Storyless

If I knew how to work Excel I might graph my posting dates; charting the bell curve of mood driven slumps and creative humps against the ever stretching blogging timeline. And so now, chartless, I can only imagine lying uninspired in that familiar torpid valley.
This entry has no anecdotes or creative recollections, just a few facts and updates.
It will not become a trend.
I am officially on for a vacation in the Phillipines from April 29- May 6. I`m lucky enough to be tagging along with a couple far more organized than myself. They`re nice, British and well-traveled. We have two cottages on the beach which sounds too quaint to be true but gets karmically righted by an overnight stay in Manilla which is carry-a-gun dangerous. We`ll be staying the one night there at Chez L`airport which boasts a spacious dining area and a plastic seat bedding option. The flight and cottage cost about 1k total but apparently the day to day expenses are cheap there. It`s expensive. There`s a survivors guilt on spending so much on a vacation while other Americans are struggling in a very real way with their families. This is what I am traveling for though so...(insert moral rationalization).
That`s the big update. The stone causing waves in my still pond of daily teaching.
Though, I`d like to wrap up with a rare, teaching highlight.
- A desk, four chairs and a wide window along both walls of a corner room. Naoko is in her 20`s, shy, attractive, dressed in a dark blue suit the color of rumbling clouds outside. Across from her is a teacher, Nate. He is in his 20`s.-
`What did you do this weekend Naoko?`
`I went with family to south Japan.`
`My family...`
`Ah so desu, I went with MY family to south Japan.`
`Cool, what did you do?`
`We went shopping, sightseeing and we saw a show?`
`So, who all went with you?`
`...?`
`Who did you go with?`
`Ah, my mother, my father and my brother.`
`Oh really, what show did you see?`
`We saw a dogfight.`
Beat.
`Like two dogs fighting.`
`Yes.`
`Isn`t that illegal?`
`...?`
`Isn`t that... bad?`
`Oh yes, it was scary.`
`How did you see a dogfight?`
`They are very popular in places.`
`Oh. Could you please open your book to page 17 and read the title at the top.`

In the Night of the Heat

On the coldest days when the rain drives down quietly against the sound of traffic, with salarymen trodding past in their black suits and somber faces, it seems as if the city were mourning: how I imagine Britain on a shitty day. Nothing about Japan in February has stirred in me the slightest passion for sex so it is difficult to imagine what is inspiring the cats outside to screw so savagely loud. They are bangin` in my hallway and below in the street, slamming about in the building next door and twisting along the train tracks in town.
It started with the haunted cries. A deep, sorrowful sobbing and then the aggravated wails. They`ll stare at one another by the corners of buildings, face to face and screaming. Daring their would-be lovers to make a move. The moon has nothing to do with it, but it was full the first night I was scared awake. The squeals were so pained and childish. Like toddlers all over the city were being stabbed a little. An awful, awful screeching that crashes easily through the thin walls and glass of my apartment: something so horrific tied up in passion.
Now, they`re in the third week of the marathon and the games are scheduled for 3am until ? I`ve got a front row seat but I`d prefer a nose bleed.