6/20/2004 Japan, again. The air is humid, and heavy with memories. Long flight on Virgin Atlantic via Siberia. I’m adjusting my opinion of them. Good service, amazingly functional linux-driven entertainment system (yes, I saw it reboot twice and go through its startup sequence). I saw three movies (Starsky & Hutch – not really that funny; The Sea is Watching – serene Japanese period piece; American Splendor – made me want to kill myself, but was inspiring all the same). But the tradeoff was a big metal box under each seat that occupied part of my foot space.

Back to the sweaty present. It’s the smell of Japan that brings a vague wistful smile to my lips. Japan is surely the future, as the Matrix, Solaris (by Tarkovsky), and the Morning Musume remind us. For me though, it’s starting to feel like the past, because my life, my past emotions, and my friendships that have been so important to me feel so irretrievable now. But I also know that it’s time for a change. I’m almost 30. I’m at the transition from taking classes to teaching classes. I’m irredeemably irrevocably committed now to academics.

I never knew that traveling would be this tiring. I almost yearn for the quiet life, you know, no alarms and no surprises. Please. And when you travel alone you start talking to yourself. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me. Sometimes I give myself the creeps. And sometimes I feel the unbearable unexpressibility of human experience. Can I even describe what I’m doing and seeing? And if I can’t, doesn’t it almost seem like none of this EVER HAPPENED?