Lettow thread

[Lettow77]

 Are my posts really that hard to read? Of course I was at Uji! It was charming. I loved it.

But seedy, are maid cafes so strange? It is hardly the first I have been to..

[Lettow77]

 I failed to find the fruit and meat quested for, but I did eat something and keep it down yesterday evening. Today I got lost in Nagoya, but found a different maid cafe anyhow. (Situated right next to a NERV bar, even..) Cafe de la Bonne, it was charming. I had considered ordering food there, but held off lest the consumption of food sully the tranquil atmosphere within. I had a pleasant chat with one of the maids, and drank some heated milk tea. Life was good.

I will set off for the proper maid cafe later, but also this town boasts a maid izakaya, and I am interested to try it out. I hear there are a number of games the maids will play with you, as well. 

For the seedys in the audience: Right out of the station, nagoya blindsides you with a ton of neon signs advertising various places of prostitution. Prices are reasonable and pictures are included; I was particularly amused by the name GYPSY QUEEN, and immediately thought of CdM and Tamas.  I was able to find a cheap hotel nearby, and got my first sleep on a bed in quite some time, which also allowed me to bathe and shave. It was a decadence and I will not be going to a hotel again in Japan.

I had a surreal encounter with Nagoya's incompetent criminal class, which I laughed off and then reported to the police. They were so effusive in their apologies and embarassment that I let them off easy by suspecting aloud that he was Korean. It was my first encounter with crime in which I did not accede peacebly to demands; how empowering! But I simply cant take Japanese criminals seriously. They dont know what they are doing and it is embarrassing.

Nagoya has something of an unpleasant air about it, being an industrial town, and I wonder if I wasnt a fool to leave Kyoto, which in my impudence I felt to be stifling. Still, I draw ever closer to Tokyo.  If the indecency of the city wears me down too much, I may escape to an onsen village in rural Gifu. Once you resign yourself to Japanese staring at your penis and hairiness, the Onsen is really lovely.

[Eddie Teach]

But seedy, are maid cafes so strange? It is hardly the first I have been to..

[Lettow77]

 He butchered that so badly! Look at his shoes! Look at that flawed, flawed, flawed execution of stockings! The imbecile hasnt even begun to grasp how zettai ryouiki works. Furthermore, the outfit is overly simple without even achieving a humble and modest aesthetic. It manages to feel both dull and loud at once; it is a disaster.

I suddenly want to go to Bukhara and Samarkand; I wonder at the wisdom of the trip, but think I should like to do it in the near future. The allure is hard to ascribe anything specific to- I find myself nearly dreaming in a strange haze in which a diffident French rule has been brought to the region, compelling only the most perfunctory obedience, and yet leaving gentle waves of French influence.

What shame that it failed to fall within the outer reaches of the co-prosperity sphere!

[CountDeMoney]

I find myself nearly dreaming in a strange haze in which a diffident French rule has been brought to the region, compelling only the most perfunctory obedience, and yet leaving gentle waves of French influence.

You know, for the longest time I figured you were just full of shit, and then I realized that all this would simply be too much work to maintain.

You, my kimono'd teatime friend, are batshit insane.

[Lettow77]

 Marse Seedy! I know you can imagine it if you try!

  Imagine a middle aged woman teaching her daughters how to sew the family tapestries; imagine the doldrums of a long caravan- the indifferent expression of a French colonial judge who disinterestedly dispenses an approximation of justice following a dispute involving a renounced marriage midway through the week-long marriage feast.

Rugs are beaten, tea is ubiquitous, poured from fearful heights that imperil the elaborate swirling designs of the table-cover. Tinctures of opium are here made for the use of the wider French Empire. The nomadic tribes mostly stay out of trouble, except with one another, but are slowly, with no sense of urgency, being drawn into the modern world- here a Tribesman has a LeMat revolver, there the young son of a tribal chief is sent to a French hospital for treatment rather than entrusted to a travelling doctor.

With a horrible sense of inevitability a Catholic priest comes to violence, and the french government is left no choice but to take action. Men on both sides are killed; the Foreign Legion, less a few of its contigent of heroes but greater for the loss, finds itself deployed to yet another wilderness. Veteran colons of Algerie come to this lazy new Outremer, lured by cheap land and civil service positions, to find that the local bread has more in common with the Patrie proper than anything in beloved Algiers. Talk of a railroad comes to nothing, and life goes on in a slow pulsing cycle.

Can you see it now, seedy? Isn't it pretty! Arranged marriages, cats, tea and the meandering steppe-life. Bazaars and ruins! It is not crazy to like such things.

[CountDeMoney]

I so want to Bataan Death March you.

[Grinning_Colossus]

Dingy Soviet rule rule was brought to the region. Do you like backgammon, furry men with no shirts, shared econovan taxis, and kvass?

[The Brain]

Marse Seedy! I know you can imagine it if you try!

  Imagine a middle aged woman teaching her daughters how to sew the family tapestries; imagine the doldrums of a long caravan- the indifferent expression of a French colonial judge who disinterestedly dispenses an approximation of justice following a dispute involving a renounced marriage midway through the week-long marriage feast.

Rugs are beaten, tea is ubiquitous, poured from fearful heights that imperil the elaborate swirling designs of the table-cover. Tinctures of opium are here made for the use of the wider French Empire. The nomadic tribes mostly stay out of trouble, except with one another, but are slowly, with no sense of urgency, being drawn into the modern world- here a Tribesman has a LeMat revolver, there the young son of a tribal chief is sent to a French hospital for treatment rather than entrusted to a travelling doctor.

With a horrible sense of inevitability a Catholic priest comes to violence, and the french government is left no choice but to take action. Men on both sides are killed; the Foreign Legion, less a few of its contigent of heroes but greater for the loss, finds itself deployed to yet another wilderness. Veteran colons of Algerie come to this lazy new Outremer, lured by cheap land and civil service positions, to find that the local bread has more in common with the Patrie proper than anything in beloved Algiers. Talk of a railroad comes to nothing, and life goes on in a slow pulsing cycle.

Can you see it now, seedy? Isn't it pretty! Arranged marriages, cats, tea and the meandering steppe-life. Bazaars and ruins! It is not crazy to like such things.

[Ed Anger]

Somebody read too many Horseclans novels.

[The Brain]

Why? How would that help us?

[Ed Anger]

Why? How would that help us?

It would distract me from lettow's insanity (or elaborate trolls).

What Lettow wants is Italian run steppe people. 40 year old men never leaving their yurts.

[Lettow77]

 I had never heard of those books.

Also, Italian? Where do you get these strange ideas? Nobody wants italians running anything anywhere.

It is a shame y'all cannot conceive of the beautiful dream, however. It is lovely to conceptualize.

[Ed Anger]

Where do you get these strange ideas?

Somebody is got some brass balls to even ask that when they post about weird french neo-colonialism and which ethnic groups to place in their magic space ark ship.

[Lettow77]

 Waah! Missed my second opportunity to take a photo of one of the Emperor's faithful noise trucks- this one even stopped briefly. I am ashamed.

In any event, my current state is not good enough to go to the otaku district; It may have to wait another 24 hour cycle, at which point I will hopefully have found some reservoir of energy lying beyond beyond the present. For now I will hazard an attempt at sleep after reading just a bit more about lesbians running a tea shop- I am loathe to pull myself away from such quiet, tranquil subject matter.