Author's Note: WOW! HAPPY FUN INTERLUDE TIME!! WOO WOO WOOOOOO!!!! EXPRESSO RULES!
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Interlude: Into the Mind of an Icy Bastard
While I'm sure she forgets this, at one point during the infamous interview with Makimachi Misao, she suggested I buy a NO MA'AM tee-shirt. It was, if memory serves me, an obscure reference to an American television sitcom that aired a decade or so ago. That she went into detail about it made me learn something about her: She knows the most random trivia.
Like knowing the acronym stands for National Organization of Men Against Amazonian Masterhood. Although it is a somewhat...endearing quality. Most call me a misogynist bastard with no heart. Cold. Emotionless.
They're right. I am all those things and justifiedly so. To me women are flitty, unstable creatures who are truly the downfall of the male species. Eve. Helen of Troy. Original sin and bloodshed. I've seen their behavior...known it firsthand. And so I wrote a book about it. I figured it was time to put all those years at Toudai to use and do something aside from column work and reporting. I never expected it would be as much of a success as it did, and so soon enough I found myself scheduled for book tours, interviews...things a normally slightly sociophobic person as myself tends to avoid. It's not that I don't like people...just being around so many people sometimes is bothersome to me. And I hate being interviewed. I hate having people poke and prod at me and find some deeper meaning into the things I say and do. Misao was there to do the same, but it was apparent the moment I met her she didn't want to interview me. That was new. I also established very quickly that she also had a pre-determined dislike of me, which I'm sure became valid throughout the travesty that was an interview.
She disagreed with my views and wasn't afraid to vocalize that. Over the course of our...odd accquaintance and chance run-ins I've learned she is no ordinary woman.
I never found her particularly remarkable and at first I saw her as another naive journalist with pseudo-modernistic feminist ideals. We kept running into each other oddly enough and over the course of such run-ins I found myself thinking about her. She was the first woman to defy my logic and in general she does defy logic. But..in a good way.
She and I are complete opposites...and the theory of magnatism never occured to either of us. So it was somewhat startling that things have come to this. We slept together. It was unplanned and unthinkable and yet it happened. I wanted it to happen. I wanted her. It was...nothing like I've ever experienced. Holding her and having her with me made me forget momentarily all the negative...everything. All I knew was her. But then morning comes and things are back to normal. She fled and went into as best of hiding as is possible in this city. Whether she was embarassed or regretted it I really can't say. Her behavior annoyed me. It just made everything I think correct. Funny thing, I wanted to be wrong in this case. What does that mean wanting my theory to be wrong over one person? Maybe I am more screwed up than I think. I attribute it to abandonment issues. It all goes back to my mother.
I was only four when my father died, but I remember him always being upset at my mother's constant infidelity. Then he died in a car accident and I was left with her. She never wanted me and one year later left me at an orphanage. It was probably better growing up with strangers than her. She hated me since I was born after all. And wasn't afraid to say it. I grew up alone, never having a place. When I was eighteen I left the orphanage for college and got involved with this girl who I thought I loved...and then I found her in bed with the guy who dormed in the room next door. I don't even remember her name.
After that I found myself being chased by random girls at clubs and bars, all wanting one thing from me: sex. And I gave it to them. They didn't care if I wanted a relationship or if it was wrong. When morning came...they were always gone. I thought Misao would be different. She was the first one I was hoping would be there. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I'm wrong about everything. Maybe I'm really an insecure, self-involved man lashing out based on bad experiences. She would probably say sometihng like that to me. I would welcome it honestly. That's probably why I called her. It was a difficult thing to admit to myself, but I want to see her again. Maybe I want to disprove myself, as messed up as that is. Masochistic maybe. I want Misao to prove me wrong. Because thinking so much isn't solving a damn thing.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Interlude: Into the Mind of an Icy Bastard
While I'm sure she forgets this, at one point during the infamous interview with Makimachi Misao, she suggested I buy a NO MA'AM tee-shirt. It was, if memory serves me, an obscure reference to an American television sitcom that aired a decade or so ago. That she went into detail about it made me learn something about her: She knows the most random trivia.
Like knowing the acronym stands for National Organization of Men Against Amazonian Masterhood. Although it is a somewhat...endearing quality. Most call me a misogynist bastard with no heart. Cold. Emotionless.
They're right. I am all those things and justifiedly so. To me women are flitty, unstable creatures who are truly the downfall of the male species. Eve. Helen of Troy. Original sin and bloodshed. I've seen their behavior...known it firsthand. And so I wrote a book about it. I figured it was time to put all those years at Toudai to use and do something aside from column work and reporting. I never expected it would be as much of a success as it did, and so soon enough I found myself scheduled for book tours, interviews...things a normally slightly sociophobic person as myself tends to avoid. It's not that I don't like people...just being around so many people sometimes is bothersome to me. And I hate being interviewed. I hate having people poke and prod at me and find some deeper meaning into the things I say and do. Misao was there to do the same, but it was apparent the moment I met her she didn't want to interview me. That was new. I also established very quickly that she also had a pre-determined dislike of me, which I'm sure became valid throughout the travesty that was an interview.
She disagreed with my views and wasn't afraid to vocalize that. Over the course of our...odd accquaintance and chance run-ins I've learned she is no ordinary woman.
I never found her particularly remarkable and at first I saw her as another naive journalist with pseudo-modernistic feminist ideals. We kept running into each other oddly enough and over the course of such run-ins I found myself thinking about her. She was the first woman to defy my logic and in general she does defy logic. But..in a good way.
She and I are complete opposites...and the theory of magnatism never occured to either of us. So it was somewhat startling that things have come to this. We slept together. It was unplanned and unthinkable and yet it happened. I wanted it to happen. I wanted her. It was...nothing like I've ever experienced. Holding her and having her with me made me forget momentarily all the negative...everything. All I knew was her. But then morning comes and things are back to normal. She fled and went into as best of hiding as is possible in this city. Whether she was embarassed or regretted it I really can't say. Her behavior annoyed me. It just made everything I think correct. Funny thing, I wanted to be wrong in this case. What does that mean wanting my theory to be wrong over one person? Maybe I am more screwed up than I think. I attribute it to abandonment issues. It all goes back to my mother.
I was only four when my father died, but I remember him always being upset at my mother's constant infidelity. Then he died in a car accident and I was left with her. She never wanted me and one year later left me at an orphanage. It was probably better growing up with strangers than her. She hated me since I was born after all. And wasn't afraid to say it. I grew up alone, never having a place. When I was eighteen I left the orphanage for college and got involved with this girl who I thought I loved...and then I found her in bed with the guy who dormed in the room next door. I don't even remember her name.
After that I found myself being chased by random girls at clubs and bars, all wanting one thing from me: sex. And I gave it to them. They didn't care if I wanted a relationship or if it was wrong. When morning came...they were always gone. I thought Misao would be different. She was the first one I was hoping would be there. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I'm wrong about everything. Maybe I'm really an insecure, self-involved man lashing out based on bad experiences. She would probably say sometihng like that to me. I would welcome it honestly. That's probably why I called her. It was a difficult thing to admit to myself, but I want to see her again. Maybe I want to disprove myself, as messed up as that is. Masochistic maybe. I want Misao to prove me wrong. Because thinking so much isn't solving a damn thing.