Category Archives: random love

random love

I want

i want

it all.  And then some.

I want my next apartment to have a really big tree rooted in it, stretching its thick branches out the windows.  But I don’t want birds to live in it because they still freak me out.  On a side note, I think some of my bird fear is easing because the birds are less aggro here. Actually, scratch that.  While I write these posts, images are suggested and this pops up:

English: The blinking eye of a Masked Lapwing ...

English: The blinking eye of a Masked Lapwing in Cairns, Queensland, Australia. The nictitating membrane closes from only one side, and is translucent. The eyelids themselves do not close during blinking, but do so for sleep. Français : Le clignement de l’œil d’un vanneau soldat (sous-espèce nord, Vanellus miles miles). La membrane nictitante, translucide, est la seule à se fermer sur l’œil. L’oiseau ne ferme ses paupières que pour dormir. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Um NO.  The yellow to the right makes my insides silently scream so loudly and wince repeatedly like I’ve got Tourette’s.  This muscle memory triggers the headless sparrow I narrowly side-stepped on the street today, which reminds me that when it comes to spotting shit that freaks me out, I suddenly have the best eyesight in the world.  I can draw my headless pigeon army, eyes closed.  Why do I have a vivid image file of decapitated birds on instant fucking recall?  That’s just not right.

Moving on to things I want rather than weird shit that freaks me out, I would like a rhino in her party hat, visiting my apartment for exactly 12 minutes every six months.  Yes, a rhino dance shuffle party twice a year, please.  She’s even picked me out among many potential party hosts and even though she lives in Arkansas, she’s down to visit Tokyo.  Now we just have to work out stupid logistics.  Her name is Clementine and this is her portrait:

i want it all2

© Rumi Tominaga

Speaking of friends visiting, more would be nice.  I want my bitches here.
This points to only one of two things: teleportation or Falcor.  

I want I want I want.  

Gimme big tree.
& Clementine.
Aaaannnd:

i want it all

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about Japan, random love

I own this bitch, y’all

I own this bitch y'all

and she’s purtier and easier.

It’s makeover day, which means I have a new header and domain, which is: mybfturnedmelesbo.com (faster to type than with that wordpress thing in the middle).  

This domain is mine…hooray.  Y’all are really fucking sweet and encouraging so I thought, hell, might as well own this for real.  So let’s see what kind of trouble and embarrassment I can recollect and get into over the next 12 months.  I guarantee shenanigans that meet various degrees of disapproval, foreign discomfort, some more emotional paralysis (and growth) and some plain dumb shit because I have a knack of doing some really dumb shit.

For instance:
It’s hot here.  Really fucking hot.  It’s the equivalent of 95+°F, I haven’t stopped sweating for 13 days (and counting) and the oppressive heat is literally suffocating me (I crane my neck upwards on the sardine trains to catch air- not exaggerating) and killing old people.  Which is why weather-appropriate food is de rigueur here.

Cold-on-cold foods like cool soba or somen dipped in refreshingly chilled broth (freshly grated ginger is an especially nice addition) is typical summertime grub.  Noodles here are seriously delicious; the texture is amazing and Japan has probably destroyed my standards for the rest of the world.

So my friend and I are moaning about the heat, looking for a place to eat…
My friend: Oh, look at this.
Me: Oooh…pork shabu-shabu?!  I’ve never had that…
MF: Well, that decides it then.

I am so excited.  I’ve had beef shabu but not pork because America is scared of serving beautiful, paper-thin slices of raw pork cooked tableside in a vat of boiling water with herbaceous veggies and tofu.

We sit, order beers and my friend’s body temp has mysteriously risen for being inside.  Strange.  He immediately asks the server to turn down the AC; I can tell from the eyes that are cut that it’s not going to happen.  I feel bad because he’s dressed all Tokyo proper from fancy-pants work meetings.

And we are stupid.  Because shabu-shabu entails sitting nano-inches away from a steaming hot-pot where we boil meat for hours.  Wait, that sounded weird.  The meal takes hours (and the veggies are simmering the entire time) but the individual slices of pork-cook only lasts a few seconds because the gorgeous cuts are sliced so pretty-skinny.  Once it’s cooked to your preferred doneness, get you some delicate greens and dip in yum sauce/broth.  Basically, shabu is quality ingredients at their best…mmm.

My friend asks the server to turn down the AC again and annoyed dude is looking at us like, are you for real?  You’re eating cold weather food in the middle of a heat wave and we’re still in energy-conservation mode from the earthquake, fuckers.  He is so not turning the shit down.  I point out the words I see in server’s head and my friend is like, right…we’re the ijiots who have chosen to subject ourselves to a pork steambath.

Yes we are.

But these are my people: damn fools who, in their excitement to share a new experience with me, abandon foresight and suffer sweating balls for hours.

I love when I find my people as they are the best.  Like y’all.
Seriously, thank you for the love and support.
Cheers!

 

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random love

Happy freedom day, America

gay freedom

from Tokyo.

Funnily and unexpectedly enough, this holiday has struck a deep chord within me.  Perhaps it took moving to a foreign country, one in which I’m a citizen, to make me think damn hard and comparatively about American things like:

change, weed, immigration, conflict, acceptance, hate, cops, motherfucking Hollywood, documentaries, fast food, abuse, Vegas, the fucking judicial system, abortion, beer, AA, puppies, capitalism, goddamn public transportation,
Planned Parenthood, traffic, swimming pools, guns, NYC, libraries,
the homeless, privilege,  infomercials, love, Prince, reality TV, the death penalty,
fucking musicals, Apple, vegans, fly fishing,  NAACP, the public, goddamn Texas, telemarketing, Sesame Street, equality, drag queens, fucking healthcare.

I could go on.  And on.

But really, it’s just this:
Love you, America.

Oh fuck, have I just become patriotic?
I’m aight with that.

Love y’all, Happy 4th, Peace.

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random love

Let’s get it straight…

Let's get it straight

because I don’t know how to tell my story chronologically.

My brain has never processed in a linear fashion so here’s a nifty timeline (thank you, Seralyn, awesome computer genie) to help identify where in the relationship each post lands.  I’ve timelined past posts because I think it will clarify and better represent who we are/were when we were experiencing all sorts of transition.

Thank you awesome people for the support and encouragement thus far and hopefully this visual will help; I always benefit from a colorful chart (thank you, Maria Montessori).

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