Rainy Japan
The rain. Doesn’t stop here. I want to go and explore, see some shrines and parks. Visit the Samurai Sword Museum.
But with all honesty, with this rain falling down, crippling the sky, all I want to do curl up in bed. Be me and someone else at the same time. How about it? I have a lot to learn. No wonder I am constantly catching up. People come and go, they come and go. and I remain the same. I sit in the lobby of this swanky hotel in Shinjuku, my eyes turning, curling from the inside out. Ok, I found a better place to be. This sofa, cosy, big, under the light. I can see clearer.
Stu left this morning to do whatever it is he needs to do. He didn’t take me with him. I am alone here in this big city. Lost in a language so old, beyond all that I have ever known.
People moan about the weather in the UK. I moan about the weather in the UK. Let me tell you, if you haven’t been to Japan on a rainy day, you have seen nothing yet. Nothing, my friend. Do you know what it’s like? Non-stop rain for days on end. On the weather app on my phone is says 100% rain. And it is! Totally accurate! Who would have thought? I have no idea where to go, what to do, ‘as long as you love me’. (See what I did there?) Actually, I know what I’ll do. I’ll most probably be here. Waiting for someone to rescue me. From my boredom, from being alone. I am so full of crap. I go out on the world on my own —pretending to want to be independent, doing all kinds of things, going about my day and my things. When really, wouldn’t it be nice not to worry about anything? Anything at all? To have it all set up. Bills—what are bills? But the price is too high. Believe me, I’ve tried.
So I go along and keep going. I carry on. Whatever.
Most people here in Japan wear surgical masks. All the time. I wonder if wearing it makes a difference.
I miss home.
I miss my Husbando. I wonder what he’s doing, if he’s ok.
I see people come and go. I don’t even know what to do.
But right now, I might go and get another pastry. The one with custard, I’m thinking. Something sweet. So what if I’m a walking cupcake? Candy lifts me up. I’ll go and it. Fuck it.
What I really need to do is forget about that sugar overload and meditate. Understand the real reason that I’m here —on earth, in Japan.
I’ve got a pile of homework pending. Homework I give myself. But the morning comes, and the first thing I do is check my phone. Anxiety overload. Crap. A waste of space is what I am at that moment.
I wish Husbando was here with me. Maybe I shouldn’t have, you know, come here. But I’ve done it. I’m here. It feels surreal that I start my taichi seminar training tomorrow. IN FUCKING JAPAN. That is why I’m here. To train. To be better. To discover the real me.
Anyway, it’s not as if they will put me with Brett (the Matatan teacher). He doesn’t know my name; he doesn’t know who I am. I the big scale of things, I don’t matter.
And that’s ok.
Pissing it down in Japan
