When I first came to Japan, things were so much simpler. Men were men, Japanese were Japanese, and foreigners were gaijin. Now everything’s gone to pieces, nuanced to the point that when somebody talks about “the Japanese,” I don’t even know who they mean. That it’s not me is the only thing that’s clear. Things are complicated in modern Japan, is what I’m saying. Three things, actually, or maybe four. Continue reading “Who’s Really Japanese?”
I have Japan to thank for making me gay. I’m pretty sure it did anyway, since it’s fairly dessicated my mojo. I keep checking the mirror to make sure, and while I don’t look a whole lot gayer than before, the evidence is certainly mounting. Like I woke up this morning, and instead of my usual manly breakfast of cold pizza, eggs, and coffee, I had yogurt. Fruit yogurt. Now, to be fair, Japan does have some really amazing flavors, like aloe yogurt, fig yogurt, mango . . . Ah jeez, I’m just glad my uncles aren’t around to see what I’ve become. Thank God they all passed away from a lifetime of bourbon and Lucky Strikes. Continue reading “How Japan Made me Gay”
There’s only one word to describe my recent vacation to the U.S.: Oh . . . my . . . God. Ohmygod.
I went back for two weeks, or as we say in Japan, a fortnight. That’s a long time when every waking moment is filled with The Horror. By which I mean that between jet lag and culture shock, I feel lucky to have made it back to Japan at all. When I finally stepped off the plane at Narita I teared up so much that I just hugged the first flight attendant I saw. She happened to be from Korean Air, but I figured, eh, close enough. They’re very soft too, those Koreans. Continue reading “One Startling Trip to America”