Saturday: Meat and Vaginas. No shit.

A few weeks ago I got an invite by way of another Yats JET for a bbq at the town gynocoligist's house. Now, I don't know how this one came about ("... ok, you can close your legs now. Oh, by the way, do you like brisket?"), but anybody that knows me knows that I live for two things: vaginas and meat.

And they are together, sir. AT LONG LAST.

Now, I'm not much for the events where some random local well-to-do says "I like having foreigners come 'round. Summon the honkies and pro-offer them sausages!" right before clicking their fingers and raping a slave, but fuck... my love of flame-broiled flesh will draw me into that party faster than you can ask "this guy really works on meat wallets for a living?"

So after I made the initial inquiries, such as "can I bring my bitch?", I was on like Megatron. Awesome. Who could pass up a shot at free food while finding out who in the town has crotch-rot after feeding a few beers to Doc Furrburger? Not me, sir. No way.

Fast forward a bit to yesterday, when I get an email stating that I would be the only JET attending, and wondering if I would still like to attend.

The answer remains the same. Despite the doubts of being alone, and not actually talking to any of the people I live next to. The answer doesn't waver.

Fuck yes.

But this brings up an interesting query that I should ask myself. In short, has my solipsistic lifestyle reached its logical end? Or will it continue to spiral forward, to the point where I'll be shrugging at the inevitable deaths of people I care for and love? Has the kind of stoic indifference birthed from years of intense physical and emotional conflict made me permanently "too cool for school?"

Seriously, does the fact that my personal attitude to the world has remained "Hey, what shot do we have anyway?" really mean that things have reached their end? I just feel like I've given up on everybody. Completely. Japan has nothing to do with it. It just seems that my relocation here has just re-enforced it more than anything else.

I'd like to care a bit more, but every time I start things fall apart. I just feel like it's a struggle, like I'm lost in a supermarket.

Oh well. Pussy and beer. Yee-ha.