Occasionally, I will wake up the next morning after I engage in drunk writing and draft my blogs without even re-reading them. When i wake up feeling yucky, it usually floods suddenly into my morning grogginess that I stood at my computer the night before and wrote uninhibitedly. These mornings scare the shit out of me.
I suppose this comes from knowing myself and my tendencies to become uncouthly candid during these moments and when coupled with my inability to remember, turns to fright. So I'll sign back on, and draft. Without reading, of course. Luckily after a few days, my embarrassment fades, and I can return and review. I suppose that my normal, sober writing self is extremely censored due to knowing who my audience may be. Of course, my family will read this at times, and send me an email out of the blue, refering to something I never directly told them. Then I remember that I sent out a mass email to everyone I knew when I moved to Japan, telling them that there is no need to worry about my safety or well-being here in Japan as long as they see that I've posted in the last few days.
So maybe my rambled fondness for windy days and drug use isn't the best reading material for most folks, but honestly, "I'm a 28 yr old man, and I can eat chicken sandwiches if I want to". Anyone know where that's from? Well, if you accompanied me during those Berkeley-infested days, you'll know. It was my catchphrase for years. Okay, so I am fully aware of scattered display of inappropiate subject matter.
So Eko died. And both Michael and Walt have left the island as well. What the fuck's up with that? Do you see where I'm going with this? Well, do ya, punk?
Right now, I am again smoking in my house, and I hate it. I don't want to smoke anymore. In about 8 months, it will be my 10th anniversary of tar ingestion. And this disgusts me. Also, I am missing home. I didn't think that I'd have the desire to visit during the holidays, yet all I can think about is how nice it would be to walk out of LAX, and have my mom's luxurious van come into view and hug my family. See, in my newly developed fantasy, I see my mom driving, my brother riding shotgun, and Rayna poking her head out of the back window. The van stops, and they get out of the car despite the man with whistle blowing it into my mom's face. We hug and put my bags into the back, and we drive off as I am too excited and begin opening my luggage and giving them their bottles of sake, absinthe, and wrapped omiyage. I bring perishable goods, just because i can, and they scoff at the soba. I then tell them that they won't be scoffing once I prepare it with ebi and nasu tempura. My sister will get especially excited when I bring out all the different origami animals that my students made. "Wow", she'll say. And "Sugoi", I will correct her.
On our drive home, I will see the DelTaco sign from the freeway, and of course, my mom will veer onto the offramp. I mean, I am the guest of honor, correct? We'll go through the drive-thru and I will grow full after half of my 7-layer burrito. "My stomach hurts," I'll say, but soon we will arrive home. Once there, Ray will have gotten off of work, give me a hug and hand me a Corona. It is here, that we will begin. After a few hours of chatting on lawn chairs in the backyard, my mom will offer to make me a tamale. I made 3 kinds, she'll say. Beef, pork, and green pepper with cheese. We all know I'll want the cheese. Soon, my dad will have arrived with Cynthia, as he has just come home from work. We will continue to chat, and then I will sleep.
My timing will be all screwed up, and I will sleep until 2pm. But no one will even dare try to wake me since I am recovering from JET lag...hahaha, get it? Once up, I will have missed messages on my phone from my friends from home with messages asking me when I'm coming over. I return their calls, and say "Tonight". The week continues in a similar fashion of cycles of having me reach into my bag and surprising them with fantastic gifts from the far east. After a few days in, I will visit Target. Here, I will purchase about 5 bottles of my favorite flavor crystalled toothpaste, Secret baby powder deoderant, hoodies of every color, and thermals. Next, I will drive my mom's stick shift Jeep over to Trader Joes and buy 2 bottles of my Dr. Bronner's lavender body wash. Of course, I'll throw a Nicoise salad, Emer-gen-C's, and Calistoga bubble waters into the basket. After this shopping journey, I will stop at my brother's house, and drink some Charles' Shaw and play guitar. We will engage in ship-shod Karaoke, and of course Janine and Kenny will then arrive. We may go see a movie, or perhaps rent videos, and smoke pot. From that point on, I will be stoned until my butt gets back onto my plane back to Nihon. Of course, I will make my rounds to all the families' holiday affairs, but I cannot promise to be sober. Not on a vacation away from Japan, and should you spend enough time here, you can understand the effect that potless country can have on a person such as myself.
This fantasy will probably not make its way into fruition. And the reason lies in the fact that I only have a limited amount of opportunities to visit places like Thailand, China, Korea, Russia, etc. Should I succumb to my sentimentalities, then I will only allow for these opportunities to fade into regret. And if there is one thing I fear more than attachment, it is regret. I shall never succumb to that, again.
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