sept 21

12:29 a.m. on September 21st

September 21st really begins by ending. After an evening of wine and spending time with friends, I realize the night has blurred to an end. It’s time for me to sleep and begin again tomorrow, or is it today?

Roller Derby!!!

Roller Derby Friends…

Some old and some new, each one with something unique to contribute. I love the expressions on their faces!


The pandemonium that is roller derby!

Life is War(Part 3)

I was feeling a bit tired, so I went into a convenience store to buy a coffee. I check out a Stussy catalog. They have some fresh clothes. I picked up a coffee off the shelf. While in line, I saw that NOVA was on the front page of a newspaper, so I bought that too. I walked down the hill, turned left, and then entered a building. I took the elevator to the 8th floor, where my Japanese school is.
I've been coming here for about 2 1/2 years every week with the same teacher. Her name is Natsuko. She's lived in England and Thailand. She's really cool. Today's lesson was about The Guiness Book of World Records. I told her about my friend Zane who could shoot milk out his eye, according to the article we read this guy in India can shoot it 15ft. It was a good lesson. When I walked out the door, I looked at Tokyo from about 8 stories high, buildings as far as the eyes could see. I went down the escalator and headed towards the cafe' where I could get some food and write.
I ordered a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel sandwich and chai tea. I sat down. My table is like a ship in the ocean, unstable, rocking back and forth so easily. Also it was positioned awkwardly, directly at another table where two girls were chatting. I felt uncomfortable staring into their conversation, but a little patience and all is alright. They were playing some god awful American Pop music, Britney, Nelly, Nerd....This was a little more difficult to take than other things.
I pulled out the latest Metropolis, an english magazine in Japan, which is complete shit, but the only one out there, so I read it. Its useful for classifieds and concert listings, but the articles are pretty useless. Then I read the newspaper I bought earlier. I didn't read any articles, I just glanced at the headlines. Afterwards I got up and returned my tray and walked to the station. I'm feeling tired, and slow moving.
It's 3:03 and I'm on the train. An older man counts his change, another reads a newspaper, 2 ladies chat. A man takes off his tie. Trains are moving past, the a/c is buzzing. Gotanda is the next stop. I hear a laugh. The guy near the door has a huge bag of books. He picks one out to read. I see this young guy looking blankly out the window. Another guy sits across from me, hands neatly folded, and head hanging down. The sun shines bright out the windows, shadows flicker across my writing page. The next stop is Shinagawa. Time to change trains.
On the platform a young man with a backpack leans against a post reading R-25, which is a well designed Japanese free magazine which reviews just about anything. A train comes, he disappears. At the post, now, a man in a gray suit talks on his phone, he uses a book to cover his face, so he can hear better. Down the platform a young woman stands in line for the next train. She holds a small folded pink towel over the bottom half of her face.
I get on the train and fight for a seat. The woman next to me ends a call. She takes a mint from her brown leather woven bag. She lowers her head and tries to get some sleep. The women with the pink towel sits across from me, her eyes closed, still with the pink towel over her face. The woman next to her sleeps on the end seat with her hand awkwardly holding her head. A woman holding a tea bottle, jacket, and bag, stands next to the doors staring out the window. 2 school girls gossip. They are the only voices I hear, but I don't understand them. A poster at the end of the train car says "100% honest". Its a poster for Suit Company. The posters are all over the inside of the train. Companies often buy out all the ad space on a train. A capitalist gallery. The woman next to me, talks on the phone about skin care soap. She must be a salesperson. The man near the door has slicked back hair and glasses. He's wearing a blue striped short sleeve shirt and brown pants. He holds a small book in his hands. I look up from the page I write as a train thunderously passes by. It paints the windows with orange and green stripes. At Kamata, many passengers get on. I see two young school boys, both with the same exact uniform looking like little Nazi children with their military general caps and jackets. A man across from me reads a book, legs crossed, one shoe taken off to feel more comfortable. We race towards Kawasaki, my stop. I have about an hour and a half to kill. I think about what I should do. We pass over the Tama river. Its truly a beautiful sunny day. The sky is clear with a few clouds floating by.

The 21st

At 8:00 A.M. I woke up. I got an email from Aya at the same time as my alarm. After that I took a shower. I was thinking about "Paprika", the movie we watched last night. Its only two hours long, but we couldn't finish it, even after the second time we tried to watch it.

At 9:15 I was at the station. I had to go to my job at the cafe'. It takes 10 minutes from the station on foot. I was holding my camera turned on because last week I saw a man who flashed me. So, I was hoping to get his picture.

I had to work until 11 pm. At 10 o' clock a couple came to the cafe'. They are getting married in December. We talked until 11:30, standing up . The man was an editor of a TV drama that I like. This drama is about a form of Japanese comedy called "Rakugo" . Rakugo is when a person sits on a stage and tells a funny story. He told me that a long time ago people used to watch it live for only 100 yen, whereas now it might be about 2000 yen. Many young people today are interested in Rakugo because of this man's TV show. Another kind of live performance is a paper cutting show and at the same time they sing a song. Its called "Kamikirimeijin" . The cutouts look realistic and they don't use a drawing, just scissors and paper. I really want to see this show. Some people cry when they see it.

At 12 I finally went home. I called my boyfriend. He is teaching a kid's class at my cafe'. We were talking about it. Then I went to sleep.

Life Will Smile For You

On the 21st of September, I was eating some fried chicken with my best mate from high school. We were on a bullet train, on the way out of Tokyo because neither of us wanted to stay at home. Two days before that day, I broke up with my ex and also my mate left her ex; it was a strange coincidence but we knew exactly where we stood at that time. What we talked about was not the people we went out with, but about the emptiness of our minds; there were huge holes somewhere in our bodies, and it was physically hurting. It was a dull ache which makes you feel kind of lost. However, we had to get through it, because it’s a kind of thing you get after finishing a relationship with someone normally. We are both grown up enough as ladies to understand that, unfortunately. The window of the bullet train was covered by a curtain. We didn’t pay much attention to the scenery anyway. Before getting on the train, I bought some lunch for us. I had no appetite at all that day, so I bought fried chicken because I liked the painted chicken outside of the box. I assumed it was him, because it wore a bow tie, he flapped his wings and looked very arrogant, a kind of arrogance that comes from the chicken just being himself. It appealed to me at that time, I thought, I wish I had his confidence and indifference. Me and my mate were talking about the chicken, not like slagging off, but more objectively. It was pointless to blame the chicken for his arrogance, because he is a chicken.

“Imagine; you were on the train with this chicken.” I said.

“Yeah?” she said.

“The view from the window was all dark, nothing, because the train was in the tunnel.”

I said.

“OK.”

“And, it’s the endless darkness- you can’t see a thing from the window. It feels like forever.” I said.

“That’s depressing.” She said.

“Exactly, being in the dysfunctional relationship is like getting on the train with the chicken.” I said.

“You always say things that sound truthful, but really aren’t.” She said.

She knows me well. All of a sudden, I felt too much. Tears came out from my eyes and I was crying, because I just realized that I am no longer capable of staying a kid anymore. I had a bite of fried chicken and it tasted awful, then the next moment everything looked awful as the aftertaste in my mouth. My mate talked to me with her eyes saying, “Hey, you ok?” but instead of saying the words, he held my right hand. Here’s two grown ups in seats next each other, looking very lost. Just like our high school days. I drunk some coke with my empty hand and tried to forget everything.

Now, 16 days later from 21^st of September, I am madly in love with a person whom I didn’t even know 16 days ago. You really don’t know what’s around the corner, I mean it.

For the first time in my life, I truly believe that life is beautiful.

Third Thing

In the midst of grasping the moments of my fleeting morning, the battery on my digital camera died. I hadn't taken but a few pics in weeks, and my angst about putting off what I enjoy most could not have been more clear... I'm a photographer, and i rarely take pictures. I pulled out the battery and stuck it to the charger. I pulled out the flash card and stuck it to the computer. I wasn't fazed out at all... I grabbed my cell phone and began to document the remnants of my compounded life, yesterdays dirties.

Recently my laundry, both dirty and clean , have become a form by which I outwardly construct my lack of desire to maintain my own personal and mental comfort. When my cloths aren't fashioning my body they're decorating my floor, and as much as I like to tell myself to clean up, fold cloths, and become tidy, I just can't seem to do so. Some part of me really enjoys dredging through yesterdays unfinished business, procrastinating, or just generally letting shit slide. My laundry is a simple object that I'm using to represent the slipping aspect of my daily life. Mentally, I wanted something to be different about September 21st, and I wanted to see the results immediately. I desperately needed a change for the positive on this day. I wanted to carry a new effort into the future, so I began by taking a critical look at my internal personal spaces, and bu making small changes that would ripple into my future.

My September 21st

I saw the sky and trees in Yuune’s eye.
I cannot control what he sees.
He sees whatever happens in front of his eyes.
Nature, friends, love, hesitance, war, religion, murder, heroes, movies.
I want him to have a brain that can interpret and think on its own for what he sees.


I am grateful for having a place to live.

I am grateful for being able to eat whatever I want to eat.

I am grateful for having a chance to enjoy my life.

I am grateful for spending my life as I want.


I am satisfied.

I love Rob and Yuune.

I spend my life happily.

I pray for world’s peace.


Recently I often think about what the love is.
I used to answer to Rob,
“I don’t know what the love is, the only thing I know is I want to be with you now.”
But now I think about family love.
Does it last forever?
Will I be able to love Rob as a family or as a father of Yuune forever?
How do I love Rob now?

Love to Yuune is completely different from anything else.
I cannot even compare.
Or can I still call this feeling love?
I cannot live without him anymore.


My Two Treasures

Life is War (Part 2)

I cook breakfast. I have a very strict process. I put some butter in the pan, turn on the gas, and some butter on some bread inside the toaster. I slice a tomato into 4 pieces. I have a song in my head. I can't figure out what it is. I don't even know if I have it. I can never concentrate on just cooking. I check my Japanese homework. The pan is ready. I crack the egg on the side. The yolk goes running, Damn! Oh well, I put the tomatoes in. "SSSSSSSZZZZZZ" I open up the toaster and spread the butter on the toast. Once the toast is done, I cut it into four pieces, for dunking into the yolks, but today my yolk is all fucked, but I do it anyway, I don't know. So I take the mishap of an egg and put it on the plate, and then the tomatoes. It was all still pretty good. I love breakfast, it is the king of meals. No matter alone, hungover, not hungry, starving, with friends, it always seems to give some kind of gratification. One of my favorite memories, is living at the compound. I remember Gabe eating breakfast like 2 or 3 times a day. I finally realize that song that was in my head, was the strokes. Then my roommate sean comes in, his real name is ehtesham. I ask him if anything happend at work. My company right now is having major problems. The titled instructors haven't gotten paid yet. I've been a little stressed lately because I might not get paid next month or the month after. And the management of the company has kept everyone in the dark. I have a new job, but not until November, which means I won't get paid until December.
And I just spent my savings to rent an apartment. But this is life. Its all part of
the experience. What are you made of? Is money all that important?

So I take a shower. While I was in there I was having visions of not getting paid. I was visualizing myself going to the head office and trying to get paid. But they didn't give a damn because I chose to work for a different company. "Traitor!"

Then I got dressed. I gathered my things. I put on my shoes with a shoe horn. "fag", and went out the door. When I got outside my building a man wearing black pants, gucci belt and a white shirt was passing by. I instantly felt the heat. Its September and its still pretty hot. I walked to the station and noticed the train was about to arrive. I hustled up the stairs to the platform. The train came, I got on, and 2 stops later got off and transfered to another train. While I was on the train, I sent an email to Rob, about all the people I saw on the train. It was the usual crowd of people glued to their cellphone screens and looking well dressed. About 8 stops later I got off at Daikanyama.

sixty-eight footsteps

My day begins much like it ends; peacefully asleep.

i awake at 2:30am to the sound of my son Yuune’s voice; a gentle-half sleeping cry. Aya and i change his diaper, Aya nurses him, and the three of us drift back off to sleep.

5:30am; Yuune’s gentle cry returns. Recently he always wakes up at this time, we call it his “prime-time.” i change his diaper. He thanks me with a smile and a giggle. i sit and marvel at his face, his hands, his feet, his tummy, his smile, his voice. The sun begins to rise; the sky a beautiful arrangement of dark blues and subtle yellows. He smiles at me, laughs and giggles more, we play together; i kiss his tummy and tickle him. His laughter makes me feel like crying, like I am being ambushed with love and joy. He starts to cry and Aya wakes up to nurse Yuune again. The three of us lay in bed and drift off to sleep, again.

I wake up again around 7:30am to Yuune crying. Aya and my mother are already up. I awaken. Stand up. My feet take a step from the futon of my previous slumber to the tatami mats of our bedroom, and my day continues...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/14191784@N02/sets/72157602174320955/show/

(Follow this link to view a slide show of the rest of my day. All of the slides should have comments, but if you don't see any, click the options link and check the 'always show titles and descriptions' box.)

By the way, Cheers to Life!!