Nefarius look alike

I was sitting at a bar in Georgetown last night and two seats down was a sexy looking girl who kinda reminded me of some of photos I had seen of Nefarius Hatter. You weren’t by any chance in DC this weekend, were you? I kept looking through the mirror to get a better look, but it was hard. I would have asked her directly, but in the seat between her and me was Musubi-chan… hahaha… I value my life.

PaikyPoo: this is wot i had to wait a day for? pffft… i was expecting some n00kie or something… bah, i’m goin back to doin my laundry.
I like ya’ Paiky; you’re too much. And I really like the honesty in your posts. I need more info on these FTFs. But sorry, not here. I like nooky, and I like to talk about it. But not here. I am simply not anonymous enough. A lot of my kids might croak–Eee yuuu! But I have written a number of comments on other people’s sites that I would NEVER write here. Ha! I know a number of people have come by through the links on these other sites, but I think they leave disappointed, cuz the O-man’s Xanga is rater PG.

Not Living Up to Expectation
Installment eight…. continued: First half posted yesterday; see below.

One thing I wanted to do while I was in Japan was me up with YI, the girl I went out with for a few weeks after MM. She was pretty cute and smart and spoke Japanese. Sorta like BA with Japanese and English skills. The only reason why we broke up was because at the time 1976 she was a senior in high school (18) and I was 21. Her parents were not amused. Anyway, I went to see her but she was out with her friends–stupid me, I didn’t call before I stopped by–and left with her mother the omiyage I brought for her. Her parents’ condo was near ICU, where she went, and I decided to visit the campus–who knows, I thought naively, maybe I’ll run into her. Well, you’ve probably guessed that I ended up strolling the campus by myself, seeing a whole lot of nothing. I decided to head back to Nishi-Ogikubo and hopped on the bus back to Mitaka Station. As I gazed out the window, wondering if I would ever see YI again, some called out to me in English.

“Onigiriman? Is that you?”
“JU? What are you doing here?”
“I’m a ry琦akusei. From UCLA”
“Man, I haven’t seen you since when? Boy scouts? Karate?”
“About six years, I guess, huh.”
“Man, no shit.” Kinda lonely about not being able to see YI, I thought it would be fun to hang with JU, who was a couple of years younger than me. He was in the same patrol–the Firebirds–in our Boy Scout troop and we also took Shotokan Karate together at our church. “So what you doing now? Got a date? Going to work?”
“No, I was just going to go to the station and do some shopping.”
“Screw that. Let’s go to Shinjuku and get a drink. My treat.”
“Yeah, okay.”

Well, we went to Shinjuku, and found a small dive outside Nishiguchi west of the station on the main thoroughfare Omekaid・ We ate lightly but imbibed rather heavily in o-sake. I think we finished more than a bottle (one bottle = 1.8 liters)… I think. I don’t really remember much after reaching the bottom of the first bottle. What I do recall is paying 18,000 yen–pretty hefty for 24 years ago–and helping my friend throw up onto the tracks from the platform of the Chuo line. I sorta recall being warned by someone to take care of him as he seemed pretty bad off. I was pretty drunk, but I guess I can “appear” more sober… Anyway, I couldn’t send him back to school in this condition, so I brought him home… much to the displeasure of my cousin. Hahaha. He was really put out. Alvin is a really square dude; naive as naive gets–even in Tokyo–and he couldn’t wait to call Australia to report to my grandparents. All i could do was put my friend in a futon and let him sleep it off. Next morning, I wake up to find my cousn gone to school. I wake up with JU and he’s still groggy as hell, but he insisted that he had to go back to school, so I went with him as far as Mitaka Station to make sure he got on the right bus.

It was November 5, 1979. I remember the date rather distinctly. I returned home with with a headache and a woozy stomache. I laid down on top of the futon and turned on the TV, hoping the static of Japanese would lull me to sleep. News. Some kind of turmoil in some unnamed third-world country. I couldn’t really tell, because while my Japanese was passable for everyday conversation, I still had problems with the more sophisticated language of news. I changed the channel and recognized the same footage. Damn, I need some stupid daytime drama to put me to sleep. I click a again and its still the news. What’s going on? Something pretty big must have happened, so I tried to focus and understand what the newscaster was saying. Iran, American taishikan? That’s “embassy”, right. Hitojichi? I look it up in the dictionary: “hostage”… What the…? I wasn’t really sure what happened, the newscasters spoke too fast for me in language I was too unfamiliar with. But i got the gist: Some Iranins entered the American embassy in Tehran, Iran and took hostages including marines. Late afternoon, I hurried to Nishi-Ogikubo station to buy the evening paper. I return home and try my best to read the newspaper with a dictionary. I was struggling but I understood more: So-called students stormed the embassy and took marines and embassy personnel hostage. They were crying for the death of the US. I was shocked. And angry. How could they do that to us… “Us”? Did I just say “us”?

I learned two things on this trip. One was the new form of entertainment, karaoke, where one could sing a favortie tune accompanied by music that was pretty close to the original. This was a revelation. This was, to the best of my recollection, the very first time I thought the Japanese were world leaders in “having fun”. But, the other thing I learned was more revealing: I was an American.

And that I probably would never see YI again…

End of installment 8

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