Cryptic Note

I've been taking notes since yesterday in the Tenorikuma notebook I purchased on my first trip to Puroland. They're tiny bears who run a coffeeshop (at least, I think they're bears - their tails look a bit more like racoons), and they're accompanied by smiling sugar cubes, spoons, and little wisps of steam. I wasn't going to get sucked into something boring, like Hello Kitty - although I do have a fondness for Kuromi-chan (or Bondage Bunny, as we like to call her) - no, I am on Team Tenorikuma all the way.

I mention this because I found a page where I had written some cryptic notes. I think maybe I wrote them while I was still in Japan - I only received this book in the mail yesterday - but have no idea what it means. It's about sushi rolls, salads, and main dishes - but right in the middle is this cryptic note:

"Please feel free to ask a NINJA"

Was I doing a lot of drugs back in the day? Was I tripping? Is this like that notebook full of ramblings from the time I spent the night in a Shinjuku McDonalds, waiting for the trains to start running again?

And at the back are 6 pages of notes from two episodes of Stargate: Atlantis, which are obviously for that story I wrote for the Secret Santa exchange. That takes me back. Maybe one of these days I will get around to watching the rest of SGA...maybe.

All I need is a notebook, and a really cool pen, and I am happy.

Monday Morning, like a jolt to the system.

Sean has put ideas in my head again, and now I am trapped in a daydream.

Would it be bad if I went back? Could it possibly be as bad as I remember? With the old guard gone, could we change things to create a happy environment? Maybe Baa-chan will shuffle off this mortal coil and stop poisoning the place.

Curse you, Sean-sean. Curse you for making me dream about kaiten-zushi at Kamikitadai, and shopping at Diamond City, and walking down Daigaku-dori in Kunitachi on my way to dance class. I want to go to the Yuzawaya over Bic Camera in Tachikawa and buy lots of scraps of cheerful cotton.

I spent the weekend in bed or on my couch, sipping tea and ginger ale. I couldn't go to Carmacks for a training session, because I was ill, ill, ill. Headache and stomachache and nausea and all manner of foul things. All I could do was lie there, listening to movies and sleeping. Stress is a killer.



Okay. Less with the daydreamin', more with the working on the Festival...I still need to find a speaker.