Crazy weekend. Halloween party setup sorta killed Saturday night, and by the end of the party I was exhausted—seriously, more tiring than class, running around with kids from 10:30 to 4:30 and dealing with Blood Type A coworkers (what a great Japanese phrase that is—a nicer way of saying obnoxiously anal retentive). I borrowed a pair of $1 aviators and wore this black biker-looking jacket I picked up for $7 the other day with some black jeans and a T-shirt and went as James Dean/generic biker bad ass, but the Japanese recognized me as the Terminator and Michael Jackson, so I guess those work too. Should’ve brought some big guns, that would’ve really put a tear in some kindergartners’ eyes.
After that, we went out to eat for Joanna’s goodbye dinner/my welcome dinner. It was me and the American teachers and our Japanese coteachers, as well as a couple of our bosses. One guy, Dai, he’s so funny, the most awkward guy alive but he’s so easy to hang with. Apparently he shaved his recently because it was falling out (you can see the spots in the grow back), and likes to get drunk but, like the rest of the Japanese teachers, I’ve yet to see it (but boy would I like to). Well, the American teachers drank for them. We had like a 6-course traditional Japanese meal served by old women in kimonos, with lots of ebi (shrimp) with their heads still on, and when you snap them off the dark red ooze runs out of their cranial cavities. Mmm.
Dinner was fun, and it was soon off to Garuda, big boss Hide’s favorite bar (he’s the only Japanese Shimon employee who drinks). I took cell phone pictures all the way on my bike, soaring in pretty high spirits, but I was the last one there and ended up sitting on the edge of the table with Jacob, who was particularly noxious that night and quickly ruined my night with some choice incendiary attacks. Combined with a rebuke from Matt after trying to talk exercise with him—everyone thinks they fucking know it all and get so mad when you try to discuss otherwise, like fatass fucking Matt with a stick in his prick trying to tell me he knows more about sit ups than I do—I sat biting my tongue the rest of night, stewing over how much I disliked my companions and how much I’d kill to be back in Chicago. Seriously, I know that part of my life is over and it’s not like I could ever go back to it anyway, but I miss everyone out there, I’d trade the company any day of the week to get my bests out here with me. If nothing else, just to talk to people with some goddamn open minds.
After that Matt, Joanna, Kyle and I ended up going to karaoke, despite an intense desire to not go on my part. I decided to just get as shitfaced as I could instead, and use the opportunity for musical catharsis. Fortunately, this worked out pretty well: Stone Temple Pilots’ “Lush”, The Kinks’ “Sunny Afternoon”, Lou Reed’s “Take A Walk on the Wild Side”—by the end I was even singing some sentimental favorites like “One More Time” and the Doobies’ “Black Water”. Not as great as some certain Cape Cod singalongs, but a spirit lifter nonetheless.
Woke up this morning in a still-drunk haze; talked with Caroline for a half hour while reheating coffee from the night before on the stove, then I had to rush off to meet Jacob and some Japanese Shimon people at 11 to discuss some English Festival stuff, which is coming up in December (it’s always something round these parts). Turns out they wanted us to dance to the Locomotion, mimicking some boy band on a cell phone commercial. Sounds awful, but it’s way better than I expected. It’s no “Thriller” (my suggestion, MJRIP) but it’ll still be a lot of fun. Learning it for two point five hours in a sweater in a stuffy room half-hungover, however, was not so enjoyable.
Went home, ate some kimchi for lunch and went to work. Came home and ate a whole loaf of Italian bread and the rest of my brie for dinner. Set to exercise and watch a copy of Butch Cassidy I borrowed from Jacob. Another day, another…yen?
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