Whenever I have exploits in Japan, I become very impressed indeed with my ability to live in a country for eight months and to learn so little of its language. This fact actually made for a rather beautiful game of blackjack the other night, wherein the bets were these word associations that became increasingly poetic, and it seemed after a time to have been a rather intimate exchange. Even so, I have definitely decided to increase my conversation practice in Japanese.
The camera has been resting for the past month. Recovering, it says. Waiting for inspiration to strike. I think it might be feeling under-appreciated. It keeps dropping hints that I should spend more time complimenting its manual features, perhaps that we should take a photoshop class together. Saturday night I forgot to ask if the camera wanted to come with me to the Jamaican's bar. When I arrived home at 4 A.M. Sunday morning, there was an argument:
I didn't know I'd be staying, I was just dropping off a CD and then I got sucked into conversation. I was only playing with words on miniature laminated cards. You know it's the kind of thing I love to do, but that you'd have been bored with. Plus it was dark and I know how much you hate using your flash. I talked about you, and I showed them some of our pictures. Do you remember RIP VW? Fine, you know what, don't say anything.
I'll stop making excuses and we'll go out soon.
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