29 October 2010
big in japan
so here i am on a friday evening once again glued to my computer somewhat like my lenses are glued to my eyes right now. i am listening to the sweet rumble of trains going past as the hotel is on top of the station which at least makes it easy to locate and find my way around to the next transit point. i am less than halfway up this world, floor 12 of 25 but i guess even the rooms at the top can hear the trains too as this hotel is nowhere near as posh as the last two also on top of stations but with thicker window glass or perhaps better seals (cue sealion bark and flapping hands) i ate in the hotel i wanted to be brave enough to venture out alone and fuck the worlds stares and confidently plonk myself down somewhere that looked interesting and see what happened but i didn't i ate in the hotel. a couple of teams or maybe a couple of squads of schoolkids in tracksuits came and giggled and crowded out the buffet and i smiled it was ok for me to dwarf them as they were kids. i drank a flask of wine and forced myself to go out of the hotel and walk around the city for a while in the entertainment district just outside my hotel door and i am brobdignagian there are maybe a handful of guys that are as tall as me but by fuck i've got everyone beat for girth. i do stride although i clutch my bag to my shoulder i have sloping shoulders and it would fall off and so i bend my left arm back around at the elbow and clutch it to my left shoulder leaving the right arm to sway noncholantly confidently. i have been here for four days now and i have not seen anyone else with red hair even though i saw some fantastically bad hair dye jobs walking around kabuki-cho no-one else in the entire country apart from me has red hair. a couple of people even said hello to me brave souls a group of three "black" guys although they did not look african in origin, and then another further along the street i said hello back in a cut glass english accent and walked on. noli me tangere. i did not see any of the fabled (according to a friend) used-knicker vending machines although i bought some beer from a machine. someone behind me wondered if i was a woman but of course i did not have the vocabulary to turn around and say that sometimes i wonder that too i do not worry about my eggs running out and my womb going unused i worry where my next beer is coming from (this is sorted there is a vending machine on every floor of the hotel) but for all of this i like the country and it is only that i am screwed up and lacking in whatever i don't even know or i might do something about it but lacking in whatever it is that makes friends with strangers when alone in a strange country but purely in a friendly way enough to get through a shared evening pleasantly without repercussions and not sit here typing typing typing instead of living.
I'm thinking about: real life is the weirdest