set-ups, diversions, and countermeasures

No wither, wherewithal, or the hope of hanging on. We are headed straight into the heart of the big overtones via a Xanax void-all until we reach Tokyo2. What’s left of the California sun intense on my neck here, shadows striking the thin navy blue carpet beneath me in a prison bar pattern. Passengers sauntering in to pre-flight loading bay in drips and drizzle. No one speaks here. Obasan planted into O magazine, Another next to her with pink DS. Behind them, an aging Thai boxer maybe. Permanent pissed off expression carved into striking face. Shaggy, inappropriate Jeri curl hair dyed blonde on the sides and tips, going green. Someone else: one of those ultimate white people you only ever see on international flights: crew cut, red flannel shirt, buttoned up neat, tucked into Nike sweat pants. Two cold/flu masks on a pair of passengers screaming biohazards to be.

 

Rapid fire Immigration. Like, no one is coming into this country anymore. I’m either finally off the list that demands entry interrogation or they just really, really need some more warm bodies in here.

 

 

Comments

[Daryl Surat]

The accounts of the Taishomei Jidai are the main event of posts on the Internet. It's unfortunate that they can only be written while you're fighting in the heart of madness (whoa, whoa) and thus have become increasingly rare. Indeed, the last one was back in March.

[wah]

Yeah. I've been hungering like a motherfucker for more Taishomei Jidai.