Eve of Halloween Eve

I choose the cheapest train route to get me within walking distance of Roppongi, where I’m going to view the Halloween throngs; get off at Azabu Juban, walk the route to Roppongi — down Azabu Juban’s main shopping street, past the Tsutaya-Starbucks, up Keyakizaka Dori, then down Roppongi Dori to Roppongi Crossing — that has the most people, thinking, as I walk, about a woman I love, who said she may come, with her girl friend, to meet me, if, that is, they leave the expensive Halloween party in another neighborhood, a posh neighborhood, they’re going to early enough — a party she invited me to but I couldn’t go to because I couldn’t afford it …

… get to Roppongi and walk the main drag, from Roppongi Crossing several blocks towards Tokyo Tower and back … the crowds not as big as I thought they would be — not the true, surging throngs I saw last year on actual Halloween Eve, but even though tonight is just the Eve of Eve I still expected to see substantially more — more people in costumes, more costume originality, like what I recall seeing last year, and more energy on the street as, even though it’s Friday night and the weather is nice, the atmosphere feels a bit dead … maybe it’s the recessionary economy …? or just, in fact, because it’s the Eve of the Eve and not the actual Eve …?

… wondering, as I walk, what she’ll do tomorrow night, who she’ll see on the actual Eve? … when I asked the other day she only laughed and said after the drinking she would be doing at the party she was going to tonight, she wouldn’t be able to go to another party on the actual Eve … but what if she’s meeting someone else, a possible “rival,” or, worse, someone who already has her heart with no place left for me? … well, if she is, so be it — I want her to be entirely free … though, of course, I’m glad that sometimes she likes to be with me … and I’ll be seeing her next week, an assurance that makes seeing her or not tonight feel less crucial …

… late enough for me to know she won’t be calling or coming to meet me . . . so now it’s down to sitting in the Tsutaya-Starbucks — in one of the upholstered chairs facing the windows on the 2nd floor, where the music is sometimes shitty — popzak, though I like the jazz instrumental numbers they’ve transitioned to for the past twenty minutes or so — but the view — of the terrace with its outdoor tables and the intersection below — is good … good enough, anyway, for solitary rumination on the Eve of the Eve …

park

… perfect autumn day — air crisp, bright sun, blue sky … gobs of grade schoolers collecting fallen ginkgo tree nuts; of kindergarteners playing in fields, at playgrounds … thinking of myself at age one, two, three, looking at my so beautiful mother — how her beauty, my feeling of infinite attraction to it, must have made it all the harder, all the more impossible for me to accept that she wasn’t protecting me from my father’s sexual abuse; must have made me all the more angry, rageful even, at her for her inability in this regard …

“The Road Within”

http://cdn.traileraddict.com/content/well-go-usa/the-road-within.jpg

Posted by VERITAS
Very much enjoyed watching and highly recommend “The Road Within” – excellent story, great acting.

Characters in whose extreme forms of behavior – and related thinking / mental processes – one can see tendencies to which anyone can be prone.  I definitely could for myself anyway.

“Undergrounds” Resonance:
This is very much a movie about self-acceptance, especially acceptance of those aspects of oneself about which one has felt the most ashamed, embarrassed, discomfited, etc., which certainly the case with a substantial amount of the material originating from my “undergrounds” …
As the saying goes, acceptance of where one is in the present provides the only solid basis for change … to the extent that change is possible … and to the extent that change isn’t possible self-acceptance is useful as well.

Kindness to Animals . . . and Lack Thereof . . .

Posted by VERITAS
About to start reading Jonathan Safran Foer’s “Eating Animals” which I’m assuming espouses, among other things, kindness to animals, but I couldn’t be kind at all, last night or this morning, to any pinworms who may have been laying their eggs at / near the entrance to my anus, assuming the activities of these mini beasts – sorry but I can’t help thinking of them in such pejorative terms – were the cause of the infernal itching I was experiencing.  So both times, I didn’t attempt to practice tolerance and do nothing; went straight to the bathroom and laid into them with hypoallergenic wet tissue wipes, quadruple folded so as to minimize any chances of the eggs penetrating the wipes and getting onto my fingers, under my nails, thoroughly washing, with soap, and applying an ethanol spray disinfectant to my fingers / hands each time.  And it worked – the itching immediately ceased!

I’ve also, on previous occasions, offed cockroaches (tagged “CRs” on this site), ants, and a quite large, poisonous-looking (I didn’t want to wait around to risk leaving it be on the chance that it might not be)  spider who’ve made their way into my premises, although I have instituted a “capture-and-release” protocol, in which I attempt to capture CRs and suspect spiders and release them into the “wild” – a patch of shrubs and other plants bordering a nearby apartment building, though ants (the ones I’ve encountered in my digs are quite small) and, much more so, pinworms, due to their size can’t be dealt with through this protocol and so remain subject to such immediate nixing, so I’m certainly no saint in this regard.  Of course, I realize I should attempt to take care of my body and my apartment in ways that will minimize the possibility of such animals making any appearance at all in these venues.

Teen-Like Angst

Posted by VERITAS
About to go out for a walk in the park when I realize, starting to become hard as I visualize, and otherwise muse upon, fantasies of sex with … and with …., that wearing boxers for underwear, as I am, in combination with the thin, loose-fitting Columbia walking pants I’m now wearing will produce a distinct possibility of any penal engorgement, however incipient, being noticed by others in the park – why even when my penis has settled back to a completely non-engorged state, a partial outline of my shaft presents itself in topography of the pants fabric’s folds.

Realizing this, I switch from boxers to briefs – which, in my experience, manage to adequately suppress visibility through fabric of, at least, milder degrees of tumescence – and leave my apartment with greater confidence.

All of this brings me to a mediation, as I walk through the park, on the suppression by the human animal of things sexual in most aspects of its everyday life – not to say that such suppression serves no beneficial purposes.  I say “most aspects” since, for one thing at least, sexuality comes out all over the place in various aspects of the arts, and on a spectrum ranging from highly sublimated to highly explicit (which doesn’t necessarily mean pornographic).

(Note: I wish to emphasize that I of course realize that having fantasies of sex with … and …. might well be different from what actual sex might turn out to be like with either of these women, and that sex provides no guarantee whatsoever of intimacy on the level of thoughts and feelings – an intimacy I’ve already experienced with these women and continue to desire in my relationships with them at least as much and perhaps more than any intimacy that might arise from or find expression through sex.)