09:00

Having class at my house went very well. I have great students. They were so excited, but still watched the movie and answered all my comprehension questions afterwards. Kiomye had a blast playing them. My students were so well behaved that I have no hesitation in having our last class at my place next term too.

making promises to students is a bad idea

2006-06-23T23:46:00.000+09:00

Tomorrow morning at 8am, 24 of my students are showing up at my apartment to watch the last movie of the term. It's a reward for everyone getting over 90% in my Saturday movie class, come experience the "American" apartment and finish up our last movie on my lovely big tv.

I don't really know how I will fit them all in. I don't really know if I'm breaking some major school rule. I don't really know if I'll be able to keep them out of my bedroom and underwear drawer. I really don't know if just the 24 kids in my movie class will show up, or miraculously so will the other 160 I teach in my weekly classes try to come too (They're insanely jeaous.). I don't really know if this is a horrible, terrible idea or a great motivator and cultural exchange.

But, whatever, I can't wait! It will be so much fun.

I love my kids.

うゐのおくやま

2006-06-21T22:08:00.000+09:00

Found 10th century poetry. Absolutely perfect for this 21st century moment in my life.

いろはにほへと	(Iro wa nioedo)	Even if colours have sweet perfume
ちりぬるを	(chirinuru wo)	eventually they fade away
わかよたれそ	(waga yo tare zo)	What in this world
つねならむ	(tsune naran)	is eternal?
うゐのおくやま	(ui no okuyama)	The deep mountains of vanity
けふこえて	(kyō koete)	I cross them today
あさきゆめみし	(asaki yume mishi)	renouncing superficial dreams
ゑひもせす	(yoi mo sezu)	not giving in to their madness any more

The Unbearable Sweetness of Kiomye

2006-06-21T07:27:00.000+09:00

Kiomye and I took the long way home on Sunday night. We'd gone into Nishi-kita for ice cream and decided to skip the train ride home. We'd gone to the zoo that day and were tired, but it is so pleasant to watch the night fall on a walk. The little river is full of giant carp and swimming turtles. Near our home, we passed a little shrine. Kiomye said, "Look, a pray station. Can I pray?" "Of course," I said and watch bemused as she dropped down, laid her cheetah toy on the alter, clasped her hands prayed, "Dear God, thank you for this good day with mommy."

Take that, you miserable misguided holiday!

2006-06-18T16:58:00.000+09:00

Since I could not produce a father, or reasonable facsimile, a trip to the zoo became my Father's Day counter attack. Successful? You judge:Unfortunately, the kangaroos did not fair as well. They seemed to be experience a single species apocalypse.

I like to control the pretty

2006-06-17T21:19:00.000+09:00

Time for a make-over. My old leafy green layout has been feeling a bit heavy. So, here's something much lighter and cleaner. In honor of my new look, here's some doctored pictures to go with my doctored journal.

(It's Saturday night and I'm stuck at home and very bored and moderately cranky. What else am I going to do with myself?)

Oh yes, and check out the new blogger buddies I've added. Good souls.

Lemming

2006-06-17T17:37:00.000+09:00

Yes... It's true. I finally caved to peer pressure. I'm not proud, but here it is:

www.myspace.com/_kelsye

...

I am not one who sees visions, but...

2006-06-16T20:28:00.000+09:00

A week ago, riding the Rokko liner back to the mainland, I peered into the dark churning water of the shipping canal and imagined that I saw the water turn white and break and the leaping, twisting form of a humpback whale burst into the air, then slide into the water and disappear again so quick.

I smiled to myself to be graced with such a lucky sight. I checked left and right to see if the other riders saw it too. Of course, the people on either side of me were not smiling, simply staring and swaying as the train rolled along. The vision was only mine. There was no whale. I am simply missing my land and sea of origin.

For a moment, my mood became heavy and ponderous. We crossed over another dark and violent water passage. Unbroken, but now thick with mystery. Just because what lies beneath the surface fails to reveal itself, does not mean that it is still and inactive.

Such grim foretelling. I gained a strong sense of things lurking beneath the surface. I spent a week in waiting, watching out of the corners of my eyes for the hidden blow, for the force that would sweep me off my feet again.

Last night, so soon, I caught a window full of whales. I was three stories up. It was night in Osaka and a torrential downpour curtained the city. The man sitting next to me said the words that were months too late and I turned away from him, my eyes falling on the wide plate glass window above the bar, suddenly full of movement and action. The whales. Not just one, an uncountable number. Jumping and falling and pirouetting like in a ballet.

I thought, Oh, so there they are. And then I excused myself, went down the long staircase and out onto the sidewalk. I turned my face upward to see the tails, but all I caught was a mouthful of rain.

This is me. Feeling very unbalanced,
but still trying to stay in the frame.

My new favorite thing

2006-06-14T22:00:00.000+09:00

HA! hahahahahahaha!
homestar runner podcasts
Holy crap this is funny.

Best line: "Uh, Strongbad, were you just first-basing it with that piece of loose-leaf?"

Vade Mecvm

2006-06-14T21:12:00.000+09:00

I read at a little literary shindig in Osaka a few weeks ago. You can click on the link to see me on the "stage".

http://readingwordskansai.blogspot.com/

Directly overhead lighting is the least flattering. Really.

(Hey, Diana! I read Desert Revival. It got a very good response. All my love to you!)

For Ame and Guilia

2006-06-14T20:19:00.000+09:00

Plod. Plod. Zoom. Zoom. Days pass in such ordinary, lonely ways that it becomes easy to get wraped up (trapped) in my own private reality. Then two women I've never met tell me they see me and I feel connected to world once again.

I love the women in my life. They may be few in number, but they are all phenomenal. My older sister sent me some fabulous care packages this week. In one, she sent me a "guady Chinese dog ornament" in honor of The Year of the Dog. She wrote a note about how dogs are "loyal, caring and brave by nature" and that this one in particular would watch over my heart for the rest of the year. She also sent me some trashy American magazines, which I read in my hammock, alternating with a Nabakov novel and a heavy non-fiction about Japanese Yakuza. The combination of reading materials balance itself out for perfect enjoyment, stimulation and fun.

My step-mother also sent me an e-card today, just to let me know she was thinking about me.

The women are rallying. Maybe I will make it through this month after all.

(Ame - Did you know that your name means "rain" in Japanese?)

Sunday as such

2006-06-11T23:37:00.000+09:00

The elderly woman with the big pink bag sat closer than neccessary to us on the train. We chatted with her pleasantly, until she started to ask me where Kio's dad is. That's when I pretended that the Japanese was too difficult for me to follow and turned away with an apologetic smile. Kiomye put on headphones and bobbed her head to the pop music on my ipod. The entire bench bouced and jiggled with her rocking, but I didn't feel the need to stop her.

The center-gai shopping street in Sannomiya, Kobe was packed with people. Kio's hand held tightly to mine as we swept through the crowds. We blew money we didn't have on accessories that sparkle and skirts that swish and swoosh. Kio danced at the rooftop restaurant while I wolfed down her because-you're-so-kawaii complimentary ice cream desert. I let her climb on the hideous art scultpures in the urban park, while I scrawled lines in my little black notebook. Coming back home, we found her scooter still safely parked at our home station, despite the lack of lock, and she scooted her way home happily. Now, We've had our baths. We have read from the Richard Scary books and Glamour magazine in the balcony hammock, had our glasases of water and gone to bed.

Yet here I am, with my clock quickly ticking away the hours until the alarm goes off, two hours of morning class prep ahead of me, a tired body and mind, but still completely unable to sleep. Where is my peace?

These days, all my best friends are kids

2006-06-11T08:45:00.000+09:00

I accompanied a group of my students to Kobe yesterday to see an exhibit of Robert Capa's color photographs. (He was a hugely famous war photographer.) My students have been learning English for two and a half years now. I was hugely proud and delighted that even outside the classroom they wanted to and COULD chat with me. I hung with eight of my students for half they day and can honestly say it was a lot of fun. They are incredible sweethearts.

Of course, it was Saturday, and I should not have been working, I should have been playing with Kiomye. So, to steal back some time, Kiomye and I got all fashion-y and rode the trains into the Shinsaibashi/America-mura area of Osaka for a late dinner and some crazy kid watching. I love going out after dark in the summer. The cool warm is perfect and the air is so comfortable compared to the day. We ate at the Movie Star Cafe and then sat in the little park where the punks and fashionista gather to be seen and play with their keitais. Kiomye talked to me non-stop. She is so funny! She had all kinds of things to say about her friends at school, about the girl with the purple hair next to us, about why we all need peace in our hearts (which is her favorite cause these days). She is charming company.

We got home around ten, which is really late considering Kiomye usually goes to sleep at 8:30, but Kiomye begged me to take a little "night-walk" to the temple stairs where all the stray kitties hide. So, we grabbed some shredded cheese to offer as snacks for the cats and headed on over. The top of these stone stairs is a peaceful and unexpected place in the middle of our busy concrete neighborhood. The stairs are incredibly long, and lift you up onto a leafy platform. When we turn and sit at the top, we have a wonderful view of the lights of Nishinomiya and the passing Shinkansen. As soon as we sat down, no less than eight dark shapes came rushing out to us. Those cats gobbled down the cheese in nothing flat, then sat around us purring and grooming while we all enjoyed the night and the lights.

Sullen Girl

2006-06-09T19:51:00.000+09:00

I have an incredible desire to declare myself “closed” and drop out of everything for a week. God, I’d be thrilled with even a single day.

I need to stop and think. There are decisions begging to be made, directions to declare. But everything is moving so fast. I have ten things to deal with today and twenty tomorrow.

I want to dress up slick and go somewhere swank and completely distracting from the day to day norm that overwhelms me now. But I do not want to go alone, and all my heart currency is currently tied up in old heart break stocks. I have no energy or interest in starting a new thing with a new person. I just want simple companionship.

I’m exhausted. Everyday I must invent. I plan my lessons the night before I must present them. The only way to get ahead would be to work through Sunday, but then my daughter would have not a single day of the week when I give her all of my attention. She is only four. Even the entire breadth of a Sunday in the park is not enough for her to satisfy her need of me for the week. I am always playing catch-up.

Yesterday morning, I had no classes and a couple free morning hours before my appointment to see the wizard on Rokko (otherwise known as my therapist). I took my daughter on a walk to the temple near our house. We stood an watched an elderly man as he pulled the thick twisted ropes to ring the bells, tossed coins into the box, clapped his hands and bowed his head.

“Why is he praying, Mommy””
“To have peace in his heart,” I said.
“I don’t have peace in my heart,” she said.
“Well, would you like to pray too?” I knew she really wanted to ring the big bells. I watched her face study the scene intently, thinking hard. Stagefright and shyness overcame her.
“No. I think I have a little bit of peace in my heart. I’m OK today.”

We walked behind the temple to see the statue of the stone warrior covered with light green lichen. We stood under him and studied the thick curving flames carved into the rock behind him, his severely creased brow, his straight arm thrusting out the heavy sword.

“Why is he angry?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe he’s defending the temple. Maybe he’s fighting the bad guys.”
“I don’t think he has very much peace in his heart,” she said.
I laughed, the sound quickly absorbed by the mossy stone walls surrounding us. “You’re right, Kio-chan. I don’t think he has very much peace in his heart.”
Kiomye turned and looked at me. “Are you OK today, Mommy? Do you need to go ring the bell?”
“Mmm. I think maybe I better.”
“Yeah,” said Kiomye, “I think that’s a good idea.”

I am recounting all of this in a modern café on Rokko Island. The air conditioning is turned up too high. It’s not that hot today. The artificial cold is raising goosebumps on my skin and marring my smooth bare legs. I will grow irritated and leave this scene before it grants me the peace I was seeking. Temple bells and coffee shops just do not seem to be doing the trick for me these days.

Charmed mornings and peaceful afternoons

2006-06-04T21:17:00.000+09:00

Kiomye and I went up to the Takarazuka Botanical Garden today. On the ride back, she was getting a little bored and restless, so I turned on my ipod and stuck one of the buds in her ear. She became totally absorbed in the music. It was so funny. I was able to take my camera out and snap this picture at arm's length without her noticing at all. We were listening to the "O Brother, Where art Thou" soundtrack, with has the folk songs I sing to her at night.

The gardens are so lovely. We took a billion pictures. I even showed Kiomye how to use the camera, and she snapped her favorite flowers. They day was warm, but there was a light breeze keeping us cool. We had lunch in the greenhouse cafe, sandwiches, cakes and caramel milk tea. So incredibly civilized.

It's almost ten at night and I still have to plan for tomorrow's classes. But, I have to work for the next six days. I won't be able to spend time with Kiomye all week. I decided to spend all day playing with her. I'll just drink some coffee and stay up late tonight.

Success

2006-06-03T22:33:00.000+09:00

The day was hot. Kiomye and I waited until after the sun set to take our walk together. We strolled all the way to the Mondoyakujin Temple. The large wooden doors were closed and locked, of course, but from the top of the staircase entrance, we could turn around and watch the lights of Nishinomiya turn the summer haze a deep purple. Lovely.

Yesterday I gave my third chapel speech to the entire school. The audience was bigger than previous times as we have a huge crowd of student teachers with us. My speech went incredibly well. I talked about prayer, how it took me so long to be comfortable talking to God. I played a South African song of "The Lord's Prayer", a prayer my students must memorize in English. To show how diverse prayer can be, I also played Lauryn Hill's song "Tell Him" which is all taken directly from 1 Corinthians 13. It's not every day that I get to blast hip hop in church. The students loved it. The teachers loved it. So many people wanted to talk to me after my speech. They wanted to know more, or else hear again the names of the artists I played. That made me feel very good.

Today I finished showing my movie class the modern version of "Romeo and Juliet." I had been worried that the Shakespeare would be too difficult for them to follow, but when Romeo knelt above Juliet, about to drink the poison, my students started pounding theit fists on the desk and shouting "Stop, Romeo! Look, Romeo!" It was great. Three students even cried. It's always a good day when you can make your students cry.

The usual route

2006-06-01T19:31:00.000+09:00

After work today, I picked Kiomye up from school and we rode the train into Nishi-Kita to shop for useless things such as dangle earrings, belly-button rings and hair bobbles in the shape of giant glitter strawberries. (The strawberries were Kio's choice.) She is such delightful company.

Major Moments

2006-05-31T21:29:00.000+09:00

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

2006-05-30T19:57:00.001+09:00

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

2006-05-30T19:57:00.000+09:00

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

2006-05-18T18:48:00.000+09:00

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

2006-05-17T20:45:00.000+09:00

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

2006-05-14T17:00:00.000+09:00

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

2006-05-14T16:37:00.000+09:00

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!

2006-05-11T21:28:00.000+09:00

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

2006-05-07T22:26:00.000+09:00

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

2006-05-05T20:57:00.000+09:00

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

2006-05-04T18:53:00.000+09:00

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

2006-05-03T19:29:00.000+09:00

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

2006-05-03T19:13:00.000+09:00

"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!

2006-05-03T14:51:00.000+09:00

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

2006-05-01T21:41:00.000+09:00

blue things (ode to azure)
Originally uploaded by kelsyen.

Spring Renewal

2006-05-01T18:43:00.000+09:00

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.

One of my favorite guilty internet pleasures

2006-04-30T07:31:00.000+09:00

If I ever finally decide to get a tattoo,
this is the guy that I will ask to do it.

Because I know you look here all the time...

2006-04-29T18:35:00.000+09:00

再び私を訪問しに来てください。 It will be great fun. 私は約束します!

(私はあなたがいつももたらす平和の感覚を必要とします.)

Death in the blue lagon

2006-04-29T08:38:00.000+09:00

Kiomye won four fish on the day we went did hanami on the banks of the Shukugawa. They did not last long.

Ichi died at night, just after Kiomye went to bed. I considered flushing him right then, but decided I better wait until morning so that Kiomye could see him. I scooped him out of the bowl and left him floating in a cup all night. Kiomye woke up late. The babysitter was already at our house and I had just a couple minutes before I needed to rush out to work. I gave Kiomye the bad news and showed her the fish.

She began to cry. "Why did my fish die? I don't want it to die forever!" Real tears. Uh oh.

"Well, we need to decide what to do. We can bury it a the park, or we can flush it so it can go out to the ocean... to fishie heaven."

More and more crying. Obviously, the funeral was not going to go smoothly in the minute I had left before I needed to leave, so I wrapped the fish in plastic and put it in the refridgerator. I told Kiomye she could think about how she wanted to say good-bye while she was at school nd we would take care of it that night.

After work, I go to pick Kiomye up from school. I'm nervous that she's still upset. She looks fine when I see her. We are standing around with all the other moms helping thir kids put on shoes and sweaters and Kiomye shouts exhuberantly, "My fish DIED! We're going to flush it down the TOILET!"

Uh, yes, that's right. We'll be going now. Have a nice evening everyone.

On the walk home, Kiomye starts moaning again. She is a little sad, but she's also experimenting with greif. She cries for a second, then will stop to ask a question. "Where does the fish go when we flush it down the toilet?"

"I think it goes out to the ocean. To fishie heaven. She'll be so happy there. It will be beautiful, just like in the Nemo movie." Then I want to smack myself. Did I really just compare the afterlife with a Disney movie? And I don't think there's a fish heaven. I totally lied.

We get home, take the fish out of the fridge and then stand in front of the toilet. "Good-bye Ichi," I say. "You were a good fish."

Kiomye really starts to cry now and I'm a little surprised by how deeply upset she seems. She moans, "Don't die FOREVER!"

I drop the fish into the toilet bowl and gently ask, "Do you want to be the one to flush it?"

Kiomye's crying stops in a heart beat. "Yeah!" Whooosh, around and down Ichi goes. Kiomye is enthralled. "He's all gone now," she says to me, then skips away top play with her toys.

------

The other fish lasted a few more weeks. The one black one, Toto, died next. His funeral was a much quicker affair. Then a few days ago, Ni went bottoms up. Kiomye scooped him out herself and did the flushing honors. This morning, our last survivor, San, finally gave up the good fight.

Kiomey wants to get a turtle next.

Oh little turtle that we bring home, I apologize in advance for your shortened life. We try our best, but we just can't seem to keep these little creatures alive.

With the exception of Hamtaro - still going strong (and often loose in the apartment) for a year now.

That sure would buy a lot of healthcare and college education

2006-04-29T08:10:00.000+09:00

I read on the Democracy Now site that the cost of the Iraq War Costs is approaching $320 BILLION. Wow. Worse, they said that the number would likely double before the end of the war. According to the Congressional Research Service, the ongoing operations in Iraq and Afghanistan stand to cost nearly as much as the departments of Education, Justice and Homeland Security combined. Incredible.

Free the birds!

2006-04-28T07:02:00.000+09:00

I realize that the chirping bird sound pumped into the underground shopping passages in Umeda is intended to inspire feelings of peace and create a more natural atmosphere, but they creep me out. The sound comes from overhead, where you can look through the gaps in the low paneled ceiling and see pipes and air ducts. The sound is so realistic that I panic that there are real birds stuck down here. My heart races and I want to shout, "Get them out! Get them out! They will die down here!"

Of course, all I can do is bite my tongue and try not to look up when I walk in hopes of catching s glimpse of my trapped phantom birds.

complete freedom displeases

2006-04-28T07:01:00.000+09:00

Today I am troubled by the insignificance of my existence. I long for love's validation.

My favorite liar

2006-04-28T06:54:00.000+09:00

The scene on the platform rolls past my train window like an old movie reel. A young woman in skin tight jeans lifts her ankle back to adjust the hell strap on her gold lame pumps just as my train pushes a wave of air against her, blowing her hair high and back. Her gesture is gorgeous and unaware. My mind flashes to those delicate Breyer horse models that my sister used to collect - the ones with the foals lifting their hind legs to scratch at their long chins. The precarious balance is caught forever, just like the flashing image of the girl on the platform, burned into my mind where she will remain unchanged.

Or will she? I remember her jeans as light denim, but I can't remember if the white around her hips was a belt or a tied sweater. Even the color of her hair blown back by the wind eludes me now. I choose a color - dyed orange like all the other fashionable 20-somethings in Japan - but it just as have been black.

Memory is a skillful liar, an expert at garnishing the smallest details and providing false image and story elements with complete authority and assuredness.

Today I am

2006-04-24T21:06:00.000+09:00

My class schedule on Mondays is very good. I teach for the first four periods, and then have the last two periods free. I prefer to get all my classes done early in the day when both I and the students are still fresh and able to focus. Sixth period can be rough, especially with spring sparkling outside the open windows.

After my last class today, I stole away to Top Coffee to hide away with a cup of strong coffee and those fabulous old jazz CDs they play. I sat and pondered my many failed relationships of the year. Although, in all honesty, I would be rather suspicious if I considered any relationship in the first year after my separation a success. Time is rare and precious.

My desires and needs have experienced major flux. My last love did not treat me well. I was caught up in the whirlwind and let the glamour and excitement cloud my eyes. So now, before I rush headlong into the next train wreck, I thought it might be wise to consider what I have learned.

So, there on my break at Top Coffee, I took out my pen and started to scratch:

Musts

I must have access to you – an ability to communicate regularly.
I must be given the same priority in your life as you expect to have in mine.

There I stopped and tapped my pen on my lip. That was about it. I couldn’t think of anything else. If those two things are there, then we can work out the rest. But then I remembered my last love again and those times when those two musts were met, but still things were not well. So then I wrote in quick succession:

The relationship must not bring me feelings of shame, guilt or any other general “badness” just on the account of it’s basic existence.
You must respect me. Show respect for my intelligence, my emotions and my circumstances. We are equals.

Ah, yes. That’s better. The cloud is lifting. I can see those important things.

I returned to the school in time to slip into my running shorts and join the boys for our daily laps around the campus. My feet pounded against the concrete and I chased down some of my quicker students. One of the bigger boys tried to catch me at the end. He passed me, but I felt another spurt of energy and smoked him at the last second.

“Sensei!” he said. “Today you are strong.”

Yes. Today I am strong.

Movie Day

2006-04-23T16:22:00.000+09:00

I took Kiomye into Osaka today. We saw the early showing of Ice Age 2, dubbed into Japanese. We sorta new what was happening. Sorta.

I know I should be shocked anymore, but it still freaks me out how much it costs to see a movie in Japan. For Kio and I today, it was 2800 yen - that about $25 just for tickets. AND, I lied and said Kio was still just 3 to get the kid discount. Two people for a Sunday matinee back home would be about $10. Then there's the cost of munchies. Ugh.

After the movie, Kiomye and I wandered about in the Gare underground shoping complex. Kiomye started to get tired, so we stopped at a cafe and I stuffed her full of strawberry cake and chocolate donuts. The sugar was just enough to keep her going until we got the train to come home. Then she totally wiped out.

We just woke up from our naps. I always plan to stay awake and be productive when Kio is sleeping, but the allure of an afternoon sleep is too much for me to resist. I'm not yet finished planning my class for tomorrow, but I'm still in a "going out" mood. I think Kio and I will head to the Nishi-kita Moss burger for dinner.

Waiting

2006-04-22T19:38:00.000+09:00

This is a photo from an amazing photographer on flicker that I am a huge fan of. (id: kenji2006) He has an excellent sense of the mystical and the msyterious.

何が次ですか?

2006-04-22T19:33:00.000+09:00

So, now that I've comitted to another year in Japan, I've also started to think about my exit strategy again. Grad school in Hawaii sounds good. Yep. Very very good.

Bye-bye bunny

2006-04-22T17:04:00.000+09:00

This is Kiomye's school. That's her "boyfriend" Yusuke standing in the corner of the picture. He's a sweet boy. The smiliest kid at her school. It's easy to see why she likes him best. I took this picture at the Easter party. Easter paraphenilia is very difficult to find in Japan, but I had managed to get my hands on a chocolate bunny from the foreign buyers club on Rokko Island. Kiomye scarfed down the whole thing jut 20 minutes before we left the house. For the first 20 minutes of the party, she ran around in circles joyously singing/screaming a song about a rabbit with a fly on its ear. Then the sugar rush ended and she crashed... hard. It wasn't pretty. We barely made it through the rest of the party.

This is my favorite recent picture of me and Kiomye. It was just an ordinary evening of goofing around. We've had a lot of normal, ordinary evenings lately. That's a good thing. Tomorrow is yet another Mommy-Daughter day. I think we're going to go see the new Ice Age movie in OSaka, but all the early showings have been dubbed into Japanese. Oh well. It will be good language practice.

The Absent-minded English Teacher

2006-04-22T16:58:00.000+09:00

This morning I rushed out of the house to get to the Saturday morning movie class that I teach. I was so proud to get there with enough time to make the copies I needed and unlock the room door before the students started rioting in the hall. The bell rang and I was happily zooming along until the time came to get the movie going and I realized the DVD was NOT IN MY BAG.

I left it at home. I had planned a freaking TWO HOUR class based around this movie. I suddenly had a lot of time to fill. Mild moment of panic.

Luckily, I had a back-up movie in my bag. I just didn't have any worksheets or support material to go with it. The kids just got to sit back and watch it. Sigh. Not my best class.

commitments broken and renewed

2006-04-20T18:12:00.000+09:00

A third year of teaching in Japan was finally offered to me. There was some drama and for a moment it looked like I might have to come home early. But, thankfully, God and good-sense intervened and I get to stay.

It's getting harder and harder to imagine leaving. (This freaks my poor mother out.)

I went to my beloved Cafe Absinthe to write last night. I used to go every week to write. I'd stay for hours. But, it's been over two months since I've been in last. Dominique (the owner) called out to me as I walked in the door. "WHERE have you been!? Did you go abroad?"
"No, I didn't go anywhere."
"What happened to you then?"
"Oh, you know... love."
"Ahhhh. And now?"
"Heartache."
"Well, whatever, at least you're back here!"
He brought me my usual without me asking. I opened my notebook, stared out the window and sighed.

This may be a very long year in Japan.

Back in the groove

2006-04-18T19:11:00.000+09:00

This is the first time I've ever been relieved that a vacation has ended. Ironically, the break brought me way to much stress. Now the school demands all of my attention. Thank God.

I am thrilled to be teaching again. I finally feel like I know what I'm doing. The first year, I had no clue AND I had no idea how I was going to figure it out. The second year, I still had no clue, but I had a better idea on how to figure it out. But now, my classes flow so smooth. I have plans, ideas and enthusiasm. I love my students and they are happy to have me teaching them again.

But still, the shock of the mental exhaustion of the first full week of classes always wipes me out. Last night I went to bed at 7:30. I was asleep in minutes. Tonight I'm going to try to stay awake until 8. It'll will be a tough battle.

Today during lunch I was chatting ith one of the older teachers in the office. He told me that for most of the last term I looked like a high school student, but that these past couple weeks I look like a madam. (He's English isn't very good. He meant "lady". I didn't clue him in on the other meaning that madam has.) He asked me why I changed. I have changed, and I know exctly why. But, I didn't think any of the teachers would be persceptive enough to notice. I couldn't tell him about my love life, about the whirlwinds, exaultations and late night stresses. All I could say was, "I think it's time for me to grow up."

"Yes," he said. "I think that will be good for your heart."

I forget sometimes how closely we all live in that little office.

Listen to my noise

2006-04-16T08:34:00.000+09:00

I like jazz for the same reason I love logic puzzles. This music makes my brain do flip flops. I catch a pattern, itentify the repeating melody and suddenly know what to expect - but then the familiar sound is gone, slipped from my mind like silk scarves through fingertips. Each time I think I can claim it, it changes, gone, reborn as something new and challenging.

In this dim hidden place, I watch golden candlelight orbs floating in the palms of waitresses. The flayed fingers on my bare shoulder spark our dark corner. Nothing could be more divine.

Letter to vanished friend

2006-04-16T08:28:00.000+09:00

Sunday Morning

2006-04-16T08:18:00.000+09:00

Here's Kiochan all glitzed up for her big date with the Easter bunny.

Spring Hanami

2006-04-09T23:44:00.000+09:00

Kiomye and I went out for some hanami (flower viewing) at Shukugawa yesterday. The cherry blossoms along the river are in full bloom and the day was perfect for a picnic. Of course, about a billion other people thought so too. I was so shocked when we got to the station and had to shove our way through the platform crowd to get out of the station, only to be pushed into the crowd of people waiting for their groups outside the station, only to be tumbled into the hoards of people scoping out naked river-side tarp property for their picnics. Kiomye and I walked a long, LONG way from the station before the crowd thinned enough to allow for actual viewing of the flowers and occasional snatches of spring peace.

One unexpected good point to the crowds was that food and game booths had been set up along the river. Yea! Squid bits fried in gooey batter! Yummy! Kiomye played a game where she tried to scoop up live fish with a paper net before it disolved into nothingness. She only caught one fish, and then becuase I cheated and helped her, but the man was nice and let her pick out four to take home. She named the three orange ones Ichi, Ni and San (one, two, three in Japanese) and the black one is Toto. I have no idea why. I thought for sure we'd lose a couple fish on the way home - especially by the way Kiomye kept banging the bag against her legs, the train doors, the shopping bags of the people in the crowd, but all four have survived two days now. Pretty good.

私の素晴らしい友人

2006-04-07T11:27:00.000+09:00

ありがとうございます
!

From the Rockstar File

2006-04-02T22:32:00.000+09:00

My kid is so excellent.

Girls in Red Dresses

2006-04-02T19:48:00.000+09:00

A little girl just moved into our building. Kiomye is thrilled. We had her over today and the girls put on Kiomye's Christmas dresses and played samurai princess. Very cute. This is them taking a break and watching some Charmmy Kitty.

Reason #5793 why I love Japan

2006-03-29T22:45:00.000+09:00

Tomorrow I'm going to Spa World. SPA WORLD!!!!

Japan is F***ing brilliant. Spa World is a modern take on the onsen - located in a high rise in the heart of Osaka. They're having a special deal. Only 1,000 yen (less than ten bucks) to wander about in naked indulgence for three hours. I'll be on the "Europe" floor lounging around in such rooms modeled after "Greece", "Rome" and "the Azzura Grotto". I will be certain to check out the "Atlantis" room which features an aquarium under the glass floor of the bath, so it looks like you're swimming with the fishes. And, if I get bored with lounging around with hoards of naked women (unlikely), I can slip on my bathing suit and head over to the pool floor.

This is beyond cool. Insane.

cHop Chop choP

2006-03-28T21:10:00.000+09:00

New teachers moved into my apartment complex today. They have a three year old daughter that speaks both English and Japanese. Kiomye is ECSTATIC!

I finished Coin Locker Babies today. So engrossing. I was reading the last page just as the train I was waiting for arrived at my platform. I stepped onto the train without looking, skimming the last sentences as fast I could. I had to read the last tiny bit twice to catch it. My breathing was fast. I looked up and realized I was standing in the middle of the entry, the doors just barely able to close behind me. I blinked at the people who had pressed their way around, trying to remember why I was on a train again and where I was going.

The skirt I wore today was too short. It's an adorable denim skirt with a ripped hem and trendy bleach stains splashed across. I walked around in the store with it for half an hour trying to decide if 27 is too old to wear such a childish thing. I decided that I didn't care. It looked so damn cute with my tall brown boots. But, once I tried to sit on the crowded bench with only a small bag to cover my suddenly revealed lap, the truth hit me: this skirt is too damn short. Standing is fine. Walking is fine. Sitting and going up escalators is out out OUT.

I wandered through Shinsaibashi today, unable to locate the salon I was referred to with a tip that the stylists speak English. But I was in desperate need of a cut so I decided to screw up my courage and just pick a salon at random. The stylist didn't speak English, but I used my Tarzan Japanese and a lot of gestures and he got the basic idea. The cut looks nice. It's not exactly what I wanted, but it never is even when I speak the same language as the hairdresser anyway.

The style he gave me is distinctly Japanese. Heavy on the layers, short in the front and long in the back. Very "now" in the land of the rising sun. When I stepped out onto the streets and looked around I was overcome with the horrific feeling that I looked the same as everyone else. That ridiculous notion quickly left me when I caught the image of my pink face in a crowd of pearlescent beauties reflected back in store window. Oh yeah, that's right. I'll never blend here.

Good and bad, my friends. Good and bad.

Can I take this home with me?

2006-03-28T07:54:00.000+09:00

Here's a shot of me dipping my feet in a sidewalk spring in Arima. Japan has gotten me in the habit of wearing terribly tall heels on a daily basis. The night before Arima, my feet cramped up and twisted into shapes that made them look like ugly cartoonish carictures of actual feet. This little onsen was burning hot and almost crisped off my pinky toes, but felt sooooo goooood. I felt like I was walking on warm squishy sponges for the rest of the day.

High Saturation Affection

2006-03-27T19:38:00.000+09:00

Try to tell this girl's heart to be calm and patient.
Not going to happen.

I bought a gorgeous new dress today - suitable only for nice dinners and jazz clubs. It may be months and months before I get to wear it. Shopping therapy is such a reliable quick fix, but now I have to look at the damn thing hanging in my closet reminding me how my life has changed.

We've had a few beautiful warmish days in a row now. In my neighborhood, there are course green hedges covered with tight wads of white flowers. The frangrance is riotous. Heady. Fabulous.

Great big men make us all so happy

2006-03-26T20:07:00.000+09:00

Even Kotooshu's cardboard cut-out could smash me flat as a pancake. Very impressive. So, yes, sumo was fabulous. My friend from Tokyo came down to see the action with me. He's the only person I know that doesn't look at me with a confused, quizical look when I say that I love sumo. In fact, I think he's the one that got me interested in it, a whole year ago. Watching on tv is enjoyable enough, but the gynmasium is full of shouting people, the smell of incense and the hollow echo that follows the clash of titans. We drank cans of hot coffee and tea, snapped pictures that had no chance of turning out and had a great time. Kotooshu won in a re-match. Takamisari acted the clown and Asashoryu lived up to his reputation and cleanly won the last match . I wish the sumo tournament came to Osaka every month.

More fun followed. My friend and I were having so much fun, that he decided to stay a couple more days. We went to Arima Onsen the next day. I'd never been before and was surprised by how close and easy to get to it is. We went the scenic way - riding the cable car up Rokko Mountain and then sliding down the ropeway on the other side. The day was gorgeous, sunny and full of new spring warmth. We soaked our feet in the sidewalk hot spring and bought wafers with macha cream sandwhiched between.

The next day, we took Kiomye into Osaka to play in Umeda. We rode the Hep Five Ferris wheel and saw a movie at Toho. Kiomye played the UFO catcher games and was given prizes by the adorng game attendants even when she couldn't get the toys to drop in the hole.

Finally, I feel like I'm on vacation. Work and life stress has spilled over into my free time between terms. My mind has been spinning and concerned with overwhelming challenges, so I haven't had a chance to relax. These wonderful days snuck up on me. I gained a little peace. I am so thankful.

Salvation through sumo

2006-03-23T07:08:00.000+09:00

I am going to the sumo tournament in Osaka today. I am CRAZY excited! I love sumo so much more than is logically explainable. I'm taking my camera. I'll post the pictures later.

My sleep was full of nightmares last night. That makes the third night in a row. This is very unusual for me. Last night, I dreamt that I was driving my mother's beloved truck and camper too fast. I swiped a car, which ended up being a policeman. I was pulled over and we got out to inspect the damage. There was a huge scrape along the side, white paint scratched back to show shiny shredded silver metal. One of the only times I've ever seen my cowgirl mother cry was when her truck got a small scratch on the side of the tailgate. I was horrified at the damage I'd caused and how there was no way I could cover it up. I began to shake.

But then, the policeman and I circled around to the other side of the truck. This side was ripped to shreds, even worse that the side I'd just scraped along the policeman's car. My mouth dropped open in shock.

The policeman stood back and said in a stern voice, "You've been reckless more than just this one time. Here is the proof."

Nightmares

2006-03-22T12:11:00.000+09:00

Two nights ago, I dreamt that Hokusai's great wave swept over Japan. I could save only three people. I placed the people in a leaking life raft, tied a rope around my waist and started to fly into the sky. I was not strong enough to carry them, but I could pull them behind me in the boat. All three people were me.

Then last night, I dreamt of a future world where everyone was hooked "online". The line was rather like an assembly line and all the people were happy to follow thier daily paths and routines. I did not want to get "online", so I tried to get a job at some small company that promised to make people's dreams come true. But once in, I realized that the company was jus a front for the mob. I tried to get out, but they sent a child suicide bomber to murder me. Most of my dream was spent running down back streets and hidding in bushes.

Mommy Daughter Day

2006-03-21T16:19:00.000+09:00

Kio and I had a picnic in the park today. We strolled through the plum blossom trees and nibbled onigiri on weather worn benches. The rain we were dreading never came.

Among the men

2006-03-21T16:03:00.000+09:00

The school term ended. Whew! I felt like I was flinging myself towards the finish. Tonsilitis didn't help. At all.

Last night the junior and senior high teachers had dinner at a Chinese restauraunt in Kobe. I had a really great time. I have been here long enough that I have many friends among the teachers. The gathering events have transformed from the awkward, lengthy toture sessions that they were when I first came to truly enjoyable social events. I was able to speak and laugh with everyone at my table and it was simply assumed that I'd be in the after-party crew.

The after-party. There were two, actually. The first was led by my crazy boss. He took a large group of us down some winding underground alley to a bar called "Rawhide". Yep, Rawhide. Two other women from the senior high came along and both spoke excellent English. We lectured my boss about how to better respect his wife. He got flustered and lectured me about drinking bourbun while suffering from tonsilitis. We all made good points. My boss has taken to referring to himself as my Japanese father. This is mainly sweet, but also a bit annoying when he decides he needs to chaperone me.

The after-after-party took place in my neighborhood (near our school). All the teachers had parked their cars at the school and taken the train into Kobe. So, after catching the last train back to my neighborhood a much smaller group of us detoured over to the Irish pub. Two of the teachers I have only been out with once, at a karaoke party over a year ago. One was a math teacher and the other a Japanese language arts teacher. Both are very hesitant in speaking English. But last night, we started talking about my favorite Japanese authors and all got terribly involved in the conversation. They did their best with English, I slaughtered some Japanese and my science teacher friend translated the rough parts. I have become close with most of the young teachers, but this was my first opportunity to really connect with a couple of the older crowd. We were all at ease and the conversation was interesting and not stuck in shallow, easy language topics. Highly satisfying.

Spring Plum Blossoms

2006-03-21T15:53:00.000+09:00

Pink. Pink. Pink.

The sakura aren't out just yet, but the plum blossoms are looking lovely. These pictures are from a park very near my house.

Local celebs

2006-03-19T13:34:00.000+09:00

Kiomye and I took a taxi home from Nishi-Kita this morning. it was cold and rainy and I had grocery bags to carry. I didn't feel like walking up the hill. We take a taxi every couple of weeks or so, and many different taxis work the area. But today, we got into a random cab and the driver got all excited. He said Kiomye's name and the name of our neighborhood before I could give any directions. He took the fast, but complicated back way to our apartment. I didn't have to say migi or hidari (right or left) even once.

Very funny. I can't believe he remembered us.

Happenings

2006-03-18T07:34:00.000+09:00

Graduation for the third years was this week. I got to wear that gorgeous silk dress I bought in Tokyo last year and sit on the stage and mouth the words to all the school songs I don't know. Afterwards, the mothers from the PTA (there's about a billion of them), treated all the teachers to a fancy lunch. The teachers were paired off and then placed at a round table to contend with ten or so moms. I was inevitably complimented on my ability to use chopsticks and my advanced mastery level ofthe Japanese language for being able to say "arigato".

Me not monkey. Me American.
(not quite the same thing. really.)

I have been strong-armed into quiting the English conversation class I teach at the co-op. I'm rather angry about it and don't feel like going into the details here. I love that class. At KG, I work in an almost all male environment. The students are all boys and so are 95% of the teachers. My co-op class provided me with my much needed weekly dose of female companionship. A room full of only women! Unthinkable!

The women I teach were all pleasingly distraught over my inability to continue teaching them. So, last night, three of them cooked me dinner at one of their places. It was great. Our kids ran around happy and screaming and we ignored them and ate excellent home-cooked food. We talked in broken English and even more broken Japanese for about four hours! My estrogen levels feel recharged. We're going to do it again in a couple weeks. Yea!

(So, what IS the difference between an American and a monkey? Well, from what I've observed, mokeys throw poo, Americans throw fits.)

Moleskin Scribbles

2006-03-16T18:46:00.000+09:00

My mom sent me a little moleskin notebook for my birthday last month. The notebook is tiny and easy to slip into whatever bag I am hauling around on the trains. It's perfect for little doodles and scribbles like this.

(click to enlarge)

Three things that pleased me today

2006-03-16T18:43:00.000+09:00

- The fat drops of gathered water that drip from the eave of the coffee shop, much heavier than the rain falling from the clouds.

- The "freshly peeled" look of pretty women who have just taken off their scarves and heavy jackets.

- The sensation of the firm grip my tall boots have on my calves when I zip them up.

Weekend in Kyoto

2006-03-11T21:57:00.000+09:00

I ducked down the grittier alleys - away from the tourists areas. The colors in this alley caught my eye. Then I found the market at Toji temple. It was luck that I stumbled on market day. This little girl was carefully inspecting all the teacups.

Here is the pagoda at Toji. It's a world heritage site. (pretend to care) The other shot is of downtown Kyoto. The first time I saw Kyoto, I was shocked with how ugly and outdated it's downtown core is. Not modern or tradtional at all. Too seventies. Too grey. Too ugly.

Kyoto Station is a modern marvel, despite it's drab neighborhood. It reminds me of the Death Star from the Star Wars movie. I saw this doll at the temple market. It creeped me out. Why are old dolls so scary?
Another shot of the Death Star, and a view of the market.

I love the trains. I really do. I love the little side streets. I really do.

That happy vibe

2006-03-04T07:49:00.000+09:00

Last day of classes for the term. Aren't they cute?

Save Me

2006-03-03T07:22:00.000+09:00

Yes. I totally lifted the concept for this off a bag of coffee. Whatever. I modified it.

The Unbearable Loneliness of Post-Modern Japan

2006-02-26T20:18:00.000+09:00

Japan has fallen into loneliness. This is not my opinion, but that of Ryu Murakami. He wrote that modernization has changed Japan's national sentiment from sorrow to loneliness. Such is progress. He points to the Kobe murders committed by a 14-year-old boy about ten years back. He points to the increasing trend of "compensation dating" - high school girls that prostitute themselves to middle-aged men so that they may buy high priced designer goods. He says that these phenomena’s result from the quiet loneliness and lack of national goals that grip Japan.

I know the loneliness of Japan, but I attribute it to the division of soul. How can one be expected to have values and morals when also expected to split herself in two? To which self do you pledge loyalty? Those that have lived here any amount of time have heard of tatemae and honne, the separation of public and private selves. It is exhausting to maintain two lives. After some time, both lose validity, become blurred and forgotten. Instead of having two rich worlds, we are left with faded impressions of life. Motions. Habits. Secrets we keep but cannot remember exactly why anymore.

Lovely images of cityscapes and women filled the facing pages of the book of Ryu Murakami's essay on this topic, "Murder in the lonely country." I ripped his concept idea for the above image. My own tatemae and honne - barely noticed above the glitz of my surroundings.

Here are two Ryu Murakami books I've swallowed in the last week. (Not to be confused with my beloved HARUKI Murakami. These books are intense. Great, shocking, intelligent reads.