My brain tries to stretch out and touch both sides of my skull at the same time, then collapses inward from the effort. A frustrating need to produce some work of art, and my only tool lies bloated and fat inside my cranium. A man made of mostly beer-gut, sitting in a room with the blinds drawn eating Cheetos and sipping from a Budweiser balanced ( Read more... )

Diana has made a clever deduction about something that makes her incredibly happy, but it's so horribly nerdy she can't tell you.

It involves musical people and babies.

Also, one of my mini kids threw a ball at his mother's face and she didn't bat an eye. WOW.

Aching for clear skies and somewhere with more space than people. Coffee shops with atmospheres larger than their patrons. Drinkable coffee, sugar struggling to stay afloat in the froth, while I carefully fill in the pages of an anatomy colouring book ( Read more... )

Uh, so there's this train station here. With a stationmaster. The stationmaster is a cat. He also manages two cat subordinates that help him with his "duties". He also wears a hat. This PR moved saved the train company.

My student takes the line EVERY day so she can see "Tama".

God I love this place. Leave a comment  2 

So it's no secret that mental health services are absolute garbage here, if they exist at all. Today I was talking to a student of mine who's a psychologist ( Read more... )

Round 1: Donuts ( Read more... )

So I've been saddled with three substitute days where I continue to fold paper with ridiculous precision so as not to annoy my so called superiors. Sadly, one of those days is at the school I abhorred last year. Mostly because I would stuff about 1000 tissue packages a shift and I could feel my brain drizzling out my ears. Anyhow, on the ( Read more... )

Alone, mellow, in a mood to write. Time to elaborate on the Kyushu adventures ( Read more... )

The cherry blossoms are dead. Or rather, they've turned into cherry blossom slush. Rotten and clumping in the sewer grates, sliding parallel with the sidewalks before ending up in front of Imamiya train station. Or as I call it, cherry blossom graveyard ( Read more... )

The place seems more mental institution than spa. A large open room, every inch is covered in cheap, white, scrubabble, tile. The one notable exception are the two fans locked into the ceiling with wire coverings, impossibly high - to prevent suicide attempts, I think. A woman in surgical gloves with a clipboard is checking the water temperature ( Read more... )