Logis: 1. French for 'home'.
2. An accidentally typo of the writer's while trying to type out 'logic'.
3. What happens when one tries to say 'roaches' with one's mouth full.
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If the distinction between Takakura and I had ever been the most apparent, it would have been on the same day in which I had met the man and after I had indulged him in naming our first questionably diseased cow. It was the moment when we were standing in front of the barn, a very decent place to discover startling deep revelations if I may add, that I was made acutely aware that I was from the city and he was from the country. Or at least, he had adapted and made this place into his home after forgetting a life before he had stepped foot into Forget-Me-Not Valley.
He was a man in which I knew I could violently love while at the same time, be equally repulsed by the visible differences that spanned between us. It wasn't the generation gap that separated us, for a bridge could be built for such a trifling thing such as age, when and if our relationship towards each other strengthened. But it was the knowledge and recognition that Takakura had accomplished his dream with regret; that he had left some lingering unresolved matter behind him and had carried on towards a future that had given him less then he had expected, which made me see how different we were. For I, on the other hand, had left behind my past with a willingness that intrigued him; I had just started on my awakened dreams with a clean slate that I had wiped free from any regret that would leave me remorse. We were as unique to each other as a man with cement shoes were to a bemused fish. It made me pity him at that moment, his bowed tired shoulders and omnipresent expression of sad indifference. Because I knew then that Forget-Me-Not Valley was not truly 'home' to him but an accepted alternate to one elsewhere. It would only be much later and after several impressive shots of liquor, that I discovered the answer would be in a tiny framed picture.
But that's beside the point.
The point is that, as a former smog-inhaling city dweller, I was ready to be acquainted to my new bed when Takakura was stirred up by the brilliant notion that I should be introduced to the valley's inhabitants in all my sweaty, salt-scented, and tired glory. Which if I may add, might have been unpleasantly blessed with a souvenir or two by the suspicious gulls that had been flying overhead before I was taken to shore. Sadistic to say the least, but unavoidable and understandable due to my irresistible charm towards attracting random animals.
Did I really have to raise chickens?
As a said, I could either love Takakura or hate him with a passion.
I didn't want to refuse the man and I didn't trust myself in voicing my opinions again since the last time had most likely caused him to think I was either dim-witted or truly and utterly insane. And I couldn't help wondering, with that bemused quirky smile no less, if Takakura had a telephone and whether I would find myself surrounded by burly men in supernaturally stark white attire tonight. Perhaps I /was/ dazed by the fresh country air because I suddenly imagined one of the orderlies with colorful flip-flops and a shiny bald head.
I'm the optimistic type, another trait that Takakura told me was a good attribute for a farmer, and at times it has been my downfall for not being serious when situations arise. For surely, it would be a common consensus that being restrained by orderlies and placed in a blinding white jacket of one's own was far from amusing. As positive as I claim, I can say that I was disgruntled that Takakura didn't seem a bit tired or, at least, was hiding it better then a person half his age. It wasn't a very attractive revelation to fall upon since I prided myself to be a strapping young man in good health, but the situation also made me aware that I could probably get the smoke out of my lungs by living in this unpolluted place and regain my damaged ego. I was confidant of my permanent residence.
But I'm falling behind now.
Literally.
It took a few quick steps for me to catch up to Takakura as we approached the first building and the three waiting residents standing before it. I was surprise to say the least, deeply and oddly moved that a trio of strangers would wake up at such an ungodly hour of the morning to greet a person they did not and would hardly know for quite some time. It was a refreshing difference to be met this way compared to the polite and curt disregard that most city dwellers such as myself were used to being addressed. I won't go into full physical detail about the three since I've learnt at a very young age that focusing entirely on appearance would lead one to be biased--intentionally or not. But they were perhaps, the strangest bunch I had ever met, and that is quite a comment from a person like me. I am use to seeing unique people, it was unavoidable when you lived in the city or traveled through its night life, but when I was introduced to Tim, Ruby, and Rock--the words 'pleasantly queer' came to mind.
Tim was the owner of the inn or the co-owner with his wife, Ruby. They were both large in form but seemed perfectly just to be so. There was no ugliness in their size, but instead, a feeling of good-nature emitted from them and a sense that their happy marriage for each other was made evident by their visible weight. While Ruby's tenebrous hair and humble disposition made me fond of her the moment Takakura had introduced us, my thoughts on Tim couldn't help becoming comical as my eyes fell on his ridiculous mustache. It was so neatly groomed, so pointed and dark as the rest of his hair, that I couldn't stop myself from attaching him to the stereotypical image of an oriental man with a wispy thin pipe in his mouth; muttering about foreign herbs and bad tea while squinting hard in a poorly lit room. It took some mild effort on my part to keep my face perfectly still as my sight was directed from the couple and towards their son.
Rock. Well, I can't deny that my polite expression cracked ever so slightly when Takakura steered my attention to the last person. But a laugh dared not escape my breath when I honestly wanted to show that I was grateful and pleased that they were standing at their door to become acquainted with me. And I had to admit that meeting all three of them was far more satisfying then the neglected bed in my new lodge.
I hope my smile lasts long enough when the euphoria has lost its novelty.
Now Rock, to put it in a nutshell, exceeded me greatly in looks and even more in fashion. While I was standing there and smelling quite below my standards, I wondered who was more bucolic and who was more modern in appearance. It seemed Rock was winning by the furlong, but it was a race that I did not mind losing.
His hair was a lively gold shade, unmistakably blond, and contrasted vividly with his parents' as he beamed with amber eyes. I was convinced that behind his flamboyant exterior, he was still as equally wild and flashy; shallow, perhaps, through these attributes seem to be more in his favor then to cause displeasure to those who had the chance to meet him. He looked immature and was probably set to be so for the rest of his life, yet, he wasn't rotten from what I could see. Just a harmless useless sort that one would impulsively become friends with because doing otherwise just didn't seem right. I also expected that he would never be married as an uncommon saying came to my mind, "Blonds are fun but it's the brunettes that are brought home to meet the parents". Something to that degree. And I couldn't deny that I applied it to him at that moment.
As I said, physical appearances tend to create bias.
And prejudices form when one leaves a bad first impression as well. So it wasn't difficult to keep my thoughts to myself and give a silent smile as my answer. Except Takakura wouldn't allow me that privilege as he turned to me and asked how I would like to be referred. It was a strange question, one that I believed was to make me speak for myself since Takakura had already learnt my name. It took me some time to reply to his question, as if I was spelling out my name in my mind, before I finally said "Jack".
Receiving their welcomes and catching a subtle look from Takakura that he would make me speak again if I didn't do so myself, I smiled and replied to their words with gratitude and thanks before the man was satisfied and we moved on to the next house. While I'm not the shy sort, I've found a mild dislike in speaking more then necessary. Blunt might be how to describe it--for my actions and not my words of course. I would rather smile at someone or give them a gift then to walk up to a person directly and ask for their friendship. So I wasn't surprised that Takakura took the delight, or what I imagined was his delight, in leading me to a small house and the three inhabitants that would prove to be my polar opposite.