: J. and I go to a closet-sized bar devoted to Nakajima Miyuki; Mama-san is a big guy from Okinawa, serves us Awamori, a strong kind of souchu that, after a while, makes me wince; I wander alone; 2-chome reminds me of the Castro too much and I return; the bar has been running for over twenty years; so small the owner needs to walk over patrons to use the restroom; back at Fuji; somehow I’m the sober one; I really need to hear Angela Aki; wandering home, he slurs and swerves; I stop for water and he keeps moving but I know he can’t get far; up ahead I see him ricochet like a pinball; laying down he apologizes.
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: a lot of laying up in bed, I leave the house for a coffee but spend most of the day reading while J. sleeps; as he comes together we go to Sunkus for lunch; a curry noodle I should’ve microwaved, finding a pocket of jelly savor at the bottom; I tell him about the baby chicks at egg factories, how they discard the male chicks; we’re horrified and laugh through our disgust; talk of fish and their one eye; Subway later for dinner; back to Fuji; we grab some Italian food at a chain, pizza and antipasto; back at his place he plays Yamazaki Hako on endless repeat.
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