I began the application for a job teaching English in Japan. This time, it’s the real deal, not the second-runners with iffy reviews and limited interview-locations. No, this time it could happen. I’ve got to finish the application by December. They do interviews in Seattle which helps. If I’m destined for Japan I’ll find out in March and fly there next summer to do the job.
I’ve also been looking at a program teaching English in Chile, but it costs money and most likely is beyond the means of affordability unless I can get a magical deferral on my student loans or some other sort of financial assistance. This one is more of a longshot, although equally enjoyable to contemplate for the sheer “holy f##k, you’d really want to do that?” responses.
My crush at work ended today. As I watched her blow the smoke from her lips, I could feel my insides sighing. At the same time, my body ached for the sweet familiarity of a second-hand cigarette and its nicotine release. The scent lingers in the fond memories of days past and places left behind. The memory resides on the same bench in my mind, at a railway station between then and now The Smoke sits with its worn shell and eyes looking downward at the pavement. Guinness and Corona banter about the old days.
“Yeah, I remember that jackass,” says Corona. “He was sitting in his recliner watching some Lindsay Lohan movie and he drank four. You could tell he was lonely. Still check his website sometimes and he still sounds like a lonely bastard, but he never calls me anymore.”
Guiness stares up with bloodshot eyes. “I know what you mean,” he replies. “We used to meet up at least every couple of weeks. I felt like we’d grown a strong bond, but now I hear nothing from him. Whatever, he can just rot wherever he went, it’s no loss to me. I’ve still got other people in my life. And even when they’re not there, I’m full of everything I need to get through the days.”
All of a sudden, Crown Royal, walks by pushing a grocery cart with bags full of cans and bottles. “What’re you pansies doing? What a bunch of f###ing whiners. People come, people go. Screw them.” He continues along and a wheel on the cart squeaks as he passes into darkness on the other site of the lamplight.
Tags: alcohol, Japan, job