bai-bai paati

A 6 cabin arc amidst south-Iwatean woods was the gathering point for the annual Sayonara party. Perfectly hidden from the British Embassy, and the Inner Party, so that a rice-fueled, flag-burning, chopsticks standing-rigid-in-the-rice orgy could take place. And did it ever.

AJET arrived with 8 tonnes of rice and Iwates biggest paddling pool available for rent, everybody had brought kerosene to ensure their flags would blaze instantly. I was naked and causing destruction, just like at last the rice party, but this time I had stolen 7 Japanese high-school students and tied them to a tree occasionally headbutting them and shouting 'China Is Number 1' in their faces. It was a cultural spectacular that O'Brien would have been licking WigoaurusRex's pasty head over. Eventually when the lube ran out and bones became weary we got down to some run of the mill hate rally stuff, but nothing worth blogging about, it certainly did miss DerFuhrers abilities of captivating the masses but we coped well enough.

Now O'Brien, you don't honestly think that's what happened. Do you?

More people than I'd expected showed up but then again it was certainly less than you would expect from the " JET community", indeed a gruff boo hummed around as news of another sayonara party also taking place that day was taking place. I guess it was just indicative, and the final rubber-stamping, on the attitudes and personalities endured whilst in the Iwate State Penitentiary.

The amount of booze available brought a tear to my eye. Kegs, tins and bottles; the three basic food types. More than a man could wish for as farewell lubricant. I started off the evening with a couple of draught beers before changing into my award-winning costume, which incidentally is still waiting on its award. Grrr. The pirate theme hadn't caught on like scurvy on Blackbeard’s ship but there was enough to stroike feeeeeeear unto the hearts of all landlubbers abaord the good ship AJET, aaaaaaargh. (Oh god) FlirtyShoulders as per usual tried to be a little to clever with her DVD-piracy theme while TittyBeavers outfit walked the plank and only HellaGhettos giant X an her ass hitting the spot. I'd come as an abducted leprechaun who'd managed to escape his pirate captors without revealing where me pot of gold was, tiddly-ay-dee-ay-dee-ay.

"AJET, make me a burger", was how I was fed thanks to the obedient T flipping the burgers but somehow I only managed one as my mind veered off course with the booze. Myself and ChainSmokinDub proceeded to make some highly innovative cocktails called 'Walk The Planks' which contained a little too much rum for even the most hardened of sea-pillager. They had an initial kick like a cannonball to the face but went down surprisingly well in the end. With the tiny beer cups just pissing me off I took charge of a bottle of rum and sat at the camp fire for the marshmallow roasting. A step down from the other type of roasting I attended last week, spit-roasting.

PalestGirlAlive was winner of most pissed person alive that night and decided to further with the letting of her ginger mane down by taking up chain smoking. A not-so-stylish lifestyle accessory as she coughed up at least a half a lung after her endeavors. I tried standing after about two hours of bench warming with the rum-straights and wobbled over to PalestGirlAlives gob and flushing an unhealthy instant dose of rum down her gullet before seeking the balanced sanctuary of a life sitting down.

Soon the party shifted to the cabin with only a few remaining by the fire. I had come full circle on sobriety-inebriation-sobriety and was alert enough to fear T's visiting mate from England who'd just done a tour of Afghanistan and delighted in telling me about his favourite guns. Wish he had of been all year round, would've swapped him for about 18 JET's in the area. It was decided that walking on fire be the next event of the night, so we did just that. Not the best idea running across dwindling embers at 6 in the morning, but something to kill time with nevertheless.

Everyone sought repose and some sought a little somethin' somethin'、well nothing more than an impromptu kiss. What I will say is, from what I heard, is that the both parties involved were rather surprised at the chemoistry and that this faintest of kisses was a little overdue as far as one party was concerned. One of the party’s consciences eventually kicked in and sabotaged the encounter, but that doesn't mean the encounter wasn't any less enjoyable, far from it from what I hear. One of the party's is really keen for a repeat performance while the other party is stewing over what happened and its consequences whilst not allowing spontaneity to have any influence whatsoever. One of the party's is now writing to major alcohol manufacturers to develop future products with a conscience nullifying agent to ride in tandem with the inhibition dousing agent that's already laced in most tasty alcoholic beverages.

While this took place most people were in boozy comas, in particular Sentence:Marriage who slept standing up and WeirdGirl who slept kneeling down after puking out mini cow patties all over the cabin.

The morning breezed by with AJET making me a bacon sandwich and then everyone blazing trails on home to their individual cells around the penitentiary. A few of us stragglers pulled a Stand By Me-like walk through the woods to the old waterfall where we had the pleasure of seeing FantasticHugger in her element. FantasticHugger is the human embodiment of nature and leapt straight in to Mother Nature’s bosom leaving us for dust in the secluded canyon. The Waterfall was colder than my last week’s reception with two JETs in Morioka station but a good time all the same, even FriendliestPersonInTheWorld got in for a fully clothed dip. FlirtyShoulders moped around with a hangover and TheCorpse is apparently allergic to the cold which might explain why she smells so bad given that you need to refrigerate a dead body to preserve it as best you can.

And so ended the first Sayonara party, after a 6 hour drive home, in Iwate amongst its disbanded 'community'. The Iwate 4 were missed and there was little emotion on show for a going away party. A strange placement where strange bonds have been formed out of locality and maintenance of sanity, would we all have hung out back home in uni or whatever? It's not yet time to summarise the year but to partly steal from the last line of Stand By Me: "I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was on JET. " A strange year, by far the strangest to date.

2's company...

Birds do it, bee's do it even the Inner Party's O'Brien does it. And it seems that everyone was doing it last Friday night.

LadySnapper was fiddling with a Canadian/Japanese lady in an abandoned bus in the wooded hills of Nagano, JohnnyAwestruck was no doubtedly fucking/banging girl #749 in his 11months here, TheImmigrant was stashed away in the back corridors on the second floor of an almost derelict building with his new beau, BritRapper was being handcuffed by his kinky hostess, ForkDawg was spooning a different hostess, BrassBalls pummeled the life out of his waifish thin FUTURE WIFE, DerFuhrer pumped his hate missile into GroupD's passage to smurfdom, T committed his almost daily routine of necrophilia on TheCorpse and I'm sure even The QueenOfCruft was shoving a dismantled hard drive into her sloppy drive. There was a hint of lust in the air last Friday on the streets of Iwate, and beyond. Can any one of these couples claim to be in love, apart from the necrophiliac, with their disposable nail-painting, menstruating, hair-straightening milk-squirters? Not in the slightest and that's not being cynical in any shape or form. There's nothing wrong with wanting to release the goods into the opposition’s box whether it be indoors, up a tree or in a confession box. Everyone gets off on a different platform; I got off at a very different platform last Friday, along with some friends.

The World Cup parties were in full swing and myself, BritRapper, TheImmigrant and his latest lady, FuckingSalaryman, ImAFuckingSlaryManToo and Sentence:Marriage in one of the usual haunts. Five hours of nomihodai ensued as we shifted from one bar to another, skillfully avoiding a member of the Inner-party (PaintDryingBoreQueen) in the process. We lost the two salariemen to their weak Japanese livers and TheImmigrant to his Latin American passions blazing to the fore. It was three men blinded by the booze till the final whistle of the second game of the world cup. I've no idea leaving the bar but was reported to be playfully head-butting Sentence:Marriage outside while he bowed over in a 90degree droop. BritRappers hostess was mildly amused at the three heaps of poo that had assembled outside the izakaya she was in. BritRapper swiftly took her home for some S&M while Sentence:Marriage crawled to a bus-stop and slept there for the night while I tried to make it back to the FuckingSalaryman apartment.

When I called from outside his place he ran straight down to let me in, while he was naked and giggling like a school kid that's just tickled his first fanny. I thought that was a bit strange but put it down to the beer causing sever hallucinations and rode the elevator to his apartment. We actually ended up at ImAFuckingSalarieManToo's place where there was an amateur porno being made. CockSuckinSchoolNurse was atop ImAFuckingSalarieManToo’s Japanese manhood whilst FuckingSalaryman was shooting it at all angles with his digital camera before nudging in to nibble on her nipples. I was giggling like a guy who's just walked in on an amateur porno being shot for the first time.

Soon I was naked, too. Two Japanese guys, one Japanese girl and a hairy Gaijin internationalising at grass roots level. At one point she as atop ImAFuckingSalarieManToo's splooge stick with mine in her mouth and FuckingSalaryMan's in her hand, cocks everywhere. Photos to send home to the folks were being clicked off like a Prada fashion shoot, only classier. I have no idea how long this madness lasted for, but what I do know is that that girl has a bigger appetite for sex than DerFuhrer has for killing Jews. She flipped, moaned, groaned and gurgled and smiled for the cameras at every opportunity. In the morning she woke before everyone else and left to enjoy her day after being gang-banged by three guys.

I don't think it was ever on my list of things to do and I'd never have initiated it but having said that it was one of the funniest nights of my life. The giggles and grunts in that room won't leave my head for a long time, nor will the worrying image of the two Salary men’s penises in full battle mode.

My attitudes towards the ironically named 'fairer-sex' have changed drastically this year on JET. A spate of misogyny fueled by inner-conflicts and cynicism left me short on the lust stakes. I still have immense problems with their inner workings but have become more tolerant in allowing their glossy manes lure me into their slit-pits. Why can't I take notes, or keep a video diary, whilst sleeping with the enemy?

***NO TOUCHING OF EACH OTHERS PENISES TOOK PLACE, IF IT DID HAPPEN IT WAS MERELY ACCIDENTAL AND NO GAYNESS RESULTED FROM IT***

Roll Model

I've decided to step away from the glamour of dangling a perfectly sculpted human being off of my arm. The catwalk soiree has come to an end and surely this has to be one of my cleanest break-ups in history, although I haven't actually gone thruogh with it yet. I can't believe I was with someone that long that I bore no attraction to, perhaps in the absence of LadySnapper I needed someway to whittle away the days. Although I did date an alcoholic mentalist for four months last year, she was very well connected, but that's another story. I'm hoping I don't get to see the mentalist side of the KatakanaKid.

Will I miss the conversations about why Gucci is her favourite word, the gazillion print club sessions, the sex in the dark under the blankets, the repitition of the word cute and the use of my least favourite phrase (I love you) on every encounter after date #2. I seriously doubt it as Blankie has come out of the closet and back into the fray.

Why did I ever leave Blankie?

If I've come to learn anything about my time here this year it's that a Blanket is a mans best friend, oh and Alberta Canada is a breeding place for absolute losers who should be firehosed, and meeting a SoccerMom in the flesh is a spine shivering glimpse into the future of America and that some people just don't get it.

Tokyo or bust

The most important interview I've had to date, and probably my last, took place on the greyest day I've seen in Tokyo yet. I'm not a firm believer in signs but compared to the previous months interview preparations everything was going according to plan. Shoes were remembered, tie was decrinklified, Issey Miyake was found under my leprechaun suit and the night bus was ruled out as a means from A to B. My presentation was meticulously polished and buffed with the best font Word has to offer, there was going to be no stopping me.

I arrived on time, had a glass of water and re-read over my notes readying myself for the next hour or so. This time around I was faced with two interviewers, one from the previous effort and now joined by his co-director. The questions were rifled in at a dizzying pace. Repeated questions in different guises were thrown in to send me off balance and before long I'd finished the glass of water I'd been gulping down. My mouth was dryer than a German comedians stand-up routine and I hadn't gotten into my presentation yet. I was bubbling red under my sunburned skin and edges were beginning to fray away from my immaculate coif. With my tongue gluing itself to the roof of my mouth at the end of every sentence I zoomed through my piece as quickly as possible only stumbling when I mentioned the fact that I'd heard about their $50m embezzlement charges. That got 'em a little tetchy and in their opinion warranted an explanation, the room was heating up now. Every point was twiddled with and the slurry of questions continued to pour in. After a bruising hour where I'd been scorched under the spotlight in the hardest interview of my life my ideas seem to have been well received and I can neither say I feel positive or negative about the experience. IN a sadistic way I kind of enjoyed it, but I can't help feeling it's not going to go my way.

I headed for the freaks in Harajuku to veer the mind away from thinking too much about the interview. A couple of random purchases eased the pain like a hit of crack in the morning. I headed towards the station for the 2hr journey out to LadySnappers new abode. Tokyo rush hour is not for the claustrophobic as each train car looked like a scene from Where's Wally. Eventually the train emptied a little and I was face to face with some copper toned mid-40's cowboy boot wearing skank whore who scratched her fish net stockings whilst staring at me for the remaining hour or so of the journey out to LadySnappers slice of rural life. She ruined the taste of my strawberry cheesecake and fruit smoothie, the bitch.

LadySnapper rolled on up to the station in a box on wheels and proceeded to tell me the redeeming factors of his new abode. With a nationwide reputation for having the most hostess bars, that offer the widest range of services this town was famous for blow-jobs, hand-jobs, rim-jobs and beyond. We drove down one of the shadier streets where we were greeted by a line of bowing guys standing by corners who are basically pimps trying to get you in for a quick suck'n'fuck with one of their girls. Why can't the Nohe be a little more like that place? We soon ended up in the familiar position of nomihodai and karaoke in a sleazy bar with nicotine painted on the walls. FriendOrFoe was also out as well as some other key members of the GunmaCrew, including the Gunma1. If they Iwate 4 think they've had a bad time of it they should talk to this guy. Some crazy black skank that got bitter after he thrust one into her on a couple of occasions informed the police that he was on possession of some weed. They raided his house; he spent two months in jail with some yakuza types and a renegade Sri Lankan. He was on the TV news and in the newspapers, all for less weed than it takes to roll a joint. This country has serious issues. He was a bit sleazy though after he reveled in telling me how he fucked five whores in five nights in Bali, each to their own I suppose.

We ripped up that bar and mingled with the random Brazilians singing The Doors and the local fodder blurbing out Beatles tracks by the dozen. Soon after we found ourselves with the King of Sukebi (sleaze) in an empty izakaya which was more than happy to feed us some more booze. We were thrashed at sake drinking, darts flinging and arm wrestling by their posse but still left with our heads held high ion the morning sunshine. LadySnapper somehow drove us back to his place where I passed out till the next day.

The following night it was Tokyo highlife. We met up with RonnieRatsTail one of LadySnappers University buddies and headed in on the two hour express with beers in tow. Apparently the worlds 2nd best DJ was playing at worlds best club that night so there was no option on where we were going. I'd arranged to meet a girl I'd met in Osaka who'd put us on the guest list at the same place where they have a bikini party but blew her off after it was unanimously decided that we'd head to Womb. I had to endure the painfully boring England game in a crowd mildly enthused crowd of partisan supporters so managed to pour as much beer down my gullet as possible in two hours. After the goodbye to OsakanMentalist we headed for some cheap wine at the convenience store and swigged it down at the entrance to one of Shibuyas not so pristine love hotels.

I've written about Womb too many times for it to be worthy of another review, but this place for it's rectangular design and steely complexion wears a different dress every time it goes dancing and this time was no different. We were starving and hadn't eaten any cake so I decided to see if I could find some. The first person I asked if he knew if I could get anything to eat was looking like he was after having a little bit too much too eat and handed me a packet of chocolate coated M&M's...for free. Apples. It wasn't a full bag but we were hungry enough and it saved me going out to the store to buy some. We quickly became part of the dancing membrane that coated the floor under the pulsing lasers. Sweat rained on everyone as the beats competed with the crowd to be the most energetic presence. Maybe RonnieRatsTail had had a little too much to eat and had to sit down for a little while. LadySnapper and I got lost in ourselves and the crowd as the smoke enveloped all and left you isolated amongst the mass. Sweat poured out of every pore and I was completely drenched from head to toe and my legs felt like they each had a midget wrapped around them. LadySnapper had disappeared with some of the local fodder for an exchange of fluids and RonnieRatsTail was nowhere to be seen so at 6a.m. I called it a day and crawled from the womb into the light, gasping at the fresh air and stumbling towards the station. I somehow made it to the station before passing out and managed to exchange my ticket for the first train back home.

Back in the Nohe I started to wonder what was going to happen over the next couple of months. Teaching English holds as much appeal as smearing a q-tip in alcohol, lighting it on fire and then squeezing it into my japs eye. The interview result should be in by the end of this week and if nothing comes of it it looks like it's a return to homebase before devising the next plan of attack on another unsuspecting nation. It certainly is Tokyo or bust this time.