Once Upon A Time In Shiga
“Told you he’d go nuts”
“I know he’ll go nuts but not this kind of nuts nuts”
I’d go nuts if you acting this nuts nuts.
Grumble.
One small gadget with buttons and fancy colors flashes with subtle light from the screen. Hidden not so deep inside his Maison Martin Margiela carry-all.
He does not realize this. The light. Too weak to steal his attention that is lost deep somewhere in the back alley in one restaurant at Shiga, with flames in a huge pan – stir frying the half cooked pork waiting to be served on a plate with a mountain of sprouts and a small cup of Sake.
The vibration does, somehow.
You have 143 unread messages
A few giant wheels are carrying the huge airplane body gracefully (Granny Jamilah: Flying metals! One day it will drop right on our roof!) ; speed reduces at corners, just like many ants carrying a huge chunk of leftover bread on a table, to be brought back to safety. To be fed to their family. The Queen. The Ultimate Female.
Like the woman he saw at Kintetsu, behind the counter, with a thick make up uncovering her palpable line of mid-fifty, her tattered smile, her modesty of an unexplainable – smiley face all doctored because he was the customer; or because she was nihonjin in the first place? Just like the Queen/Ultimate Female.
Rie Miyazaki tops the list of the messages. Delete. Delete. Delete.
Delete all messages?
Yes
Unsatisfied.
Restaurant with chopped pork in a pan comes again into his head. This time with faint images of morning train ride passed Izumifuchu of many small houses in between many swamps of paddy field, a few hundred meters walk to JR Line to Kansai Airport at Osaka Station, breezy not-so-chilly air on his way to Biwako on Nakamura’s bicycle, a plate of sashimi with multicolor ebi, maguro, hamachi, toro. Weaved with ponzu and wasabi at Nanabunoicchi.
Delete contact?
Yes
No
Yes
No
Yes
Yes
Deliberation of an indecisive mind. Like on a brink of a junction. Left or right. On the thought of “What if the road not taken?”
Trembling.
Contact deleted
He ate pork. With sprouts. He asked her to marry him. She told him to go to hell. He asked her why she did not want to embrace Islam? She said he ate pork. With sprout.
Muslims do not eat pork. Or drink sake.
I’ll repent
Go repent first then come back to me.
He is repenting.
Not because of Rie or Kandice. But because he is Malay Muslim who used to eat pork.
I am repenting.
“I know he’ll go nuts but not this kind of nuts nuts”
I’d go nuts if you acting this nuts nuts.
Grumble.
One small gadget with buttons and fancy colors flashes with subtle light from the screen. Hidden not so deep inside his Maison Martin Margiela carry-all.
He does not realize this. The light. Too weak to steal his attention that is lost deep somewhere in the back alley in one restaurant at Shiga, with flames in a huge pan – stir frying the half cooked pork waiting to be served on a plate with a mountain of sprouts and a small cup of Sake.
The vibration does, somehow.
You have 143 unread messages
A few giant wheels are carrying the huge airplane body gracefully (Granny Jamilah: Flying metals! One day it will drop right on our roof!) ; speed reduces at corners, just like many ants carrying a huge chunk of leftover bread on a table, to be brought back to safety. To be fed to their family. The Queen. The Ultimate Female.
Like the woman he saw at Kintetsu, behind the counter, with a thick make up uncovering her palpable line of mid-fifty, her tattered smile, her modesty of an unexplainable – smiley face all doctored because he was the customer; or because she was nihonjin in the first place? Just like the Queen/Ultimate Female.
Rie Miyazaki tops the list of the messages. Delete. Delete. Delete.
Delete all messages?
Yes
Unsatisfied.
Restaurant with chopped pork in a pan comes again into his head. This time with faint images of morning train ride passed Izumifuchu of many small houses in between many swamps of paddy field, a few hundred meters walk to JR Line to Kansai Airport at Osaka Station, breezy not-so-chilly air on his way to Biwako on Nakamura’s bicycle, a plate of sashimi with multicolor ebi, maguro, hamachi, toro. Weaved with ponzu and wasabi at Nanabunoicchi.
Delete contact?
Yes
No
Yes
No
Yes
Yes
Deliberation of an indecisive mind. Like on a brink of a junction. Left or right. On the thought of “What if the road not taken?”
Trembling.
Contact deleted
He ate pork. With sprouts. He asked her to marry him. She told him to go to hell. He asked her why she did not want to embrace Islam? She said he ate pork. With sprout.
Muslims do not eat pork. Or drink sake.
I’ll repent
Go repent first then come back to me.
He is repenting.
Not because of Rie or Kandice. But because he is Malay Muslim who used to eat pork.
I am repenting.
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