Mina snapped this manjushage (pronounced man-joo-sha-gay) up on the banks of the dirty smelly Shin Horikawa canal on her way back from taking her van for its annual inspection over at the local Toyota dealership this mid-morning. It was sunny and a bit less oppressively humid today, our second of western calendar Autumn, 2023.
As my 29th summer in Losersville winds down, I'm once again taking stock of the minutiae of almost three decades spent on these shores.
Half a lifetime, and I still haven't truly mastered the language. I really had the best of intentions at first...but life and its myriad distractions and demands seemed to constantly get in the way. I lost focus, then inevitably just sort of gave up. Not that I haven't amassed an impressive enough basic vocabulary, and the pantomime chops to somehow make it all work.
Alas...thirty four years since I first set foot on these shores, when push comes to shove and I need to say something of any actual import, I can still barely string a coherent sentence together. It's kind of a shame.
Fortunately, recent advances in technology have provided certain tools with which such lexical gaps can sort of be filled (the emphasis being on 'sort of'), but I don't really believe that the dubious wonders of A.I. can ever truly exceed those of the good old grey matter packed between our ears. I still refuse to carry a smartphone, neither do I tend not to haul my iPad around everywhere I go (since it's a Wi-Fi only model, and not that reliable if I'm outside of the curiously decreasing number of free Wi-Fi 'hot-spots' dotting the so-called 'post COVID' landscape in these parts).
Hence, these magical new translation apps do me little-to-no-good at all on the increasingly limited occasions that I'm out actually out on the go.
Somehow, my questionable grey matter and limited pantomime Nihongo continue to pull me though most predicaments, as they always have.
Technology can't bestow any class of 'cultural awareness', either. That can only be gained through experience, and time spent. Even then, some people seem to be effectively 'teflon-coated' against absorbing anything of that sort. While they'll gradually pick up the mechanical basics of the language, the culture itself remains perpetually anathema to them.
This all leads me to wonder... which is more important?
Sensitivity and understanding or rote technical ability?
The natives make a big deal of their culture. When it comes to interacting with outsiders, its used as a go-to excuse for everything. If things go sideways with gaijin, natives will often cite the foreign party's lack of cultural awareness as the main culprit...even if it's really not an issue.
"Of course, foreigners can't be expected to understand the nuances of our language, traditions and distinct, ancient culture...", etc, etc.
In a pinch, this can be a convenient strategy for natives to escape any potential culpability for problems at hand, which can be frustrating when It's obvious that the Japanese party is in the wrong. While natives clinging to their assertions that the blame simply lies on said gaijin's lack of any ability to understand 'the unique Japanese way of doing things' does allow the foreigner(s) involved a sort of 'benefit of the doubt' escape hatch, it can also come across as extremely condescending...even infuriating.
Nobody appreciates being condescended to.
There's a degree of entitlement and exceptionalism over here that seems to rival only that of the Americans. A lot of Japanese seem to believe that their culture and customs are not only inherently superior, but unique to the point of being esoteric...thus next to impossible for less advanced gaikokujin (outsiders) to comprehend.
It's odd, because just about every legacy aspect of the local culture originated in either Korea or China (by way of Korea), both of which qualified as foreign countries the last time I checked.
Of course, ardent Japanese nationalists like to dispute this whenever possible, but historical and archeological records don't lie. The Japanese still use the Chinese kanji character system, in addition to the native kana (hiragana and katakana), and romaji (the roman alphabet) character sets. While the meanings of 'Japanese kanji' diverge somewhat from those of the original Chinese characters, it's origin is undeniable.
As for contemporary 'tech Japan', aside from compact discs, they really haven't come up with anything wholly original at all.
Naturally, so inclined J-natives continue to do their bit adapting and modifying whatever they can get their hands on. Sometimes they improve things to the point that a new standard is set. Other times, not so much.
Whether it's 'ethnic cuisine', pop music, pharmaceuticals or tech devices - it all needs to be modified and reworked to suit the tastes of discerning domestic consumers. At best, the Japanese have always excelled at taking the ideas of others and 'refining', remixing and re-tooling them to the point they sometimes become almost wholly transformed.
Sadly, they aren't so hot at creating, or inventing anything from scratch.
Over at Insecthead's kindergarten, I do this song and dance activity called 'Choose an Action'. I've got it on a cd-r, and have been using it with the four and five year old classes for years and years. The point of the activity is to get the kids moving and using their imaginations. This is more of a challenge than one might imagine.
Everyone has to think of an original action that everyone can join in on. The possibilities for fun and hilarity are boundless.
The group forms a big circle, and a volunteer is chosen to go to the centre. Everyone starts clapping as the song starts, and about fifteen seconds in, it's 'action time'. The kid in the centre can do whatever 'action' he or she likes, and everyone is supposed to copy along. After about ten seconds, on the song's cue, the kid in the middle has to wrap it up and tag someone else...and the whole thing repeats. We always start with a girl, and the rule is girls tag boys, and vice versa. There's enough time for six or seven switch overs before it winds down.
Before we do the song, we warm up and go over the activity's three rules.
Rule #1 is 'No chickens'. That means, if you get chosen, you have to go to the centre and do your best. No running away or making excuses.
Rule #2 is 'No Copy Cats'. If someone's action is jumping, then jumping (as a viable 'action') is finished. You have to pay attention to what's going on, and if you get chosen, you need to come up with something different. Just copying what the last person did is a no-no.
Rule #3 is 'Hurry up!' Be ready, and act fast. Don't stand there with your mouth hanging open wondering what to do.
After about five seconds, the group will start chanting, 'Hurry up! Hurry up!' (or 'No Copycats!'/'No Chickens!') to ensure that things keep moving along within the parameters of the activity. The kids seem to dig the chanting and shouting part, anyways.
It's a fun activity...but even in to the second year of doing it, some kids totally freeze. Their first instinct is to copy what the person who tagged them did. Barring that, they have absolutely no idea what to do. In desperation, they'll look to the teachers for some kind of hint or model action...because apparently the cupboard is bare.
Inevitably, one of the Japanese teachers has to rush to the centre, and literally make them clap (by jerking their limp arms together) or turn them around in a circle before the song cue signals its time to tag a new person - which the Japanese teacher has to make them do, by dragging them over and making their hand touch a classmate's. This is more common place in the four year old's group...but it always happens once or twice each go round with the fives, as well.
Last week one five year old kid refused a hand tag, and actually sat down and started sobbing right in the middle of the activity.
Awkward.
It strikes me as weird. The kids can do ANYTHING, no matter how odd or ridiculous...and their classmates have to copy. The sky is the limit. Granted, the odd kid will occasionally surprise everyone and do something genuinely original - but it's a rarer occurrence than one might think.
To me, it's kind of sad that by the age of four or five, some of them have already been conditioned to just wait passively for the teacher to model an activity, then simply copy the given example. They won't improvise. Put in to a situation that might seem like good fun, some of them seize up and melt down. It becomes less a fun exercise, than a struggle.
In some cases it ends up being more traumatic than enjoyable.
Which brings us back to the ramshackle state of my spoken Japanese almost three decades in.
The kindergarten crew seem to understand it just fine. They listen better than the Canadian kids I worked with decades ago did - and we all spoke basically the same language (minus the barrage colourful, adult-oriented expletives constantly being hurled around).
As at home, I tend to mix it up at Insecthead's, so what comes out is some kind of unholy blend of simplified English and Japanese. It's my attempt to add helpful 'subtitles' where necessary or appropriate. It seems to be a successful strategy. If nothing else, it greases the wheels a bit, and keeps things moving.
This wasn't recommended when I first started teaching. The overlords at my first school would insist that I avoid speaking Japanese at all costs - which was easy enough, because I actually couldn't manage more than a few phrases. The idea was to give the students no choice but to figure out my English...which is of the Canadian variety - widely preferred among natives as it's apparently clean, palatable and easier for them to latch on to than some other commonly available variations (like what the Australians bandy about).
Fast forward thirty years, and I'm not so sure about the integrity of my product anymore. Some of the shit that comes out of my mouth these days is a real mess.
Slang English and Japanese...all smashed together. It's become something of a challenge to string a normal, grammatically sound purely English language sentence together on the fly. I can't figure out whether it's a post-COVID 'brain melt' after effect, or the result of years and years of not interacting with other native speakers on a regular basis.
When I'm online - texting or blogging - I have the luxury of being able to edit and proofread my communiques and dispatches before I click 'send' or 'publish'.
Recently Mina likes to claim that she's 'broken' my English. Occasionally, I'll make some grammatical error so heinous that she'll text my sister in Canada to regale her on how 'broken' my English is. This seems to be terribly amusing to everyone but me. It's actually started to make me feel a bit self-conscious and insecure.
It must really be fucked if Mina thinks it sounds messed up. Like the old saying goes...'if you don't use it, you lose it', I guess.
Aside from my limited daily doses of Japanese language news programs and prime time variety fare, the media I consume on a regular basis is all streamed in English. News broadcasts, music, movies and TV shows. There's always something in my mother-tongue rattling around in the background. I don't talk much at all, though...unless it's muttering to myself, or cussing at random people on my morning run. Funny. I used to be a real mouthpiece back in day.
I wonder if calling someone a 'cunt' or 'fucking idiot' ( just barely under my breath) actually qualifies as talking?
Of course, Mina and I chat in the morning and in the evening...but that's in 'our language', which is some kind of mash up of slang-laden English and simple 'kitchen' Japanese.
I'm sure a lot of mixed race couples do the same thing at home. Instead of settling on one language or the other, they ultimately kind of meet up in the linguistic middle, and settle on a common 'working dialect', utilizing the simplest; most user friendly elements of both languages - along with a generous helping of the fun stuff...plenty of expletives, slang and a generous helping of pantomime. Of course, almost all conventional grammar rules go right out the window. Some things are easier to say in English, and others seem more natural in Japanese.
When in doubt, we just swear a lot. English is clearly the winner as far as as fun and colourful profanity goes.
In Japanese, they usually resort to something like 'bakayaro!' (dumbass/idiot guy). It's serviceable...but just not as satisfying as 'fucking cunt!', or something along those lines.
To discerning outside ears, I'm sure listening to us go back forth for an length of time is something akin to witnessing a slow motion lexical freeway pile up.
Then there's the semi-weekly kindergarten classes...and a couple of hours with Ashtray Face Lady's Scrappin' Tweens.
Those two don't give a shit though. They're usually too busy slapping each other around or sneaking looks at their handsets under the table to take much notice of whether my English is up to snuff or not.
I suppose it's little wonder my formerly 'model' (sic) spoken English has started going to seed and deteriorating like some untended vacant residential lot (purchased by offshore parties purely for investment purposes), as Mina claims.
Those places are an eyesore, and bring all the neighbour's property values down.
* * * *
As for the waning of summer 2023 in Deadbeat City, just over a week out from the autumn solstice, and it's still almost 35C at 2pm. It's jungle humid, too.
For the last month and a half I've been coming back from my 10km arse haul up the canal absolutely drenched in sweat. It's like I stood in a shower, or jumped fully clothed into a swimming pool. I can literally wring it out of my shirt and shorts.
The mornings have finally started to cool off a bit. Today it was 23C at 4:45 am. By 11:00 am it's up to around 30C. I think there were a few days in late July/early August that it got up to around 40C by noon. That means street temperatures were closer to 43 or 44C. I thought I had COVID again at one point, though it became apparent that I had likely just over done it out running the canal course. After a few days of down-time and hydration, I was alright. Heat stroke has become a real seasonal problem over here. It takes a week or ten days for my body to adjust to extreme heat like that. Weather changes come on on suddenly over here, too. Seasons tend to flip overnight.
One day it's 28C...the next day 38. Winter hits in the same way. One day it's 18C...the next day it's friggin' 8.
For the last few weeks we've been subject to the annual late summer/early autumn typhoon season. It came on a bit sooner than usual this year (almost two weeks before the mid-August Obon holiday period).
Rainy season had barely finished when the storms started flying at us from the central/south pacific toward the end of July. This business usually carries on straight through to the third week of October, but since everything seems to be happening about ten days earlier than normal this year, it's really anyone's guess.
Thanks to El Nino, we're apparently in for an extended spate of abnormally hot weather, which suits me fine. The humidity is a bit much, but I'll take it over dry, cold winter conditions anytime.
We just finished with Typhoon #14 last week. Last year there were 22. Typically, three to five will make landfall on the main islands between mid-July and late October.
In 2016, six made it this far. It seems that we've had three big ones hit already, but they've all fallen short of, or skirted completely around Losersville. Typhoons over here wreak havoc and destruction, and really fuck everything up. They're also highly unpredictable. They can change course unexpectedly, and even execute u-turns, effectively back-tracking and revisiting already ravaged areas for second and even third going overs.
Okinawa experienced one like that in early August. Some places got it three times before it finally split for Korea. I'm sure they're still mopping up.
It was another summer of COVID over here. I guess this is the way it's going to be from here on out. No one can be arsed to wear masks anymore, either. It seems like un-masked anti-maskers now account for 70-80% of the foot traffic in shopping areas and retail spaces. I guess the idea is that if the masses pretend it's not there, then maybe it isn't...until people start getting sick.
The government hasn't been much of help at all. The Japan Medical Association announced the onset of the 9th wave of the pandemic back in early July, when Okinawa was being ravaged by the virus for what seemed like the umpteenth time in three years, but the men in grey in the Tokyo dithered and twiddled their thumbs, ultimately refusing to endorse the statement.
It seems that they were more concerned about COVID worries putting a damper on the economy's first no-holds-barred summer vacation money grab since 2019 than vulnerable people getting taken down.
At the end of April they also effectively downgraded the official classification of the virus from 'category 2' (dangerous, requiring special precautions), to 'category 5' (akin to seasonal influenza). Not only would this move permit them to lift all restrictions and vaccine requirements on foreign travelers at airports, but also get them off the hook as far as having to foot the bill for COVID testing at clinics and hospitals.
The result has been sadly predictable. A lot people who probably should get tested, aren't bothering - because they don't want to pay. They get infected, and simply carry on with their daily routines - sans masks, of course.
As you might expect, they do a pretty bang-up job of infecting everyone in their path and wake. In some cases, they recover...in others, they finally get so sick that they require hospitalization.
Moving forward, the simultaneous repeal of the government's mask recommendations and 'requests', has allowed the natives to make their own decisions as to whether or not they want to bother covering their faces in public spaces. Never trust the natives to make their own choices...because they can't. These people have been conditioned from childhood to follow instructions. To "... just wait passively for the teacher to model an activity, then simply copy the given example", just like in my earlier bit about the kindergarten kids - only they're adults now, waiting for the government to tell them what to do. Patterns established at that young age persist through adulthood. A shocking number of the indigenous lot can't think for themselves.
While a lot of retailers and businesses still request their to staff mask up, many aren't...including Insecthead's kindergarten. This is a bit surprising, considering the drubbing they were dealt by the virus over the past three years.
Up until three weeks ago, the only remaining maskers were 'the office staff' - a couple of semi-retired part-time obasan (late middle aged 'aunties') that diddle around on the computers, the Insect family, and myself. Now Insecthead appears to have shed his mask, too.
That's a real head shaker, because for the last week, the aggressive spread of the virus has been at the top of all the internet feeds and TV news programs.
It appears that two months after The Japan Medical Association announced the start of the 9th wave of infections, the government are finally admitting that they have a bit of a growing problem on their hands. I guess with the summer money grab finally over and done with, there's less profit at risk just now...meaning it's OK to talk about the woeful state of affairs, vis-a-vis the worsening public health situation. It's not only two aggressive new strains of COVID wreaking havoc either.
Apparently flu season has also started in earnest...three months early.
In any case, Insecthead looks pleased with himself, perched behind the counter in the corner office like some class of flesh-toned praying mantis, clack-clacking away...a haughty look on his buggy looking face. He tries to elicit conversation as I go to sign for my cash envelope after I finish my class, and I make my best effort to keep him as far away from me as possible. I don't relish the idea of being doused with his potentially infected virus shedding droplets. He's also well aware of my position on masking at the school. It wouldn't be the first time he's deliberately pushed my buttons.
While he could require that the teachers mask up in class, he's chosen not to...claiming that the government mandate on 'freedom to determine when, where and whether to mask' extends to the workplace, even though it's clear that employers have the latitude to determine their own company mask policies.
When TV crews venture into other local kindergartens to film spots for their morning and evening broadcasts, it strikes me that while almost all of the students are bare-faced, the school staff remain masked up. It's the same story at local supermarkets, food vendors, medical facilities, and government offices.
Curiously, Insect wife and daughter have elected to continue masking up in the office. I'm not sure what kind of point The Insect Patriarch is trying to make, especially since these new, more aggressive variants have been driving infection numbers to roughly the same level they were at during the peak of the 8th wave, in early January.
Then there's the aforementioned influenza outbreak shutting down local schools and kindergartens over the last couple of weeks. One more reason to request staff to mask up in the classroom, one might think.
Maybe he's decided that this is going to be where he plants his misbegotten Hinomaru and makes a stand, to assert his right to go barefaced into the fire. His personal Mt. Suribachi, if you will.
What a douche.
Things have been pretty bad over at Mina's workplace. Assigned COVID beds have been fully occupied since early August, and more staff are falling ill, putting extra pressure on everyone else to keep things running smoothly.
It was chaos in the parking lot outside of my CPAP doctor's clinic a few weeks ago. Every second car was waiting for a PPE clad tester to come out and perform a nasal swab test on the driver or occupants. I asked Dr. Cauliflower Ears what the situation was, and he said 'severe', with no hesitation. He also said that he fully expected things to get worse before they started getting better.
So...here we are. People running around the supermarket coughing and sneezing without masks on, and refusing COVID boosters...then declining antigen tests because they're no longer on the government's dime, and crying foul when they finally catch the virus, or end up in the hospital.
It's exhausting. I'm so over dealing with all these entitled fucking idiots.
Our strategy is to stay the course. Get the boosters as they become available. The new shots should be rolling out late next week. Mask up indoors, or in congested areas. Avoid crowds. Social distance. Wash and sanitize our hands frequently...and continue living like fucking hermits.
Aside from an overnight jaunt out to Nagahama during Obon to attend Mina's father's annual memorial and visit the family plot out at the cemetery in her hometown, we didn't go anywhere or do anything.
The drive out to Shiga was nice. The weather co-operated, and it was good to get out of Losersville, if even for just a night. We stayed at a shit business hotel...a place we've used before. The room was small, and the building was clad in scaffolding much like our danchii was for most of last year. Fortunately, the renovation monkeys were off for the holidays, so we didn't need to deal with any early morning banging, drilling, or unwashed construction monkeys leering in our window at 8:00 am.
We went out for Chinese food in the evening. They'd remodeled the local Gyoza Oh-Sho, so we pulled in early and beat the evening rush. It was the first time we'd eaten out this year. After supper, we had a lovely sunset drive around Lake Biwako, and even discussed possibly making a move out to Nagahama after Mina retires. That's all a bit distant and uncertain at this point...but not out of the realm of possibility.
The family aspect was awkward and uncomfortable. There's a lot of mutual hate and resentment there. I knew the score going in, so it was really no surprise.
Curt, minimal greetings were exchanged with Terrorist Mayumi and The Old Lady. As usual, Surly Sumo Son and his loathsome crew didn't even make eye contact...granting me de facto invisibility. This is nothing new, either. We've all hated each other from the very start.
The whole painful exercise lasted a little more than an hour between the cemetery visit and the priest's service over at the local temple. I excused myself to use the men's room after the priest finished his speech, and when I got outside, Mina was waiting in the van...and everyone else had split. No need to deal with phony 'good-bye' pleasantries and so forth. It seems that I've sealed my position as the family's 'white pariah'.
Good enough.
Saturday was Old Lady Service Day in these parts for the first time since the Christmas debacle last year. I guess Mina felt obligated to do something, as okasan's birthday was on Sunday. I think Terrorist Mayumi had originally wanted Mina to help her haul the Old Lady out to meet up with her even older 'eternal battle-axe' sisters, but Mina expressed no desire to sign on for anything that would entail an over-night commitment, so the plan was scuttled.
While The Old Lady and I basically hate each other, I have no desire to keep Mina from spending time with her. Of course, my preference is that she doesn't stay over night, and since this was to be a strictly 'day service' arrangement, I had no issues. Mina went out to Mayumi's early Saturday morning to collect her mother. I had to go out and teach Ashtray Face Lady's Scrappin' Tweens for an hour before noon. Mina dropped okasan off here, then picked me up at the kid's danchii. We went out to the local specialty supermarket to get some unagi (bbq eel) take out for *Ba-ba's lunch, and came back to get the feeding done.
*(Ba-ba is an abbreviation for obasan (old lady), and a common Japanese slang for 'gnarly old woman'. By extension, ji-ji is similarly abbreviated from 'oji-san', meaning 'old man', and used when referring to pain-in-the ass old men).
That went alright...with the exception of the Old Lady staring at me, which I did my best to try to ignore. She has a habit of doing that, and it's always creeped me out. I'd just shaved the evening before, and I'm self conscious of the surgery scar on my right cheek, which is still pretty noticeable. I typically only shave once a week, and my accumulating stubble growth tends to camouflage it pretty good - but clean shaven, it's pretty easy to see.
When I go out shopping or to teach, I generally wear a mask, so I don't have to worry about it. I hoped that she wouldn't point it out or comment. Of course, she has no idea that I'd had that surgery or anything about my skin cancer business.
It's basic policy on either side of the family to keep 'ba-ba' in the dark as to things like this. Nobody has the patience or energy to listen to her commentary or grousing. Fortunately, she didn't say anything. Just stared at me while I ate. I promised Mina that I'd suck it up, on account of it being the Old Lady's birthday service thing, and that's exactly what I did.
After lunch, they went off to the local Aeon Mall for a few hours, so there was peace and quiet.
I think their goal was to get cosmetics from DHC for the Old Lady, but they couldn't get what they were looking for at the shop, and finally ended up having to order the stuff she wanted online to take advantage of some kind discount offer.
They got back just shy of 5pm. I felt sorry for Mina, having to go over there and waste a bunch of time, okasan in tow.
The original plan was to put 'ba-ba' in an early bath over here, so as not to throw off the Fat Surly's bathing schedule over at Terrorist Mayumi's, then feed her some fancy fig pudding that we'd picked up at the fruit tarte boutique earlier, and take her back. We'd even picked up a couple of choice items and ear-marked a bottle of wine for our post-Old Lady Service Day dinner.
Alas, 'the best laid plans of mice and men' and so on. Mina got ba-ba's bath water going right after they got back, and it was full and ready to go just before 5:30...but the Old Lady wasn't having any part of it.
Mina told her to go to the bath over and over again...but okasan just wanted to sit on the couch and kill time.
Our time. She'd pulled the same thing on Christmas Eve.
Typical selfish bullshit.
It must have been at least an hour later that she dragged her arse into the bath room. Then she dilly-dallied and took her time. Of course Mina had to service her on top it all. It was past 7:30 by the time she was ready for her fucking fig pudding. My patience had pretty much taken flight at this point, but I was determined to bite down on it, and live up to my earlier pledge to 'suck it up'. In lieu of singing any songs or lighting candles, we simply gave her the fig pudding and a spoon, and wished her 'a happy birthday'.
It was past 8pm by the time Mina got her out the door, and close to 9:30 when she finally got back from Terrorist Mayumi's.
Apparently that cunt was in a foul, sarcastic mood as well.
Long story short, by the time Mina had finished her bath, it was past 10 pm, and a bit too late for the wine and dinner stuff we'd bought. We decided to keep it in fridge for Sunday. We were both spent. I'd been up since 5:45, and was starting to fade.
We had some ice cream cups from the freezer, and as Mina was clearing up, she noticed a piece of paper folded into a make-shift envelope stuck in the tissue box at the end of the kitchen table. She yanked it out, and held it up for me to see.
'Shit. Again.'
Of course, the Old Lady had stuck money in the folded sheet of printer paper, and scrawled a note inside saying 'thank-you'.
Fuck. Again, indeed.
Mina's got on her case for pulling stunts like this over and over again. The last time she did this was on Christmas Eve, and Mina pushed it back at her. Things went sideways so hard that day, that it ended up triggering a tectonic rift in the family, and ultimately a full on civil war. At the root of it all was the Old Lady's penchant for using money to game people and situations.
As a direct result of said debacle, her bi-monthly service weekends were effectively scrapped, and all kinds of hate and resentment continue to perpetuate and burble about between our two camps.
Saturday represented the first day she'd been invited back (albeit not over night) in almost 9 months.
Now this.
It's like she never learns.
Why would she pull the same stunt after all the bullshit her money games caused at the end of last year? Mina wanted to have her over for her birthday. Like it or not, she's family. Family do (nice) things for family, and tips or payment aren't required. I shudder to think what my late mother would have done had I tried to pay her for celebrating my birthday. I can't think of a bigger insult, actually. We aren't staff. This isn't a restaurant or hotel. We are family.
The whole premise cheapens our feeling and effort, and leaves a bad taste.
Ba-ba likes to bandy money around, usually in ¥10,000 denominations. She uses it to try to communicate her satisfaction and vice-versa. She pays for service that satisfies her, and underpays to show her contempt. She pays more to people she values, and less to those who displease her. I wonder what the point of throwing money at people to show her distaste is? It seems wasteful, at best. If I don't like someone, I don't give them anything. Maybe that's the point. I would have preferred nothing to being shorted on my birthday. Maybe I'm too delicate.
Perhaps, in a world largely beyond her control, it's her way of maybe getting attention...or attempting to make her presence felt. Either way, it's a puny plan.
Sadly, the Old Woman managed to dismantle any warmth or good will that Mina had hoped her 'day service' might beget.
Very disappointing. People truly never change.
Post ice cream, Mina and I had a good grumble, but were both to spent at that point to really get into it. 'Bed-ways' seemed to be 'best ways', as a wise old droog once said.
That's where we'll leave it for now. This weekend will bring the curtains down on a calendar summer that will go down as the hottest and most humid three month stretch I've spent in these precincts. Thus far we've been fortunate to avoid any serious slights from mother nature...but we've still got another month left before typhoon season gives way to full autumn.
Next month will see me back at the skin oncologist's getting my nose biopsied again, which isn't my most favourite thing to do... then just before Halloween and the festivities at Insecthead's, a visit from far flung family looks to be in the cards. It's been a very long time, and we're excited to see them.
I'm also hoping beyond hope that this COVID business cools out just a bit. For the last three years, mid-October to mid-November have been virally 'quiet'. Fingers crossed. After the shit show that's been 2023, it's nice to have something to look forward to.
Let's hope that my English hasn't deteriorated to the point that I can't string together anything more articulate than, 'Hey cunts!' for the duration of their visit.
Until next time, it's well worth remembering that no matter where you go...there you are.
There, and nowhere else.
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