Note: Stories are posted in reverse order. (Select them from the archive to read chronologically)

Saturday, May 12, 2012


Speaking of the cutlets in Kobe, how in the world do they decide the price for beef cutlets? I’m not talking about wiener schnitzel or cordon bleu here, I mean plain old beef cutlets.

               I think it’s a real shame that you can’t get them in Tokyo. A capital city without any beef cutlets? It’s like we’re in 1942 Stalingrad.

                You know, whenever I start thinking about them, I immediately turn into a beef cutlet fanatic like I’ve been swept along by a bullet train.

                Beef cutlets and bread are a truly delicious combination. I like to take beef cutlets and slather them with some mustard and butter, placing them between pieces of bread that are sliced just a little thin. Into the toaster oven they go for a light toasting, along with just two slices of watercress. To drink, maybe a glass of unsweetened ice tea, or perhaps a bottle of Märzenbier. Oh... oh yes...

Plain beef cutlets are best when they’re as large as the soles of size-9 sneakers. The meat can’t be too thick or too thin either. Meat that’s too thin just makes you look poor, and having it too thick is a let-down as well. Above all, the meat mustn’t have any gristle. The crust should be fried until crispy; its texture slightly firmer than that of pork cutlets. Also, you have to make sure that the breading isn’t too thin.

                It may be just a side-dish, but you definitely need shredded cabbage as well. Adding shredded cabbage to a plate of beef cutlets is like adding a Playboy bunny sticker to a Rolls-Royce. Noodles that are lightly boiled in salt water, kidney beans, watercress, and other simple sides are OK, but if it comes with a carrot demi-glace, you might as well throw it in your ashtray.  

                Now for the rice. A mix of barley and rice would be ideal, but since most restaurants don’t carry it, you’ll just have to settle for white rice. Something like a bread roll wouldn’t be proper at all.
                The way to eat a beef cutlet is around the same as how you eat a pork cutlet. The only difference is the sensations you get when you put a knife to it. The crispness of the breading, the meat’s tenderness that’s normally obscured by the characteristic firmness of beef, the breading again, and then finally the clack of your knife against the plate: it’s to die for!

                When I was a child, my father would take me to the movies, and on the way back we’d always have beef cutlets. From the window of the restaurant I could see the harbor, and the peaks of mount Rokko standing out in all directions.

                In the guide books for Kobe, all you’ll see are restaurants serving beef steaks (and if you just want that, there’s no point in going all the way to Kobe when you can get it at restaurant 10 minutes away in Tokyo!), with no mention of beef cutlets. Why is that?


Saturday, March 17, 2012

kama sutra

“Happy birthday,” she said, handing me a small, beautiful box tied with a green ribbon.  We were in a nice restaurant on the 32nd floor of a skyscraper, having roast beef for dinner as we drank scotch and water. It was my birthday, after all.

            “Hey. Do you know what I’m thinking about? Try and guess!”

            “Hair clippers?” I asked. Of course, I was just joking with her.

            I removed the wrapping paper, unveiling a shiny, ruby-colored box with a movie ticket sized piece of paper inside. Written on it were the words “Pleasure Ticket.”

            “You can use it whenever you like!” she said.

            Returning home, I opened up the highest drawer on my desk. Inside of it were 78 “pleasure tickets” in a variety of colors, each from 78 different girls. I pulled out the whole thing and added my new ticket, making it 79. A fairly reasonable number.

In my backyard I dug a hole with a shovel, burying the 79 “pleasure tickets” that I had packed into an empty can of Grape Drops. Afterwards I pulled out a hose and watered it. I guess I’m just that kind of person.


Saturday, February 11, 2012


What does it mean when you have a carpet that’s concealing a tatami mat? It’s a lot like a bowl of katsudon where the meat and eggs are completely covering the rice. But when you’re dealing with food, it’s not something that a lot of people would call misrepresentation.
Also, I’m sure that there are quite a few copies of “How to Please a Woman” that are still inside their Kinokuniya bookstore wrapping-paper covers. But then again, the people who own those books are generally much more interested in the contents than they are in the cover.

And what about sunglasses and eyes? It’s pretty unlikely for someone to wear sunglasses all the time, especially for stuff like taking a bath or sleeping, so covering one’s eyes is much less of a tragedy than covering a tatami mat.  

There’s also concealing one’s individuality with a business card. Except with that, the individuals are covering themselves up by choice, so it’s not at all alike.

So what about covering a long-torsoed body with a Western brand of clothes?

Somehow, I think that example comes closest to it.


Saturday, January 28, 2012

onion soup

Following the guidance of mother nature, we went and had sex. An hour later, we made love for the second time, all while under the guidance of mother nature. Whew!
            The first round of sex was... well, there was nothing bad about it, but it wasn’t that great either. How can I explain it? You could say it felt like there was an elderly lion in the other room, and he was gingerly brushing his teeth.
            The second time was amazing though!

It’s hard to explain exactly how amazing it was. Just the fact that we can experience something with our bodies that’s impossible to describe is simply incredible. I really don’t think there would be much meaning to life without it.

At one o’clock in the morning, after having had sex for the second time, the two of us lay in bed smoking. In the next room, the lion was warming up some soup for dinner. The nostalgic smell of onions wafted toward us through a gap in the door. She and I were completely enveloped by the pleasant mist, and it felt as if we were sitting in the middle of a giant cartoon speech bubble. With her tiny hand, she laid her palm on my chest.