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J O U R N A L
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Sunday, March 27
[.......]posted by peter at 22:18 .......Komazawa, Tokyo.
This will be my last post on this site.
Thanks for visiting. Thanks to Kyle for hosting it all. I should think that something else will come, someday.
:)
Anyway, this kitchen is closed.
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[When not working]posted by peter at 20:02 .......Super planning on my part, getting a three day weekend now when EVERYONE else has time off next week. Oh well, damage done and in some ways it couldn't be helped anyway.
Another ridiculous Tokyo debacle ensued last night after the only person who knew where the gig was forgot the map AND the name of the bar. Consequently we trudged about Ebisu in the rain, my scowl hidden behind a smile and a "no really, it's OK"...
Earlier in the day I had visited the Meguro Parasitological Museum, and of the manifold lessons I came away with, my primary two were:
(1) never live in the tropics
(2) don't eat meat...or some vile worm will get you in the guts. I also witnessed proof of the hideousness of birds, as a large diagram clearly showed how there is barely an atom on a bird's body that doesn't support some sort of parasitic or symbiotic organism. Help yourself to our feathered friends' friends.
Today Rose and I saw Bridget Jones's Diary 2, which of course came to Japan about 9 years after the rest of the world got it. And was it worth the wait? Kind of. I loved it, but it wasn't a patch on the first one.
Happy Easter anyway; there's not the slightest sign of it here. One wonders how the chocolate companies managed to overlook this one, I mean it's not as if spiritual significance is the primary element anywhere else in the world either.
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[Twinge]posted by peter at 11:57 .......And now, because of the skiing, my back has spasmed. Easily one of the worst words in the English language: spasm.
I have a spasm. Last night I attended a rock show with a back spasm. A spasm.
(Such a wonderful show and wonderful people and at least I wasn't mistaken for a girl this time.)
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[White powder]posted by peter at 21:27 .......As I gained momentum on the fair foothills of Mt Fuji today, my hair a trailing mouse grey cascade beneath the black beanie of a common criminal, a though struck me, more than a thought, a powerful realisation that no, I'm not really adept enough to tackle the moguls on skis... a silent curse sent to those who led me on the chairlift... and I walloped down in a frozen flurry, groin muscles stretched to frightening ends (thankyou gym), skis digging at ice (will I hit the tree?), pants of hybrid fabric wrenched up to let my leg graze the freshly melted and refrozen mountainside ('dignity day' out the window), sliding to a reluctant halt beside a group of children, my dark sunglasses still very much in place... I felt like some sort of hermit crab as I scrabbled to regain a semblance of footing beneath the looming Fuji and a cheeky pine tree, both of which seemed to smirk.
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T'was indeed a stunning location to ski, despite the cruddy snow condition. I have realised with skiing that I only enjoy the activity itself to a limited extent, and in fact it is the peripheral aspects such as fine views of alpine topography and miscellaneous hilarity with friends that I get so much more out of. Of these two aspects, I can do the latter in a cafe anytime I like, which saves a lot of money and physical exertion.
So Jaye thought it was a wonderful idea to take me to see The Grudge last night, which freaked the begoodness out of me... luckily all this terror could be remedied with a horrifically oversized plate of pasta at a second rate restaurant that would be worth a second visit if one wanted value for money and lots of difficulty expressing a desire for no animal content.
As I get older it is becoming easier and easier to complain about unfulfilled requests at restaurants, even in a second bloody language (as if I can call it that). Clearly I'm growing, more and more every day, I can damn well feel it.
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[A reef around me]posted by peter at 18:07 .......Ok so androgyny may well be the new black, but twice now I've been mistaken for an actual girl and maybe that's not so cool. It's one thing to doubt, another to make the call.
So I've thought long and hard and I've decided: I am going to get a straight perm. It's such an obvious necessity, being the only real way to keep my hair under control when things get humid. Noriko, who has wonderful hair AND lived in London for 7 years, has assured me that even the viscous heat of the Tokyo summer (should I happen to stay, which does seem to be looking more and more likely) won't touch me then.
Ahem.
And today's Valid Issue is...
What people do when they don't like you, or as it would seem [a 7-year case study]
- ignore / fail to reply to emails and messages. The two are subtly different as the first suggests active hatred whilst the latter suggests uncertainty, hesitation, confusion or discomfort, none of which seem particularly positive qualities.
- exclude you from conversation and group activities, whilst (before, during or after the event) being none too subtle about how much fun they are having without you.
- actively voice differences in opinion, particularly if the subject has a predetermined contentiousness. Often such occasions will signal a sudden and marked change in view, if only to raise the ire of the hated one.
- become defensive in ways hitherto unseen. Even the most innocuous comment can be perceived as a mortal threat.
- Wear their iPod earphones at all times while you are in the room.
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I've had a good week. Contemplating going to Hiroshima next Wednesday. I wonder would it only be worth moving to London if it were in time for summer? I don't think I want to move into a British winter. This all sounds so fucking trivial; everything is too easy so I can't help but invent problems for myself... is that it? Is that really it?
Hilarious.
Aren't I supposed to be more worried about stuff like share ownership and investment portfolios at this point in life?
No. That can be for the forties. Or beyond.
For now I will stick by my one reliable mantra: "Fuck you, I've got a plane to catch."
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[From the paper journal]posted by peter at 11:11 .......I no longer visit the vantage points. The city sparkles, as ever, from those hills in the south, in the north. At night it still floats.
But I live on the subway now.
It is not cold in the station, and I barely see the light of day. I know how the city is connected. The layout is schematic. Actual geography is a representation. Irrelevant.
The local park is bigger. One tiny leaf gets lost. Blossoms become a white sea, still, but not dead. Just not that interesting.
Don't ask me how the clouds are scattered today.
But I can talk to people now. Hold actual conversation, always hearing more than I speak.
Above it all the red lights blink, lonely signals to lonely craft, random, unsequenced, unnoticed. For the mystery has moved elsewhere, as so much else in life is uncharted.
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[If the earthquakes won't drive me]posted by peter at 19:02 .......In an attempt to reclaim some of the aforementioned 'spare time', I dragged Sareh on a bit of a walk through Tokyo today. We strolled the wooded path from Gaienmae to Shinjuku Gyoen, only to spend ages sitting on a park bench and therefore running out of time to see the main attractions of the park (ie. the formal Japanese garden).
Reminiscent of the time Sonia and I slogged out to a temple entrance in Kyoto, only to decide that we couldn't be bothered shelling out to see yet another temple. It was later that we discovered it was in fact Kinkakuji – the gold covered one – we had missed.
My motto for Japan: so close but so damn far.
So here, again, I present the big question: should late May / early June bring a move to London or herald another summer in Tokyo? Honestly, the question is killing me right now.
And it's not all about travel. This would not be a holiday. This would be a move. To live.
Do I continue to put a career on hold and stay abroad? [seeing as I've got all of, well, nothing to go back to] Do I endure a sweltering Tokyo to make the most of the world I have built here? [including friends, language, living spaces, Fuji Rock, potential life partners... oops, strike that last one off] Do I zoom off to London for a magnificent summer of rock festivals and a lame job behind a bar? [my hair is ready for London, if that's anything to go by]
Seriously, I cannot make up my mind. It really is a pathetic source of stress, but everything feels important now, and I feel like the clock is ticking that that's gross and untrue, but I don't know what life is meant to be about anymore.
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