She Reworks hard for the money, so hard for it honey
Intro behind cut....
MANY thanks to all the kind people who gave their suggestions for the essay I JUST FUCKIN' FINISHED MOTHER FUCK GAWD!!! Really, I don't know WHY it was sooooo hard to pump out in a timely fashion.
I would also like to especially thank Bethany, a lovely lady friend who, though not on lj, drops by with helpful hints and words of wisdom. Not only did I completely rework the last several pages, but I "softened" the main speaker's character, so that he is more.... kindly and approachable, rather than condescending and flaming. I'm overall, far more happy with this version.
OH, AND ONE MORE THING! I still don't have a title. Any ideas would be awesome, and the lucky winner will get a special sumthin'-sumthin' in their mailbox from yours truly!!
Okama Rama
Cody Cranch (Hyogo Prefecture, 2004-05)
[Look closely and you will see another world. It lies beyond the streaming flows of busy-bee business men and the scores of Jusco-bound Japanese. It lies beyond the blinding haze of pachinko parlor kitsch and smiling school-kid cliques. Beyond the obi-wearing obaasans. Even beyond those roly-poly Pokemon and that damnably cute Kitty. Unlike the lands laid out in Lonely Planet, this one hides in the margins of maps. It’s lurking just around the corner and down the next alley. Scan the horizon and you’ll miss it. But, dig deep and there it is, humming with life just below the freshly-laid concrete and polished steel façade. This is the world where fearsome young bucks in pinstriped suits primp each other’s finely permed mullets. Where once giggly girls now carry switch-blades and charge by the spank. Where young JETs find themselves aimlessly wondering in search of secrets.
It is in this world where, as you weave between a cluster of crusty old men and the chick in a vinyl French maid’s uniform, you see the boy. His unsightly 190 centimeter frame and huge honker of a nose give him away instantly, for this one ain’t local. The boy puffs on his cigarette and gracelessly pulls at his sweat-soaked shirt. In these claustrophobic streets, the heat puts hell to shame. The air is so heavy and wet, removing your clothes at the end of the day requires turpentine and a brillo pad. As he inconspicuously separates his vacuum sealed underpants from his ass crack, the boy makes a mental note that summertime Asia is NO place for silk. Then, he notices you noticing him. Eyes meet. Cheeks turn red. However, embarrassment quickly gives way to recognition, relief. A bright and toothy grin crosses his face, and he waves audaciously.]
Oh my God, hi!! [There is a slight breath-like pause, and then he hugs you. It is not a forceful or misplaced hug. But still it’s a bit awkward, like conversation between two distant coworkers at the urinal - both inextricably bonded by their shared business. Both uncomfortably obliged to at least comment on the weather.] Wow, it’s really hot! But, [Giving the once-over] look at you: all dressed to impress anyway, and ready to party! You know, I always used to say: one can NEVER have to much body glitter! [He nervously laughs, and flicks his cig with a flurry.]
Forgive me. I’m fawning. It’s just that I never would have expected a newbie to make it this far, so soon. Ah, but I see you brought your Stonewall Guide. Helpful, isn’t it? [Leaning in close] Listen, if your turn to page 37, there’s directions to a GAP just a few blocks from here…. [He considers] Well, NOT the kind of GAP that sells all things beige and plays the Best of Brian Setzer…. But, it IS a nice lil’ Gay Apparel Paradise. Every time I’m in town, I stop by for a quick spree, and pick up some emergency wares for my bachelor pad abode. In fact, I was just there and purchased a few [Bashful titter] personal accessories. I’d love to show you [He kids, then goes for the plunge], but a gentleman reveals nothing without at least being treated to cocktails first.
[The boy raises an eyebrow to indicate your bluff’s been called. He understands all too well the desperate midnight mission you’ve embarked upon, and no amount of body glitter blinds him to your secret agenda. With a cock of his head, he directs your gaze to an unassuming rabbit hole in the crumbling wall. The stairwell, leading ever downward, is scabbed over with peeling layers of rainbow posters and pornographic pics. Ominous, perhaps, but a steady, enticing heart-beat of pounding rhythms seeps through to your eager ears.]
Welcome to Okama Rama. It’s not the multi-level club-mecca you were hoping for, I know. A few of the lucky ones get placed in big cities, while the rest of us are exiled to mountain towns and rice paddy hamlets. You and I dream of Tokyo, but like the twinkling stars in an ink-black country sky, it might as well be light years away. [A shadow crosses his face and the lyrical quality of his voice fades.] And in between dreaming, we take what we can get, right? [Pause. He looks again at the bar's darkened entrance, and then he chuckles, slapping your shoulder affectionately.]
But don’t worry your panties into a bundle just yet! Yeah, yeah, I SHOULD be more positive!! No doubt, you’re a bit shell-shocked as it is, and the last thing you need is me dropping another bomb. Believe me, I understand your second thoughts and hind-sight laments. But really, you’ve done the right thing. JET can be an amazing experience - a year of adventures and learning life-changing lessons. A time for making more than just fair-weather friends. An opportunity to educate enthusiastic young-uns. Oh, and unless granny’s got a trust-fund, that first post-grad paycheck feels mighty fine, too. Frankly, JET has been a lifesaver! I can’t imagine where I’d be if I hadn’t stepped on that plane and stuck it out for so many months. [Scoffing] Instead of gallivanting across Asia in a search of self-discovery, I could be living back in Biloxi, jobless and wearing sweat-pants after 11am. Instead of making a hard-earned living singing the ABC’s or playing Simon Says, I could be on the street, turning tricks for milk money. Instead of chatting right here and now with good company, I could be - GOD FORBID - in Law School!! [He shudders at the thought.]
I assure you, despite the lackluster gay nightlife, I don’t regret my decision to join the program. But, although I’m hardly bitter, that doesn’t necessarily mean I like making the truth TOO sweet. JET, like all things life throws at us, has its challenges and hardships. And as queer people, we’ve got a few more to face. Loneliness, isolation, secrecy, scabies: they’re all a part of the package. And you’ll survive. I did. We all do.
[He lights another menthol.] You know, I remember when I was still fresh off the boat. I actually looked forward to living in the boonies. For one thing, I thought, for a nation that considers drag a cultural tradition AND were even the manliest of men carry a sturdy purse, Japan couldn’t be that bad for a twinkle-toed teacher. It’s silly, but I imagined stepping onto the steamy train platform and being instantly adored. The townsfolk would embrace my worldly ways and sit silently in semi-circles as I wowed them with magical tales of fairy queens and Harley-ridding, Elvis-like kings. All the students would happily incorporate the phrases “fabulous darling” and “bitch please” into daily conversation. Office ladies would take to reading Gloria Steinem, or talk more openly about their emotional vaginas. I even planned on having monthly make-over workshops and starting a home-decorating themed TV show called “Queer Tips for Rice-Fed Hicks.”
[He shakes his head in dismay] As you can imagine, most of my ideas went out the window upon arrival. In hindsight, I was wrong to be so presumptuous and arrogant. I was wrong to judge their customs and demand change. I was wrong to tell my boss off the bat that puce just wasn’t his color. But none of that mattered. After the initial honeymoon bliss wore off, and I realized I was stuck high-and-dry in Japan’s version of the Ozarks, I got pretty depressed - which, when left unchecked, slowly and surely, transformed from a common case of melancholy into a festering, self-absorbing anger. How could JET do this to me?! I questioned. A month before, I was out n’ proud, and NOW! I was living life in the closet, locked up like a verifiable hermit, avoiding questions about an imaginary girlfriend. A month before, I had a healthy social life filled with wine galas, art films, real-life lovers, and NOW! They expected me to a teach a bunch of puberty-stricken punks. A month before, I rode a giant rainbow float while dressed in a pink wedding gown and wearing a ROYAL TIARA for Christ’s sake! And NOW!! I was quickly developing carpel tunnel syndrome from near constant masturbation!!!
See, I was too concerned with what I had lost, and not with what I had gained. When I looked around at the beautiful rolling hills and lush rice fields, I only saw a never-ending barrier to my escape and a breeding ground for bugs. When I chatted with kindly neighbors and clever students, I only saw nosey old ninnies and brown-nosers. Even when hanging with my dear fellow JETs - the friends who sympathized more than anyone else with the difficulties of living abroad - I still looked upon them with envy and resentment. They flirted freely and splashed about in an endless dating pool, while I drowned in my own sea of self-pity. Lonely and dissatisfied, I did what any one-time, tiara-sporting Prom Princess still stuck in Podunk does - I turned SLUTTY!
Now, you’re probably wondering how one achieves this when one lives in a village so isolated it’s one step up from Pyongyang. Well, [Wagging his finger.] NEVER once did I rock the cradle and give late-night oral exams to students in need of extra credit! I have morals, you know!! And besides, I like my men like my Christmas trees: tall, sturdy, and well hung. Or, like my fine wines: aged and slightly fruity. But, unfortunately, these standards left me with a considerably smaller selection of P.E. teachers to choose from - and with my allergies to synthetic gortex, I had exhausted ALL possibilities by mid-October.
I had to get out, plain and simple, or I’d hang myself with a chastity belt! Therefore, with Guide in-hand and some MAC body glitter in my back pocket, I ran from my town. I ran from my work. From my friends. From the cheery children with their welcome baskets, the kindhearted ladies with their helping hands, the picturesque temples, the summer festivals. I ran from it all, and I found myself here. Almost every weekend. At first, I was like a kid in a candy store. But, since snack time was always short, and I had a sweet tooth to satiate, any old sugar daddy or half-used Twinkie would do. From time to time I met nice ones whose last names I bothered to remember. Nevertheless, more often than not, at right about 3:45am, I’d settle for the slim-pickings - you know, the “Quarter to Four Boys,” who usually ended up being a kimono-clad creep named Coco or some Swedish dude with an eye patch.
It wasn’t the sex, I assure. It was more about the physical human contact. When you’re always the token, the one-man minority with no one to touch you, you’d bend over backwards for just a kiss and some cuddling! Wait, what am I saying?! I DID bend over backwards, and every other which way, for a kiss and some cuddling. I would do anything, anything to remind myself I wasn’t completely alone in this world. I was desperate. And that desperate sense of isolation, that utter loneliness, left a void in my life. Sadly, I tried very hard, and often failed, to fill that void with the city, with partying, and with men-
Hmmmm, I guess, on second thought, some of those men “filled” my void quite adequately - [sniggering] - but still, what did I have to show for my six or so months thus far?! Besides a few more notches in my belt and a rash that wouldn’t go way…. Not a whole hell of a lot!
That was when I had my epiphany. There I was, pestering bottom-of-the-barrel boys for 700 yen beers, in the sleaziest bar this side of Lake Biwa when, out-of-the-blue, I had my “Oprah Moment”. I thought: Japan may be the most expensive nation in the world, but I’ve sure been selling myself cheap. And, a smidgen of loneliness every now and then is a small price to pay for the deal I’m getting - a small price EVERYONE pays.
Yes, being queer AND country-bound felt like CLAIR’s cruelest joke - an unfair sentence for someone so fragile. But, I was chosen because they saw in me adaptability, maturity, strength. The problem was…. it just took me a bit longer to see it as well. So, I went back to my hamlet, and started all over again. I no longer viewed the mountains as a prison, or my students as an enemy, or my neighbors as annoyances. I no longer looked at my friends as being perfectly indestructible. I no longer searched for love in anybody’s open bed.
[Taking a deep drag.] Of course, I won’t lie, either - I may be a big ol’ Mary, but I’m certainly not a saint, and haven’t been a virgin for years! I still feel that ache every now and then. It’s true. I still feel that need to be needed. Hell, I still find myself giving out numbers at Okama Rama [Looks smarmily at the darkened stairwell.] But that’s OK! There’s nothing wrong with finding a special person to curl up with and keep me warm - even in this weather!! We are human, after all. But, before I step on any city-bound train, I remember one thing. If despair hollows me out and loneliness leaves a gaping void, I will fill it first with those other little things.
[A moment passes, and the hopping grooves of Kylie remixed begin wafting from the club. His demeanor melts away and he gives a sly little grin.]
Oh, come on inside - I’ll introduce you to all my buddies - Coco will be especially enthralled!! We’ll have a couple of drinks, we’ll flirt, we’ll shake these booties a bit…. And then I think I’ll be on my way. Tomorrow’s lunch bunch with the ladies, and I’ve got a long ride home.
[He takes your sweaty hand in his, and leads the way inside.]
MANY thanks to all the kind people who gave their suggestions for the essay I JUST FUCKIN' FINISHED MOTHER FUCK GAWD!!! Really, I don't know WHY it was sooooo hard to pump out in a timely fashion.
I would also like to especially thank Bethany, a lovely lady friend who, though not on lj, drops by with helpful hints and words of wisdom. Not only did I completely rework the last several pages, but I "softened" the main speaker's character, so that he is more.... kindly and approachable, rather than condescending and flaming. I'm overall, far more happy with this version.
OH, AND ONE MORE THING! I still don't have a title. Any ideas would be awesome, and the lucky winner will get a special sumthin'-sumthin' in their mailbox from yours truly!!
Okama Rama
Cody Cranch (Hyogo Prefecture, 2004-05)
[Look closely and you will see another world. It lies beyond the streaming flows of busy-bee business men and the scores of Jusco-bound Japanese. It lies beyond the blinding haze of pachinko parlor kitsch and smiling school-kid cliques. Beyond the obi-wearing obaasans. Even beyond those roly-poly Pokemon and that damnably cute Kitty. Unlike the lands laid out in Lonely Planet, this one hides in the margins of maps. It’s lurking just around the corner and down the next alley. Scan the horizon and you’ll miss it. But, dig deep and there it is, humming with life just below the freshly-laid concrete and polished steel façade. This is the world where fearsome young bucks in pinstriped suits primp each other’s finely permed mullets. Where once giggly girls now carry switch-blades and charge by the spank. Where young JETs find themselves aimlessly wondering in search of secrets.
It is in this world where, as you weave between a cluster of crusty old men and the chick in a vinyl French maid’s uniform, you see the boy. His unsightly 190 centimeter frame and huge honker of a nose give him away instantly, for this one ain’t local. The boy puffs on his cigarette and gracelessly pulls at his sweat-soaked shirt. In these claustrophobic streets, the heat puts hell to shame. The air is so heavy and wet, removing your clothes at the end of the day requires turpentine and a brillo pad. As he inconspicuously separates his vacuum sealed underpants from his ass crack, the boy makes a mental note that summertime Asia is NO place for silk. Then, he notices you noticing him. Eyes meet. Cheeks turn red. However, embarrassment quickly gives way to recognition, relief. A bright and toothy grin crosses his face, and he waves audaciously.]
Oh my God, hi!! [There is a slight breath-like pause, and then he hugs you. It is not a forceful or misplaced hug. But still it’s a bit awkward, like conversation between two distant coworkers at the urinal - both inextricably bonded by their shared business. Both uncomfortably obliged to at least comment on the weather.] Wow, it’s really hot! But, [Giving the once-over] look at you: all dressed to impress anyway, and ready to party! You know, I always used to say: one can NEVER have to much body glitter! [He nervously laughs, and flicks his cig with a flurry.]
Forgive me. I’m fawning. It’s just that I never would have expected a newbie to make it this far, so soon. Ah, but I see you brought your Stonewall Guide. Helpful, isn’t it? [Leaning in close] Listen, if your turn to page 37, there’s directions to a GAP just a few blocks from here…. [He considers] Well, NOT the kind of GAP that sells all things beige and plays the Best of Brian Setzer…. But, it IS a nice lil’ Gay Apparel Paradise. Every time I’m in town, I stop by for a quick spree, and pick up some emergency wares for my bachelor pad abode. In fact, I was just there and purchased a few [Bashful titter] personal accessories. I’d love to show you [He kids, then goes for the plunge], but a gentleman reveals nothing without at least being treated to cocktails first.
[The boy raises an eyebrow to indicate your bluff’s been called. He understands all too well the desperate midnight mission you’ve embarked upon, and no amount of body glitter blinds him to your secret agenda. With a cock of his head, he directs your gaze to an unassuming rabbit hole in the crumbling wall. The stairwell, leading ever downward, is scabbed over with peeling layers of rainbow posters and pornographic pics. Ominous, perhaps, but a steady, enticing heart-beat of pounding rhythms seeps through to your eager ears.]
Welcome to Okama Rama. It’s not the multi-level club-mecca you were hoping for, I know. A few of the lucky ones get placed in big cities, while the rest of us are exiled to mountain towns and rice paddy hamlets. You and I dream of Tokyo, but like the twinkling stars in an ink-black country sky, it might as well be light years away. [A shadow crosses his face and the lyrical quality of his voice fades.] And in between dreaming, we take what we can get, right? [Pause. He looks again at the bar's darkened entrance, and then he chuckles, slapping your shoulder affectionately.]
But don’t worry your panties into a bundle just yet! Yeah, yeah, I SHOULD be more positive!! No doubt, you’re a bit shell-shocked as it is, and the last thing you need is me dropping another bomb. Believe me, I understand your second thoughts and hind-sight laments. But really, you’ve done the right thing. JET can be an amazing experience - a year of adventures and learning life-changing lessons. A time for making more than just fair-weather friends. An opportunity to educate enthusiastic young-uns. Oh, and unless granny’s got a trust-fund, that first post-grad paycheck feels mighty fine, too. Frankly, JET has been a lifesaver! I can’t imagine where I’d be if I hadn’t stepped on that plane and stuck it out for so many months. [Scoffing] Instead of gallivanting across Asia in a search of self-discovery, I could be living back in Biloxi, jobless and wearing sweat-pants after 11am. Instead of making a hard-earned living singing the ABC’s or playing Simon Says, I could be on the street, turning tricks for milk money. Instead of chatting right here and now with good company, I could be - GOD FORBID - in Law School!! [He shudders at the thought.]
I assure you, despite the lackluster gay nightlife, I don’t regret my decision to join the program. But, although I’m hardly bitter, that doesn’t necessarily mean I like making the truth TOO sweet. JET, like all things life throws at us, has its challenges and hardships. And as queer people, we’ve got a few more to face. Loneliness, isolation, secrecy, scabies: they’re all a part of the package. And you’ll survive. I did. We all do.
[He lights another menthol.] You know, I remember when I was still fresh off the boat. I actually looked forward to living in the boonies. For one thing, I thought, for a nation that considers drag a cultural tradition AND were even the manliest of men carry a sturdy purse, Japan couldn’t be that bad for a twinkle-toed teacher. It’s silly, but I imagined stepping onto the steamy train platform and being instantly adored. The townsfolk would embrace my worldly ways and sit silently in semi-circles as I wowed them with magical tales of fairy queens and Harley-ridding, Elvis-like kings. All the students would happily incorporate the phrases “fabulous darling” and “bitch please” into daily conversation. Office ladies would take to reading Gloria Steinem, or talk more openly about their emotional vaginas. I even planned on having monthly make-over workshops and starting a home-decorating themed TV show called “Queer Tips for Rice-Fed Hicks.”
[He shakes his head in dismay] As you can imagine, most of my ideas went out the window upon arrival. In hindsight, I was wrong to be so presumptuous and arrogant. I was wrong to judge their customs and demand change. I was wrong to tell my boss off the bat that puce just wasn’t his color. But none of that mattered. After the initial honeymoon bliss wore off, and I realized I was stuck high-and-dry in Japan’s version of the Ozarks, I got pretty depressed - which, when left unchecked, slowly and surely, transformed from a common case of melancholy into a festering, self-absorbing anger. How could JET do this to me?! I questioned. A month before, I was out n’ proud, and NOW! I was living life in the closet, locked up like a verifiable hermit, avoiding questions about an imaginary girlfriend. A month before, I had a healthy social life filled with wine galas, art films, real-life lovers, and NOW! They expected me to a teach a bunch of puberty-stricken punks. A month before, I rode a giant rainbow float while dressed in a pink wedding gown and wearing a ROYAL TIARA for Christ’s sake! And NOW!! I was quickly developing carpel tunnel syndrome from near constant masturbation!!!
See, I was too concerned with what I had lost, and not with what I had gained. When I looked around at the beautiful rolling hills and lush rice fields, I only saw a never-ending barrier to my escape and a breeding ground for bugs. When I chatted with kindly neighbors and clever students, I only saw nosey old ninnies and brown-nosers. Even when hanging with my dear fellow JETs - the friends who sympathized more than anyone else with the difficulties of living abroad - I still looked upon them with envy and resentment. They flirted freely and splashed about in an endless dating pool, while I drowned in my own sea of self-pity. Lonely and dissatisfied, I did what any one-time, tiara-sporting Prom Princess still stuck in Podunk does - I turned SLUTTY!
Now, you’re probably wondering how one achieves this when one lives in a village so isolated it’s one step up from Pyongyang. Well, [Wagging his finger.] NEVER once did I rock the cradle and give late-night oral exams to students in need of extra credit! I have morals, you know!! And besides, I like my men like my Christmas trees: tall, sturdy, and well hung. Or, like my fine wines: aged and slightly fruity. But, unfortunately, these standards left me with a considerably smaller selection of P.E. teachers to choose from - and with my allergies to synthetic gortex, I had exhausted ALL possibilities by mid-October.
I had to get out, plain and simple, or I’d hang myself with a chastity belt! Therefore, with Guide in-hand and some MAC body glitter in my back pocket, I ran from my town. I ran from my work. From my friends. From the cheery children with their welcome baskets, the kindhearted ladies with their helping hands, the picturesque temples, the summer festivals. I ran from it all, and I found myself here. Almost every weekend. At first, I was like a kid in a candy store. But, since snack time was always short, and I had a sweet tooth to satiate, any old sugar daddy or half-used Twinkie would do. From time to time I met nice ones whose last names I bothered to remember. Nevertheless, more often than not, at right about 3:45am, I’d settle for the slim-pickings - you know, the “Quarter to Four Boys,” who usually ended up being a kimono-clad creep named Coco or some Swedish dude with an eye patch.
It wasn’t the sex, I assure. It was more about the physical human contact. When you’re always the token, the one-man minority with no one to touch you, you’d bend over backwards for just a kiss and some cuddling! Wait, what am I saying?! I DID bend over backwards, and every other which way, for a kiss and some cuddling. I would do anything, anything to remind myself I wasn’t completely alone in this world. I was desperate. And that desperate sense of isolation, that utter loneliness, left a void in my life. Sadly, I tried very hard, and often failed, to fill that void with the city, with partying, and with men-
Hmmmm, I guess, on second thought, some of those men “filled” my void quite adequately - [sniggering] - but still, what did I have to show for my six or so months thus far?! Besides a few more notches in my belt and a rash that wouldn’t go way…. Not a whole hell of a lot!
That was when I had my epiphany. There I was, pestering bottom-of-the-barrel boys for 700 yen beers, in the sleaziest bar this side of Lake Biwa when, out-of-the-blue, I had my “Oprah Moment”. I thought: Japan may be the most expensive nation in the world, but I’ve sure been selling myself cheap. And, a smidgen of loneliness every now and then is a small price to pay for the deal I’m getting - a small price EVERYONE pays.
Yes, being queer AND country-bound felt like CLAIR’s cruelest joke - an unfair sentence for someone so fragile. But, I was chosen because they saw in me adaptability, maturity, strength. The problem was…. it just took me a bit longer to see it as well. So, I went back to my hamlet, and started all over again. I no longer viewed the mountains as a prison, or my students as an enemy, or my neighbors as annoyances. I no longer looked at my friends as being perfectly indestructible. I no longer searched for love in anybody’s open bed.
[Taking a deep drag.] Of course, I won’t lie, either - I may be a big ol’ Mary, but I’m certainly not a saint, and haven’t been a virgin for years! I still feel that ache every now and then. It’s true. I still feel that need to be needed. Hell, I still find myself giving out numbers at Okama Rama [Looks smarmily at the darkened stairwell.] But that’s OK! There’s nothing wrong with finding a special person to curl up with and keep me warm - even in this weather!! We are human, after all. But, before I step on any city-bound train, I remember one thing. If despair hollows me out and loneliness leaves a gaping void, I will fill it first with those other little things.
[A moment passes, and the hopping grooves of Kylie remixed begin wafting from the club. His demeanor melts away and he gives a sly little grin.]
Oh, come on inside - I’ll introduce you to all my buddies - Coco will be especially enthralled!! We’ll have a couple of drinks, we’ll flirt, we’ll shake these booties a bit…. And then I think I’ll be on my way. Tomorrow’s lunch bunch with the ladies, and I’ve got a long ride home.
[He takes your sweaty hand in his, and leads the way inside.]