This is something I wrote randomly in my notebook while I waited for another class to start. I don't know what I'm trying to say or why, but anyway, this is what I wrote down concerning Japan. I wrote more about truly random subjects, but those might be a little too weird, even for me.
I am American, born Christian in Japan. I am Japanese, grown Buddhist in American. I am not biracial but in the brain, I am abnormally infused with scattered perception and pressed on both ends to drift stagnant if not perfectly straight, but I wobble onward in foreign precession. “You take on where you are,” they say; “you become what you eat.” My diet is riceballs tuna-shelled and soy sugar-licked. Flat-fried patties as inches thick as you like and boiled curling beef in mustard dip. Cucumber salads and summer bowls of white-noodled bliss. Smoking crocks of garden yield and deep fried shrimp in batter fields. I’m not raw, not all through, and I don’t twist my knives in testosterone shows. My best meals are home boiled eggs and meat on rice, white rice, plain and sticky. I’ve never seen a dark-skinned face on a woman in Japanese art. Men are drawn honestly if they’re born the same.
(p.s. I have almost completely written myself to a standstill trying to get a plot for the short story.)
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