Since the summer of 2006, David Beckham, Ethan Hawke, Kevin Bacon and even Derek Jeter are all men who have made frequent appearances drinking in the watering holes of sleepy little west Tokyo municipality of Hino-city- -in the form of me. By far the person whom I "look exactly like" the most though, according to white-people facial-indentification experts in the Hino-city bars of Yasuu, Sakura, Blue Midnights, Aoi, Pink, Uotami, Watami, Retro Cafe and the occasion counter sitter at Naka-Naka, is Tom Cruise. I was in Sakura, that scummy basement snack bar where oldhag and molenose work and [View Full Entry]

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The next day (Friday July 18th, 2008) was my last day of work, probably forever with J.C. And that's about all there was too it. I had a goodbye party coming in two weeks so there was no ceremony. Bell rang, I left. The show started at 5, so I decided to go straight from work and not change, and by the time I got to Kokubunji I had probably already missed half of it so I hopped in a cab. Two weeks ago, Soon-Mi had laboriously shuffled her performances to the end just so I could see them. As a [View Full Entry]

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I was feeling really f**king fired up from my own speech, and had no intentions of slowing down on my Thursday. I walked Miss Takahashi to the train station and then sauntered off crossways back to my place. Jyun'ichi sempai had sent me a skymail earlier that evening and asked me if I wanted to join him for a drink in Hachiouji. I had three in me already, I figured four or five would make sleepin' easy tonight, so why not? A quick change of clothes later, I was back on the train going the other way. I opened my phone [View Full Entry]

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Come Thursday morning (July 17th, 2008) I still had not opened the email from the bar skank, and I intended to leave it that way for all time. The forever-bolded font would signify my discipline and my commitment to Soon-Mi, and serve as a monument to my triumph over the lowly temptations of 5/16ths-rated guttersluts. Or perhaps it was bound to be my downfall. Either way, I was amused at it's presence as it accompanied me everywhere, silently shameful, but proud, like an tall and awkward morning-boner in suit pants that won't go away. It had been over a week since [View Full Entry]

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I laid awake for a while and tried to think about everything she said that night but I’d forgotten most of it already. It seemed like we were just saying the same things, like we were at opposite ends of a swimming pool treading water and blow bubbles trying to get the other’s attention. Two hours ago, I felt like I was drowning. Now with a clearer head from the sleep, like a humid breath of fresh air I felt like this was a relief. You stare at the ceiling for long enough though, you’ll question every decision you ever made [View Full Entry]

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To say the least, the next day at work was not pleasant. The eight innings I played last night, including 3 shutout innings thrown by whatshername left me with a DEFCON 1 hangover and a permanent scar on my conscious. Like all severe hangover days the sky was a shady blur of grey, and I could not look into my computer screen for longer than three minutes without becoming nauseous, I vomited my breakfast, my lunch and heaved my viscous, hateful bile at half past two in the afternoon. That’s when she emailed me. 東山祥子 今日大丈 [View Full Entry]

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Work. Nobody cares. Monday to Friday. Early mornings, occasional late nights. I never make sales. I’m lucky. I don’t have to be on the ball, I just have to push my reports past certain desks on or around certain dates and do something engendered by 21 years of life and 15 years of primary, secondary and post secondary education: Read, understand, process. Being unimportant is comfortable in various senses of the word. Nobody depends on me for anything, and thus, I myself am independent. I can ask for extensions if I feel like it, but mostly I just say something might [View Full Entry]

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I’ll do anything you ask me to I must get back to basics. I must find a way to tell the story with the lyrical energy that I once had. Find a way to fall in love the way I used to, to get goose-bumps when a pretty girl talked to me, to plot and scheme with the fabric of truth at my disposal and false heroics in the weave. To make love a game again. I have conspired against love. I seek the “Jyun’ai”: 「純愛 」―the Pure Love. And if you want another kind of love- -you must make no [View Full Entry]

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It was still July 13th 2008. Jyun’Ichi-sempai and I were in Akihabara. He was comparing prices and plans for new cellphones and I comparing hourly rates and model-photos in maid café. He was having difficulty deciding between Softbank or going with a buying a non-bonded phone and going with a newer startup service provider. I was having difficulty deciding between wafu （和風）and youfu （洋風）, or traditional Japanese and European style maid uniforms. The “electronics district” exit of Akiharbara station is always swa [View Full Entry]

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‘So let me get this straight…You’re ex-girlfriend is the Korean one right?’ “Mn.” “Soo-mi?” “Soon-Mi.” ‘And Minami is one that Gen likes right? And Gen is your best friend, right? And he doesn’t like Soon-Mi.’ ‘No.’ ‘But, then he tried to f**k her?’ ‘No that was the other one, Yuki—but that was last year, and it was part of a really complicated plan to get revenge on her for trying to f**k Gen.’ ‘…Okay, so you and Soon-Mi broke up. You like Soo [View Full Entry]

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