Sir White-y White-ington

Scarves

I'm completely obsessed.

Layoverandoverandover

Walking off the airplane, and into the Portland Oregon airport was like stepping into the Emerald City of Oz. I'm not saying that the terminal was populated with talking animals, little people, or girls in gingham with braids . . . but the overall look of the place was a definite green. Everywhere you'd look: green. Green green green (Have I mentioned that it was green?). Everything that wasn't green had that green tint reflected from that green haze haunted floating through the terminal.

The carpeting on the walls in the airport made me anxious. I think it reminded me of an elementary school or a psyche ward's padded room, despite my inexperience with the latter. Maybe it was the consistent continuous corduroy esq. pattern that made me want to chew on the ends of pens or twitch my left eye nervously. Looking at carpeted walls of this genre is a little like looking at a gigantic magic-eye poster of a scene from an American commonplace corporate office. I can't think of anything more boring. Being bored makes me anxious. Green makes me anxious. Everything makes me anxious when I'm floating due to lack of sleep.


Tokyo was a glory. No, it really was. I had a lovely stare at the back of a rainbow striped shirt. Stripes again. The young man inside said shirt had a tattoo of an octopus half hidden by the stripes, and another of an indecipherable name. I wanted to tap him on the shoulder, rub his bald head for luck, and ask him who he was in love with enough to engrave it on his person.

I decided that I should try to be more Asian, just in general. Maybe become a panda. Maybe buy more key-chains. Maybe combine more patterns. I'm thinking that the haircut and the parasite will help.