Sublime

They took us even though we bit them.

“selling hula out to foreigners”

A FEW OF US were unable to have them, and this was the worst fate of all.

Makiko was a hostess, but that can mean all kinds of different things. Some good, some not so good. Osaka is rife with drinking spots, but an address is enough to tell you what you should expect, in terms of clientele and atmosphere and hostesses. She worked in Shobashi, the neighborhood the three of us worked in for years after we ran off that nig

—And who the fuck might you be? Hold up. This isn’t Osaka, and not every guy with a nice body and an icy gaze talks like he’s about to rip your head off. My prejudice had biased my imagination. On both sides.

Every married woman bearing a child in our community undergoes this ritual, a day of prayers and special foods: the srimant, the rite by which the father's family seeks the blessings of the household goddess for the birth. During the ritual, our family would ask the goddess to accept the unborn child, and future children from this stranger's womb,

‘“What a lovely cat you have,” said Gozaemon. “What? That old mog?” replied the old woman in surprise. “Yes. It’s a darling cat.” Gozaemon knelt down to pet the cat. It hissed at him, back arching. “Reminds me of my own, who sadly . . . no, it’s too painful to even talk about . . . My children loved that old cat so . . .” Gozaemon pretended to stif

One thing I remember is lying to the factory about my age every vacation, spring, summer and winter, all three years of middle school. The soldering irons hanging from the ceiling, and the hiss of sparks. Huge heaps of folded cardboard boxes. Most of what I remember from back then is from the bar. A little place run by a friend of my mum. Mum worke