Wednesday, May 17, 2006

We are up in Kachi-kachi-yama, the bar on the seventh floor above The Kaisha, and we are--yes--we are drinking.

Sorry, Mom.

I am sitting next to the student who has a crush on me, the athletic thirty-year-old systems engineer with the devastating brown eyes and an incurable fondness for heavy metal music and David Lynch movies. Japanese don't touch much in public, but he is all over me: Leaning against me and

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