Thus, here comes 2 disclaimers: What you read here may or may not have actually happened, but is definitely true. If you think it up then you truly thought it up, so it's true right?
Second, if you're a friend or family and don't want to read something embarrassing, revealing, and explicit, then don't read on. If you're some kind of random bloke that get his kicks off of such, well then, by all means, read on.
I'm sitting here thinking about Japan because right now I'm somewhere in the world doing a whole bunch of debauchery, realizing that I have to finish this kind of debauchery before going back. I don't fuck around anymore in countries that want to take my freedom away without trial for smoking a plant. It's just not worth it. They have other kind of debauchery there.
Then I thought of a story that happened to me when I was 18. I was an exchange student staying in a big house with a big family. It was summertime... hotter and more humid than any place I'd ever been in my life. Like sitting in a car on a summer day with the windows up in the house. One day I'm looking for the air con remote and I come across a bag of porn. JAPANESE PORN. Now I grew up in America and very unexpectedly was watching from about the age of 11. These days I know the dangers of it, a story I could get into, and there are dangers (FSB), but back then I was just like any guy that is going to read this right now who didn't get his balls chopped off at an early age.
It was summer vacation, so the only two people in the house was the grandfather and myself. Now this man was funny. He was skinny from the back and looking at him from the front, but if you looked at him from the side it looked like he swallowed a watermelon. I mean his stomach was big, like an anaconda that just ate a pig. He was old, just sat around watching baseball in the same position. He would always find me when I walked into the house and say "Pan" which mean bread, which was him trying to translate "rice" into what an American would call it. Most of Asia refers to a meal as "rice" which might refer to a meal consisting of a meat dish, sides of veggies, a soup, and just as the name, rice.
So this one day I thought I could get away with watching like, ten minutes of porn. I thought, damn, his watermelon-carrying-belly can't get his ass up the stairs. I'm safe. Tape goes in, pants go down... back door opens up to "oh, fuck yeah baby!" in Japanese and all I can do is freeze like a deer in headlights with my pants down and a face you don't want someone to have a camera in their hands for. He looked down, looked up at the T.V. and then at me and said "pan." Well, I knew I had to face him eventually. In situations like that I know I'm going to feel embarrassed, but rather get it over with, probably a side effect of growing up and having my dad pull my pants down in front of people. So I went downstairs to sit and eat. Ojiichan was sitting there fixated on the T.V. screen. I ate my bread and didn't say anything.
The next day when I got home and Ojiichan said "pan" I went into the dining area. We always sat on the floor, so I took a seat and started unwinding the bread bag to put into the toaster that he always puts on the table kindly for me. I looked down for the knife and over next to him, kind of behind, kind of hidden, but not really was a stack of magazines, some sports, but the one that was kind of hidden, but not really was a dirty magazine. It was out a bit more than the others, but in this subtle way that didn't look too obvious. I got the strange act of kindness immediately, I interpreted the message very quickly because of his love and compassion. This might sound very, very weird, but this is a perfect example of Buddhism. He didn't want me to suffer feeling embarrassed, so he embarrassed himself to show me that what I had done was normal.
As I pack up for Japan back to my apartment from the Nowhere Quadrant I'm living in now. I pack up and head back to Q6 to check in for my next assignment.
