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May 7, 2014


Oh, Akiko, We Hardly Knew Ye




The combatants


In this week’s installment of “Feed the Blog Beast,” I once again toss readers a bucket of slop deemed unsuitable for inclusion in the upcoming memoir about my years at Yokohama’s N University, where, for the better part of two decades, I successfully went through the motions of teaching English to the most beautiful women in the solar system.*

Today’s tidbits are small, so go ahead and have two of them. The first finds more-or-less present-day me going through boxes of old stuff in the process of what passes around here for “researching” a memoir.


Found in a large envelope labeled “2003 Mail”: A handwritten note, carefully folded up in origami fashion to a four-inch square. My name is rendered on the cover in pink, red, and green markers, to the left of which is a sticker of Sylvester the Cat and to the right of which are two red heart stickers.

Upon unfolding it, I discover that the note was written about two months after I began the new phase of my NU career, teaching required English courses for non-International Relations majors. It was a nerve-wracking time, marked by much anxiety over whether or not my ineffable charm would work on this new and different demographic.

Here is what the memo said. Inserted notations substitute for illustrations that cannot be expressed by keyboard.


Dear Muggins

Hi, I was so glad the other day; May 22, that you remembered my birthday
[drawing of cake with candles]. Thank you, love! I have my PC. But I don’t have a printer. [drawing of teardrops] So, I write this letter by hand. As such I want to convey how glad I was without delay ◊◊. I was celebrated my birthday with a party by my friends in high school. VERY VERY Happy!! ^^ [Sticker of Tasmanian Devil happily clutching a wrapped gift]

I think I can get off to a very good start by grace of them. ♪♪ I bless them for their kindness. They have taken good care of me. ♡ ♡ and I love them, too ^^. By the way, I went to the movies today. What do you think I watched?

☆ ☆ THINKING TIME ☆ ☆

Well, I declare the answer…→ The answer is 8 MILE ☺ Do you know it? It’s like an EMINEM’S autobiography. He is a musician, no, rapper. I respect and love him ♡ not only his flow but his lyric and rhyme. That reminds me
[smiling face drawing]!! You are a musician, aren’t you? I heard it by Suzuki Mayumi teacher. Really?? If it is truth, I want to listen your singing voice and your song. [Drawing of microphone, or possibly stubby penis, gripped in fist] ♪♪ OK now, It’s almost time to go bed (It’s twelve five) [drawing of clock]

Good night Muggins. Zzzzz ☆[Crescent moon]

Love from Akiko

[Drawing of girl’s head with hearts emerging from it]

[Drawing of Minnie Mouse]

[Drawing of waving hand]

Bye-bye


Here’s the thing. I have no idea who this Akiko is. My database yields up a number of Akikos who were taking one class or another from me that year. At best, I can narrow it down to a freshman business major or a poli sci sophomore. I retain only cursory data on both (not including birthdays) and no photos.

How many hours did it take Akiko to write and elaborately illustrate this English memo? At least one, probably closer to two. Two hours of intensive labor just to thank me for a “Happy Birthday” shout-out that probably took me all of ten seconds to deliver at the end of class on, say, a Thursday morning in the spring of 2003. She gave me that note and I took it home and tucked it away with the other “keeper” mail, and then promptly got back to my masturbating, most likely.

Ten years later, I have no recollection of her.

I suck.


* * *

The selection below harkens back to a night in October 2001 when some pretty International Relations freshmen dropped by my off-campus apartment. Due to a bureaucratic blunder, the admission of one girl had been delayed a whole semester, so that she had joined my class from September rather than April, as is customary. The others invited this new classmate in hopes of facilitating her acclimation to NU.


…Some female classmates brought Asaki, the gorgeous newcomer, to my home, and she in turn brought her boyfriend, who in turn brought a quantity of crab that in my own college days we would have termed a “shitload.” Then we ate the shitload of crab while Misaki’s boyfriend got drunk, and then Misaki and one of the other girls and I invented a game called “Death Match” by making Boo-chan and Mr. Horny fight. Boo-chan was a foot-tall stuffed pig and Mr. Horny a grinning, Satan-headed hand-puppet with arms that jabbed when the wearer manipulated hidden levers. Boo-chan’s substantial size was largely nullified by stubby, immobile limbs; Mr. Horny had the reach advantage.

“Hurry up and die, Boo-chan!”

“Huh? Fuck you!”

Punch! Punch! Punch!

“I’ll kick you in the nuts!”

Thus did two college girls with heart-stopping bodies and luxurious curtains of long black hair and I tirelessly stage round after round of a brutal, trash-talking brawl between two toys that were, for whatever reason, found in my apartment. In other news, I had recently turned forty-six years old.

NU Chicks: Wheresoever they went, there was Eden.

* I'm taking it on faith that the Gas Giant trim isn't worth going to check out.