...Fruit flies like a banana.
Tomorrow I will finish Austerlitz, by W.G. Sebald.
Tomorrow I will listen to the B-52s' self-titled.
Tomorrow I will feed gourmet bread to the mallards in Hikone, down from Siberia, for the winter. I will eat half the loaf myself.
Tomorrow I will go to Otsu to spend the evening with people who have no desperate urge to see me and generally seem put off these days as the language barrier begins to close, we all grow up, and we all begin to really understand what each other are. Here in Hikone, I had invites from friends at local bars, from people I live with in this dormitory, and from my closest Japanese friend, who is in Nagoya, a town which I have grown to love as well.
Tomorrow I will have two cups of coffee and waste tiny plastic cups that cream and gum syrup come in, because this coffee is too shitty to not drink regular.
Tomorrow I will wear the thick woolen scarf knit by my girlfriend for herself before she knew me that she has lent me until we get back to America.
Tomorrow I will continue in a fucking stew of optimisim and lethargy, because what else would I ever do?
Tomorrow I will not stop being "one of those people." But I didn't realize I was one until I finished this entry.
Tomorrow I will listen to the B-52s' self-titled.
Tomorrow I will feed gourmet bread to the mallards in Hikone, down from Siberia, for the winter. I will eat half the loaf myself.
Tomorrow I will go to Otsu to spend the evening with people who have no desperate urge to see me and generally seem put off these days as the language barrier begins to close, we all grow up, and we all begin to really understand what each other are. Here in Hikone, I had invites from friends at local bars, from people I live with in this dormitory, and from my closest Japanese friend, who is in Nagoya, a town which I have grown to love as well.
Tomorrow I will have two cups of coffee and waste tiny plastic cups that cream and gum syrup come in, because this coffee is too shitty to not drink regular.
Tomorrow I will wear the thick woolen scarf knit by my girlfriend for herself before she knew me that she has lent me until we get back to America.
Tomorrow I will continue in a fucking stew of optimisim and lethargy, because what else would I ever do?
Tomorrow I will not stop being "one of those people." But I didn't realize I was one until I finished this entry.