It's Saturday, June 8, 1991. I broke up with my girlfriend, Ashley, last Saturday, but just to make sure I knew we were broken up, she decided to break up with me on Monday. It's okay... I don't understand that sentence either.
The past five days have been the longest I have been without a girlfriend or a "girl friend" to sleep with since I arrived here in Japan last July. You might wonder why would I have other women to sleep with if I had a girlfriend (though regular readers already know...)? Simple... Ashley had broken up with me at least three times prior to this. When that happened, other women wasted little to zero time and zoned in on me to 'date'. Who was I to refuse? Especially since the nearly first 26 years of my life involved a magazine and death grip. I never had to ask anyone out while I was in Japan - except for Nobuko... and a couple of years later, she was a special case.
So... not getting any and not having anyone to get it from, and I suppose still upset about being dumped - especially after I did the dumping first - well, it all really irks me - I suppose it's why I haven't slept since Saturday night a week ago.
Still, I have places to go and alcoholic beverages to drink and hopefully some women to smooch... I'm off to visit Tokyo. I'm going to hang out with my friends Tim and Mona and then meet the ex-boyfriend (Rory) of the one woman (Kristine South) in this country I really like. I would gladly kill a yak for her supper if she wanted... but, when it comes to things I really, really, really, really want - I was afraid of the possibility of rejection. And so I maintained my death grip, doing some one-handed reading of Playboy/Penthouse/High Society/Celebrity Juggs magazines.
I got up at 6:30 AM and rode my bike to the Nishinasuno-eki (eki = train station) and traveled to Omiya-shi (shi = city) to meet up with Tim and Mona who have been dating for maybe three months now. Tim's an American, and Mona is from Manitoba in Canada. It's a big province, and forgive me - but I don't think I wrote down where exactly she was from. Maybe it's in another diary notebook of mine. (I have six of them)
Tim and Mona. Mona and Tim. Tall and good-looking couple. They seem so happy to these sad eyes. And isn't it just my luck to pick a friend who's an introvert like my ex-girlfriend, who LIKES being an introvert? Me? I'm an introvert pretending he's an extrovert.
We travel to Tokyo and its Asakusa district - it's famous for its Geisha district, and for the oldest shrine in the city. I should be more ecstatic, but I'm not. Yet, Mona's girlfriends who are with us are okay, I guess.
We grab dinner at some restaurant where you can write on the walls. I do the original "Hello Cleveland" line from the movie Spinal Tap - and Tim takes a picture of it that he never gives me.
All of us have a few drinks - me, more than the rest.
We then hook up with Rory and go to a place called DeJaVu - which I have the feeling I once visited before. It's an okay place. Rory is a really nice guy - and seems even cooler after we massacre a bunch of alcoholic beverages called shooters. I don't know what they were except that they were all different. Whoo!
I tell Rory I'll come down and hang with him another day as the rest of us go to a dance club called the Java Jive. Great. Who's effin; idea was this? This is the club where Ashley and I first met, kissed and then did funny things to each other involving hands down pants. This place depresses me a bit (a lot, actually). So I drink more Vodka Screwdrivers (Vodka and orange juice), and lose count after five.
One of Mona's friends - Marie - makes a pass at me. I accept the pass drunkenly. (This next bunch of stuff is exactly what I wrote at the time:) If I wasn't so depressed and desperate for female attention, I'd never even look at her.
Readers - that's harsh. You can tell I'm losing a bit of my grasp with reality (no sleep, lots of booze and emotionally fragile), because thoughts like that have never before or since entered my fragile eggshell mind.
Marie was actually quite nice - she was just not the woman I wanted.
And which one did I want? Ashley? Kristine? Mona? Sure, Mona... but I'd never hit on another guy's girlfriend. That's just not cool. And while I'm not necessarily cool, if I ever want to be a cool guy who writes about his life in Japan 20 years later, being a guy like that isn't what will help me achieve coolness. Kristine - doomed to fail? Ashley: Failed to doom.
Anyhow, Marie and I make-out on the dance floor. I'm sure my mouth tastes like vodka, but then, her mouth tastes like rum, so we double our alcoholic haze with our deep-throat kissing.
To be honest... that last sentence was crap. I have little to no recollection of what anyone's mouth tasted like that night.Vodka for me - but I have no idea what she was drinking... perhaps MY vodka. There's a visual joke for you in there involving some sort of tongue in cheek pun.
After sweating up a storm dancing and playing 'grabby pants', Marie and I and the rest of the group head to a nearby McDonald's for some fast food. Mona hates the place, but my tapeworm and I swear by the quality of the cuisine. I had to coerce Mona into entering the place... threatening that I would successfully hit on each and every one of her friends - including Tim - unless she went into the place. I said I would embarrass myself and thus her by my Playboy/Penthouse/High Society/Celebrity Juggs-like actions until she did as I asked. So she went into McDonald's - perhaps to spare Tim my vodka/rum breath.
We stayed out and about in Tokyo until 2:30AM and then crashed in a Tokyo university dorm room - on the floor. I have no idea how we got there or where we were or even if it cost anything.
I do recall putting my contact lenses into a pair of used but cleaned paper coffee cups.
What a weird day. Just what I needed. I hope I can remember some of it.
Somewhere wondering why my breath smells of rum,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by THE DOORS - whose lead singer was a hard drinking skirt chaser who lost his grip on reality. There's a similarity between Jim Morrison and I.... but I don't care if women wear skirts or pants. Otherwise... we are exactly alike. The title is at around the 1:50 mark.
Yeah, right.
PS: I know what shooters are!!!
PPS: That Mona must have been one good friend to put up with me. I should have slept with her.
PPPS: Who the hell is Marie?
PPPPS: This isn't Ohtawara!
PPPPPS: Where the hell am I?
PPPPPPS: And what the hell is that taste in my mouth?
BY the way... there's another blog in 8 hours from the tie of this posting.
The past five days have been the longest I have been without a girlfriend or a "girl friend" to sleep with since I arrived here in Japan last July. You might wonder why would I have other women to sleep with if I had a girlfriend (though regular readers already know...)? Simple... Ashley had broken up with me at least three times prior to this. When that happened, other women wasted little to zero time and zoned in on me to 'date'. Who was I to refuse? Especially since the nearly first 26 years of my life involved a magazine and death grip. I never had to ask anyone out while I was in Japan - except for Nobuko... and a couple of years later, she was a special case.
So... not getting any and not having anyone to get it from, and I suppose still upset about being dumped - especially after I did the dumping first - well, it all really irks me - I suppose it's why I haven't slept since Saturday night a week ago.
Still, I have places to go and alcoholic beverages to drink and hopefully some women to smooch... I'm off to visit Tokyo. I'm going to hang out with my friends Tim and Mona and then meet the ex-boyfriend (Rory) of the one woman (Kristine South) in this country I really like. I would gladly kill a yak for her supper if she wanted... but, when it comes to things I really, really, really, really want - I was afraid of the possibility of rejection. And so I maintained my death grip, doing some one-handed reading of Playboy/Penthouse/High Society/Celebrity Juggs magazines.
I got up at 6:30 AM and rode my bike to the Nishinasuno-eki (eki = train station) and traveled to Omiya-shi (shi = city) to meet up with Tim and Mona who have been dating for maybe three months now. Tim's an American, and Mona is from Manitoba in Canada. It's a big province, and forgive me - but I don't think I wrote down where exactly she was from. Maybe it's in another diary notebook of mine. (I have six of them)
Tim and Mona. Mona and Tim. Tall and good-looking couple. They seem so happy to these sad eyes. And isn't it just my luck to pick a friend who's an introvert like my ex-girlfriend, who LIKES being an introvert? Me? I'm an introvert pretending he's an extrovert.
We travel to Tokyo and its Asakusa district - it's famous for its Geisha district, and for the oldest shrine in the city. I should be more ecstatic, but I'm not. Yet, Mona's girlfriends who are with us are okay, I guess.
We grab dinner at some restaurant where you can write on the walls. I do the original "Hello Cleveland" line from the movie Spinal Tap - and Tim takes a picture of it that he never gives me.
All of us have a few drinks - me, more than the rest.
We then hook up with Rory and go to a place called DeJaVu - which I have the feeling I once visited before. It's an okay place. Rory is a really nice guy - and seems even cooler after we massacre a bunch of alcoholic beverages called shooters. I don't know what they were except that they were all different. Whoo!
I tell Rory I'll come down and hang with him another day as the rest of us go to a dance club called the Java Jive. Great. Who's effin; idea was this? This is the club where Ashley and I first met, kissed and then did funny things to each other involving hands down pants. This place depresses me a bit (a lot, actually). So I drink more Vodka Screwdrivers (Vodka and orange juice), and lose count after five.
One of Mona's friends - Marie - makes a pass at me. I accept the pass drunkenly. (This next bunch of stuff is exactly what I wrote at the time:) If I wasn't so depressed and desperate for female attention, I'd never even look at her.
Readers - that's harsh. You can tell I'm losing a bit of my grasp with reality (no sleep, lots of booze and emotionally fragile), because thoughts like that have never before or since entered my fragile eggshell mind.
Marie was actually quite nice - she was just not the woman I wanted.
And which one did I want? Ashley? Kristine? Mona? Sure, Mona... but I'd never hit on another guy's girlfriend. That's just not cool. And while I'm not necessarily cool, if I ever want to be a cool guy who writes about his life in Japan 20 years later, being a guy like that isn't what will help me achieve coolness. Kristine - doomed to fail? Ashley: Failed to doom.
Anyhow, Marie and I make-out on the dance floor. I'm sure my mouth tastes like vodka, but then, her mouth tastes like rum, so we double our alcoholic haze with our deep-throat kissing.
To be honest... that last sentence was crap. I have little to no recollection of what anyone's mouth tasted like that night.Vodka for me - but I have no idea what she was drinking... perhaps MY vodka. There's a visual joke for you in there involving some sort of tongue in cheek pun.
After sweating up a storm dancing and playing 'grabby pants', Marie and I and the rest of the group head to a nearby McDonald's for some fast food. Mona hates the place, but my tapeworm and I swear by the quality of the cuisine. I had to coerce Mona into entering the place... threatening that I would successfully hit on each and every one of her friends - including Tim - unless she went into the place. I said I would embarrass myself and thus her by my Playboy/Penthouse/High Society/Celebrity Juggs-like actions until she did as I asked. So she went into McDonald's - perhaps to spare Tim my vodka/rum breath.
We stayed out and about in Tokyo until 2:30AM and then crashed in a Tokyo university dorm room - on the floor. I have no idea how we got there or where we were or even if it cost anything.
I do recall putting my contact lenses into a pair of used but cleaned paper coffee cups.
What a weird day. Just what I needed. I hope I can remember some of it.
Somewhere wondering why my breath smells of rum,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by THE DOORS - whose lead singer was a hard drinking skirt chaser who lost his grip on reality. There's a similarity between Jim Morrison and I.... but I don't care if women wear skirts or pants. Otherwise... we are exactly alike. The title is at around the 1:50 mark.
Yeah, right.
PS: I know what shooters are!!!
PPS: That Mona must have been one good friend to put up with me. I should have slept with her.
PPPS: Who the hell is Marie?
PPPPS: This isn't Ohtawara!
PPPPPS: Where the hell am I?
PPPPPPS: And what the hell is that taste in my mouth?
BY the way... there's another blog in 8 hours from the tie of this posting.
