Four Japanese boys are here, in the big ol' YOU-ess-of-A; sleeping on my couches, complaining about the food and generally having their minds blown by everything from the size of water, to the size of Wal*Mart, to the size of parties...

... to the size of the cars, the size of my house, the size of the heaven and the earth and the sunsets and evenings that stretch on endlessly.

Yeah, it doesn't get dark until 9 p.m. here, but it's pitch black in Japan at 7.

The people are scary.

The alcohol is strong.

The girls are beautiful.

The gym at the university is unbelievable.

The cookies my mom makes are also, unbelievable.

The amount of police patrolling is... well, yes: unbelievable.

And I was driving the other day... and Takayuki was in the passenger seat next to me. And it was 27th and South street, and there was a red light and we stopped and I looked over. And it was unbelievable.

What the hell are you doing in America?

It's just... so... strange.

It's like all the memories I've had and all of the images that have rushed through my mind have now landed on my doorstep and my mind doesn't really know how to process them correctly, because this place ISN'T Japan, but... there's now a little bit of Japan here.

Sort of makes my bones ache a little bit, that longing feeling that seeps out into the blood and irritates the whole body like an itch that just can't be scratched... that longing for the past... and for the future to hurry up and get here.