“OK, you got me, why do they make things so difficult?” —St Germain
As a not-so-casual observer of Japanese girls, something I’ve always wondered was: Why are they so sad? They weave through crowds staring dejectedly at their platform shoes, or scrunch over their phones on the train, trying desperately to tune out the world. So I consulted Seina, since she’s got an answer for everything.
“Why,” I asked, “are Japanese girls so sad? That’s something I’ve always wondered.”
“Because they’re not happy,” Seina replied. I don’t know why I’m consistently surprised by the obvious.
“Well, why aren’t they happy?” I pressed.
“Probably they don’t want to be.”
“Who doesn’t want to be happy?”
“People who are sad.”
I could find no flaw in that geometry. You gotta appreciate a perfect circle.
Continue reading “Japanese Values”
Japan has no breakfast. That’s a natural fact. So a lot of mornings, I find myself munching down cold rice balls in the park, simply because there’s nowhere else to sit in this bloody country. It really speaks volumes about a place when it’s specifically designed not to provide seats at bus stops or even a low wall where you could just rest for a moment. But nope; throughout Japan, there’s a lack of horizontal surfaces. This keeps salarymen, housewives, and children in school uniforms shuffling forward, wandering the streets like an army of exhausted zombies. Well, wheels of progress and all.
Continue reading “There is No Japanese Breakfast”
Know the biggest challenge you’ll face in Japan during the COVID crisis? Turns out it’s trying to determine what hotties with hard bodies look like under those masks. Nobody wants to get all the way to the bedroom only to have an episode of, Oh jeez, put it back on, put it back on. Ken Seeroi’s all about mitigating risk. That’s why I keep a selection of cute wigs on hand, just in case. Then if anybody’s disappointed, at least I can throw one on. You’d be surprised how good I look with bangs. Trust me, “surprised” is an understatement.
So I’m in the university office last Tuesday, and this is Ms. Eguchi, from behind her mask— “Ken Sensei, please don’t make the final assignment too hard.”
She’s concerned I’ll fail my entire class of undergraduates again this semester. I’m concerned too, considering the problem at hand, which is that I’ve never seen her face despite having a body that reminds me of warm hills and ample valleys.
Continue reading “Japanese University is a Joke”
I’d like to say Japan makes complete sense. I’ve lived here a long time, and come to understand most of the mysteries of Japan. Like, I get why we don’t have screen doors and a stereo is a crime against humanity. Or why we have to sit on the floor, slurp our noodles, avoid talking on the bus, and why the prettier a woman is, the more pissed-off she looks. That’s all reasonable. But then I’d like to say a lot of things, like Japan’s so efficient that the whole country doesn’t run on stacks of paper, unbridled nepotism, and rubber stamps. Sorry, just came from the real estate office. How is it renting a freaking room involves over forty pages of forms and someone who appears Japanese? Explain that, Japan.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. So, not much in Japan is really remarkable any more. That’s known as being jaded. Still, no amount of jadedness seems to solve the mysteries of Japan, such as:
Continue reading “The Top 10 Mysteries of Japan”
What I like the best is when I’m in line at the supermarket behind a woman with a kid. And the kid’s like six months old, not even vocal, yet already he knows. He’s just glaring at me, not even blinking, like, There’s something different about that dude—the eyes, the nose, the amazing fashion sense—what is it? And I’m like, uhh, the term you’re searching for is “gaijin.” Congratulations to me; I just beat out “mama” as your first word.
But the little guy keeps staring, like a midget superman trying to melt my eyeballs with his x-ray vision. I’m like, Jeez, lady, rein in your infant before he turns me into a pillar of salt.
Continue reading “Ken Seeroi Interview With the Author”