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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Open Season On Demons
Part One: Solo Action. There was finally a solo Aisho-san viewing on Sunday, after Mayflower's birthday party. Aisho-san leaned over the bar and spoke to me though I had not been able to sit in front of him and had to sit at Fuji-san's station. (Yes, the dragon-eyed sushi chef is beautifully named Fuji.) "Sublingua," the Aisho-san said to me, "so you're on your own tonight." We talked about his recent birthday, about his other job (I didn't remember his other job right off the bat, prompting him to chide me, "Sublingua, are you here tonight?"), about whether or not we'd go back to 22 (he said he would and I said I wouldn't). I ate mirugai, tamago, shirome, hamachi. I drank sake. I politely refused my orange, an act that made Fuji-san frown and say something in Japanese to the Aisho-san. "I'll eat it for you," the Aisho-san said to me. I sat next to a divine but insanely dressed Japanese man who ate toro sashimi and drank two large Kirin in the space of an hour. The Japanese news program on the television set blared out a documentary on SARS. Fuji-san politely translated it for me. The Japanese man turned, said in beautifully Japanese-accented English, mixing l's and r's, "W. H. O. World Health Organization." I feigned interest in the program, understanding not a word. Fuji-san and the divine stranger continued their conversation, which didn't include me, though they switched to English out of politeness. At the end of dinner, I got up to leave and all three--Fuji-san, Aisho-san, and the stranger--wished me goodnight. The Demon Who Always Does The Right Thing had much to say about my conduct and ways to improve its outcome. Part Two: Group Action. I just left coffee with Mayflower, x, and Magdalene. We met at the bookstore Starbuck's, Magdalene showing up somewhat unexpectedly as I had intended on waiting until Mayflower was gone to call her. Sometimes Mayflower and others don't mix. (Although I thoroughly enjoyed her birthday party a few nights ago. I brought her a gift certificate to have her belly button pierced and a picture of her about to eat a fried shrimp head. I stood in the kitchen with her and Christine who stroked my arm, saying to Mayflower of me, "She's always so happy, isn't she?" I sat on the couch next to Stash and Melissa, who said of my having graduated, "I'm so proud of you!" I spoke with Ryan, who rocked a month-old baby happily as he advised me to borrow money and travel. I talked with The Enforcer, who macho-ly (Look, I made a word!) slammed knuckles with me by way of saying goodbye as I left for the evening.) Part Three: Hit Me Again. I Dare You. I got a hit from someone who Google searched for "sublingua." That's an awfully specific Google search. It's open season on demons, says Max.
More lies:
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