My member journal. "Proceed with caution"

[longshot]

I've spent the good part of the morning on a toilet seat as my poorly designed digestive system attempts to purge itself of Hennesy and Asahi Super Dry.

It is the goodbye season here. The season where people try to make sense of the past year or years of their life spent in a far away and strange country. The season of anxiety and unknowing. Of new beginnings, but in all honesty, mostly endings.

Last night was the end for me and my Maori friends. Large, dark skinned, and tattooed, they were an imposing couple to say the least. But, they were easily the nicest people I've ever known. Life will not be the same without them. You say things like, "See you again!", but it never happens, and if it does it's never the same.

The end came fast. Out of the blue. "You know, next week is our last week to lift?" My family was here, and he was busy moving, and it never happened.

I rolled downstairs for one of countless rounds on the Playstation, only to find it had been packed. "We'll play at my pad" I said. But, at that point, I knew the end was near.

I have three more goodbyes for my three remaining close friends. I hope they sneak up on me like this last one. It's not something I enjoy thinking about. Who would?

My work is done, and I find myself with too much time to get anything done. The roasting air leans on you the second you open the front door, and drains you of any energy you thought you had. It's like a final fuck off from this hillbilly piece of shit town to me.

In the meantime, while I should be packing, I still hastily try to arrange contacts that will land me a position here in the future. Headhunters, e-mails, resumes, and it's all for shit. I realize now that I'm a paper tiger: fantastic grades and Phi Beta Kappa will not make up for no skills or experience. I failed my language certification test.

The only thing I'm good at in this world are making cruel observations and manipulation.

So, while in my head, I dream of a challenging position here in the financial sector, I know any interview screen would start and end with the following exchange:

"So, you've read flash cards for two years?"

"..."

My father moves to Florida. I return home to a box of my stuff, and relatives who say that they are there for me, but resent that I've left them for two years. I'm homeless.

I remember studying abroad here four years ago. I was gone for all of nine weeks, and the transition coming home was absolute hell. It's far worse coming home that it was leaving. I've been gone for two years now. A large scale pharmacutical heist is about the only thing that will keep my from cracking when I get back. I'll never forget how fucking fat everyone in the airport looked.

Last night I met a girl for dinner. I was informed at the end of the night that she and her friends made a bet. Her friends thought that she would sleep with me, and she bet she wouldn't. I smirked until I found out that the bet was worth 40,000 yen (~$400 US). I don't know how I feel about this yet.

I've slept with four different people in the four days prior as part of my "goodbye tour". I don't know how I feel about this yet.

I have no obligations to be anywhere in the world, yet I'm going back to school. Undergrad. I know how I feel about this. I'm not happy, but I don't want some bullshit job. I need to be appreciated and respected for my mind. I just hope I can do that in a positive way somehow.

[Edited on 7-29-2004 by longshot]

[Edited on 4-16-2005 by longshot]

[Faent]

:weirdthread:

[Edited on 7-27-2004 by Faent]

[Weedmage Princess]

It's his blog, how's it weird?

[longshot]

It's got style... :cool2:

Feel free to comment freely.

Pull no punches. Be critical.

[Drew2]

My first thought was -- Is this fiction?

[Miss X]

My first thought was - Wow, you've slept with more people in a week than I have in my life. Scary.

[longshot]

Originally posted by Tayre
My first thought was -- Is this fiction?

None of it's fiction.

I gave a bit of a literary style in the hopes that it would be easier to read, and that people would actually read it.


Originally posted by Miss X
My first thought was - Wow, you've slept with more people in a week than I have in my life. Scary.

They weren't all new. I had family visiting for ten days, so when they left there were a few people wanting to see me. It was more of a scheduling marvel than anything else.

[Wezas]

Originally posted by longshot

Originally posted by Miss X
My first thought was - Wow, you've slept with more people in a week than I have in my life. Scary.

They weren't all new. I had family visiting for ten days

That's just fucking sick.

[Shalla]

Last night I met a girl for dinner. I was informed at the end of the night that she and her friends made a bet. Her friends thought that she would sleep with me, and she bet she wouldn't. I smirked until I found out that the bet was worth 40,000 yen (~$400 US). I don't know how I feel about this yet.

Be like..

I'm a bet? I'm a bet?? I'm a fucking Bet??! Take that! Unf! unf!

I've slept with four different people in the four days

Four different people? he said people.. people.. peopleeeee! not women, but people. :smug:


:heart: longshot

On a serious note though, I knew someone who was studying in japan and he's caucasian, and he had several encounters with japanese people showing animosity towards him.. if not racism because he's caucasian.. or even american. Have you had that as well?

[DeV]

Who won the bet!

[Drew2]

Originally posted by Lady Shalla
Four different people? he said people.. people.. peopleeeee! not women, but people. :smug:


I see nothing wrong with this.

[Shalla]

I don't know.. I just saw a documentary or something, and my friends who are gay once mentioned that when a guy says people that it could also mean he might have slept with a guy.

It was just a stupid joke really.. I'm just giving him a hard time :P

[Drew2]

But it's true. "Person", "People", and "Someone" are all keywords for closet cases.

[Shalla]

Originally posted by longshot


Originally posted by Miss X
My first thought was - Wow, you've slept with more people in a week than I have in my life. Scary.

They weren't all new. I had family visiting for ten days, so when they left there were a few people wanting to see me. It was more of a scheduling marvel than anything else.

ROFLMAO! :lol:

[longshot]

Very funny Shalla... :rolleyes:

I'm straight. Very much so.

My fault for using the "people" word.

Chicks. Females. Girls. Women.

[Drew2]

Damn.

[Wezas]

Originally posted by longshot
Chicks. Females. Girls. Women.

You forgot Broads. They love being called broads.

[Shalla]

Originally posted by Tayre
Damn.


hehee. Yay. :D

[Shalla]

Originally posted by longshot
Very funny Shalla... :rolleyes:


pwned you. Serves you right for always pwning me. :lol:

[Souzy]

Damn, I didn't read the whole thing. But 4 diff. people?! Dude...get checked. You never know...you never know. I'm just telling you this cos you're a PC hommie. It's all about the PC love.

[Wezas]

Originally posted by Lalana
Damn, I didn't read the whole thing. But 4 diff. people?! Dude...get checked. You never know...you never know.

It's cool. He said they weren't all new, he had family in town.

[longshot]

The very first night in my small town in Japan, I was whisked away by the "English department" to an izakaya. At the Japanese style pub, I nervously smiled, worrying about my first impression with my new coworkers.

Three of them. One of me. The giant mugs of beer quickly arrived, and all the tensions vacated halfway through the first collosal beer. Another round and a large sampling of strange dishes, and my eyes were searching for a restroom somewhere in the maze of teaked wood and colored flags.

The two urinals are on adjacent walls. While in a midstream blast, another patron walks in and begins speaking to me in Japanese, unaware that I'm foreign. I answer back, but my polite and "standardized" Tokyo speech quickly gives me away. I lack the uneducated swagger of Kansai dialect. I tell him I'm from America.

I barely have time to zip up before I'm whisked away by my arm to his table. Some family and friends are there smiling at me. They have jagged teeth like deep-sea creatures, and dried out roots from overdying their hair blonde. One of them has a kid with them.

I'm "asked" to drink a beer with them. Shortly thereafter, someone at the table starts the chant of, "Big Penis" (pronouced "pen - nis", the first syllable sounding like the writing intrument). As me and one of the table members begin to chug down our beers amidst the chant, the kind person who kidnapped me fro the restroom takes one of his fingers and tries to look up the leg of my shorts.

Dismayed at the poor lighting proveded by my boxers, he frowns. I leave the legend of the giant white devil cock a mystery for someone else to verify. I politely finished off my beer, said thanks, and stumbled back to my party.

At this point, the guy who I'm replacing, who is also white, has arrived. With a wild eyes, I explain what just transpired, "You're not going to fucking believe what just happened!" He didn't seem too surpised, despite how crazy it had all seemed to me.

"They're just curious. It's not a gay thing or anything." he said.

You definitely stand out here... being foreign. In most places in Japan, you are treated with a quasi-celebrity that can be intoxicating at times. If you've been ordinary your whole life, it creates an excitement that you've never known. This is why many (not all) of the "lifers" here are quite, um, pathetic. They have nothing to go back to. They've gone from zero to hero. None of the Japanese have a firm enough understanding of American culture, customs, looks, or personality to be able to see this. You are reduced to the basics: a foreign white devil with a legendary johnson.

For some people, this is good enough. It's not for me though. Forever seeking a challenge, I can't help but feel empty knowing that any other foreigner wouldn't be treated any differently. All of the great things (and bad ones) that make me an individual are gone in their eyes.

Looking back on my two years here, it leaves me believing that many of my memories, even the happy ones, don't seem real. Was it me that made them, or was I merely a spectator acting out the role of the predetermined stereotype?

It makes things seem empty, even though I can still say that I had fun.

Yea, I know how you feel about the penis thing.

[Satira]

Reading your journal is kind of strange. You tell a story well, but it just somehow doesn't seem quite real, as if I'm reading a book.

[Latrinsorm]

Originally posted by Lady Satira
it just somehow doesn't seem quite real, as if I'm reading a book. If he ripped into more people, it would sound more real. I'm not saying it's better or worse, but I think that's the key difference.

[Edaarin]

I'm surprised at you longshot, making a slip up like that. Always use the word "women" when describing sexual partners, not "people." After all, women aren't people like us.

[Soulpieced]

Longshot should be an author. And the way he's not comfortable there is because he knows his penis really isn't that big...

[longshot]

Originally posted by Edaarin
I'm surprised at you longshot, making a slip up like that. Always use the word "women" when describing sexual partners, not "people." After all, women aren't people like us.

I know. I know.

My bad. Sorry Tayre!

It felt weird calling a woman over thirty a "girl", and it feels weird calling a girl that's 21 a "woman", so I went with "People".

Wezas was right... I should have just went with "broads".


Originally posted by Soulpieced
Longshot should be an author. And the way he's not comfortable there is because he knows his penis really isn't that big...

My penis is just fine, thankyou.

Thanks for the author compliment though.

All the journal/blog entries will have a title, so you can distinguish them from my comments... even though the style is completely different.

Again, any and all comments are welcome.

[longshot]

Today the impossible happened.

In a state of shock, I stared at my laptop. There, crumpled in the far corner of the 8-bit ring lay a crumpled and broken Soda Popinski. Little Mac waved his arms in victory, like he had countless times before.

But this time was different.

The clock read 2:58 of round 1.

Soda Popinski, after years of debate that it couldn't be done, was TKOed in the first round. I had never accomplished this before, and probably never will again. Countless hours of procrastination devoted to Mike Tyson's Punch Out! delivered an unexpected gem. But, like so many wonderful things that have happened to me here, I have nobody to share this moment with.

During the second week of August, I make my truimphant return to the United States. Having saved all my vacation days, I have total freedom to do and see whatever I want.

I also have nobody else to do it with.

Is there someone now who exists that can feel what I feel?

I wonder if my friends were here, would they even be the same people?

I'm guessing that they are the same, but it is I who have changed. I feel like Frodo at the end of "Return of the King". Too many scars to go back. It would be much better just to continue moving.

A thousand stories of lonley victories to share with... nobody.

Everyone asks the same question, as if living abroad for two years was a vacation.

"How was Japan?"

You start to tell them, and they tune you out. They expected a trite, compact answer that is safe enough for them not to have to look inward at their own depressing, go-nowhere-fast lives.

"It was great". It's the bullshit answer that everyone wants to hear. Nice and safe for them, and at the same time, quick and painless for you.

But, eventually, you get to talking. You begin to tell a story, and realize they have no framework whatsoever. They have never seen a Japanese staff room, or felt the heat in August, or seen a toilet with a bidet arm, heated seat, and music to cover up unpleasant noises. It's impossible to describe, and can only experience does it any justice. It leaves the listener stranded at "nod and smile".

The Punch-Out! story is perfect. It's something that so few people would understand. And, even if they do kind of understand, the true feelings of the accomplishment can only be felt by those united by the experience: the four or five people who could chill out after the bar and play 8-bit Nintendo before passing out during my college days.

As I try now to organize the many lonely victories, my Japan memories, I come to the realization that those who understand them will soon dissappear. It leaves an uneasy feeling as I prepare to adjust for returning home, and leaves me little option other than, "Japan? It was great".

[Edited on 7-28-2004 by longshot]

[longshot]

Today, I got an mail (cell phone-- I believe you call them "text messages") from M.chan. She's a nurses' assistant at a hospital in Osaka.

She is a dream girl.

Tall, with long legs.

Japanese, but with a real ass. Not some beaten pancake bullshit.

Skinny waste, with large boobs that are perky.

And dumb as a box of rocks, and all she wants to do is screw and cook me food.

M.chan and I met at a club. Feeling self-concious about her age, she was a bit shy. In youth centered Japan, 26 begins the the descent into the "middle aged" abyss.

A girl not married by thirty has an entire special derrogatory vocabulary devoted to further destroy her self-esteem.

My personal favorite is "left-over Christmas cake". The tradition in Japan, as Christmas here is celebrated like Valentines Day in America, is that couples/lovers buy a special Christmas cake to share. The next day, the cakes are obviously not needed.

Call a 30-year-old unmarried Japanese girl an "Urenokori kurisumasu keeki", and it's quite possible that you will get a fountain of tears in return.

So, this girl has two things going against her...

1. She's dumb, but that's already been covered, and will be elaborated on further in a vivid example.

2. She has a big head. She has a pretty face, but her head is big. She does well to cover her giant melon with bangs, but because she's so skinny, it makes her head look just way out of proportion.

I saw her run two weeks ago... it looked like a velociraptor shot up on novacaine, if you can imagine that. Long, inward turned legs as her pigeon toed feet climbed the pavement in front of her... her arms waving to the side... somehow her neck kept her Bonkesque head from snapping off... I'm not sure how though.

She's a sweetheart though. She wants to say "goodbye", much in the same way many of the FEMALE friends that I've made do.

I had to tell her I'm busy, because I am.

She's been traded in for a 24 year old receptionist who stayed over yesterday.

I don't have many days left here, but they will be good ones.

hit that oddity.

[Hulkein]

Originally posted by longshot
lay a crumpled and broken Soda Popinski.

Totally random but interesting.. Did you know he was originally named Vodka Drunkinski but Nintendo scrapped it because of the supposed bad message it sent to kids?

I always wondered why he hiccupped =)

[Marl]

somewhere there is a site that has screenshots of the "worlds fastest" punchout round times, someone supposedly beat tyson in 1:24 into the first round...i will post when I find it

[Arshwikk]

I write my journal's as short dialogues between fictional characters who are actually doing something myself and whoever I was with did...I'm all for it.

I've had my stints of strang sexual encounters...I totally understand the vibe...as I analyzed how I felt about it, it was like I had to concede that I just wouldn't know until later...still too soon to decide if it was fucked up or not. And lets face it, sometimes you go with the flow because you can't find a valid reason not to.

You *sound* restless...I know your mood showed it, but I mean, there's no doubt, and I totally feel your pain. All I can tell you is not to screw yourself by getting tied down. If the shit isn't perfect, don't waste your time, and never fear the unknown...cause your not happy about what you know...what you need is out there.

Search.

[longshot]

Jolted from my slumber, I turn my head to see what had moved my seat. There in the aisle of the 747, I'm greeted with the flight attendant's huge ass being suffocated by a uniform that fit properly many years ago. The black fabric excercising every fiber to hold together as she unskillfully plods towards the front of the plane. The frayed button holes of her uniform blouse scream in agony as the paint flecked buttons saw through them. A large run in her nylons directed my eyes to where her humongous calfs met her feet in an almalgamous blob.

"canckles"

Through the small porthole window, I'm welcomed home with a miserable, soul-crushing Detroit sky.

I feel sad and nauseous all at once.

I'm home.

During the last few days, I've been exposed to a mountain of profound questions...

"Didn't someone in Japan get caned a few years ago?"

"What was the culture like?"

and my personal favorite...

"How was Japan?"

Like I can adequately sum up two years of friendships and life experiences in a fucking sentence.

All the stories I tell are strictly about the country... nothing about me. None of my stories, and none of my experiences. Nobody can understand. They have no reference point. They don't know what it's like to live and work in another country... and especially one so different. The more questions they ask, the more frustrating it gets.

Even worse, they have done nothing in two years. They are EXACTLY the same as when I left them.

It is 8:15, and I'm exhausted with jet lag.

Nothing feels permanent. Two days ago, I was seated around a table with my closests friends in an impromtu goodbye party that had formed up at the local izakaya (Japanese style bar). Now, I'm a stranger in the place that is supposed to be my home.

There are no words for this...

To complicate matters, my father has decided to move to Florida. My belongings are in a storage shed that I have to sort out tomorrow. I have no apartment and no address, and I begin classes in a little over two weeks.

I seek some sort of permanence, yet I wonder if it exists here at all.

[HarmNone]

I'm going to say something that's going to sound like psycho-babble, Longshot, but I've found it to be true. Until you release your preconceived idea of permanence you will never find the reality of it. Permanence lies in who you are, not where you are. :)

HarmNone