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.
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.
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.
