|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.
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]
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.
* * *
|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
“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.