So by the time I’m in the taxi, I realise I have forgotten my phone. I am less than a block away from my house, but I think, fuck it, I’m not going to ask this guy to turn around. I am horrendously late for my flight. I should have left half an hour ago. Bad habits and poor time management prevent me. It’s something that’s part of my nature. I make it to my flight on time, even though I enter the wrong line, as two clerks to check you in at the front counter disappear, never to be seen again. I’m there waiting, while everyone else gets served. This is the love/hate relationship that I have with airports. For starters, I do not like travelling, I like things to come to me, but this is extremely rare. Secondly, I do not like sitting still. I did enough of that through twelve years of school. If you have to sit and listen for twelve years then you have done enough sitting. It’s time to be moving. I play video games on the plane to keep me distracted long enough, to wonder about how quick the flight actually went. I have a secret shame and its called Metal Gear Solid Peace Walker. Think of it like Pokemon meets Krav Maga.
The plane lands, I collect my luggage and catch a train into the city. More video games. I still have no phone so I cannot tell people that I am alive, well and somewhat sane. The person to help me and put up with me for most of the week is Jeremy, who was trying to arrange photos for a gallery at Bleeding Hearts. I dropped a mention of it sometime earlier. It’s related to zine when he took a trip to the U S of A last year. The photos, along with postcards had to be arranged in some kind of order to fit neatly on three panels. For my part I managed to help in deft peeling of double sides adhesive to paste picture to temporary wall. The owners/managers (not sure if they were which or both) told us that we had to go around five. And Jeremy and I managed to snap the last photos to the wall a little after closing time.
Evening came and went. After a vegan-style meal of “chicken” and “oyster”, Jeremy brought me back to his place to show me some of the crazy crap he brought back from Japan, along with cracking open an expensive looking bottle of shochu that is equally smooth when drunk straight or mixed with tropical breakfast juice.
I have pictures, but they will come later. Right now I’m ready to pass out. Odin bless that fine shochu. I pray that they have some in Valhalla. Jeremy also gave up his bed for me. He’s sleeping on the floor.