tokuon

I’ve been thinking recently about how to reorganize my writings. I’ve created this blog, another sub-blog “EJ Bits” for English/Japanese learning, and now I’ve decided to start one for my interest in trends in Japan. This one will be oriented primarily toward business with a cultural bent. Call it practice for my day job as a marketer I suppose. If you’re interested in writing (in English or Japanese) for me, let me know! Access “Reading Matcha” at http://readingmatcha.com. Nothing there yet though…

最近、私のライティングをどのように整理すればいいのか考えてきた。このブログを作って、もう一つの英語と日本語学習のサブ・ブログ「EJ Bits」を作って、そして今日から日本のトレンドについて作ろうと思ったんです。このブログは主にビジネス向けですが、社会・文化の面も見てみたいと思う。まぁ、マーケティングの仕事のための練習と考えてもいい。もし、英語か日本語でこの新しいブログに記事を掲載したければ、連絡してね。「リーディング抹茶」をアクセスするにはここクリックしてください：http://readingmatcha.com。まだ何もないけど。

“will continue tomorrow…” was one week ago, but who’s counting? I wish the downpour in the stock markets would stop….and maybe figure out how to find more focus on this damn blog. Thinking about starting yet another website to focus on more non-fiction research, marketing, trends tracking type of writing. “Matcha Everything dot com” maybe?

Sayuri actually hadn’t noticed any thunder, but she kept the thought to herself for the moment. She sat down at the table near the window. It had gotten quite dark outside. Suddenly, a flash of light reflected off the wet pavement outside. A moment later, the sky echoed a BOOM.

“There’s another one!” The woman picked up a thin black covered book and opened it up to a page with that day’s date. June 21st. Laying it on the table in front of Sayuri, she said, “Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

“Thank you.” The woman was already making her way back to the bar counter. Sayuri looked down at the book. A short selection of coffees was handwritten on June 21st. On the facing page, a list of teas and cakes. <note to self…find myself a list of coffees and teas to populate this mess> She turned back and took a look at the room. One wall was lined with well worn books, the other displayed four framed sketches of what seemed to be foreign, pastoral landscapes and townscapes.

The cafe was quaint. Sayuri felt as if Hemmingway would walk in at any moment. And he did. In Sayuri’s mind. Walking through the chingling door. Taking off his hat and shaking off the water. Did Hemmingway own a hat?

The woman returned with a small glass vase holding a two withering miniature hydrangea blossoms that looked as if they had been cut from the bush outside the door now being pelted by the rain. From her position at the windowfront, Sayuri could see the blossoms falling apart under the attack. She wondered briefly which of the flowers would last longer. “I’ll have a cappucino, thanks.” Again lightning and a moment later, thunder.

“Sure, coming right up,” the woman said almost absent-mindedly as she looked up at the bit of sky visible from the window. She left.

It is now 1:15 am and I should be sleeping, but having spent half the night working and the other half of the night procrastinating not knowing what to do with myself, I feel like putting down on digital paper what I put down on paper over 10 minute minutes of coffee here and gyudon there. Click here for the first section: A Glass of Wine.

Sayuri had been frequenting the small cafe for some months now. She had moved into the neighborhood after selling her parents’ home in Chiba to be in a more convenient location within the city. As with many of the stations in the city, the area in the immediate vicinity was filled with shops, cafes, restaurants and other bits and pieces of clockwork that blended with homes and apartment buildings there further you walked. It was this brackish area between the shops and the homes that she found fascinating.

A week after she had moved into a small 1LDK apartment at what she called her little mura, Sayuri exited a store selling white linens intending to continue her exploration. A narrow alley caught her eye as she navigated the maze of pathways. It was lined with ivy and at the far end, where the alley seemed to intersect another small pathway, a black iron-cast sign above a glass door read Cafe Hands.

A heavy drop of water hit the top of her head. She lifted her palm to the level of her chin as she looked up past the rooftops into dark clouds that had gathered below the dull overcast sky. Yabai.

She started walking toward the cafe hoping it was open. On a Monday afternoon, it was very possible the place was closed. The black pavement started to get spotty as Sayuri picked up her pace. A moment later she was sprinting in her low-heeled sandal, purse clutched against her chest.

A bell tingled still air inside the cafe as Sayuri crashed through the door. Outside, the rain railed against the pavement and lashed against the door. And, failing to break through, it haurried away abashedly into a small ditch.

Sayuri stood behind the closed door in a growing pool of water. Why me? she thought. The small room she had entered held two tables with two chairs each, and a coffee table cut from the trunk of a tree with red sofas at either side. At the back, a counter sat four stools facing a small bar out of which a tall woman in her mid-30s came rushing.

“Wow, what a downpour!” the woman exclaimed as she handed Sayuri one towel and spread another out to soak up the water dripping from Sayuri’s skirt.

“I’m so sorry!” Sayuri apologized.

“Not at all. Not at all,” the woman looked up with a quick smile. Sayuri felt, somehow, that this smile on this face was reassuring, satisfying…but, satisfying for both its owner and its recipient. It was a fleeting whisp of a thought, gone as soon as it had arrived. “Please, have a seat…at one of the tables would be best I suppose. The rain was quite sudden wasn’t it? I bet you were caught by surprise. Did you hear the thunder?”

getting sleepy….will continue tomorrow….sorry!