Gray Sunday
Well, I got a hyacinth to sort of cheer up my apartment, and it bloomed today. It's that deep blue, almost purple color. Unfortunately, it has NO scent. Did the Japanese engineer scentless hyacinth? I love the smell, which is why I got it. No perfume even comes close.
Well, at least the hyacinth, which I have named Ted, is still alive though scentless. I did kill an air plant once, which convinced me I have a brown thumb and should stay away from plants.
I'm sitting here with a Japanese face mask on, the kind that promises to erase fine lines, etc. It is an actual paper mask soaked in some kind of liquid, rather than the squirt-out kind in the tube I've seen in America. I feel a bit like Hannibal Lecter, but more moist. I'm starting to notice fine lines, which seems to have happened really suddenly. I'd like to pretend that my first few gray hairs and wrinkles aren't bothering me, but they are. The damn thing about getting old is how much longer everything takes. I very rarely wore makeup in my teens and early 20s (and I can't believe those years are gone) but now, people ask me if I'm sick or tired. So I slop on some makeup to even things out and so I don't look like I'm sick. But being made up while appearing to not be is a very time-consuming process. It takes brushes and primer and things I associate more with fine art than with personal hygiene. Most days, it's just not worth the extra half-hour it takes in the morning and I do my makeup on the subway. It gets me a lot of dirty looks. I'm not sure why- I don't spill powder on people or blast my fellow riders with smelly cologne. Putting on lipstick on the Ooedo subway line is probably some archaic insult.
No further sightings of the pervert I saw last week outside my apartment. I told the police, who seemed highly unimpressed. I was explaining the circumstances, and I realized I only knew the supremely crude Japanese word for "jerk off," rather than the more neutral "masturbate," so I just said, "He had no pants!" Still, they seemed fairly unimpressed. On the pepper spray front, it's legal to sell and possess, but sometimes illegal to use. You can't assault someone with it. If you're in imminent danger, you might be able to use it and not get in legal trouble. But one person's imminent danger is another person's good time. Basically, I think if you use it on someone with a previous criminal record, you're in the clear. If the sprayee is an established bad guy, I guess that helps with the "imminent danger" angle.
But there is some good to seeing an unwanted Japanese penis*: I have an excuse to buy one of those vending machine disguises. If I'd've had one of those fold-out vending machine disguises, the pervert would never have asked me for directions! From here on out, I will disguise myself as a vending machine while walking home at night.
*As small as anecdotes and water-cooler stories suggest.
Well, at least the hyacinth, which I have named Ted, is still alive though scentless. I did kill an air plant once, which convinced me I have a brown thumb and should stay away from plants.
I'm sitting here with a Japanese face mask on, the kind that promises to erase fine lines, etc. It is an actual paper mask soaked in some kind of liquid, rather than the squirt-out kind in the tube I've seen in America. I feel a bit like Hannibal Lecter, but more moist. I'm starting to notice fine lines, which seems to have happened really suddenly. I'd like to pretend that my first few gray hairs and wrinkles aren't bothering me, but they are. The damn thing about getting old is how much longer everything takes. I very rarely wore makeup in my teens and early 20s (and I can't believe those years are gone) but now, people ask me if I'm sick or tired. So I slop on some makeup to even things out and so I don't look like I'm sick. But being made up while appearing to not be is a very time-consuming process. It takes brushes and primer and things I associate more with fine art than with personal hygiene. Most days, it's just not worth the extra half-hour it takes in the morning and I do my makeup on the subway. It gets me a lot of dirty looks. I'm not sure why- I don't spill powder on people or blast my fellow riders with smelly cologne. Putting on lipstick on the Ooedo subway line is probably some archaic insult.
No further sightings of the pervert I saw last week outside my apartment. I told the police, who seemed highly unimpressed. I was explaining the circumstances, and I realized I only knew the supremely crude Japanese word for "jerk off," rather than the more neutral "masturbate," so I just said, "He had no pants!" Still, they seemed fairly unimpressed. On the pepper spray front, it's legal to sell and possess, but sometimes illegal to use. You can't assault someone with it. If you're in imminent danger, you might be able to use it and not get in legal trouble. But one person's imminent danger is another person's good time. Basically, I think if you use it on someone with a previous criminal record, you're in the clear. If the sprayee is an established bad guy, I guess that helps with the "imminent danger" angle.
But there is some good to seeing an unwanted Japanese penis*: I have an excuse to buy one of those vending machine disguises. If I'd've had one of those fold-out vending machine disguises, the pervert would never have asked me for directions! From here on out, I will disguise myself as a vending machine while walking home at night.
*As small as anecdotes and water-cooler stories suggest.