Of Brothels and Hot soup

A dark alley, the middle of the evening. It gets dark early around here. The sun seems to know the kind of people that it oversees. These are nig ht dwellers, and he knows he is not wanted around them. He retires early, as if to let the creatures of the darkness go about their business unmolested.

In the blackened streets debauchery can be seen in every direction. Street vendors of various degrees of legality, with their quick-roll matts filled with goods, mostly illegitimate, but things fall off the backs of trucks quite frequently around here. Gambling parlours where husbands abandon their happy lives to make room for the glint of the only love most will ever know in this cruel world.

Offset from view just a bit lies a sign, a vague neon glow emanating from it, as if its too tired to try for your attention anymore. It doesn't need to try though; its customers know that it's there, and word of mouth is more than enough. Lonely souls enter, full pockets and empty hopes. Poor souls leave with broken pride and thoughts of why it will never get better.

I walk on by. Make no eye contact. Keep moving. This is not your place. It is not your town. These are not your people and this is not your life. Keep walking.

I make it to my destination. The man at the counter gives me a curious look. He can tell I don't belong here, but that's not his concern. He reaches over the counter with a bowl of hot soup. It's delicious. It's gone.

I pay the man and mutter a thank you. I look dead ahead, seeing nothing but the lights out of the corners of my eyes, screaming for my attention but I pay them none. I have a destination. It's not this place.

I make it to the bus stop. People speak in a strange language around me as I wait, a strange language that I can vaguely understand. They wouldn't care if they knew. People will talk about anything in public.

The bus comes. It's a long ride in the darkness. But I can escape. Escape to my asylum, where I can pound on the walls, scratch off the paint. Yell at the voices in my head. Cry out in desperation and loneliness, shouting at the cold world.

But at least here it all makes sense.







Hehe that was fun. But seriously, I went to You Me town. Was supposed to go to karaoke, but JM had to study and do homework and such, so that was called off. I was supposed to meet Yuan there, but it just didn't happen. Got on the wrong bus or we just missed each other or SOMETHING.

I went shopping for some kids manga to practice my Japanese, and I ended up getting Yotsuba& volume 2, and a Super Mario Bros manga. So yeah, pretty neat. And they cost like a third of what they do in America, so thats pretty cool. Ran into some people I knew and we parted ways, but I eventually did find Yuan and some other people from Senjinkai and we wandered around You me town for a bit. Note: for some reason, Japanese kids enjoy running. A LOT. FOR NO REASON. And the parents don't care. It's insane. These kids will run like 8 stores down and back. In America the parents would drop to their knees in tears thinking the kids will get snatched up if they get 20 feet from their leash. Insanity.

Went to a real ramen shop with senjinkai and it was pretty good. Apparently it was supposed to be AWESOME but I'll reserve my judgement until I try other places. My American palate doesn't love the same things that these Japanese people do, so I'll probably fall in love with a completely different dish. And I DID find a Chinese restaurant, so hopefully I can get there soon. Yay.

But on brothels: yeah. Found one. Apparently I've walked past it like....40 times. And never knew it, cause I didn't care too. Yuan knows everything about it, and I'm too polite to ask why. Apparently all the women who work there are late teens, early 20's and very pretty and 100 dollars will buy you 20 minutes with a lady. That HARDLY seems worth it.

Also, it's called Play Station. Take a minute to laugh and then moan that you'll never be able to play video games without thinking about prostitution again.

Also: BBQ pringles. Oh comfort food, how I love thee.

I tried my hand at cooking again today. French Toast this time. And then I burned my hand. Yeah... go me. Apparently you're not supposed to stabilize pans while you're cooking things. I guess they're hot or something, I dunno. I'm not a scientist.

Three more weeks and then I'm done bitching about classes. I can't wait.

That's all for now. Pictures later, camera died again (RICHAAAAAARDS!)