Staring at the ceiling. The ceiling is staring back. My apartment is so quiet I can hear my own hair growing. I am so bored I started organizing my ties by decade. I only have ties from one decade. This is a very fast game. I need to get out of this box. I need to do something that isn’t work or an arcade. I am rotting! A very handsome, well-dressed rot!
Back to the freezer. My breath is fogging up my laptop screen. I am typing with gloves on. Typing with gloves is an extreme sport. Yuo llok lijke a tiot! See? That was me trying to type “You look like an idiot!” I am an idiot! A freezing, lonely idiot in a foreign country! W00t! Feel the chill! Send me thermal underwear! Send me a bonfire!
I haven’t slept in two days. The walls of my tiny apartment are closing in. I started talking to my vintage oxfords. They gave me some solid life advice. “Shine us, Josh. Polish the pain away.” THEY ARE RIGHT. I am polishing the pain away! I am a machine! I drank four coffees and my heart is vibrating in D-minor. If I explode, make sure they bury me in my gabardine!
JAPAN IN AUGUST IS A MISTAKE. I am a puddle. I am soup. Josh-soup. I went to the store just to stand in the freezer aisle and a little old lady hit my ankles with her basket. I deserved it! Hit me harder, obaa-san! I am too weak to fight back! I have been wearing a wet towel on my head for three days. Biga Bosso wants me in early tomorrow. I will show up in a bathing suit.