Saturday, November 12, 2005


The man in the high castle

Wednesday's language exchange was nothing but trouble. I'd had a day's purgatory in Kyobashi and had to ship my butt out to Hirakata on the express. I proceeded to horrify a couple of Japanese with my arrant coffee-fuelled butchery of their language (case in point: I claimed that NOVA gave us dinosaurs. The Japanese words for "salary" and "dinosaur" are quite similar, unfortunately.)

Then to round it all off, I managed to miss the last train for Yodoyabashi- all the remaining trains were inbred locals, terminating in Neyagawashi. For a few horrible moments, the world swam before my eyes as I contemplated either a five-hour walk home or an extortionate cab fare.

Suddenly, I remembered that I actually know someone who lives pretty close to Hirakata (I will omit the samaritan's name here in deference to the fact that he probably won't want people thinking he's a soft touch.) To my great relief, he agreed to let me crash for the night. I picked up a few beers and snacks, and we watched DVDs till about 4am.

Going into work the next day, I felt pretty good. Admittedly I had a headache and I was wearing the clothes I'd slept in, but after months of getting run over, being late for work and generally suffering from bad karma despite doing my best not to hurt people, I felt like my luck was finally turning.

Then the stalker rocked up at my school and I had to run and cower in one of the classrooms.

i'm going to have to kill you now. and is the man in the high castle a reference to that philip k. dick book where the nazis win the war? racist.--the good samaritan who's people killed your saviour.
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