Storylog

This won’t be whimsical stories of yore; this is just stuff that is happening.

So there’s this dude, we’ll call him ‘Fan’, whose birthday was last night. He invited me & LJ out for this a few weeks ago, as well as the other two white dudes in this city (who we are friends with). Anyway since the other two white dudes in this city are heading home for the holidays, our mutual friends decided to throw a last minute party for them.

So anyway this puts us white people in a bit of an awkward position… We’re at another dinner with our friends while Fan is expecting us to be at his dinner. By the way, nobody really likes Fan. I’m pretty sure he only likes us because we’re white and he wants to show off that he’s got foreign friends. At basketball yesterday he was kind of being a jerk to me and trying to force me to talk to these random girls. Regardless, my position on the whole thing was that since it was his birthday we’d let him have his big day and let him show us off to his friends… but now we’re at another party.

So anyway we get really drunk on Baijio (which is this disgusting fermented rice wine, it’s about 55% alcohol and is just terrible) and everyone’s getting loud and noisy and we keep text messaging Fan telling him we’ll be late for his party etc, etc and then, miraculously, a lot of beer shows up. Last night was the first night that I actually felt like drinking since I’ve been here, and now there’s beer, so I just assume fate wants to take the wheel and I go all out.

In China the rule is that when someone cheers you (which is plenty and often) you need to drink the same amount that the other person does. And while our friends at this dinner can probably school me with Baijio, there are certain things you should never do, one of them being trying to out-drink a Canadian when there is beer present.

I’m already pretty drunk so I start with the biggest guy there and basically I get him so drunk that he falls down an entire flight of stairs. Then when I chug another quart of beer and this other dude can’t do it, his friends hold him down, pry his mouth open, and nearly drown him. It was actually kind of scary. The night’s going pleasantly enough. Our friends make a big speech while I’m in the bathroom about how nobody likes Fan.

Anyway pretty soon people switch to orange juice, which is a sign that we’re all ready to go. We assume we’ll be able to go to Fan’s party pretty soon. We leave the hotel and then suddenly our friends decide to come. I’m a bit wary, but way too drunk to speak sentences. We get our driver to pull around front with the van and all pile in, and we’re off to the next party.

We get there and there’s Fan and like 20 of his gangly little friends. They all look about 19 years old (Fan’s 20).. tiny little kids.. all of our friends are in their late 30s or 40s, so they’re pretty much grown up. There’s this giant beautiful birthday cake in the middle of the table. Fan looks really happy. We grab all the beer available and sit down and then one of our friends basically just reaches into the middle of the table, picks up the cake, and basically just fucking smashes it into Fan’s face in front of all his friends! And then we all basically just get up and leave with all his beer! I felt kind of bad.

Then we all drive to KTV, which is Chinese karaoke. We rent out a room and I don’t remember very much of it because I was drunk. I remember screaming out a song at the top of my lungs and singing like there was no tomorrow. I vaguely remember getting lost in the kitchen, and I remember the beer was ridiculously expensive.. Technically I guess 12 quarts at that KTV was probably about $22US, but to give you an idea it was like paying $150US for a case of beer, comparatively speaking.

After someone found me in the kitchen of that building I think it was time to go, a bunch of people drove me home, I tried to say ‘I WANT TO TAKE YOU ALL OUT TO DINNER NEXT WEEK’ but apparently what I shouted out in the street was ‘I WANT TO TAKE YOU TO DINNER – I HAVE NO MONEY’ (according to our translator), and everyone outside burst out laughing and then I had to be escorted up the four flights of stairs to our apartment by like 5 guys.

I blacked out pretty quickly afterwards but this morning when I woke up I blew my nose and a ton of food came out, like noodles and mushrooms and shit which is just disgusting, and since that means I puked after blacking out I had to go find out exactly where in the apartment I threw up and fortunately it was on the floor. I now feel ill and went outside and bought a bunch of these wrap things that this dude makes and bought some water and I think I have a lunch to go to in 2 hours. Read the rest of this entry »

My husband and I took our Son Christopher on a flight from Seattle to Los Angeles. My step son Christopher had Duchene’s Muscular Dystrophy. When we boarded the plane in Seattle, a very nice pilot by the name of Gary, asked us if we wanted to show Christopher the cockpit. My husband carried him in for a look around. Chris was 15 years old at the time. His face just lit up, and he told us that when he became well he wanted to become a pilot. It made me cry. The flight was wonderful and the entire crew was just great to Chris. When we landed Gary asked us if he could have our address so he could send Chris a card. Chris was so excited that this kind man wanted to write to him.

Several weeks later Chris received a card in the mail. It was from Gary, inside was a beautiful card and attached to it was a pair of Wings. He told Chris that he had earned them while he was in the service and wanted Chris to have them. We put the wings on Chris and he just did not want to take them off. After that all he did was talk about the pilot that sent him a pair if wings, he even took them to school to show his friends. About three months later Chris had his 16th birthday. That Saturday there came knock on the door. It was the pilot that sent him the wings. He wanted to see how Chris was doing. He had a surprise for Chris; he brought him one of his old pilot jackets that he also wore in the Service. Chris was just beside himself and of course I cried. We immediately put the Wings on the Jacket and took some pictures of Chris wearing his new flight jacket. I have never seen him so excited. Gary told us that he lived in Fontana and was on his way to LA for a flight and wanted to see Chris. Read the rest of this entry »

On Thursday, I made a trip out of the office to the local coffee shop in Fells Point. It was an overcast, warm blanket kind of day. A caressing wind stirred the air and I was driving slowly, looking for a parking place on cobblestone streets that knew horses hooves way before they knew tires. On my right was the water, and my left, the colorful array of stores that line Thames Street. The street is wide enough that it allows for vertical parking on both sides, but finding a place is still near impossible. So I rolled slowly, finally inventing a space at a corner. And that’s when the song came on, bringing back a memory of hearing it for the first time. I had leaned forward to turn off the ignition and get out of my car, but once the first few notes started, and Mick Jagger’s haunting, almost taunting voice floated over the guitar chords, I sat back and let it play.

I was thirteen years old at the time, lying in bed at home in a quiet suburban development in Kansas. The song had long been released, but this was my first time hearing it. I was a captive audience. My window was open, breathing the cold breath of a fall night over my cheek and hands. All was quiet except for my radio, and I was huddled under several comforters. However, it wasn’t the wind that was giving me chills. Read the rest of this entry »

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 10a, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

I came to Japan 5 years ago with about $2,000 US dollars, very little experience, no Japanese ability, few marketable skills and no friends or contacts. My original goal in coming to Japan was to study martial arts for a month, but after one week living in Tokyo I made the decision to try to live here. After making this decision, reality set in. I would need to find a place to live and a job. Which should I look for first?

After one week of living in a hotel in Tokyo, my account was already down to $1,400. I didn’t want to find an apartment, and then get a job very far from my apartment. I decided to focus on finding a place to live. I found a free magazine called Tokyo Classifieds, and noticed an ad from a new company called Sakura House. I called them up, and they told me about a vacancy in a guest house near Tsukiji . I went and looked at the apartment – it was a tiny room with a shared kitchen, toilet and shower. It was very close to the station, and quite central in Tokyo. I immediately accepted, and moved in. Unfortunately, it cost a deposit of $200 and the first months rent to move in – a total of $900. I was down to $500, and I was starting to sweat. Read the rest of this entry »

“She sounds hot.” – Russell

“I am afraid to talk to my grandmother… my voice shakes when I talk to my grandmother.”

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“I cannot wear contact lenses because I have bumps on my eyeballs.”

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“I have a keychain collection. My favorite keychain is from peru.”

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(When i asked her why her hand was all bandaged up):
“Oh i sprained my wrist… it just happens every three months.”

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(When offered a piece of cake from a co-worker)
“I want to eat it but i can’t eat it. I can’t eat it because I am going home soon. If i bring cake home I won’t be the one to eat it. I have a real sweet tooth.”

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“I live in an illegal apartment.” Read the rest of this entry »

Time: 4:45 AM
Place: M.G. Road Indore

After a long day, I decided to ease off. And what could be the best way to loose the neurons than a long drive in the wee hours. I cranked up my bike and headed to the busiest road in my town which is very calm at this hour. No Pollution, cool early morning breeze. It was heavenly. The speedometer is reading 110. That kind of speed does something to you. You are not driving anymore — flying is the word. I forget that it’s a city road and the speed limit is 40. Everything is blurred out of vision except the black strip in front. So calm, so serene and peaceful. The handle bar, gear peddle and the accelerator are not mechanical anymore, The bike is an extension of me. The musical rhythm of the four stroke engine eliminates all other noise…….. Noise from outside…….. Noise from Inside. And if you are thinking at all then your only wish would be that this moment shall never pass.

Right now is one such moment. Something catches my attention…… a few meters down the Road is a square and the road divider that’s 3 feet high is ending at that point. A cycle is appearing from its edge, 1 rider 2 pillions. Very slow … very balanced and totally unaware of me. In a moment I will hit them at 110 and then I will slide for 100 meters and I won’t be able to notice what happened to them. Turning the handle is not an option — If I try it I’ll be flat and it’ll be a full on collision — can I slow down??? No, too late for that even, jamming the wheels wont make any difference now. I will hit the middle and that will be the worst . I can feel each rotation of the wheel…. inching towards a deadly collision. They noticed my honk and turn their heads toward the source. I am looking at those men and the fear in those 3 pairs of eyes and they are looking at the object of their fear. My heart jumps into my mouth and then sinks deep down somewhere. My body is perspiring, I feel like I’m burning, and the next moment it evaporates and I am colder. I can feel raised hair on the back of my neck. And then the sensation is gone…. I am awake…. all awake ….. and I can do nothing to avoid this collision…….. I am watching them and they are watching me. Ohhhh god I am going to kill these men……….. Its all black……. or……… blank

And we passed each other without touching, without hurting. A slight deflection of the handle bar helped.

Credit: Submitted to StoryLog with no author name provided

I was just getting ready to leave and run an errand to the post office when the phone rang and it was Kenny and he wanted me to go out with him for ice cream. His place is only like half a block away from the post office so we could meet up conveniently. I agreed to see him, despite my better judgment. He truly was a crazy wild fucker to avoid, but I just…

Hey, I learned. I left him the last time. I went back the next night, but I left him before he could fuck me again. And it was easy to leave. It was so much easier and more emotionally healthy for me to leave than to stay and it is sad to think of how I chose to follow along a path of weak resistance and pain and misery, how I struggled on that path, for no reason of logic.

I shouldn’t have agreed to see him, knowing who he was, but I did. I was still on that path. Read the rest of this entry »

I call it my social job. It being a part-time sales associate at the local Mobil station.

My main job does not afford me very much contact with others. I am, for the most part, isolated from the patients, which is a good thing. My main job is working at a cancer center as a medical coder. In a nutshell, I translate doctor lingo into cold hard insurance company numbers. I try very much to disassociate myself from the emotional aspect of working in such a field. My heart would break. It is a high mortality area. And so, I isolate myself.

The gas station job affords me the chance to socialize however briefly with a high quantity of people. We are daytime’s bartender, if we choose to be. I see all kinds of people.

Some I see only once. For them, I become a random stranger who smiled and wished them a nice day. For them, I am the keeper of one of the cleanest restrooms across the country. I am the maker of one of the best damn cups of coffee when they are at their most weary. I am the giver of directions to late night food , to the closest clean bed or even to the nearest large parking lot that an 18-wheeler can fit on. Or sometimes, for some, I become the focal point of pent up frustration over the ever escalating price of gas. I am the symbol of corporate greed. For most, I will let the words rain down upon my shoulders to form droplets upon my back that roll off to become a puddle on the floor. Usually the anger is spent, and the chance of road rage is dissipated. This is why I allow it. Read the rest of this entry »

Smooth. Positive. Aloof. Cool. Outgoing. Romantic. Witty. Charming. These are the words that nobody would ever use to describe me. I’ve always been a bit introverted, ever since I was a small child playing games on my Atari 2600. I’d always been the awkward child, the underdog, the unnoticed, the kid in the back of the class and the front of the bus that didn’t make a lot of friends.

But as a grownup, for one night something magical happened. I became all of those mysterious words that had never quite fit me. Maybe it was something in the air, maybe it was because the events of this night made me feel so “cool” that I couldn’t help but play along.

This night, I had a date with a girl I’d met online. It was the first time we’d see each other so I was rather nervous. On my way from my home in New Jersey to our meeting place in her hometown of Philadelphia, I wondered about what I was getting into. I had met a few other girls online, some of whom had turned out to be a little scary. Some were possessive, others were uncompromisingly distant, and others were harmless but just not my type. Still others had looked nothing like the pictures they had sent. Read the rest of this entry »

Chapter I

The ex and I are going along fine. We are one of the cool couples at my alma mater and senior prom is approaching. Before my senior year, I hadn’t gone to any of the dances for one of the following two reasons:

A. No date-often
B. Bowling Tournament out of town-occasionally

So, prom is approaching and I’ve got my tux. I’m going to blow all my cash on this thing. Great dinner, limo, after party, the works. One week before it all goes down I get dumped. Explanation? I’m about to go off to college and she doesn’t want a long distance relationship. Oi.

I don’t want to tell anybody, but you could see the hurt on my face. My mom makes one of her legendary Augustus-esque decrees and says that I still have to go to the prom. Well, prom is the last place I want to be. So, I hatch a plan.

I’ll put on my tux and take pictures in front of my dear mother. She asks why I have a bag of clothes and I tell her that I’m staying the night at a friend’s house. She buys it.

After the pictures are taken, I drive away and instead of meeting up with friends for dinner I head straight north to my grandfather’s cabin. I change clothes there and head up I-35 to Oklahoma City where I go to a dinner and movie in solitude.

As I’m driving home my cell phone rings. It’s the ex, and her date was taking her to an after party. I told her I didn’t go and that she could kiss my ass.  My interaction with her should have ended right there, but, alas, it didn’t. Read the rest of this entry »