If It Feels Good Do It

TAKEOFF

I saw A. Remember A? The girl I met that one time in Vegas? She was even more hilarious than I remembered. But her boyfriend did not look particularly amused by my presence. He was decorated with a Leatherface tattoo. And others.

They were visiting San Francisco. After I took BART home I had dinner with Nicole, my sweet sweet Taiwanese ex ex girlfriend. And tried not to think about making out with her. And failed.

“Be careful in Japan and especially Taiwan because those bitches are crazy.”

That’s the last thing she said to me. And before all of that, earlier in the day, I spent a few hours with this girl I’m like, totally in love with. So much ambiguity, so little time.

I packed somehow. But as usual for that week I got about four hours of sleep.

“I love California wine and French girls.”

The Indian guy on the plane next to me loved that joke. It was a joke because I don’t really love California wine. But man, I do love French girls. Or well, a French girl. I didn’t know she was French! I fell in love with her first.

LANDING

It was cold, and bright. I was in a dream world with Taka and Tomomi. We drove through rice paddies to Matsudo. Matsudo is near Tokyo. And into a restaurant we went to meet Taka’s brother and his brother’s wife.

I’ve heard someone say — wait — I’m going to somehow tie three thoughts together. At least I think I will. Let me see if I can do it. People accuse me sometimes of having Asian fetish. To which I reply, it’s not so much that I like Asian girls, it’s that Asian girls like me. Similarly, it’s not so much that I like Japan, although I do, it’s that Japan likes me. Oh and I’ve heard that — wait — I heard what? I forgot. Shit. There goes one thought. Doesn’t look like I’ll be able to successfully tie three thoughts together. Actually, did I even successfully tie two thoughts together? Let me answer that question with a question: who the fuck cares?

Anyways, back to my point. I appologize the interruption and we now return to the regularly scheduled irrelevance. Just kidding, I don’t appologize. I say whatever the fuck I want.

So des ne? Hai, so des yo.

Anyways, promptly upon entry to the restaurant we ordered the first draft beer. Kirin in a — oh wait — I remember that other thought.

I’ve heard people say that one thing they don’t like about Japan is that when you hang out in a family situation you often need to sit in a smoky room and be around drunk people. And if you don’t drink, you sort of like, don’t fit in.

Man. There is not much in the world that I like as much sitting at a table and being drunk. Throw eating and smoking into the mix and we are talking one hell of a godddamn good time.

So we sat at the table. We ate. We drank. We smoked. We caught up.

And it was good.

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