I'm sitting in my apartment in Hiroshima, Japan. It's really a vacant commercial space in the heart of the commercial district, the Hondori. This is a very precious bit of space, valued at some 300,000 yen per month, it is owned by the father of my Japanese fiance, Miss guerilla. It's empty as of now.. except myself and Miss Guerilla who, through her artifice and my disregard for people's opinions, have occupied and created an improviso kitchen and sleeping space via a borrowed tent and various camping gear which we were using on island beaches in September.
The father, Yukinobu... not impressed with me. We had a great time when I first arrived. Something happened which neither I, nor Ysitta are aware of. There are a lot of possibilities which I've given up on calculating. Tadashi, the gay, inarticulate, but concise 40 year old brother described my meeting with her father as, "It seemed like he found his other son". I'll find a way to bridge the gap. Making love to his daughter in a consistent, ongoing manner being part of the core of my plan. These sorts of things always work! It's simple though. Her family is crazy. Really. So I've stopped worrying about it. It will work, they don't have a choice and the will of Ysitta and I is volumetrically more powerful than that of her parents disgust, or any other detractors from the cause. And our likely half-Japanese child is sure to draw some relaxing of barriers.
I've been drinking a live ferment sake and wandering the city. I stopped through the Peace Park with a guitar and played under the bridge. This is an amazing spot where at night it is lit like a stage and the acoustics are fab. Another musician, young Japanese, stopped through and showed a fair amount of amazement at what I was singing and playing. So I was playing a little show under a bridge in Hiroshima. I love it. I also realize I have most of what I need to put my music career together. What is left is competent folks to write and play with. OK
I'll take my drunkish ass to the watering hole.
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