I went to the infamous Comiket in Tokyo, Japan today.

For those of you unfamiliar with Comiket, it has two main attractions. The first one is doujinshi, which are comics produced by non-professionals. Non-professionals as in they're not famous enough to make a living off their art quite yet. Some of the doujinshi are original works, while others are more like fan comics. Some of them are pornographic in nature, with yaoi (homosexual love stories).

The other main attraction for Comiket are the cosplayers. These are a group of people that enjoy dressing up in their favorite anime, manga, or video game characters. As with all things, the quality of the cosplayers varies a lot. Some of them are very cute, while others are not.

Comiket is the biggest event of its kind in Japan. America doesn't really have anything like Comiket quite yet, but they have anime conventions instead. Having been to both, I would definitely say I find the American variant more entertaining. Comiket offers little besides shopping and people-watching.

I had wanted to take lots of pictures of the cute cosplayers but then realized I didn't have enough film for all of them. So then I thought about taking only pictures of selective ones, but realized that my picture choice would be evidence to the sick and twisted pervert that I am. I decide that perhaps picture taking isn't such a good idea.

I consider myself pretty hardcore when it comes to this fanboy kinda stuff...and even then I was surprised at a couple of things. The booth that was playing hardcore anime porn in the middle of the dealer's room was a bit surprising. The number of skimpy costumes were too (as in way more than I expected). Oh, and I had been told that there was an admission charge, and entrance turned out to be free.

A couple of quick notes...The most popular costume sets were Digi Charat, Final Fantasy X, and Guilty Gear X. Rabi~en~Rose was probably the most cosplayed female character there. There were a lot of crossplayers as well. Scariest crossplayer goes out to the guy who did a male Kris Christopher from Battle Athletes. And the coolest groups would have to go out to the girls who did the Dragon Warrior medley group and the girls who did the Suikoden group. Though I don't understand why they needed so many Templetons.

I don't own anything but toys! I have lots of computers, a Mame Cabinet, 2 arcade games, a motorcycle, my convertible, and a few scarce pieces of 25 year old furniture. But I don't own any of those normal household items that I should have by the time I am this age. Eventually my two roommates are going to get married to each other. Then I will have to find an apartment of my own. I don't even own a couch, or a television, or a microwave of my own. Not to mention things like dishes. I am going to be in a heap of trouble someday, if I don't start aquiring some of these things now.


The weather was pretty nice today. That's about all I want to remember today. Bad day.



"so... how's the weather down there?"


Is it dead yet, darling?

Our relationship has been grasping, clutching, clawing for air for months now. I never thought I was going to say this, but maybe it would be best to go ahead and kill it.

It started imperceptively... who knows, maybe it started from the moment we met. I compulsively hide from people, and so do you. We neither of us got the point of trust where we could share everything with each other, but we believed we'd shared enough to breathe with.

It just kept getting pared down. There was a word I couldn't say to you, then there was a word you couldn't say to me. With every new word and every new rule, we tightened the noose.

Then I told you to stop apologizing to me. Upon reflection, I'm not sure I should have done that.

You trained me to stop asking you how you were doing. Since that is how I typically open any conversation... unable, in my peculiar way, to talk to anyone without knowing what mental state they are in beforehand... I was left bereft of an ice-breaker. Speechless.

Now our conversations are a mockery. I hang in a stupor, muzzled, corked, absolutely unable to say a word that will reach you unsheathed by the clingy gauze of hurt between us. The words gather in my chest and press painfully against my breastbone. And you... you... I no longer know what it is like for you. Our relationship is heavy, unconscious, unmovable. I don't know how it gets any air at all.

Maybe it's time to kill it. I was never one for letting things die slowly and in pain.

It bothers me that this conversation will never take place between us. I should have told you this while there was still enough life left to take action.

My heart is screaming and screaming...

Have been awake for days
Seening everything in shades of grays
Let it burn mother fucker
I am ready for the plucker
The grim reaper is here to stay
That fig plucker's son
"My little girl, drive anywhere, do you want, I don't care..." Depeche Mode

I sit here Sunday morning, drinking coffee (with chocolate soy milk..yummy) and smoking State Express 555, my favorite imported cigarettes. After reading the other daylogs sharing todays space, I don't feel so bad about my phucked up love life..seems everyone else is doing just as miserably.

As I glide closer to level three, I take a long look at my writeup list...not many nodes there besides these logs. In a way, I feel kinda bad, but in another, not really. There's plenty in my personal collection I can node, and do plan to, the time hasn't been right yet, and I want to add some content that's worthwhile. The daylogs are a serperate beast for me..as far as I'm concerned, I don't think they should even count torwards level climbing, but I'm only a squid, what do I know? I do appreciate the feedback I've gotten, and I suppose they've been perfect practice for the noding I plan to do. So thank you, E2, for providing this wonderful place for me to keep track of this cumbersome thing we call daily existance.

So, to this weekend. Not much going on, been stuck in the apato, working on a new webpage. Just a point and click jobber off of geocities, we still have some quirks to iron out before we can host off our linux server we have set up here. I've been making plans to start studying for my first Lotus Notes certificate; I'd like to take the test by March if possible. Tired of making this chump change. I got my first real paycheck friday, a measely 700 dollars after taxes for 92 hours of labor. Granted, it's art labor, but still..I can do alot better. Trying to convince Randy to start taking database design projects on the side, so we can get some extra income, and I can have something to learn Lotus by doing it (the only way I can learn). So, we'll see. His thai girlfriend is here this weekend, Yusa. She flies back to Iman, Jordan, tonight. They've been locked in bedroom, giving my shy looks whenever they venture out to the living room (where I usually dwell in my corner of technological solitude, industrial music pumping 15 hours a day...) I'm turning into what I usually detest as an empathic artist type - the techie shut-in, drinking soda, coffee, chainsmoking and contemplating Buddhist philosophy to the sweet strains of stripped down german industrial music...the color of my clothes shifting to neutral greys and blacks, my deep florida tan fading as I slowly forget the heat of the sun and my heart going cold as I slowly lose the memory of flashingeyes and sultry sighs of my girls I left there...

I build this fragile shell around me, wondering what will emerge...

I took my children to the Ohio State Fair today. It was hot but not so much, and the fabulous smells were everywhere. I felt like one of those cartoons when a scent wave floats by, my nose twitched until I was airborne, floating on that wave of delicious right to an elephant ear, fried up, coated with cinnamon and butter and powdered sugar.

I went down the big bumpy slide with Katie and we squealed the whole way, flying smoothly down the track of slick childhood memories, faster and faster for three stories. We would glide our potato sacks right to the bottom and wish like hell the ride was not already over. The best part of that was watching my husband pretend he did not want to go. Katie took him by the hand, “Come ON Papa, this is so fun!”, and soon enough they had climbed the million steps and his smiley face and delighted laugh rolled out, and when they got to the bottom his eyes were all wet.

I watched Katie gripping the pole on the carrousel, kind of nervous when the horse started forward and up and down, then ear to ear smiling, her hair blowing back and her face beamed like I have never seen before. We went on that thing four times, around and around, and it never got old. When it was Jay’s turn to stand with her I waited on the side, watching for Katie’s face to come back around, like the sun coming up a hundred happy times in a row. Every time, every single time, I would wave like a maniac, heart swelled up and eyes all weepy. I think I was watching the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Nails Broken: 1
Loogies Hocked: 1
Earnest Volunteers (not including myself): 5
Wayward Shoppers: 3
Diet Cokes Imbibed: 2
Average Warehouse Temperature: 85 degress Fahrenheit

Another day at the warehouse. Three people were convinced that we were open today. I was convinced that the men's shoes needed to be organized, the vault needed to be cleansed of personal items, the registers needed to be cleaned and checked, the purses needed to be hung on displays, as did the scarves, the kids' clothes needed to be hung up, and the mens' pants needed to be organized by size. Oh yes, and let's not forget the signs.

PC words bother me. The latest one is signage. This is dumb-talk for the signs needed for a specific purpose. It's like closure, although I always felt bad about not liking that one because my favorite teacher used it a lot. You can stick your signage . . . over there, away from me.

Being in the warehouse did bring slight relief from my head cold. I muddled about outside wondering how the hell I was going to clean this up, make it secure, and pull this off. Running around, moving messes from point A to point B really sweated out the congestion. This week we have two TV show appearances and a need for speed, in pill form. I'll be at work Tuesday until 10 PM. The tent arrives Friday, when my head of security will come check out our set up. The toilets should show up some time around then and the drinks from Coke should arrive Wednesday.

This might be the single w/u without discussion of relationships with the opposite sex -- whoops . . .

Wow, I saw some motels that weren't fit for animals to live in today, much less humans. As I walk into this place, I see several guys lounging around outside, shirtless and smoking pot. The 300 year old lady behind the counter hands me a key to go check out the room. When I step into the elevator, the first thing I see is a big pile of cigarette butts floating in a puddle of urine. I try not to vomit and finally found my room. All over the corridors I can see big brown marks that smell as if they might be glops of feces. When I get to my room - the smashed in parts of my door freak me out a little, but that's nothing compared to the fungus growing in my bathroom. I quickly get out of there as fast as possible because. You couldn't pay me to live there, much less $150/week. On the way down I ran into several large garbage bins and nearly pass out from the noxious fumes coming out of them. Oh. My. God.

The next place looked better from the outside - also there was a door that can only be opened by the guy behind the counter to get in. The carpet looks very worn and dirty, but at least it doesn't smell too bad. My room is the only room of the 5 surrounding rooms that has a window. No air conditioning, no TV, no phone, and no bathroom. I have to share a bathroom with 10 other people. That's OK - I don't really need to use it that much.

Then, I notice that my bathroom door doesn't close - much less lock. The ill fitted door is just too big for the door frame. The bathroom also doesn't have a shower - just a tub. At least there's a bathroom down the hall that locks and has a shower. I left long black strands of hair all over it, but I don't exactly see anywhere else to put them... no trash can.

Later on, I was taking a dump when someone knocked on the door. Of course I had my foot and hand on the door so that it would stay mostly shut. What was i supposed to say in response to the knock? "Who's there??" Anyway, I mumbled something and i guess they must not have understood me because they pushed the door but it might have only opened a sliver before they realized someone was inside using the toilet. They apologized and left. But it disturbed my already constipated poo!!

Anyway, there's a dead cockroach or two in the bathroom and skid marks on the toilet seat. I try and put a sheet of toilet paper on the toilet before I have to use it.

All the skanky women standing outside scare me too.

This whole place is very 1930s. I feel as if I've taken a trip back in time. Only two more weeks...

I think I'm already starting to go a little nutty.

When was the last time she smiled in a gas station? I can't even remember seeing her, but I know she was there. It was still raining, but I was wearing no shoes because I liked the freedom. What a sudden thing to happen, blond hair falling, techno on the stereo, midnight now. And who enjoyed our sexual tension? I leave town tomorrow for a whole new thing, don't let that scare you tonight.

I see you, lightning observed.

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