The Dormitory / Like ghosts
Its loneliest at night. The halls are dark and silent, occupied by the occasional sound of coughing, the smell of ciggarette smoke, bug spray and lonley men. Post nuclear centipedes patrol the hallway. Occasionaly the sound of Pat or Marshay coming home from Tomoyas or one of the Philipino hostess bars in Kisarazu stirs the dead air, .
For the past two years Marshay has lived in the dorm with his bags packed, his passport and his papers ready to return to Paris. He puts on a friendly face but in the morning, his shoulders slumped, his face looking like a boy that cant work out why he's being sent to the principles office, it's easy to believe the bag story.
Located on the second floor, the teachers rooms overlook an enormous hall where a grand piano sits, unused and out of tune, an island in a lonely sea of carpet that needed to be replaced long ago.
There was once enough money in this place to think that there would be a dining hall required. Now the price of getting the diseased look out of the carpet has meant functions are held in nearby Kisarazu, a fishing town that thought it might turn into a city during the boom 20 years ago but never did. Its only redeeming feature now is an express highway to tokyo tha means you can get the hell of out of there without too much wasted time.
Occasionally I get phone calls from friends in Tokyo, their voice like ghosts. Sometimes they're just wasted and forgot I moved to the middle of nowhere. Sometimes they just call to have a chat, a reminder that I once lived in another world even though it was never my home. Memories of my first year in Tokyo feel like teenage summers. Crying out to me that I know Ive been happier
If I am very busy or if I forgot something I will go back to the school after dinner. The other night I was working late on one thing or another when Maramatsu senseii reminded me to be careful about the lights "Please be careful because the principle sometimes drive past in his car and sees lights on in the school. Many times I have been scolded for working too late. but if you draw the curtains, this room is usually ok, the boss will never know"
For the past two years Marshay has lived in the dorm with his bags packed, his passport and his papers ready to return to Paris. He puts on a friendly face but in the morning, his shoulders slumped, his face looking like a boy that cant work out why he's being sent to the principles office, it's easy to believe the bag story.
Located on the second floor, the teachers rooms overlook an enormous hall where a grand piano sits, unused and out of tune, an island in a lonely sea of carpet that needed to be replaced long ago.
There was once enough money in this place to think that there would be a dining hall required. Now the price of getting the diseased look out of the carpet has meant functions are held in nearby Kisarazu, a fishing town that thought it might turn into a city during the boom 20 years ago but never did. Its only redeeming feature now is an express highway to tokyo tha means you can get the hell of out of there without too much wasted time.
Occasionally I get phone calls from friends in Tokyo, their voice like ghosts. Sometimes they're just wasted and forgot I moved to the middle of nowhere. Sometimes they just call to have a chat, a reminder that I once lived in another world even though it was never my home. Memories of my first year in Tokyo feel like teenage summers. Crying out to me that I know Ive been happier
If I am very busy or if I forgot something I will go back to the school after dinner. The other night I was working late on one thing or another when Maramatsu senseii reminded me to be careful about the lights "Please be careful because the principle sometimes drive past in his car and sees lights on in the school. Many times I have been scolded for working too late. but if you draw the curtains, this room is usually ok, the boss will never know"
posted by Gram at 3:46 AM
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