Leaving on a Jet Plane...

Julyan's Message:

kyou wa hikoukini norimasita.

asa itumo douri okite, 8jihan ni eki ni shuppatsu. shinkansen ha 10ji gurai norimashita. narita kuukou tsuita toki ha ohiru kurai no jikan deshita. nimotsu wo tottari, chiketto wo tottari shinagara ohiru wo tabemashita. hikouki ni notta no ha 5ji kurai deshita. hikouki ha 12 jikan tobimashita. sorekara Housten no norikae no hikouki ni nijikan kurai norimashita. Omaha ni tsuita no ha yuugata no 4ji deshita. nihon no jikan ni iu to yokujitu no gozen 8ji.

kono shashin ha 12jikan no hikouki no naka no toki no shashin desu. terebi wo minagara gohan wo tabeteimasu.


kono shashin ha amerika ni tsuite kara amerika no ojiichan/obaachan ga katteiru inu to no shashin desu. inu no namae ha Dusty desu. Husky desu. Kakkooi desu.



Terrie's Message:

I don't fly a lot. A little. But when I do, I take long flights. I couldn't help thinking on this most recent trip, why aren't there more knock-down-drag-outs on airplanes? Looking back, I've only seen one real fight on a plane. It was a good one, though, with a huge man involved and screaming women and pilots and co pilots coming out to try and calm things down. I really feared for my safety that time.

On this one though, I just sat back and watched as at least a dozen skiffs ensued: elderly man refusing to move from isle, crying toddler pulling hair of man in front of him, elderly woman sitting in isle seat she apparently asked for only to find out that someone else had that seat (that one threatened to be bloody). I think it really says something about humanity in general that we can cram ourselves into almost torturous conditions, eat lasagna and icecream for breakfast, and watch as the lads in first class drink wine from crystal glasses and not kill each other.

Okay, time for Mexican food. I'm gone!

Capote

Caught the film Capote last Friday. I thought this was a brand new movie, was only a little surprised to learn it was released in in 2005 and had won various awards and that I (once again) knew none of this.

I quite enjoyed the movie though. Much more than I expected even. Years ago I picked up a battered copy of In Cold Blood. It's going to be my Airplane Book. I'm excited about that.

So I'm reeling all day long and into the next day, a Saturday. And then into Saturday night. I also happened to have a wedding party to go to that evening. And what happened there explains why I shouldn't be let out much.

The party was wonderful, beautiful marvelous! The Bride and Groom both stunning and adorable at the same time. The seating arrangement was as follows:

Long tables up and down the room. The one I sat at was divided into two very distinctive groups. On one side you have six, black-suited, white-tied, well-behaved young men -- all friends of the groom. On my side, the Other side, is a gaggle of five foreigner types (Chinese, Indonesian, Filipino, American, and Brazilian). We're funny, we're happy, we're popping jokes and snarfing the yummy food. We're in the zone as they say.

At one point early in the evening the bride and groom introduce all the guests to well, all the other guests. I am shocked and dismayed and even fascinated to discover one of those black-suited young men looks exactly like Perry from Capote. (breath, breath, breath!).

Now, the problem is those six guys are having Nothing to do with our rowdy (and I don't think we were that rowdy...we were 'funny', heck I'm practically the only one drinking) bunch. I spend most of the evening trying to be charming, to at least make eye contact so I can tell this fellow he reminds me of someone else. This is a task much harder than it sounds.

By the end of the night, nothing, nada, not so much as a brief glimpse of those Perry-um...Clifton Collins Jr's-... um strange Japanese guy's eyes. And that is despite five beers and one passion fruit speciality cocktail and all the charisma I can muster. I almost give up. Almost.

There is one more speech a couple games of rock/paper/scissors and next thing I know they say, it's over, have a nice night! The six dudes stand up and saunter out in one big unit. Shit!

I manage to say my goodbyes to those at my side of the table and get behind them in line. Bow to the bride and groom say something appropriate, grab my coat and then burst into their little parting huddle.

Excuse me...

A communal HUH?!

I saw a movie yesterday.

A communal WTF!?

And this guy (I gently tug on his sleeve, bat my eyes) looks just like one of the main characters, (a pause for effect) ... the killer.

They burst into peals of laughter. One says, What?

Then I tell them the whole story about how I have this 'condition'. I often confuse fantasy with reality and because of this delusional nature of mine, I just had to talk to stranger-dude and let him know he has a Mexican-American almost-twin out there who is damn fine actor and hot to boot! We all talk for about fifteen minutes with said hot dude blushing furiously. I suggest he quit his day job and start to act. He blushes more. I squeal and say, 'Look there he goes!' He says, 'But I'm not acting!' I continue to explain, 'See! That is just like the fellow in the movie, he is shy and brooding, a little sad, but in the end (I nod my head, make my eyes go real big) HE'S the one who did it!" His friends roar again and tell me their buddy is the exact same way, ho ho ho! Ha ha ha! They ask again several times what the movie was and where can they see it (it is not playing at a regular theater) and I tell them. None of them have ever heard or it and my pronunciation of CA PO CHI must have really stunk. But I know everyone here knows Breakfast at Tiffany's, so I start there and explain.

(Ahhh, dark haired Perry...)

This blog is gonna split for a bit. We are leaving on a jet plane (yep, the song just got stuck in MY head too) today... in an hour it looks like. J's gonna do a mini blog on here for his teacher and class. A kinda what he's doing/experiencing/eating/ in the US of A. Then I'll have at it in my own way.

As they say in Japan: Doki Doki Waku Waku!

Now I got to go and wake the child up!

Trains, trains...

The other day I received a package in the mail. It was thick--felt like a box of greeting cards--and the return address read The Binnacle. Well, looky there, I thought, they have probably folded, can't publish the story of mine they accepted, and are sending me a box of Christmas cards in remuneration. *sigh* As it turns out the box of cards WAS the magazine. Looked a lot like this:

This is called alternative publishing. I don't hate it. It has grown on me. As a matter of fact, I quite like it. A box full of stories and poems and artworks, each their own little accordion paper.

Speaking of artwork, they also published the fancy (ahem) piece of brush and ink I worked up for the piece.


I've got a thing about trains, especially over crowded ones. It's a love hate thing, mostly hate.

But last night...

I attended a wedding party of a co worker (that has or shall be blogged soon, as vast amounts of alcohol were consumed and I made an ass of myself ... yet...again). I took a relatively late train home so of course it was relatively crowded as well. You see, I have never acquired a sturdy pair of train-legs and must use those plastic rings hanging from the ceiling to keep from falling all over the place. I slip into the car...

Now the key to this story is that it is winter and we are all dressed in cushy coats, scarfs and mittens -- okay, no mittens, but soft bear-like clothes. Crowded trains in the summer are another beast all together, sweat and sticky and skin, strangers. Bleh.

It is winter.

I reach over and grab a ring and I'm not letting go. Soon I notice that I've wedged myself in between three brothers (they all have the same nose, this is how I know they are related). This is all fine. I'm protected; I'm wearing a coat. I'm hanging my head down. I got Chili Peppers on extremely loud in my ears. I begin to examine three that surround me.

One brother is round and has scant hair and is short, the second sorta dark-skinned, medium build but with creepy eyes. Now, the last brother is a tad taller than me, thin, he's got this amazing Adam's apple that is going up and down, up and down as he talks. He has this chin that is starting to grow in a beard and eyes that are almost hazel. I begin to grow infatuated. This train makes a sharp right and I fall into the fake fur of the hood of his coat...it smells like tempura...dreamy!