18 posts tagged “shinjuku”

Dancer Girl's girlfriend M-Girl was performing today.

The words Sadist and Masochist have been adopted and distorted into the Japanese vernacular. They've been abbreviated to S and M, and it doesn't refer to a sexual fetish. It refers to whether you are passive or aggressive or enjoy being controlled or enjoy controlling.

M-Girl is just ridiculously M. If a man treats her badly she feels like she's been given a dozen roses.

Anyway, she had broken her toe so she was cut from almost everything, poor girl. She was amazing though, she looks so confident and on fire on stage. Too bad she's a disaster in real life. She's always doing things like injuring herself before big performances or auditions. The god of dancing doesn't protect our M-Girl.

Best Friend's getting married in less than two weeks! I'm going to New York in less than a week!!!!! I'm hyperventilating, so I can't even imagine what Best Friend's going through.

Even though Best Friend and I have a somewhat similar family situation background, she seems to have somehow gotten over her commitment/marriage-phobia. When she found an amazing guy that was perfect for her, she recognized how awesome they were for each other, and asked him to marry her. He said of course.

Wow.

I feel like I'm gonna cry already. I think I'm going to be one big puddle of tears for the next two weeks.

I'm nervous and panicked, and I'm not even sure why. SHE's the one getting married, but I feel like I'm the one that's gonna need a brown paper bag to breath into.

I feel a little too comfortable in my life at the moment. Whenever this happens I try to think about where I was a year ago.

I had just started working as a hostess again. I was VERY conflicted about it, because when I quit last time, I was so sure I'd never come back. I also started an office job. And I had some big projects going on. I might have been at one of my workaholic high points (or low points, depending on your point of view).

I had also just moved into an all girl's dorm, and no boys were allowed inside. For the first time in years and years and years, I was living on my own.

Best Friend was just getting into the swing of being sober, and we spent a lot of time roller blading everywhere to replace the drinking (she used to be a professional figure skater, so she was attempting to transfer those skills to roller blading).

TODAY, I've moved into a closet and boys are allowed into my house now. For the first time in years, I've interacted romantically with men who aren't paying me -- and it's fun, and a little scary.

I quit the office job and have stopped actively pursuing other work, so I'm basically a full time hostess that lazes around all day then hangs out at the ghetto club at night.

I'm 28 years old, living in a closet, working as a hostess, with no savings in my bank.

Has my life deteriorated, or am I nesting and getting ready to BREAK OUT into my future?

I was really really hoping and praying that Totoro was joking when he said he wanted to go to hanami with me. But he wasn't. When I told him that I had to fill in someone's shift and work last night (and so not go to hanami with him) he actually snapped at me. I was kind of shocked, and he went back to talking politely. But note to self -- don't cross the comfort line with Totoro.

He wants to take me to Okinawa too. The rule is I have to get more from him than I give. And I haven't really gotten a whole lot of much. Crappy bonuses from paid dates don't really count, and I could give two craps about a nice meal (I can feed myself fine).

So that's kind of causing me stress. I don't want this job to stress me. I like to think that I'm too smart, educated, independent and awesome for that. I'm such an idiot. I'm acting like I'm better than a hostess, when that's exactly what I am!

I'm not really though. I'm just doing this job for fun (^-^)

Now I feel like I'm drowning under a pile of STUFF. Stuff is EVERYWHERE!!!

I've moved almost every year since I was born. Sometimes more, sometimes less. We moved ten days after my mother gave birth to us. We were a gypsy family. My Dad would give us a little bit of warning, then we'd each get a few boxes each and told to pack. We moved around different neighborhoods, we moved from the West Coast to the East Coast via crappy car, we moved to Japan via airplane, we moved around different prefectures via trains etc., we moved to the UK, we moved back again, we moved SO FRICKING MUCH!

And the crazy thing is, it never got easier. Well maybe it did get easier to some extent, but it never stopped sucking.

And it's totally sucking right now.

I'm throwing it all away. Everything! Dresses, shoes, hats, clothes, 80% of my underwear drawer (I hate bras anyway),  makeup, nail shiznat, weirdo crap that I've been keeping for sentimental reasons, IT'S ALL GOING OUT IN THE TRASH! Unless anyone wants it.

In slightly related other news, I found some trousers I haven't been able to fit into but was keeping just to taunt myself. And guess what? I fit into them! Except one pair that just needs to die anyway. That's totally awesome. Except they're a bit out of style at the moment.

And if you were my real world friends, this wouldn't be any of your business, but I have scars all over my arms from being a stupid depressed teenager with major problems. Lord knows if I understood at the time that I'd have to LIVE with these SCARS for the rest of my fricking life, I would have thought twice. But I guess that's the point. At the time I didn't even have the ability to think about anything but enduring the god awful pain I was in, and if the 28-year-old me could go back in time and convince the 14-year-old me to just stop being stupid, I probably would have just ended my life right then and there. The 14-year-old me did not want to live that long.

Thank goodness I learned somehow that life is great and beautiful and lots of fun.

What was my point? Oh yeah. Well now that I don't work in an office, and I don't have to look professional, I don't have to stress about hiding my arms all the time. So all those stupid office-type long sleeve shirts? OUT THE DOOR! OUT IN THE TRASH! Hells yeah.

Jesus christ, I have so much stuff! I'm trying to pack for my move. Where did I GET all these dresses!!??? I brought a whole bunch of them back with me last time I visited my sisters and tried to give them to them. They laughed at half of them so we threw them away.

I brought a huge bag full of dresses and gave them to a new girl who was a student from Korea who couldn't afford dresses.

WHERE DO THEY COME FROM!? DO THEY BREED IN MY CLOSET!?

And I've been living in a room. A room! Where did I GET all this stuff!!???

And last night one of my drunk regular customers came in by himself. He goes out drinking every night, and then goes to work every day, I'm surprised he hasn't died. He does not look well. I couldn't stand work anymore, so I asked him to ask mama if he could take me home early. First she said no, but then she said yeah.

One customer's pretty tall for a Japanese guy (6ft), not bad looking, and kind of funny and sweet. So it's kind of weird that he goes to hostess clubs.

Here's his story.

He got married young, had a son, then divorced early. He was a single Daddy from then on, and it was just him and his son for years and years. Daddy and son shared a little apartment in a corner of Shinjuku and they hung out and took care of each other.

Daddy worked hard as a salary man every day, until one day his son was a grown man, even more handsome and taller than him. One day, Daddy asked his son what he was doing these days, and son took out a business card and showed Daddy. On one side of it was a handwritten name (not his son's, but a weird flashy name), and a handwritten number (his son's cellphone). On the other side was the printed name and address of a host club in Kabukicho.

Daddy recognized the address, because he frequents a hostess club in that vicinity.

"So what do you do here?" Daddy asked his son, even though he already knew the answer. His son was working as a host. Daddy felt unhappy about this. He mostly felt nervous about the inevitable day he would come out of a hostess club and bump into his son working as a host.

His son then asked him if he could borrow some of his salarymen suits. "Yeah, but you're taller than me, they'll be too short for you," he answered. Son said, no problem. I wear the pants low anyway.

Some days, after a long and stressful day, Daddy would walk from the station to his house. He would see a familiar suit coming towards him, then the flashy young man inside the familiar suit would say to him "お帰り！” (welcome home!). Only then would he realize that it was his son in his way to work.

There was even a time when Daddy wore one of the suits that they now shared to work. After giving a presentation, he looked for something in his pockets and pulled out a Kabukicho host club name card, with his son's flashy host name printed on it.

Then one day, his son came up to him and told him that he was planning on moving out. They had shared the apartment almost all his son's life. Daddy could hardly remember what it was like to not be with his son. "Where are you moving to?" Daddy asked his son.

"Maybe Aoyama, maybe Ebisu, I'm not sure," said his son. These were all expensive neighborhoods. "How are you going to pay the rent?" Daddy asked. "Apparently, I don't have to worry about it," answered his son.

His host son had acquired himself a sugar mama. Daddy never was an overbearing father, and it was hard for him to express his feelings. His son moved out and lived out of the pocket of his sugar mama.

They never really communicated too much, and once they stopped living together, Daddy lost touch with his son. He'd hear from him every now and again, usually when his son needed money. Daddy always told him he had nothing he could give him. He found out that his son quit working as a host. His son was apparently devoting himself to his band. He's a bass player, and they're trying to make it into the big time.

Daddy isn't sure if his son is still kept by his sugar mama.

Daddy remembered that when he was a younger man, he also had some sugar mamas. He also hustled wealthy lonely women who supported him.

He misses his son. His son is 23 years old.

My mother's visiting me! I haven't seen her in ages (I only saw my Dad and sisters when I went to America last month). There's a Japanese word, "natsukashii," that means something along the lines of "that reminds me of back in the day," "how nostalgic," and "that brings back memories." My mother visited Japan three years ago, but she hasn't lived here for almost 20 years.

She used this "natsukashii" phrase when she saw three yakuza dudes walking down the street. I thought that was a bit weird.

She also let out a "natsukashii" when the bus pulled into Shinjuku station. This was quickly followed by "I want to go shopping." Eating a good bowl of ramen is her other request.

Dancer Girl's passed out on my bed right now. She puked up all over her clothes and two taxis on her way here. It was her friend's birthday party -- a good looking dentist. He wasted no time downing a bunch of tequila shots in celebration of his 30th birthday. Neither did Dancer Girl. Unlike good looking dentist birthday boy, Dancer Girl got dangerously drunk. I realized that I had to take her home after she puked up on her jeans.

A few boys helped me bring her down the stairs and into a taxi. I got in a fight with two taxi drivers on the way home. I kicked one repeatedly in the balls and punched him in the face, but he was being forceful and violent on the falling-down-drunk Dancer Girl, so I had no choice. Loser. He'll think twice about trying to scam drunk girls next time.

We got in another taxi eventually. The taxi driver was still a spaz though. But I ignored him when he went on and on about how Dancer Girl puked in the cab and that I had to pay, and he chose to just drive away instead of deal with me.

It was snowing again today. Dancer Girl was wearing slip on stilletoes, which fell off immediately. She started walking around in her bare feet in the snow, then she started screaming at the top of her voice that her feet were freezing and that she wanted to go home. I eventually got her into my little room. She's snoring now. I'm washing her coat and scarf, and hung her shoes up in the window. I wanted to wash her jeans and shirt, but she's wearing them.

Dancer Girl's marriage is a disaster. I think her husband is just not good for her. He is unable to think about anybody but himself. She's been exhausted and also emotionally drained, and has a history of depression. Her father died when she was a teenager. She's had some serious money issues in her family.

That awesome show that I'm obsessed with, Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, talks about how early trauma and genetic dispositions towards addiction can lead to trouble. I think Dancer Girl qualifies.

I'm staying up tonight, hoping she doesn't puke to death.

Jesus christ it's freezing cold right now. Apparently it snowed the night before last. It might as well have snowed last night because outside felt like a freezer. It was so cold, that on my way to work I was certain no customers were going to come, but unfortunately they did. Some regulars and some ones I'd never seen before. There was one fat, funny guy who (according to him) is a successful actor and comedian, but I didn't know who he was. Oh, I just googled him and he really is an actor/comedian. Yup, the face and name match up. Haha!

He told me to call him after work because he was going to be at a bar in Shinjuku. But I was just too tired and had a headache from the cheap crap wine, so I just pretended to forget. Maybe I should have met up with him.

Nah. I have a necklace of the buddha around my neck now, and I told myself that whenever I'm about to make a decision that I know is bad, the necklace will remind me to just go home and sleep like I should. And that's what I did last night.

Chiba Girl was really all over the guy the comedian came in with. Apparently she went on a paid date with him and he took her to a really nice place and bought three bottles of expensive red wine (her favorite, she calls it her "vitamins"). So she kept pushing for him to take her out again, and then she was really making a case for the fat comedian to take me out so it could be a big double date. I heard her whispering into the guy's ear that I'm really sad and lonely, and that she can tell that I really like the fat comedian. So I did my best impression of a sad and lonely girl.

Got my December pay last night. I took the envelope and signed off on it without checking, which I regretted on the taxi ride home because I saw that I was 9000yen short. Fucker! I usually never check my money, but I'm going to be like this girl who used to work at the club. She would check her money immediately and count and check her hours and her bonuses and everything.