Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Every once in a while, I have pangs of conscience asking whether or not I am fully justified through all this. Isn’t there some moral yardstick that would mark my actions as bad? It’s a moot point in any case, just an exercise, and if an answer had to be given, I think I am justified. The issue hit me hard involving, ironically, money. It was a fully emotional response out of my control. It is when they shell out the money that I get vulnerable. Then I must remember that they wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t going through this law school garbage.

If they are shelling out all this money, don’t I have a responsibility? No, money doesn’t buy responsibility, it buys a contractual obligation at best. My responsibility is myself and my well-being, not something they think can be taken care of by throwing money at me. And money is control. They are still trying to pull strings with money. They try to use money both as their twisted notion of love and as a control mechanism. My defenses need to be full up against any feelings of guilt.

There are serious problems with their philosophy when I ask for money for this trip to Oberlin and they become reluctant and tell me I have to calculate everything and return anything that’s left over. Hey, it’s their money, I say, “OK”. What can I say? When they said, “stay at home, study for law school and have peace of mind”, I recall them also saying something about just asking for money if I need it, and there will be no questions asked. When they’re sending contradictory messages, I feel justified in choosing which message is valid. And the message I choose is that money is their way of exercising control. The bottom line is that the message isn’t contradictory, there is only one message.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

I’ve been honest with the ‘rents all these years. Whenever they pissed me off, whenever I felt like giving them a piece of my mind, whenever they grated on my nerves to high hell, I let them know it. That’s honesty. It’s different this time, this time it’s business, and you never show all your cards in business. Minimum friction and let them hear what they want to hear. It makes sense to do so, they so thoroughly live in their delusions. No dose of the reality I’ve been giving them has had any effect. They absorb delusion as oceans absorb rain.

I could have laughed. I’m going to Oberlin for a couple of weeks and I may go to Chicago to visit Pasha with Amina, Diem, and Vikki. The ‘rents don’t know about the Chicago part. Anyway, the issue is which car I should take, the big Mercedes or the small Mercedes. I want the big one only because of the Chicago part, but they don’t know that, so I come up with some bogus reasons for wanting to take the big one. They silently give in.

Several hours later, they coming rushing in elated and bubbling about how I now have high tastes and therefore I now have the motivation to make money. Perplexed, I queried. Apparently my desire to take the big car indicates that I now have high tastes and prefer expensive things. !!!!!

Overwhelmed by disbelief, shocked by the inane analysis, I tried to clarify in the most sarcastic and condescending tone possible that the value or the price of the car had nothing to do with my preference for the big car. Then I made a mistake by saying something about taking the Rolls Royce if my tastes were now so high. That set her off on a speech about how all the money they make is for us, and of course if I wanted to take the Rolls Royce, I could. Yeah, right.

Her sincerity strains to please. I don’t doubt her personal belief in her concern and love for her offspring. I also believe that she is in need of serious psychiatric help. Her delusional state is nothing that a few years of psychotherapy couldn’t cure. And I’m sure some shock therapy wouldn’t hurt either.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a New Jersey winter, but not even the worst winter storm of the century could touch this cozy commode on the cliffs. We got five inches of soggy snow that got soggier today in 40 degree weather.

I don’t mind shoveling snow now. Even though it was one of the despised chores while growing up. I don’t mind doing dishes and cleaning up, either. The ‘rents are aglow about how “good” I am now. Idiots. I’m not being good, I’m working my way, paying my fare.

They were talking at me last night and I was trying hard to not pay attention, but I caught something about “pulling out old photographs” so that I can see how nice they were when I was little and what good parents they were and how they took me to all these places. How pathetic. Pulling out photographs to prove to their children that they are good parents? How pathetic.

I also feel that part of what they are paying for is my family participation. So eating meals with them is a reasonable sacrifice. I’m not saying it’s worth it in the long run. There is little job satisfaction when they think they can call me down to the kitchen at any hungry whim they have. Especially when they just ate two hours ago. I never eat three meals in a day.

I also resent them thinking they can come physically close to me. If this were a contract, I’d make sure there was a three foot radius around me that they couldn’t invade.

You’d hope that doctors enter the medical profession to help people. I’m sure many doctors do. Many enter the medical profession and don’t mind the big bucks. Then there are the ‘rents who charge Japanese patients thousands of dollars more for treatment because they know Japanese will fork over whatever you charge. That’s Japanese culture. Avoid Chinese patients because they’ll argue and try to bargain.

It does occur to me that I don’t have a flawless argument against the ‘rents. Even keeping track of my hatred doesn’t build a wall of defense justifying any and all of my future actions. But I don’t need a flawless defense, I have my feelings and I know what I’m going through. No one else does and I don’t have to justify myself to anyone. Family is an unpredictable thing. There are no rules to how emotional dynamics work within them. The objectivity of rationale does not apply in family affairs.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Today, the battle was just a simple question about whether or not I have been receiving applications for law school. Punctuated with “concern” over the issue. Or suspicion. They have all the right in the world to be concerned about their investment and to be suspicious about the performance of the other party.

Me, I’m getting better at playing my part, but I need to be careful. If I change my behavior too drastically, from sarcastic and unapproachable to willing and enthusiastic, they’re bound to catch on to something. Although they live for what they want to see, they should not be mistaken for stupid.

The idea of law school bounces around in my head. Sometimes the idea is just so ludicrous and plain stupid that it makes me rage. Other times I consider the possibility of being able to hack it and finding some worth in it. I have run across some interesting course titles, like “Japanese Law”, and “Feminist Legal Theory”, and “human rights” in the description for “International Law”. If I do find worth in law school and an ability to survive more than one semester, my hatred towards the ‘rents could manifest itself in the same way Tom does it - spend their money. As long as they’re willing participants in the bargain, try to put ‘em in the poorhouse. There they’ll have a better chance of gaining spiritual merit.

I talked with Amina last night and she made me laugh about things concerning my life that I should be taking very seriously, things that aren’t laughing matters. Not that she meant to make them funny, I think she was just being insensitive. I don’t know why I was laughing, it didn’t make me feel good. Maybe I’m starting to get numb to it. I did feel like I was forcing laughter at my own expense. It felt like she was being excessively insensitive and I was trying to ignore it. Maybe it was good that she was making me laugh at myself and not take myself too seriously. But I don’t think that was her intent.

I have mixed feelings. On one hand I should feel hurt and recognize the widening gap between Amina and me. On the other hand I considered how awful it would be if she catered to my mindset, and everything between us was based on just reading each other’s moods and feelings. We’re separate individuals with different moods at different times. Just let each other be. I need someone like Amina, someone to force me to stop demanding my “needs”, to force me to stop adhering to my petty perspective.

She was being insensitive. And that’s alright. The love is the most important thing, and for some reason I’m just stuck on her.

I imagine a scenario. I place it out in California. Maybe I’m in law school, maybe I’ve finished, but the circumstance allows me to completely turn my back on the ‘rents and refuse to talk to them or accept any form of communication from them or about them. I move and don’t tell them where, I tell them not to send any more money, I excommunicate myself and hang up the phone.

What if they find my whereabouts and come out to California to contact me. Would I tell them I have nothing to say to them? Would I tell them there are no words to express the hatred they have cultivated? Would I even let them in the door? There is no argument to sum up my anger or feelings about what they’ve done to my life. I can’t even verbalize “what they’ve done to my life”. Or do I just slowly close and lock the door without a word? *click*.

In their desperate clinging and insistent exercise of control over my life, they have permanently lost me. They have made me suffer and now they must suffer by letting me go and leaving me alone. They had power and they abused it. It wasn’t love they were giving. It was only control. Petty, selfish control. They don’t understand love enough to give it. Money is not love, never has been, never will be.

I would still hope that they find peace of mind before they die. I would still hope that they recognize the pain they caused and accept it and are accountable for it, and come to terms with it by a true act of love: letting go. They never lost a son because they can’t lose what they never had. Finding their way to heaven by finding my way to hell.

The gall they have assuming law school is the right thing for me. The gall they have even thinking they know me. The gall they have to think that what they do is an expression of care or concern. They have no concern about what field might interest me, they wouldn’t even venture to query. They have no idea how law school works or what skills will be important. No support, no suggestions, no advice. All they keep saying is “go to law school”.

Quality doesn’t matter. They did say one other thing today. They told me to make sure I apply to safety schools and that it doesn’t matter what kind of school I get into. The only important things is that I go. They declare law school is the right future for me, but they have no concern about quality, no concern about what I get out of it. Just go and my future will magically be there for me. It can’t be concern because they don’t care, they just want to feel like they did their duty, no matter what the cost. Even if the cost is me.

Most of the schools I’m looking at are in California. No outright objection yet, aside from a precursory “California has a lot of earthquakes”. They are going to try to control where I go, too. I know it. First they just get me to agree to apply to law schools, and when I say “OK”, they say “but don’t go there, go somewhere closer”. Fuckheads. Give an inch. I swear they will pay dearly someday.

My blood boiled when they said I can’t think about only myself, that I have to think of others. What fucking others? Them? Implying that they would be adversely effected if something bad happened to me? Don’t tempt me. When they say things like that, suicide becomes a very attractive option. Just as they made it attractive so many years ago.

I have to keep track of all this so that I don’t forget my anger as I’m prone to do. I have to remind myself what’s at stake.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Sometimes I feel that I don’t have an argument or fight against the ‘rents. I don’t have a single justification for my hate. Look at all they’ve done for me. It’s not a matter of them being necessarily bad parents, nor is it a case of them being necessarily bad people or passive products of their culture and twisted Asian values. But the chemical and emotional reaction you get when you put us together is debilitating, dysfunctional. No words can communicate or convince anyone the reality of my hate and the pain from which it stems. Who would believe me? Who would want to know? None of my friends understand the effect of my being in New Jersey is having on me. The gulf increases between me and them as well.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Life goes by slowly in mind-altering situations. I’m still not doing anything worthwhile, so it’s difficult attributing any worth to myself, but I know it’s only feelings and moods and the company has a lot to do with it. I know I’ll be fine once I’m around the right people.

I have to understand that having an idea about the differences between what’s real and not real doesn’t mean that existences should be ignored. It may be true that my feelings aren’t real in that they in no way reflect the permanence with which I feel them, but they are real in that they exist. I have to work through them in their own terms for what they are, which might as well be real.

I feel that I am missing something obvious that everyone else assumes and allows them to be productive participants of society and gives them their ambition and drive. Many times I feel that becoming a monk is the only path I’d find fulfilling in any way, but I haven’t come to grips with my feelings towards my loved ones. I do want to be with the people who make me feel that love. Whatever plans I have still involve the people around me and the worth they place in me.

Shiho has changed so much! I got a package from her and she has become much more expressive and successful in communicating herself and her feelings. She sent a photo essay that she has been working on for a while. It follows the path she traveled from home to her university during her college years. It gave me a concrete idea of her surroundings. Shiho in context; very much needed indeed.

I go back to our time in Japan, in Hiroshima. The memory feels funny and out of context now. She being right there, on the trolley, being a tour guide. A stranger, still so strangely close, so significant to my past, my heart, and memories.

I am going to start going through the process of applying to law school. I’m not trying to get into one. The charade will at least get me to March or April, which at least gets me to warmer months and that does make a big difference in my options. This is exploiting resources. It has nothing to do with life decisions.

It’ll be great to raise the ‘rent’s hopes and then quit. That’d be a pisser. But then getting in and going gives me unlimited financial resources for another three years, limited only by conscience. I have no intention of graduating. Only if nothing else comes up. The key is to keep an eye on the opportunities they, as a resource, have to offer, and ignore any sticky moral or emotional issues.

Even if what they have to offer can be construed as kindness, their kindness is conditional. They say that if I want a car that is not as expensive as Tom or Bob’s, they would put the difference in cost in my bank account. That, of course, is only if I go to law school. It’s not an issue here that most people would see this as a double god-send (tuition for law school and a car). I’m not complaining about any privilege attached to having a car. I can appreciate that. But in this exact situation, with the dynamics involved here, this is almost blackmail.

The same type of people who would tell me that I’m extremely lucky to be offered law school tuition and a car have to remember - they are parents. They aren’t a bank. They may think that they are providing financial stability and career opportunity, but they are morally bankrupt, emotionally absent, and negligently unsupportive in any other way but monetary. They have their own motives, and if their actions can be construed by an outsider as “kindness”, that doesn’t make their intentions kind.

The strange thing is that in my worse moments, and against my self-destructive instinct, I can still smile. I’m not sure what that means, but it makes me feel alright. My situation now is so similar to what it was when I lived here before college. Little has changed in the situation, but my attitude is markedly different. My self-destructiveness has become less of a doing and more of a being. I guess you could say it has matured. Back then, it was all about hurt and hurting. Being self-destructive was a lashing out, a defiance stating I was still in charge. Now it’s just a part of me. It’s more positive now. I’m not bent on self-destructing, but I’m more accepting of this aspect of myself. It’s less of a goal than a way of getting from one day to the next.

It seems like everyone in this family is living out their respective delusions. There is no common reality, not even with Tom and Bob, even though we grew up together. Bob is just as much a psychological victim as Tom. But I think Bob’s psychology is much more complicated. With Tom, it’s pretty apparent from the outside that something is just not right. But Bob is a lot better at hiding things and the only evidence is indirect.

It scares me to think that maybe I’m also just living out a delusion and not aware of it. The only comfort I can give myself is that I’m the only one who fought for my personal rights and freedom to choose who I want to be. I never compromised who I wanted to be or become or how to express it. And I was sent to a hospital for it. I went to the hospital, but who’s crazy?

Seeing the rest of them deluded makes me feel confident and healthy. I dealt with issues as I faced them. When I felt anger or hatred, I faced it, even if it was in the form of self-destruction. Better than repression. The psychological and spiritual havoc they wreaked through their manipulation and coercion never went unanswered.

If they’re happy in their worlds, fine; leave them in their mire of self-delusion. I’m free of their world and of conscience. I imagine that at the point of disclosure, nothing gets disclosed. All I do is simply move. Even though right now they continue to have their effect. It’s not power, they’re too pathetic to have any power over me, but they do have their effect. It’s a subtle difference.

I do feel justified in my attitudes and actions. This is business, and the point is to get the most with the least loss. I should consider myself lucky to be free of messy, ambiguous familial ties with mixed feelings. They have admitted in so many words that they show their love through money. All that they’ve given me I can pay back with money. If they can give love through money, anything they want in return can also be given through money. I’ll give the money back once I make it.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Perhaps not to the extent as they did in Japan, but my moods still go from extreme to extremes. Actually, no, they don’t go to extremes. It’s as if my moods in Japan were in preparation for the moods I have now. Now, instead of swinging from extreme to extreme, they all co-exist at once inside me, all the time.

It’s weird this swirl of time, thinking about Shiho and the ‘rent’s house, and now, and six years ago. The past being re-enacted with new players or seeing close-ups or from varying points of view. Circles, consistency, and change. It makes me feel empty and detached about my life and experience. Watching stories to which I know the answers, if not the endings.

I spoke with Luyen and she’s going through tough times because her neighbor and close friend called for help by trying to kill herself. Luyen in the position my friends were in four years ago, she is faced with the choice of being the helping hand or being chased away. Me watching Luyen I can now see the stress I caused for people around me. I couldn’t see back then because I was packed away in a hospital.

My feelings here so well mirror five years ago. It’s like I’ve been sent back as a test or a reminder. To re-live it and prove I’m strong enough to hold on, given the same situation. A second chance to take responsibility. And with Shiho. I didn’t do our relationship justice, and now a second chance. Sometimes I worry about us. Sometimes I don’t. You know, sometimes you feel like a nut. Sometimes you don’t.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

I went to Boston this past weekend to meet up with Lisa, Neelam, Shan, and Madoka. We had an amazing time. It was just glowing. It punctuated the juxtaposition between parents and friends. They are completely different realities. They can’t mix, they are such completely different things, oil and water. I have such a great time with friends and life means so much with them, while the ‘rents are effectively trying to ruin my life by railroading it into their image of what it should be, regardless of whether I can force myself to live and maintain it. I can’t play the role they envision.

It was just so much fun being with those folks. Madoka didn’t know I was going to be there, it was supposed to be a surprise. She was attending a career forum being held there. I would have gone to Boston just to see Lisa, Neelam, and Shan, but Madoka made it imperative. I actually got the surprise. Madoka’s career forum was to be all day Saturday and I was going to show up for dinner, but on Saturday morning, I went out to a music store, and when I got back to Shan’s place, there was Madoka! Surprise! It was so great to see Madoka, she is such a wonderful being and she always touches me.

I was never really close with Shan at Oberlin, but I’d always liked him and figured we would click, but we had different sets of friends and never lived near each other and never got the chance to get to know each other. We had some really great Pasha-caliber discussions. I had almost forgotten how good it feels to talk with someone and really feel like that person is listening. Someone who gets where you’re coming from and accepts it because it’s just natural to do so. PC, plain courtesy.

It was really nice to talk with someone who responded and forced me to think and change my mind if called for. Or at least go back and be more careful with my vocabulary. That kind of communication is so enriching. On Saturday night, after a night of café hopping and drinking more caffeine than any of us could handle, Shan and I stayed up and talked for hours.

Madoka stayed with Neelam who is in Harvard grad school. It’s been a long time since Neelam and I got a chance to really sit down like we used to in Veggie dining. It slipped my mind how we used to be pretty close. At least we had a solid respect for each other.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

I have a fear of getting boring. I’m afraid of running out of thoughts and things getting repetitive. I’m afraid of getting boring to myself and subsequently being boring in general. I hope I’m always able to find something amusing about the circumstances I’m in or in the things around me. That would be the only thing that could keep me going. Life, after all, is funny.

If we can identify the physical world as subjective, and interpret it as dependent on the “reality value” that we assign it, then we can exercise our perceptions more liberally and assign a different reality value to it. We can conceptually lower the literal reality value of physical existence that is natural to us, and assign a purely symbolic reality value to it. All things are symbols, manifesting an unseen reality. All things physical are just like fabrics, with textures. The physical nature of reality is a canvass, all that we perceive with our senses is paint on that canvass. They are not one and the same.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

There is a contradiction between what I expect from the ‘rents and my attitude towards them. My attitude towards them is that they are not even family, and yet I expect them to conform to parental roles, which is the source of my hatred and anger towards them. If I don’t see them as parents, I have to stop expecting them to be my ideal of parents.

They are a resource to exploit. But nothing is free, I have to give something if I want to benefit from this resource. First off, I have to stop treating them disrespectfully. In business, when you want something from the other party, the worst thing you can do is treat the other party with disrespect. I have to always remember that I’m trying to get something from them, and even if I despise them, I have to show at least a modicum of decorum. Chameleon fit to perceptions of me, chameleon fit to expectations of me.

If I’m applying to law school, I’m an investment, they are investing in me. And if I accept the benefits of their investment, I have to be careful about the demands I make. I can’t be saying that this is what they want and I’m doing it for them and therefore they have to do certain things or act a certain way.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Shiho was the hardest part of getting back in touch with Oberlin friends. Shiho is high school, Oberlin is my current reality, and they never were mixed. I’ve been coming to grips with having Shiho back in my life. There’s so much she doesn’t know about these people who I love so dearly and who are so much a part of my life. How do I bridge the elements of Shiho and my friends? Do I tell Shiho about these people? How do I tell Shiho about these people? Even if I wrote to her about them, I couldn’t capture what they are to me. Reflective narratives treat the past as monolithic memory, rather than accumulated dynamic bits and pieces of memories acquired over time.

I need to break off emotional dependence on Amina. Amina stopped writing to me when I was in Japan, and I didn’t know why and it hurt. I asked her why and it was because she was having the most difficult academic semester to date. She doesn’t like the feeling of dumping problems on other people. And maybe she doesn’t like other people dumping their problems on her. Which is what I did all Summer.

I guess her not wanting to dump her problems on other people was about her, and not about being considerate or sensitive to other people. How else could she be so uncharacteristically wrong about how I feel about something.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

All my old Oberlin intimates have contacted me, even though I’ve been reluctant to get in touch with them. I have no qualms about the way things are with Amina and Shiho, but I feel a slight betrayal against Amina. I have let go of Amina because of Shiho, and it just hurts. Amina filled so many empty spaces in my life and to flush her out of so many crevices without even telling her feels like a betrayal. A self-betrayal.

I haven’t told Amina about Shiho. Amina means so much to me and I love her so much as a person. It just doesn’t feel right telling her I’m going out with someone else. I feel sad about it. But it’s done and she’ll be delighted that I’m with Shiho now. She will. Frances tells me that Amina was perplexed in trying to find an answer to my question to her: where do I stand as a male in her feminist politics? I was hoping it wouldn’t be so difficult, but maybe it’s better that it is.

Luyen called and we talked for several hours. It was a pretty good talk, but I know what I feel towards Luyen. Our history is too vivid and it was easy to keep my distance. But after two hours of talking with her, I felt terrible so I went straight to sleep. But I didn’t sleep well, probably because of dreams I didn’t remember, and when I woke up, for the first time in a while I didn’t want to get up. There is nothing ambiguous about my feelings towards Luyen, but our hearts are so made of the same stardust that when her heart tugs, my heart feels a pull.

Diem also called and it was wonderful talking to her. She is so sweet and sincere and I really do love her, but there are still remnants of our disagreements from last Spring. She has so much psychology at work in her, it’s hard for me to take her at face value. I’ve always trusted her sincerity and valued her friendship, but I think I’ve always held back because of the psychology at work. I’m not sure exactly what it is. But I wish she could figure out more clearly what she’s about and what’s going on inside her. It’s none of my business really.

I have doubts that Shiho and I will end up together, even though going out with her now feels like a life decision. Thinking of a future together, I see nothing concrete. Six years of incubation has produced this love. I don’t doubt it. I would marry her in a second if it were possible, but her parents would never approve. At this point, I just don’t see anything.

I need to stop worrying so far into the future and concentrate on what I’m going to do now. I have to get out of this house and away from the ‘rents. I need to get out and then I can consider more objectively the pros and cons of going to law school. There are pros, but this hatred isn’t allowing me to think straight. Whenever I think of the advantages of going to law school, it’s also prominent in my mind how to make the ‘rents burn.

But I would use a law degree to do community work. Asian american communities, particularly the youth, need legal protection because their rights are under attack these days. Law school also buys time to get something with music established.

The cons are that I’d feel like I sold out. No matter what excuses I make, if I go to law school, it will feel like I folded under pressure. I also find what becoming a lawyer would represent abhorrent. The field of law represents professionalism, materialism, locking my thinking into a defined world and reality, the challenging of which has become the hallmark of my existence.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Culture shock. The U.S. feels abundant and extravagant and people say the stupidest things in this country. I feel uncomfortable in this country and being around these people. Actually it’s no different than how I’ve always felt here.

It happened all so fast that I didn’t have time to prepare myself mentally. On the Thursday I left, it felt like any ordinary Thursday in Osaka. Driving to the airport with Mi-chan felt like we could have been going for lunch.

Suddenly I’m here. Suddenly I’m back in New Jersey. And despite all the stress and pressure of being in Japan, I was prepared to let Japan become reality. Now I have to deal with this all over again. I feel like a gerbil that tried to escape and got caught and ended up back in the cage. I look out of the cage having tasted freedom.

Thoughts of Shiho are ever-present. I have her so deep inside me, under my skin. I still have all the letter-tapes we used to send to each other after she left for Japan and I’m so glad that I still have them. I’ve been listening to them, but something feels cheap. We missed a lot of years and I haven’t listened to these tapes for such a long time. Is something really different now that is making me listen to them? Am I truly listening to them with my heart, or am I listening to them because we ended up kissing in Osaka?

It’s been heating up here with the ‘rents. They’ve been stepping up their assault on forming my future in their image. They got Tom and Bob to be what they want, now they’re training all their sights on me, now that I’m back in range. If it were the other way around and I had a gun, I’d have no problem pulling the trigger. But that’s not my way, just the feeling is.

They’re getting old. Last night, mother, for lack of a better word, started getting all sugary and cutesy and sweet talking about how father, for lack of a better word, was going to be turning 60 soon. Suspicion piqued, I acknowledged that doing something special would be nice. Then she goes into the whole spiel all over again and this time I know that something’s up. I kept my guard up and took the bait to see what would happen. “Getting into law school would be the greatest gift!” No surprise.

I quietly seethed. All they have is their own agenda and they listen to nothing else. Even when I tried explaining in the simplest English possible that if I went back to school, I would go to grad school for Asian american studies, they didn’t hear a word of it. Why bother? What’s the point? They certainly aren’t going to change me, and if they aren’t going to listen to me, then they might as well not even exist. This path of hatred and anger is careening towards absolute indifference.

But the forest that the path goes through is a thick jungle with an insidious psychological undergrowth. I have to hack my way through it and it’s not an easy task. Years of conditioning and being immersed in their world of twisted values where money is king. Emotionally starved and where direct contact and communication is worse than a disease.

The emotional cost is huge. I don’t know why. Just words, but the frustration they invoke is incredible and draining. An idiot statement as simple as “Go to law school and you can stay here and have peace of mind.” I don’t know where to begin with that one. “Stay here”? “Peace of mind”? What are you talking about? Are you an idiot? Explain “peace of mind”. What do you mean “can stay here”? What do you mean “stay here”? And how is “peace of mind” connected to “staying here”?

How do they know what “peace of mind” is to me? How can they have the gall to think that they know what peace of mind is to me? It’s the assumption of knowing that really offends me. They have extended the realm over which they are qualified to know into my world. They don’t know anything about me, and yet they think they are qualified to know me and they think they know me, and I find that more than a little bit offensive.

I have been slow in getting in touch with friends. At Oberlin, I only really wanted to hunt down Frances, Myung, and Madoka. Frances and I have already been in lengthy discussions about our lives and experiences since. Madoka called a few nights ago and she just has a heart that just puts me at ease. Myung has been difficult to nail down. Amina. She hasn’t contacted me for quite a while.

Osaka, Japan

So I leave in two days. Words fail me. Shiho and me. . .

It happened so fast and so close to the last minute that it’s hard to say we’ve gotten back together. How can I imagine I deserve her after what we’ve been through, after what I’ve done in our past. I can’t imagine the paths we’ve taken being any different and still be as perfect to have led us where they have.

I think about Shiho and me in our New Jersey years. The first time that I ever saw Shiho was in a high school yearbook when we were in eighth grade and I wasn’t even in Dwight Englewood yet. When I entered Dwight for ninth grade, we eventually met and by Sophomore year we were fast friends. I convinced her to join Jazz/Rock on keyboards and we spent a lot of time together. In Junior year, Mark Holdaway entered the mix and became the advisor for Jazz/Rock and the three of us were really good friends. Then it was all over the next Summer. Two weeks before Shiho left for Japan, we started going out. I don’t remember how it happened. Three years - not really a long time. But it was high school.

I don’t think we’d be together now if we hadn’t gone out for those two weeks. If we had gone out earlier than we had, our relationship may have taken the usual course of relationships and ended in a typical break-up foreclosing any desire to get back together. If we hadn’t gone out at all back then, we probably would have faded from each other’s lives and never gone out. But the exact way it was, it was just enough to guarantee the feelings were always there between us, but prevented anything disastrous to permanently damage a future relationship.

So long ago; it feels like someone said, “Here, this woman is the one, but you’re not ready for her yet, there are still many people and experiences to go through, many things you have to learn before you can know how to love her and know what it means to be loved by her.” Then I took one last look at her before she left so that I wouldn’t forget. I let the memories go to sleep when I went to college; new beginnings. Now something feels so obvious - of course it was her, how could it have been anyone else?

I’m not so perplexed about going back to the States. Shiho is overshadowing everything, including the ‘rents. I am so thankful to her for so much, it puts me in the palm of her hand. The little bit that makes sense is that if she never really went away in my life, it can follow that I didn’t from hers. We didn’t have a proper break-up before. There wasn’t a definitive moment that signaled a break-up, there was no closure, and the cause had nothing to do with anything between us, it was only about me.

The fight with the ‘rents happened on the Sunday that I was supposed to be in Tokyo. I wrote a letter to Shiho on Tuesday and on Thursday she called. She made a comment about coming down to visit me on the weekend, testing the waters - if I didn’t react positively to that, she wouldn’t have come. But I said it would be nice and she arranged for it.

She came down on Sunday without telling her parents. What are we? Still in high school? The total time we had together was less than six hours. We talked somberly but intimately, and then the talk turned to silence because we were sad. The silence emphasized the sadness, there was nothing to say. The sadness led to a hug and the hug didn’t stop. The hug led to a kiss and that’s how it happened.

What were we thinking? Of course, we were going to get back together. Why else would she come all the way down from Tokyo for less than six hours? It makes sense now, but it was no where in my mind that we would get back together and I don’t think it was in her mind, either. It just happened in a very strong moment. I’m glad we did, but I’m still not sure exactly what my feelings towards her are. It’s not a question of loving her, I do, but . . . I don’t know. I don’t think we’re anywhere near the end of this story.

We had been sitting in silence for a few minutes. The movement toward the hug was natural and mutual and we were hugging for a long time. We started pulling away from each other and all it took was a split-second of our faces being so close together, and in another split second we were suddenly kissing.

Osaka, Japan

It was a waste to buy a small travel alarm clock to make sure that I got up on Saturday morning to catch the Shinkansen to Tokyo. I forgot to turn the damn thing on. However, my internal alarm clock has always been reliable in waking me up when I need to wake up, and it didn’t let me down this time. Although I wish it had.

I had no problems getting to Shin-Osaka on time and I caught my train. Only three hours to Tokyo by Shinkansen. Talk about urban sprawl, Tokyo is enormous. It was city as far as the eye can see. The train got to Tokyo Station and Shiho was going to meet me on the platform. On Shinkansen platforms, it’s possible to know exactly where a particular car is going to stop, so not only was Shiho going to meet me on the platform, she was supposed to meet me right at the train door, right?

I was eager to see Shiho again, even though we had talked after I returned from Taiwan and cleared the air between us. I felt like I needed to be open and honest with Shiho and so I wanted to discuss “us”. Right before I brought it up, she dropped the bombshell that she had broken up with her boyfriend. So much for that safety. I brought it up anyway and we talked about it and had similar thoughts, but we brushed it all aside and decided that anything between us would be impossible because the timing was all wrong and her parents could never accept me. I was proud of myself, though, no games played with Shiho, everything out in the open.

So I got a little anxious when I got off the Shinkansen and couldn’t find her. There were only two doors for each car and I could see that she wasn’t by the other door, either. Since we thought it was virtually impossible to miss each other, we hadn’t decided on an alternative meeting place. It would have been virtually impossible to miss each other if she was there, why wasn’t she there?

I figured we’d find each other eventually. I should have stayed on the platform but I wasn’t thinking, and went down into the station keeping a sharp eye out for her. Ten minutes passed, twenty minutes, thirty minutes, I was starting to get concerned. I found the Central Gate and decided to stay there, hoping she would remember my thing about Central Gates from our meetings at Shin-Osaka. I don’t remember exactly how long it took for me to realize something went terribly wrong, but time passed and I couldn’t find her. I don’t remember exactly how long it was before I started wandering. My eyes were wide open and I walked slowly through all the main thoroughfares of Tokyo Station. I don’t remember exactly how long it was before doubt started growing that I wouldn’t find Shiho at all.

I knew she was there, I had no doubt that Shiho was in Tokyo Station. It would have been unrealistically out of character for her to not have shown under any circumstances. No matter what could have happened on her way there, she would eventually have gotten there. I was at a total loss to understand why I couldn’t find her. For hours I wandered and waited. I listened to the intercom for my name because if she couldn’t find me, I was sure she would have me paged. I sang softly to myself. I tried calling her house and I talked to Naomi, her sister. She said that Shiho had gone to meet me.

The hours passed and the value of staying in Tokyo sharply declined. At one point, I felt I had given up hope in being found and I was sitting in the sun just outside one of the entrances to the station. I could still hear the intercom from where I was. I sat disheartened, incredulous, frustrated, when a pigeon feather, pretty much arbitrarily, floated down from the rafters and landed a few feet away from me. I stared at it for a long time and thought about the cover of Richard Bach’s book, Illusions. When no one was looking, I reached over and picked it up.

Late in the afternoon, I made the decision to cash in my bus ticket and take a Shinkansen back to Osaka. That was supposed to be the day for Shiho and me. Without it, Sunday wasn’t much and I had no idea where to go in Tokyo until I could get a hold of Shiho. Dejected, I had to go back to Osaka.

Shiho called me that night after I had returned to Osaka. She had been on the train platform, she was waiting right at the door and she could see both doors from where she stood. I still had my ticket and we confirmed which car I was on and there was no mistake. I hadn’t been on a different car and she hadn’t been waiting by a different car. We were both there at the same time, within one Shinkansen car’s distance away from each other and we didn’t see each other. She too searched for me and wandered Tokyo Station looking for me. She did try paging me. She searched for me until it was time for her to go to Shinjuku station to meet Mark Holdaway. So she left for a while to meet him, and then she came back to Tokyo Station again to look for me.

IS IT AT ALL POSSIBLE that we could have totally missed each other the entire day? Take Grand Central Station in New York. Take two close friends and place them in two different places in Grand Central Station and tell them to find each other. They have all day to find each other. I don’t think it’s possible for them to not be able to find each other. Eventually they would find each other. How could they not? Shiho and I were not only in the same station, but we were both milling around the Shinkansen gates, we knew where to be. All we had to do was see each other, the attraction was certainly there.

After I got off the phone with Shiho, I watched TV and an episode of “Moonlighting” came on. I was never a big fan of “Moonlighting”, but this episode was a “Christmas Carol”-esque episode, complete with guardian angel appearing at a main character’s worst moment, getting smashed in a bar. The angel grants her one wish that would set what had led her to the bar right, but then leads her to the tragic result of having that wish granted. She pleads with the angel to set things back to the way they were at the bar and the character wakes up in the bar, convinced it had been real and not a dream. She then re-approaches the problems that had brought her to the bar and works at them and makes responsible, non-easy-way-out decisions and the ending is a happy one. Guardian angel. What would have happened if I had met Shiho in Tokyo? What was I protected from?

On Sunday the ‘rents called and we got into a huge fight. That was it. All tensions peaked, the world came crashing down, and I decided I had to return to the States and get a job and get away from them at any cost. I refuse to live my life under their monetary rule. Sunday. If I were in Tokyo, I would never have received that call.

But even if I had received that call and if we had gotten into the same fight, I wouldn’t be able to go back to the States if I had paid for the Japanese course at the YMCA. Paying for the course would have been a monetary commitment and the fight would just have been another fight. But I hadn’t paid for the course, even though the first class was held on the Friday before I left.

I was supposed to pay on Thursday, the day of orientation, so I had stopped off at the bank on my way to Umeda, but the foreign exchange didn’t open until 10:00. I had to get to orientation so I couldn’t wait for the foreign exchange to open. But nothing was mentioned about tuition, so I breathed a sigh of relief and I went to the bank in the afternoon. There I found out that I could not exchange more than $1000 per day, not enough to cover tuition. Classes on Friday started at 10:00, so I had the same problem getting the money before class on Friday. So I was able to avoid paying on Friday as well. The plan was to pay tuition on Monday, but there was a fight on Sunday.

Then the final nail in the coffin. I still had to break it to Sakura that I was going back to the States. For most of this time, Sakura had feared my going back to the States and leaving her. She found comfort in me and she valued it. She didn’t want to go solo again and that’s why she stuck her neck out for me so often. But when I told her, she was unfazed. Basically, “Sad to see you go, good luck in all your future endeavors.” I have a feeling that in the week and a half that I hadn’t talked to her, I was replaced on guitar and I had just spared her telling me that I was out.

It’s settled then, I leave Japan on October 22nd. I leave Japan on October 22nd. It ends just like that. What of these four months will last? I felt so weak and disadvantaged here. I got stronger throughout college, I don’t doubt that. My problems made me stronger. But I still have a very weak side that was brought out here. Now I live with the realization that I feel very weak and very strong at the same time most of the time. The extremity motif beginning to define my reality.

Osaka, Japan

I got back from Taiwan and found one letter in my mailbox from Madoka. What’s up with everyone else? I shouldn’t wonder, I know what’s up with everyone else. Coming back to Japan from Taiwan makes Japan feel like home. Japan’s landscape is so familiar compared to Taiwan. Taiwan was, at best, surreal. I floated in, floated around, and floated right back out. I had no desire to stay, no fond memories, too many ghosts.

I faltered and struggled to communicate in Japanese, since the older generation of Taiwanese speak Japanese. I spent more time with Uncle Taka than ever before. We drove all the way to Tai Zhong just to indulge in the cuisine they are famous for.

Uncle Bun’s wife is in the final stage of cancer. Audrey’s mother, a finer woman this family has not seen. I visited her in the hospital. At first, I don’t think she recognized me. She was undergoing radiation treatment and she was in such pain, all I could do was let her squeeze my hand. She told me not to tell Audrey, and I knew what she meant. She knew Audrey and I are close. “Don’t tell Audrey”. No, I won’t tell her, but I can let her know. I’ll make sure Audrey comes back at the end of the semester.

What is it about her? She names her daughter after Audrey Hepburn, and then I meet Amina, the love of my life, who rings of Audrey Hepburn. Amina is a big Audrey Hepburn fan. When me and my brothers visited Taiwan in 1980, we were total monsters, yet she not only took care of us, but she eventually named one of her sons after my American name. Why? After the show we put on in 1980, I would think she would try to disassociate from my name as much as possible. We were that bad. Bottom line, the woman is a saint. But there must be more.

I dreamed of Amina for the first time in a while in Taiwan. It was a sunny summer day and it looked like we were pool-side outside of some fancy hotel. She had joined me there at a table with one of those big umbrellas. She was silent and in thought. I guess it was just my fantasy, but she knew that I had decided to take up the issue of Shiho and me with the possibility of starting a relationship with Shiho. So Amina was there, silent, to tell me that she really did love me and it only struck her when it became very possible that she would lose me for good. Oh yea, fantasy.

In my sleep, my eyes opened a little. At two o’clock in the morning, someone had turned on the hall light so that if my eyes opened a little, they would open a lot. The dream and Amina faded away as if an angel had turned my face towards the light and pried my eyes open a crack to warn me, “no, don’t”.

I’m having major doubts about my role in the music thing here. Sakura has hooked up with those three semi-pros who are certainly older than us. I get the sense that they’re wondering what I’m even doing there. They are very professional, to them it’s a job, not an expression. They do as they’re told, their input is professional, not personal creativity. It’s kind of cold and not really my bag. They’re really good, but not the kind of good I can get into.

The pressure of living in Japan is what is changing me the most, though. I’m exercising a lot of self-control and I’m being super careful not to let my predisposed problems surface. There is no room for that old diagnosis “adjustment disorder”. What a load of crap anyway. “Adjustment disorder”? I think it was just a descriptive that psychiatrist came up with to match his observations. He sat there listening, thinking, “hmmm, sounds like he’s having trouble adjusting - I’ll call it an ‘adjustment disorder’!” Screw that.

In any case, I’m here for another three months. The plan is to enroll in the Japanese course at the YMCA tomorrow, and then I’m going up to Tokyo this weekend to visit Shiho and meet up with Mark Holdaway. It’s unbelievable that I’m going to see them both at the same time. What is up with that? It still blows my mind. I’m taking the Shinkansen up on Saturday morning, and on Sunday night I’m hopping onto an all-night bus back to Osaka and on Monday, classes start. That’s the plan.

Osaka, Japan

Approaching another autumn. My thoughts stretch back to a year ago, back to Oberlin. I remember the warmth of that semester when I think about Lisa's birthday, almost exactly a year ago, when Christine and I got her a puppy. I remember how we picked her up at a local farm and how small and cute she was. She got sick in the car and she was so weak and disoriented. After we got back to Oberlin, I took care of the puppy outside of Third World House, but everyone passing by helped out. The weather was so warm. Frances was living in the dorm, I had met Luyen and we were having fun in our acquaintance, Hiromi and I had our intimate coffee. My room was so comfortable. It was my best academic semester at Oberlin as well.

Then there was the cold of November. I remember kicking out my window when Luyen was messing things up between Hiromi and me. I remember looking out that broken window into the early evening sky, melancholy and darkening. Lights of windows glowing sad at the shortened days. The air cold and still, the sounds sparking memories from far away. Hiromi and Luyen are the coldest memories, drinking too much, and lying out in the snow covered golf course near the cemetery late at night hoping to freeze, already freezing.



I can take any single memory from that semester and be really disgusted at it in one moment, and in another be really nostalgic about it. The occurrences of the events are fact, but they have such extreme feelings attached to them that how I remember them are dependent upon how I feel now. So what of my memories is real?, surely not my feelings about them. And what of my feelings about my now?

I’m leaving for Taiwan in two days, and then classes start soon after I get back. The weekend after I get back I’m going to Tokyo to visit Shiho and Mark Holdaway. It all starts to come together. I won’t actively do anything about Shiho. She still is seeing someone and that’s good enough of a reason to lay off and watch what happens. I’ll wait and see what vibes I get when I visit her. I can’t wait to see her again.

Osaka, Japan

I’ve stopped waffling and drowning in my options. I took a stand and I’m going to Taiwan from October 3 to October 7 to get my visa renewed and stay another three months. Auntie was happy. She was on the phone in five minutes making my plane reservations. I will take that Japanese course at the Y.

Shiho has been sending me funny signals. I found it a little weird when she came right out and told me that she hasn’t been seeing her current boyfriend and doesn’t particularly miss him. She was also unsettled when I mentioned that I have an non-extendable plane ticket which expires on December 31st. Is it possible for us to get back together? I think I do love her. It’s possible. But I’m not pushing it. It’s something that I would let happen if it happens.

Osaka, Japan

Alcohol is fully functional again. I used to drink for a reason, then I stopped for a reason, and now I’ve started again for a reason. I still don’t consider it a problem, I haven’t lost control and it’s not like I’m trying to stop but can’t. It’s not quite as functional as it was in college when it made me focus and struggle for discipline and control. It provided a resistance and made me work to maintain my center. It’s a little different here. I’m using it to help deal with stress and I know that’s not really a good reason. I’m not using it affirmatively here, it’s more preventative to keep my mood swings in check.

Osaka, Japan

Things just got really tough. Whether or not I stay another three months became a major issue. Auntie played a part in it and the basis of it all is deciding what I should be doing for the rest of my life. As if I haven’t been placing a lot of thought into it already. But even with all my thought, results have been few. This is on top of several weeks of growing distrust and tension with the ‘rents. I’m suspicious of what they’ve been telling auntie or what they may have asked her to do. There is a Japanese language course at the YMCA in Umeda that starts on October 8, I have to decide what to do soon.

Financial independence must become my priority. They brought up the issue of money, everything for them is about money. I refuse to be indebted to the ‘rents in any way except financially. Money doesn’t express anything except a commercial exchange. Money is money. They can’t give money, call it love, and expect love or respect in return. They give money, someday I’ll pay it back. Are they paying for love and respect? I wonder what the market value is.

Osaka, Japan

I photocopy my letters to people to help straighten out my thoughts. My thoughts get so cloudy and confused sometimes, and what I write to other people is one way to keep track of my thoughts and feelings. But sometimes it confuses me more since it outlines all things that are so unsure. Stress has been the norm all the while here, but I haven’t let any of it on to Sakura. I briefly mentioned the stress I’m under and she asked, “Are you stressed?” That told me how little I tell her.

Sakura got her hair cut in a ‘60's looking retro bob. It looks really good. It fits her better than the hippie, folk-ish long hair she had. We have a spot in a popular live house soon, a place called “Chicken Jeorge’s” in Kobe. It’s no big deal. Sakura is singing and I’m strumming chords, yippee.

We’ve also gotten involved in another project. I don’t know what to make of it, it’s so weird. It’s writing music for a video game. I was asked if I could do it, but I didn’t think I was up to it, so I passed the project along to Sakura. I go along with her to keep her company. It’s some game about rabbits. They equipped her with a computer, a decent music program, a midi-controller keyboard, and a decent Roland sound module to help her compose. Not too shoddy. I could probably use something like that after I get back to the States.

Osaka, Japan

I’ve been having wild moods swings. I go from extreme moods to opposite extremes in the span of a few hours. My moods have become extremely sensitive to the slightest stimulus and it’s really hard to cope with. It is, however, helping me find the discipline to stop putting unnecessary credibility into moods and feelings. When you have strong feelings, they seem so real and they seem like all of reality. But when they go from extreme to opposite extreme within hours, you have to stop and question their reality.

If you’re caught up in the “reality” of your perspective, then mood swings are a roller-coaster ride and daily life is a nightmare. But if you’re investigating the essence of reality, then the mood swings just become a perspective and if you know it’s going to change soon, you don’t get so caught up in it. You just ride it out. I can’t trust my feelings here. They change too often. It rocks any sense of permanence or security in my feelings, and I can’t call them real or mine. Living like that is kind of uprooting. I kind of like it.

I think I’m changing in ways that I would have resisted a few months ago. Being in Japan is a great learning experience and it’s a lot healthier for me here than in the States. It’s rough here, but I know I could love it if I were with the right people or person. And I know I will love it after I go back.

I got a letter from Shiho and the sentiment it evoked manifested itself in the tune “My Girl” going through my head. I started writing a response, quoting the song, and while I was writing the letter, the song came on a television program I had on. It turns out that I had the line slightly, but significantly wrong. The actual line was better than what I thought it was.

Quite a coincidence, huh? What did Sachiko Murata call them in her book Tao of Islam? “Coincidences” are just as easily “qualitative analogies among created things.” And the analogies are of our similitude to god, the faces of god all around us, in us, and us, ourselves. Coincidences are only coincidence if we recognize them as such, and god is only what we recognize is god. God is manifested in coincidences.

In Richard Bach’s book, the concept is gravitation, not coincidence. All the things in our lives are in our lives because we gravitate towards what we recognize as important or special. Things in our lives have become a part of our lives because of what we projected of ourselves onto things outside of us, whether it be a person, hobby, or profession, etc. It’s the same process as recognizing god, and understanding that god is everything explains why there are no such things as coincidences as we understand them.

God is universal, there is no duality with god, and since god is everything, there is no duality period. There is no difference between god and me, and a table, and a pencil. Everything you can name is god, everything you can’t name is god. God is both the form and concept, the words in a sentence and what the sentence means. And, not or, the complete absence thereof.

Osaka, Japan

Days have been slow, there’s not much happening and I feel like I’m wasting a lot of time. Auntie and uncle have gone to Taiwan and their absence alleviates much of the stress, especially meal-time stress. At the same time, the isolation is profound. They seem to go to Taiwan pretty often.

It’s cloudy and rainy, and whenever it’s cloudy and rainy I go on a cleaning spree. It’s almost obsessive. Weather has a major effect on my mood and can totally slow me down or make me feel great. I don’t like that loss of control. Cleaning is coping. It’s taking back some control and it’s renewing and refreshing.

I stare into the mirror these days, staring until what I’m looking at becomes unfamiliar and unrecognizable. Why should it be familiar? We see our own faces less than anyone else’s in our daily lives. I stare and I could swear the features would be changing before my very eyes. The eyes are the scariest. Moist and glassy, so key in supplying the data for how we interpret the world. A window with me on one side and the rest of the world on the other. But it’s one way glass for the rest of the world. I can look out, but looking in, the rest of the world can’t see me, all they see is a moist, glassy black dot, inside a brown dot, sitting in a moist, glassy white field.

Staring into the mirror, I see from my side of the window what they see from their side of the window. And I can’t imagine that what they are seeing has anything to do with the me that I know on my side of the window. I know on the inside what I consider to be me. Staring into the mirror, I look at what everyone else considers to be me. I know the spirit, I am the spirit, they just see the house that holds the spirit, the manifestation of the spirit. There is such a stark difference between the spirit and what they see. What they see is just a marker, it’s not me at all.

I think of these things when I go walking around, to Umeda. So many people moving and going somewhere, doing something. The high ceilings of Umeda do not make for intimate acoustics. I walk around just concentrating on the sounds, not holding onto them, not focusing on any one sound, just listening to them, concentrating on them, and letting them go.

The sound is a big, monstrous thing that floats and mingles constantly in the air and is always changing, always perfect as clouds. Listen to the rhythm of footsteps, patterns in the traffic, white, life noises, arbitrary phrases that I hear but don’t understand. The effect is amazing in terms of perspective. Me, an observer who doesn’t belong and doesn’t fit in, but no one knows it.

Osaka, Japan

Sakura and I have been trying to find comfortable ground without Madoka. We have to deal directly with each other without Madoka’s help. Madoka made everything easy because she could relate to both of us. We could communicate more easily and cordially through Madoka. Now I’m approaching Sakura more like I would if I had met her on my own, more considerate, more tolerant, less critical, more at arms length.

We might be getting a gig. Sakura knows this white woman who’s a DJ in Kyoto and runs a promotion agency. She wants to promote and manage Sakura and hook her up with some semi-pro musicians she knows who are looking for someone to back up. However, one of them is a bass player.

I’ve been telling Sakura to take whatever opportunities she can get, even if it meant dropping me. But she stuck her neck out for me and got me in on rhythm guitar. Guitar? Moi? I have my doubts, but I totally appreciate that she’s looking out for me. It has blazed new horizons of trust and commitment, although none the more in true friendship or affection.

Shiho and I got together. She came down from Tokyo on Friday on the first Shinkansen and we spent the day at Osaka Castle, talking and getting reacquainted with our silences. She is more “Japanese” than I remember, which hammered home a point she made several years ago that kind of felt like a betrayal to me. When I was discovering my Asian American identity, she stated that she wasn’t Japanese American, she’s Japanese. But almost her entire grade school and high school education was in the U.S., she spoke fluent English without an accent, and she was totally competent being in the U.S. and with U.S. culture. And she was saying all those years of being in the U.S. and all it shaped of her personality meant nothing, she’s Japanese. She was saying her years in the U.S., including me, were insignificant.

Now I understand better. Despite her familiarity, she has grown and matured and has changed a hell of a lot. She’s now a photographer and has a darkroom and nice equipment. She has her own thing now, her own interests and her own hobbies, she isn’t the follower I remember. More confident, more self-identity, and she’s going out with someone.



She left that night to go to her grandmother’s house in Hiroshima, only an hour and a half away by Shinkansen. Her parents would never allow her to stay in Osaka with me. They never liked me being so close to their oldest daughter all through high school.

So I went down to visit her in Hiroshima on Sunday. It was my first time to Hiroshima and just going there was heavy. The city’s unwanted and undeserved historicity hung in the air, and it was beyond credibility that 47 years ago, on an August day, perhaps much like today, certainly as hot and humid, this entire city was devastated by a single bomb. What horrible reality is missed by our imaginations now? On a day, perhaps much like today, hot and humid, and yes, it was clear so it was sunny like today, a single B-29 bomber, hardly cause for alarm, named Enola Gay flew across the sky.

On a day, perhaps much like today, by the same time of day that I arrived in Hiroshima, the city was destroyed, on fire, and thousands of people were dead, incinerated where they stood, their shadows burned into the ground, or their skin melting off their bodies. The horrors memorialized in the semi-ironic “Peace Park”.

The thoughts were sent back to history as Shiho became reality, and with her we went around Hiroshima and decided to go to one of her favorite places, Miyajima, an island just off the coast. There were lots of deer there. We watched the sun set and then it was time for me to go back to Osaka. She accompanied me to the train station where we had dinner and our first beer together, hopefully not our last.



There’s something happening here, some sort of guidance, this is all happening for a reason. When Shiho and I got together on Friday, obviously we talked about our old high school acquaintances, one of whom was the significant M. Holdaway. He was our Physics teacher and an amazing musician and a good friend to us both. He tried to tell me on numerous occasions how Shiho felt about me and I always ignored it. Idiot that I am. Anyway, we talked about him and wondered about him and decided it wasn’t a terrible loss to have lost contact with him. Not a reflection on him, but just that the past is meant for the past.

The next day, Saturday morning, I get a phone call and a dopey voice says, “A voice from your past”. It’s M. Holdaway!! This is NOT a coincidence, something is happening here and for a reason. He had gotten my number from New Jersey. He now works at the VLA radio telescope in New Mexico and he is coming to Japan for a conference in October. Apparently Japan is planning to build a baseline array. He tried calling me in New Jersey to see if I had Shiho’s number so that he could get together with her when he came here. Instead he got my number.

It’s too weird to be coincidence. Two significant high school figures, remarkably absent from my even more significant college years, suddenly appear at the same time and place right after I graduate from college.

Shiho came to Osaka again today on her way back up to Tokyo. We felt more at ease today, the familiarity sinking in, a little more open. We got stuck in the rain and we were close sharing an umbrella. We had the coffee I knew we’d have one day. I thought about the fact that we were once a couple and that we had a break-up in our past. It made me sad. She was a victim of my recklessness, problems, and instability, and as much as I feel I had hurt her out of selfishness, she seemed to remind me and understand the position I was in back then with my parents. She knew how much I hated them. And now she’s going out with someone else and it’s my loss. It’s still my loss.

It was through Den-Den town, the electronics center of Osaka, that we were walking in the rain. It was wet, gloomy, and artificially bright. She was so familiar pressing together under the umbrella. Anyone who saw us would have mistaken us for a couple. There’s something funny about that, almost comforting. She should be back in Tokyo by now.

Osaka, Japan

Time doesn’t exist anymore. I’m here. I do what I do. Day in, day out, I don’t have to be conscious what day it is or how many days have passed.

Madoka left for the States today and I feel empty and alone without her. She is just amazing, so good at being her, so good at being Madoka, and that I admire most of all. Without her I would be lost here and would have absolutely nothing going for me. Her leaving makes me really want to appreciate all I have, including Sakura.

Sakura and I are on our own now. We have to figure out what our real relationship is. Madoka acted as a junction, or buffer through whom our relative energy was channeled. I need to be more actively patient and tolerant without Madoka. The three of us got together for the last time on Saturday, and out of tact and respect, Sakura and I didn’t plan another rehearsal until she left. So we’re getting together tomorrow.

It’s rainy and windy because a typhoon is moving in. I thought it was appropriate to take a long, long walk down the Yodogawa. I actually couldn’t have gone that far, several miles, but in a foreign land in an area I’ve never been, I was in another world. It was a journey to get there, not just a short drive down the river.

My cousin Mi-chan has two sons, Hiroaki and Te-chan, ages 5 and 3 respectively. They spend most of their time upstairs with their grandparents because both Mi-chan and his wife, Hiromi, work. They are hyperactive and on the verge of fighting age. They are really violent and destructive, and whenever they find something new to play with, or when they receive a new toy, their first impulse is to destroy it. They are uncontrollable to the point of frustration. They are a potent birth control for witnesses. It may not be the reason Mi-Chan and Hiromi leave them here all day, and I’m not saying it isn’t, but I would certainly understand if it was.

I find it fascinating, though, as I watch them, and feel frustration inside me at their recklessness and their unpredictability. They are unable at this age to establish value and connect what action leads to what effect, like breaking things or hurting each other. Putting it that way, not too different from adults. I thought it might be how God, or Allah for lack of a better term and totally open to subjective interpretation, may be “watching” us. I don’t want to anthropomorphize Allah, so these human verbs are used for lack of anything more appropriate.

So much to learn from children, that’s what Prof. Morris had said as he is raising a family now. I thought he was referring to the obvious, that children have a more pure approach to life that is lost upon the initiation to a jaded and judgmental adulthood. That adults have much to learn from watching children about life and growing and about how we should approach the world.

Maybe that’s what he meant. But then maybe he was referring to the relationship between parent and child as a metaphor between Allah and humans, and that is what is there to learn. Look at how we view children and that is how Allah views us. It’s totally subjective, and Allah is vast and indescribable, but we don’t need to understand Allah since we are the children in the metaphor. Do the children have the slightest idea of what’s in the adult mind? Children can only understand what we send them by how they interpret what we send them. That’s why we have touch, feelings, senses, and knowledge, they are tangible things that we can interpret.

Sakura, Madoka, and I used to have some awesome discussions. I realize now that I can talk to Sakura about these things because she was an open enough channel to listen and accept the possibility of these things. She knows a lot of the basics that I do. There’s still something missing there, or different, so we don’t completely click. It’s superficial, it’s just words.

Shiho is coming this weekend. Why am I holding my breath? That name. Shiho. She’s still here. All my learning occurred after she left, but she’s still here and an important part of my life. But how does she fit in my now with Amina? Now of Amina? In Japan? What am I saying? She doesn’t write that often.

Osaka, Japan

I found another river to run along, the Kanzakigawa. It runs kind of parallel to the Yodogawa, so heading in the opposite direction that takes me to the Yodogawa will take me to the Kanzakigawa. It’s also the first stop from Juso on the Hankyu line to Kobe. I think I want to run a marathon before I die. I think I need to for some reason. I figure I need to build up endurance and work on how long I can run in terms of time before I think of distance.

The plan was to set my timer for 30 minutes, set off for this new river and run as far as 30 minutes takes me. After 30 minutes, take a short break to get a drink from a vending machine and run 30 minutes back. Pretty good plan.

The first 30 minutes weren’t bad. The run to the Kanzakigawa was actually pretty short and then I ran on the path that ran on the flood plain alongside the river. Most rivers in Japan have flood plains for obvious reasons, but to conserve space, they make recreational use out of them, so it’s common to have paths in them and even baseball and soccer fields.

It was quite pleasant. Occasionally I’d come across another runner or cyclist, and under some bridges there were homeless people who set up encampments. There were also people fishing in the river. It was pre-noon and Summers in Japan are of the hot and humid variety. The sun was getting high, but buildings alongside the river still provided some shade.

After the first 30 minutes, I really need a drink so I stop running and walk back towards a bridge I had just passed. Where there’s a bridge in Japan, there are people and traffic, and where there are people and traffic, there are vending machines, right? Am I to be so lucky when there’s a lesson to be learnt? No.

Well, bridges, people, traffic, and therefore vending machines exist in abundance in this country, so no problem. I head for the next bridge down the river, where I find a vending machine and continue the run, right? Am I to be so lucky when there’s a lesson to be learnt? No.

So there has got to be another bridge soon, I continue down the river.

I walk atop a concrete barrier along the roadside, the road on the left, on the right, the concrete barrier slopes steeply down to the flood plain. The pre-noon sun has become a midday sun and the shade is pretty much gone. I walk and walk and a bridge shows up not. On the other side of the road are large, sheet-metal, warehouse-like structures. I had run my way into a light industrial area. Occasionally I hear clanging and banging coming from inside the structures. There is no pedestrian traffic, it’s hot, and I’m dehydrating.

The next bridge is no where in sight, the last bridge is far behind, there are no roads leading from this road to more populated areas, only driveways into complexes of these hulking, sheet-metal, warehouse-like structures. I can’t run or I’ll certainly dehydrate. I find myself getting frustrated and angry. Where are the fucking vending machines? Why is this happening to me? Why do I always get into these situations? Then I think about the people working in these gloomy, sheet-metal, warehouse-like structures to my immediate left. They look really hot and the open windows suggest a lack of air-conditioning.

Here I am complaining for a drink. That’s the kind of problems I have. Those are lives working in those buildings. I’m not comparing miseries, just looking at myself and what I am and what I’m doing. Would I be happier inside, rather than outside?

From the window of the apartment in Juso, I can watch the descent of airplanes in the distance as they land at Osaka airport. They fly almost directly over as I’m walking atop the concrete barrier. I never could figure out where the bloody airport was. Oh, here it is. It’s not in Osaka proper. It’s not even on this side of the Yodogawa, it’s on THAT side of the Kanzakigawa, out in the boonies. It’s actually near Toyonaka where Kazue and her husband work. There’s even a Hankyu station in Toyonaka, I can take the Hankyu to the airport.

Cruel places airports. And kind. I could get on a plane and go any where and live under a bridge in some warm, tropical country. That’s more of the life I deserve but haven’t earned yet. To get away from people and get away from my role as a participant with other people. Yes, get away.

The feeling doesn’t last. Only 25 minutes of walking and I not only come to a bridge, but a bridge with a Hankyu line running across it. All three Hankyu lines stop in Juso, and all trains on all three lines stop in Juso. Juso is a pretty important place. In fact, Juso and Umeda, the Hankyu terminus in Osaka proper, are the only stations that can make that claim. There is one station in between Juso and Umeda, on the Umeda side, but Tokyu express trains don’t stop there.

I have ¥220 on me, enough for two cans from a vending machine. It’s also enough to take me back to Juso and then I could get a drink at home and spare myself getting there on foot. No brainer. I buy a ticket and get on the platform and boom, there’s a vending machine, one of the rarer vending machines that have drinks that I can afford even after having bought the train ticket. It was too perfect, maybe someone suspected I deserved it.

Osaka, Japan

I thought alcohol had served its purpose, but the pattern has re-emerged and its role in marking cycles has returned. I drank myself to convulsions last night and crisis dealt with and done. I’m feeling quite refreshed now after a day of feeling god-awful yucky. I forced myself to go out for a slow steady jog which turned into a steady confident run. Afterwards, I showered and tidied up and am currently relaxing, amazed at it all. Patterns and cycles, predictable and reliable. Hiromi and I had our last communication.

I have to admit now that I’m in Japan counting time, waiting for some opportunity to show itself. A pretty bad reason for being here. I had nothing in the States so I came here to get away from the ‘rents. I’ve been piloting a ship blind, I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going. I’m not here for any reason, if an opportunity came up in the States, I’d head back in a second.

I got a letter from Amina and she made a good point about distance. It shouldn’t be forced. Nothing should be forced. Things get screwed up when things are forced. But I don’t think a distance would naturally happen between us and we need distance between us. Or at least I do. I shouldn’t be too hasty in what I’m definite about. I’d return to the States for her in a second. She’ll be back at Oberlin in a few days.

Osaka, Japan

Less than a month left before Madoka leaves to go back to Oberlin. She has been so much to me and it will be totally different with her gone. It was a faulty lifeline that I have thrown out to her. Madoka has kept things with Sakura tolerable. But I have to maintain that connection with or without Madoka. It’s been fun what we’ve been doing with Madoka, but without her we have to figure out what we’re really doing and if it’s going to take us anywhere.



I go to Kyoto once a week to tutor kids in English. Gary got me the connection to get that job, but I really have to do something to kick in my Japanese. I’m really not putting enough effort into learning the language. But this tutoring gives me something to do.

Things aren’t going great. Not awful. I’m not trusting my feelings or perceptions since they roller coaster in cycles, definite cycles at that. Sometimes things go great, sometimes they look awful. Being here makes me hypersensitive to the general now.

I still turn to Amina whenever I have something to say, but lately I’ve also had feelings of letting go to match the distance between us. Unfortunately, I’ve tried that and it has never worked. I can’t just let go of someone I love so much. It’s an emotional dependence.

Osaka, Japan

Madoka has been instrumental in helping me settle here and placing my feet on the ground. Her friendship has been invaluable and I think we’ve established each other as close friends now. She lives in Kobe, which is half an hour away on the Hankyu line. She actually lives further out in the suburbs, so she has to take a train to Kobe proper (Sannomiya) where we usually meet.

We get together pretty often and I’ve been meeting her friends and hanging out with them in restaurants and coffeeshops. One of the first of her friends I met was Sakura, who is a friend from high school and she wanted to introduce us since Sakura does music and writes songs. She wants to get a band together so this might be a really, really good thing. When I first met her, the vibes weren’t too good. She seemed to be copping a lot of attitude and I wasn’t impressed, but I shouldn’t be so judgmental. She’s Madoka’s friend and that’s good enough for me.

Madoka has been volunteering for a matsuri at Kitano shrine in Kobe. The matsuri is today and tomorrow and proceeds from it go to international aid in Southeast Asia. Last week, on the day that she introduced Sakura and me, she also got us to sign up to perform at the matsuri, so this past week we’ve been getting together a lot to rehearse a few songs.

Last night, we were able to have a live run-through of the three songs we’ve prepared at a bar somewhere in Osaka proper. Well, Juso is Osaka proper, but I consider "Osaka proper" on the other side of the Yodogawa. Juso to the rest of Osaka across the river feels too much like what Fort Lee was to New York across the Hudson River. Sakura knew some people in a band and they said it would be fine for us to have a spot.

The bar was called “The Tramps” and it was a tiny little dive with a tiny corner cleared out to act as a “stage”. The design and decor emulated Western bars and apparently the clientele is primarily white guys with Japanese women. It figures. The “band” that Sakura knew were whities as well. Their bassist didn’t show because he was in Kyoto and thought the gig was next week, so they let me join in on the last two songs. No big deal.

So the plan last night was that Madoka, who is singing backing vocals, and Sakura would stay over at my place and then today we would all head over to Kitano shrine to play at the matsuri. We left the bar pretty late, and I don’t know what we were thinking, but we decided that we could just walk to the Yodogawa and Umeda station because we had only gone two stops on the JR loop-line from Umeda. So the river couldn’t have been too far away, right?

We ended up wandering for about two hours, lugging our instruments and just talking about whatever. The streets were fairly empty at that time of night and it was very peaceful and serene and it felt very safe. It was pleasant until we finally decided it was about time we knew where we were. We stopped at a 24 hour convenience store and got directions to the Yodogawa. We had been walking parallel to the Yodogawa. When we reached it, I recognized buildings way downstream and we decided to take a taxi from there to Juso. Smart move.

We got to sleep at 4:45 and woke up at 7:30 to go to the matsuri. Madoka had to be there early since she was working it. The matsuri was a bazaar type event and the shrine had a small central pavilion that was used as a stage. We hung out all day and playing there was much better than at the bar. Madoka had some other friends there and Hiromi showed up as well. I got in touch with Hiromi because Madoka had her number.



It’s too bad these activities are not things I can tell auntie about to let her know I’m not just sitting on my butt. But then I don’t think she’d be at all impressed at what I’m doing. It’s also bad because I’m only hanging around English speaking people and that’s not helping my Japanese.

I noticed something while walking around Juso, keenly aware of being an exile in disguise. I felt tense, uncomfortable, self-destructive. I wanted to hurt. Then I thought about the presence that I’ve always felt hanging around me who has been so kind as to always lead me into learning situations. Coming to Japan couldn’t have been a wrong decision, a total mistake. So why feel like hurting?

I thought about what Diem said when we were once discussing the concept of angels. She said she felt presences in the forms of spirits sitting on either shoulder. One whispering in one ear to do bad things, the other whispering in her other ear to do good things. What she described was too far from what I was researching for me to take to heart, but now I find there is an interpretation to make it fit.

Her good and bad spirits are analogous to my presence guiding me around and my self-destructive psychology. One guiding, comforting and teaching me, one destroying me. I think they are the same thing as Diem’s spirits, but we image them differently and use different vocabulary to describe them.

Shiho called to tell me she’s coming to visit in late August. Tingle, tug. But she’s going out with someone and has gone out with people, and I’m certain she’s changed in the past six years, so . . . well, it’s really good to have a friend like her.

Osaka, Japan

I’ve been in Japan for a week and a half. I’m staying in the same apartment at “Toyohara mansion” that I stayed in when I was here nine years ago, but apparently it is now being used as storage space. Kazue and Mi-chan have both since married and moved out. I had to carve out a living space amongst the boxes and TV monitors. TV monitors? They both run karaoke bars now.

Kazue picked me up at the airport and brought me back here to Juso. Mi-chan stopped by later, and of course I was greeted by auntie and uncle who still live in the apartment upstairs. It’s all familiar in a surreal way, which is nothing that I didn’t expect.

I’ve been re-familiarizing myself with the surrounding area. The day after I got here, I took a long walk. I found the Yodogawa easily enough and made my way across it to Umeda. I remember the general layout of the area well enough to find my way around. I remember the main roads, the Hankyu station, the local shopping arcade.


Yodogawa (Yodo River), looking back at Juso.

I’ve been eating with uncle and auntie which has been pretty uncomfortable since we can’t communicate very well. I’m very polite and I thank them for everything. I wish they would let me help with cleaning up, or anything so that I won’t feel like a useless freeloader.

I got in touch with Madoka and Sakuko almost immediately and that helped buffer the shock. My cousin Gary, Audrey’s brother, also coincidentally visited soon after I arrived. He only stayed a few days, but he was able to translate, so there was that window of communication while he was here to help me clear up some basics with auntie.

I’ve been dreaming of life in the States. I wake up wondering where I am and it always seems to be with disappointment and homesickness that I realize that I’m here. Most unusual considering this is where I want to be.

But I’m alone here, an exile in disguise, an observer living in mortal fear that someone will walk up to me and talk to me and find out my awful truth. I’ve been trying to learn this language for so long and I still can’t. That’s gotta be about something. And I need to stop fucking apologizing whenever I have to explain that I don’t speak the language.

My thoughts are a-buzz, a continuation of the anxiety and constant mental activity during the month prior to coming here. Only it’s immediate now, no longer distant. What am I doing here? How am I going to do it? What to do after my three month visa expires? Thoughts flash and my feelings keep changing. I don’t know what kind of life I want to lead or what kind of person I want to be HERE. Yesterday, almost as an exercise, I scared myself thinking that I don’t want to die. Allow myself to severely attach to this physical existence and not wanting to know of any other kind. If only I can stop thinking and concentrate on learning the language.

Shiho called. Her voice had a warm familiarity and I felt waves of overwhelming reminiscence. So much time has passed and the reality of our relationship was distance. Now we’re back in the same country and she feels close, her reality is almost present. Have we changed too much since high school? It’s been six years, so our separation has been longer than the time we were friends in New Jersey.

Amina and I were riding on a bus. It was raining. The clouds started breaking and when the sun came out, I thought that there must be a rainbow. I looked out the window. We were on the right side of the bus, and she was to my right in the window seat. The sun was coming out on the left, so the rainbow had to be out the right window. When I saw it, I looked at her and looked back out the window trying to indicate that there was something there. There was a white guy in the seat behind us and I was annoyed that he was there. I didn’t want to communicate anything at all to him so I was being secretive with Amina and not saying anything out loud. Amina asked what I was looking at. I asked what she thought I saw, trying to indicate with my eyes the sun at the left and the rain. I was using my eyes and my face and our faces ended up close to each other. I was aware of wanting to respect her space so I wasn’t comfortable being so close to her, but I also didn’t want to move away from her. Then it became clear that it was no mistake that her face was so close to mine, so I moved my face towards her until our cheeks gently touched. Slowly we turned until our lips met and we kissed. I savored the warmth and her softness and I couldn’t believe I was kissing her. My mouth was tingling and my heart jumping. Never a kiss like that, never wanting to stop. Or so I dreamed.

Visiting Amina in Chicago pics

I went to visit for about a week en route to Japan. Diem came from Madison, WI one day to visit.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

It was so perfect how that disk crashed in April and erased entries from this journal. It erased parts of my life that weren’t meant to be recorded, events that showed my inadequacies. The events occurred for me to learn from, but not to be recorded as characterizing me. All that was meant to be erased got erased, and all that was meant to be recorded remained.

It’s been fascinating looking back, now that I’ve graduated. Memories of me that are so foreign. I just got a roll of film developed. Already the people are feeling like memories. Amina and Diem, Commencement, Luyen and me in her room on her birthday. All have the texture and fondness of long gone memories

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

I went walking around in a mall today and all I thought about was Luyen, Amina, and Diem. Amina’s words, “I said that I would marry you” came back to haunt me. It was a joke, but . . . what a joke. It was supposed to be a joke.

This move to Japan has been occupying the totality of my thought. I’ve been trying to push it to the back of my mind, but there’s no getting away from it and my curiosity to speculate what will happen betrays my preoccupation. And what is this about the ‘rents going to Taiwan until a couple of days before I leave? They seem disturbingly comfortable with my leaving. As if they know I’ll be back and when I’ll be back. Fuck them.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

The ‘rents left for Taiwan on Thursday and they won’t be back until a day or two before I leave for Chicago, en route to Japan. Fitting. I’m glad they went, it gives me time to clear my head about leaving and their role in my leaving. Their possible role in manipulating me back to this country, back on the track they want me on, regardless of the futility.

I sift through a flood of apprehension about this move to Japan, what do I think I’m doing? My life heading into Never-Never land. That’s not the way my life has been structured, I’m not familiar enough with heading off into Never-Never land and making it work. I’m not good at going off alone into the unknown and figuring out my way on the fly. I’m familiar with structure and shelter. I don’t know a whole lot about independence. I have to be willing to try.