May the first. The days are becoming progressively warmer now - the first hints of humidity in the air.
It's been raining for several hours.
This morning I woke up in a hotel in Osaka, dreadfully hungover and aching from unknown afflictions. Myself and others had intended to see a Shonen Knife gig last night. The venue, Fandango in Juso, Osaka. Next to Fandango is a multi-storey car park, at the back of which are a couple of benches and a large metal ashtray intended no doubt to attract vagrants and ne'erdowells such as our very good selves. We imbibed some tinnies and talked it up, blissfully unaware that Shonen Knife were at that very moment playing the shortest gig in human history. 'Doors open 7.30pm. Support band!' it said in Kansai Time Out. At 8.25pm we roll up at the club. Shonen Knife and the support band were long gone. 'What the..?' How many songs could they have played? Still, never mind - Osaka awaits! We played pool till the early hours and discussed extremely important and stimulating issues over gin and tonic and some other stuff besides.
Left the hotel, inhaled some McDonald's crap and made it to Tennoji with only brief flashes of paranoia and shaking en route. Longest train journey ever experienced results in platform 2 at Wakayama station. Rain. Warm rain. Home. Kettle on. Strange rattling inside stove. Not rattling. Scraping. Uncannily like the scraping of hideous insect legs against metal. There's a cockroach in the fish grill. Bastard. I peer cautiously in. Christ! It's huge. It runs at me. I counter-attack, sending it back into it's fishy bolt hole. What to do? What to do? I must have tea!! The roach is sabotaging my tea efforts. No! I won't allow it. I fire up the fish grill. The roach scurrys about frantically. In it's panic it scampers, rather dramitically, into the path of the gas flames. I'm cautiously watching the whole thing from a respectable distance. Strange whistling noise. Is it screaming? Or is it calling for help from it's brethren no doubt thronged around the apartment.
Anyway. It dies. But it's lasting legacy in death is this: it's late and I'm tired but I don't want to go to my futon. There will be a revenge attack -of this I'm convinced. There's nothing for it but wet toilet roll in all the body cavities and the formulation of a decent defensive strategy. And a forced abstinence from grilled fish.
It's been raining for several hours.
This morning I woke up in a hotel in Osaka, dreadfully hungover and aching from unknown afflictions. Myself and others had intended to see a Shonen Knife gig last night. The venue, Fandango in Juso, Osaka. Next to Fandango is a multi-storey car park, at the back of which are a couple of benches and a large metal ashtray intended no doubt to attract vagrants and ne'erdowells such as our very good selves. We imbibed some tinnies and talked it up, blissfully unaware that Shonen Knife were at that very moment playing the shortest gig in human history. 'Doors open 7.30pm. Support band!' it said in Kansai Time Out. At 8.25pm we roll up at the club. Shonen Knife and the support band were long gone. 'What the..?' How many songs could they have played? Still, never mind - Osaka awaits! We played pool till the early hours and discussed extremely important and stimulating issues over gin and tonic and some other stuff besides.
Left the hotel, inhaled some McDonald's crap and made it to Tennoji with only brief flashes of paranoia and shaking en route. Longest train journey ever experienced results in platform 2 at Wakayama station. Rain. Warm rain. Home. Kettle on. Strange rattling inside stove. Not rattling. Scraping. Uncannily like the scraping of hideous insect legs against metal. There's a cockroach in the fish grill. Bastard. I peer cautiously in. Christ! It's huge. It runs at me. I counter-attack, sending it back into it's fishy bolt hole. What to do? What to do? I must have tea!! The roach is sabotaging my tea efforts. No! I won't allow it. I fire up the fish grill. The roach scurrys about frantically. In it's panic it scampers, rather dramitically, into the path of the gas flames. I'm cautiously watching the whole thing from a respectable distance. Strange whistling noise. Is it screaming? Or is it calling for help from it's brethren no doubt thronged around the apartment.
Anyway. It dies. But it's lasting legacy in death is this: it's late and I'm tired but I don't want to go to my futon. There will be a revenge attack -of this I'm convinced. There's nothing for it but wet toilet roll in all the body cavities and the formulation of a decent defensive strategy. And a forced abstinence from grilled fish.
posted by pik at 23:36
2 Comments:
I can imagine your horror and distress at finding a cockroach in the fish grill. It is strange how an insect so small derives so much repulsion and disgust from a human. I wonder what the cockroaches reaction was as it was discovered by you? Probably the same feelings of repulsion you felt towards him.
I on the otherhand have been blessed with less terrible issues. However, I find to my constant disgust and irritation everytime I paint a wall in the spare bedroom in preparation for my new tenant moving in, the number of brush hairs sticking to the wall under the coat of cheap paint. It's cheap for two reasons 1) I'm now on the third coat of what should have been a "two coat" job 2)Like a cheap perfume it lingers in the air and makes me want to vomit.
I wonder how nutritious grilled cockroach is? That'd show the little bastards. Bet they're nice and crunchy.
コメントを投稿
<< Home