Monday, Nov. 03, 2003 - 8:28 pm
Um... I'm sorry.
This relationship just isn't working for me.
I'm at www.dailypreciousness.org now. So change that bookmark.
"Ego surfing -- search Google for your own name. Any strange people with your name out there?" That's what Fark commanded me to do this morning. So I did. And I came up with myself... or at least the ghost of myself, circa 1986. Strange people, indeed! I scare myself...
So I will, in turn, scare you. Welcome to the WIN International Newsletter, excerpted here:
The Three Ws of America-Mura
We're in a small park and it's raining delicately. The cement has a light blue color under the flourescents. I and three other round-eyes are learning the parts of the body from a most unlikely sensei.
A slightly Japanese 20-year-old is teaching our slightly tipsy foursome bodily vocabulary at 4 a.m. The night class was a spontaneous lesson that took place in America-Mura, the club district of Osaka.
Shabnam Akhtar, Tammy Grimsey, Karen Mattison and I were enjoying our lesson (though for some it was a review).
We had just finished a brief tour of the village's clubs. On the list was Bar, isn't it?", which housed a sweaty, pumped crowd of Osaka's teen set. We also trekked to Tom & Moe's Place, a coffee and conversation hub.
We'd been shown around by a friendly Australian who owned one of the area bars.
It was after the tour that I learned what the three Ws of America-Mura were. In that singular of singular moments in time, I was all of the following Ws.
Wet: We were flooded by an eight-hour sprinkler shower from cumulus Kansai clouds.
Wild: Our group of eight gaijin hadn't been together for more than a month and a half. We had some serious catching up ahead of us. It was also the first time I'd had a chance for serious aerobic exercise in a month and a half. It was desperately needed.
Wasted: Drinks were inexpensive, only 200. 'Nuff said. We were especially wasted at 3 or 4 a.m., before our second wind hit around 5.
Unfortunately, the rainclouds also got their second wind. But we managed okay. In the station, Tammy and I almost fell asleep as Karen searched for Blackbeard's Locker, supposedly holding treasures known only to our pal Daniel Shepherd.
A most desperately tired huddle of gaijin rested on platform number four as we waited for the six o'clock out of Namba. The train clamored in, without the slightest concern for our throbbing headaches.
We boarded, or rather slithered into, the car with a small trickle of less intoxicated and more. It was the first time I'd ever actually fallen asleep on a traincar: a rather inauspicious occasion.
Onward home, we traveled in and out of consciousness. Monday proved to be a nice recuperative period for me. I don't think the office staff minded my snoozing, but the loud snoring caught their polite disapproval.
I caught a few reproachful glances because of my exhaustion, but more importantly, I caught one helluva cold. The sniffles succeeded in infecting me and my genkiness.
I guess that's the price I pay for being wet, wild and wasted on a Friday night in Osaka.
Jeffrey Brady
