We went to San Francisco last night to see A and K, who are two of the most cutest people God ever put on this here great old (partly) green world. They are from Japan, mainly Tokyo, and we stayed with them on the Dear Nora tour of 2002 when me, Katy, Jake, Ryan, Curt, Anna, Mirah and Jona all went together over there. If you know anything about your average everyday Tokyo denizen’s daily life and, more importantly, apartment size, then you will understand the full impact that a crowd of this size makes upon hosts who are willing to do everything in their power to make sure you are happy and comfortable, up to and including: giving you their own bed, dying.
It’s a pretty big impact.
But who handled it all with remarkable poise and graciousness? these two, that’s who. Those guys are something else.
They got out their cell phones and showed me many, many pictures of their cat, Hiji. I am glad to see that even though we live thousands of miles apart and barely speak a language in common, we are still so similar to our brothers across the pond (Japan, not England). For on my cell phone, are there not also many, many pictures of cats? Whiskers and Grunty, in all their wonderful feline glory. We spent a long time imitating these cats to each other. Oh, how Hiji chases her small toy mouse! How Whiskers lays on top of you and stares into your face and when you wake up you are tormented as by a demon! How Grunty does not like balloons!
Hiji, apparently, was adopted by A and K in the following way: A was walking along in Shibuya when she saw a crow eating a kitten. She scared the crow off, and there was Hiji, hurt and confused.
This story, as you can imagine, was EXTREMELY hard to get across. “What? A crow?” we asked. “No, you don’t mean that.” Finally the dictionary was consulted and several words pointed out. And the upswing of it was that yes, in fact, a crow was trying to eat Hiji, and A scared it off.
If you knew A, this story would be much, much funnier. She is roughly one inch tall.
We stayed out very late and I played pool with a stranger. I was drunk, and I kept loudly accusing him of “sharking” me. K and I had a good long talk about George Bush. A took some pictures with her camera, which has a special button you can push which makes a noise. This confused me, until they made clear to me that this function exists in order to make a cat look at the camera. The camera is called “Meow Meow Holga.” The Japanese really have it figured out, my god.
Thanks to the remarkably affable and hilarious Devon, we slept in a glorious bedroom with 20 foot ceilings and a skylight, and were awoken in the morning by rain pounding above our heads and also by Jake’s voice on the phone. “We have an ETA of 9:25,” he said, about breakfast.
All day I have been depressed. Shiftless. Can’t study, can’t write, can’t read, can’t jog, can’t make a joke. Depressed! I thought making tortilla soup would help. It didn’t. I thought taking a shower would help. It didn’t. I thought listening to Depeche Mode while lying on the floor would help. It didn’t. I thought propping myself up really awkwardly and writing this blog entry would help. It didn’t.
So, that being said, I am going to go to sleep.