A Home

http://easthouse.cyber-ninja.jp/guesthouse_e/nishifunabashiI_en.html

I moved into a new share house when I came back from S.E. Asia.  On the spectrum of “I love the feeling of community that communal living provides!” and “I can’t afford my own toilet, shower or kitchen; leave me alone,” I think we fall closer to the “I can’t afford my own toilet, shower, or kitchen; leave me alone,” side of things.

One of the first people I met drives a semi truck.  I do wish my first reaction wasn’t to ask questions about the cab while thinking, “I’m so going to try to ride with him somewhere.”

This morning I went into the kitchen before work where a middle aged man in thick glasses, high wasted gym shorts, and a deeply tucked in shirt was leaning over a charring piece of salmon. I said, “you should turn the heat down or flip it,” and he said, “No, no, the top isn’t done yet.” When I left for work the kitchen was filling up with black smoke, and he was still just standing there watching it.

So it’s kind of a house for the functionally retarded.  I’m feeling pretty at home here.

 

On Colored Contacts

There is a posse of recent hotel management graduates from Mumbai here at the hostel.  They mostly get drunk at night and sit really close to each other and talk loud.  That’s their thing.  They’re staying here in the hostel for a month, and that seems to be the plan.  There’s one who’s really thin, […]