An ill omen to start the week on. I got puked on this morning on the Subway. Why am I being so dramatic? It only hit my shoe, damnit you caught me Sherlock. A scary situation. A smartly-dressed salary woman does the famous sleep-standing-up routine. Then she starts to faint. Another woman catches her, but not before she makes like a vomit sprinkler and explodes all over the place. I think she had toast for breakfast or maybe a doughnut. Defiantly no rice. Monday mornings, hangovers are a bitch. Poor thing.

Thank god this didn't happen on the Saikyo line.
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There's a word for poor in Japanese, it's daigakusei (college student). I'm a student again, and I'd forgotten how it felt to be in poverty. But it's all coming back to me. And luckily I'm a quick learner! I eat onigiri; all the time. I spend most my time in coffee houses pretending to drink empty cups of coffee. Back in the golden years of employment I used to casually go to a restaraunt and pay ten dollars for a meal. Now a 500yen bowl of ramen is only for special occasions. People are free, mostly, so I try to enjoy their company. It's easy make friends when you're a foreigner. I am the walking talking token white guy. Stick the key in my back, wind me up, and I might do a little dance. I think people are basically good. Meeting people is odd though. We mutually use each other, maybe for language study, maybe to pass the time. As to real friendship, that's a tricky one ain't it? To be continued...
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