(no subject)
when i was seventeen i asserted that my life plan was 'to be fabulous'. among other things- solving humanitarian crises, learning as many languages as i can, remaining cheerful and empathetic, balancing my creative and academic sides and so on- it is still to this that i aspire. and at the last two big parties i have been to- new years' and last night- i finally feel like i might be on my way. yesterday the heavens fell on tokyo, to grand effect in a city lacking the intricate roman drains of london and therefore with puddles swilling on the streets- i resolved to stay indoors, regain my strength from four long days of hard work, and sat at home translating, dressing up, cooking frittatas and the like. i ventured out at three to drink a strong coffee and to wet my feet and window-shop. i came back at seven to sit down some more, and wait for the night to begin. dressed in clothes too flimsy to withstand the minus temperatures, i went out at midnight to a small club swathed in black, gold and a heavy fug of cigarette smoke.
although the friend i was supposed to meet never turned up, the narrowness of the gaijin community here meant that i recognised a lot of people, and met a whole lot more; lots of french, some argentineans, spanish, british, and of course japanese... in contrast to how small i sometimes felt in london, especially when i dressed up in crazy make-up and tutu only to shunned by fascist door police and told to 'go and make your own night' at boom box, i feel like tokyo is more open, offers more opportunities and is less snobby. perhaps it's just the powerful advantage of being a foreigner here.
at one point i followed some people to go to the nearest conbini (convenience store) to get cheap chuuhais (pre-mixed canned cocktails) rather than spend four times the amount on drinks inside the club. a tall and skinny american neurotic named james who i'd met before hoisted up his jeans and stuffed a small bottle of jack daniels into his back pocket, laughing 'does my ass look big in these pants?' as he sauntered, thief-like, out of the automatic doors. i stood sipping my can on the pavement, talking to a french guy called etienne before going back in; scrutinising him for relationship possibilities, sniffing the air for sexual intent. we climbed back up the stairs and i mingled some more. somehow managed to link the two zips on my knee high boots together while jumping up and down and a guy from orlando with an oddly british accent- niyo, the only black guy in the club and with painted nails- helped me detach them. maybe hoping for more. he left... i started talking to an argentinean guy... another guy sidled up to me and muttered, rather sleazily, 'i've been wanting to talk to you all night... what's you name?' but i escaped back into the throng of bodies, uninterested.
although it may seem like like a litany of boasts, i did feel oddly confident, captivating even, certain of my own magnetism and intent on employing it. it's the first time in a while, and exactly what i've been craving. it's the 何でもできます！(i can do anything!) feeling that i've felt lacking in for a while... the walls of the club shined with sweat and possibilities, in that cliched way that seems so empty after you've done it too many times...
i split at 6am, and slept an unprecedented number of hours until 6pm today, which felt horrible. i woke up to darkness, wondered if i was in scandinavia, and pondered ways to knacker myself out so i would be able to sleep later. ended up on a long, very cold cycle ride, a couple of beers at the pink cow, and now at home, congratulating myself at not giving a fuck for a whole 48 hours and ignoring the future for the glittering present.
although the friend i was supposed to meet never turned up, the narrowness of the gaijin community here meant that i recognised a lot of people, and met a whole lot more; lots of french, some argentineans, spanish, british, and of course japanese... in contrast to how small i sometimes felt in london, especially when i dressed up in crazy make-up and tutu only to shunned by fascist door police and told to 'go and make your own night' at boom box, i feel like tokyo is more open, offers more opportunities and is less snobby. perhaps it's just the powerful advantage of being a foreigner here.
at one point i followed some people to go to the nearest conbini (convenience store) to get cheap chuuhais (pre-mixed canned cocktails) rather than spend four times the amount on drinks inside the club. a tall and skinny american neurotic named james who i'd met before hoisted up his jeans and stuffed a small bottle of jack daniels into his back pocket, laughing 'does my ass look big in these pants?' as he sauntered, thief-like, out of the automatic doors. i stood sipping my can on the pavement, talking to a french guy called etienne before going back in; scrutinising him for relationship possibilities, sniffing the air for sexual intent. we climbed back up the stairs and i mingled some more. somehow managed to link the two zips on my knee high boots together while jumping up and down and a guy from orlando with an oddly british accent- niyo, the only black guy in the club and with painted nails- helped me detach them. maybe hoping for more. he left... i started talking to an argentinean guy... another guy sidled up to me and muttered, rather sleazily, 'i've been wanting to talk to you all night... what's you name?' but i escaped back into the throng of bodies, uninterested.
although it may seem like like a litany of boasts, i did feel oddly confident, captivating even, certain of my own magnetism and intent on employing it. it's the first time in a while, and exactly what i've been craving. it's the 何でもできます！(i can do anything!) feeling that i've felt lacking in for a while... the walls of the club shined with sweat and possibilities, in that cliched way that seems so empty after you've done it too many times...
i split at 6am, and slept an unprecedented number of hours until 6pm today, which felt horrible. i woke up to darkness, wondered if i was in scandinavia, and pondered ways to knacker myself out so i would be able to sleep later. ended up on a long, very cold cycle ride, a couple of beers at the pink cow, and now at home, congratulating myself at not giving a fuck for a whole 48 hours and ignoring the future for the glittering present.