1995: The Vampire & the green-eyed Nisei (A tale of times past)

I’m thinking back to that wondrous year which was 1995 and all those wondrous things we’d do back in High School: It makes me sink my teeth into the corner of my lower lip but gently, then curl it up in a cocky half-smile, and think of yesteryear, and think of times past…

I’m thinking of that girl who was friends with P**** and also with B**** and whose father, I think it was the father, was of Japanese origin and so she was this damn cute Nisei girl with green eyes and thick, strong thighs in a miniskirt and we were all at the Vampire’s house. It’s a Saturday night and the Vampire’s having everyone over to his house, in fact his mother’s.
The Vampire’s true name was J****, by the way. I’ve sort of forgotten why we ever got to call him that. He had this funny gait in his walk, the way he moved his shoulders about as if he would forget to remove the hanger from his shirts before dressing up for school each morning…

So we’re sitting on this ancient leather couch all dusty with the upholstery cracking dry like old parchment, the Nisei girl and I, and she’s asking whether I’m into Green Day or what.
I have absolutely no idea of what she’s talking about but since I’m kind of planning a move on her (remember: green eyes and hot legs and the miniskirt) and tell her yeah, sure. I mean, who doesn’t like Green Day.

This guy P**** comes over afterwards and sort of jinxes my thing with her because it gets damn clear then & there the Nisei girl is all over him even though he’s not really into her.
…Local fifteen-year old boys usually seemed so less bold than in the songs they’d listen to back then, anyway…

So P**** dismisses her, okay? And then calls me over to the Vampire’s brother stereo where we produce a cassette from under our shirt (I forgot who was packing the tape, P**** or I), and what we’d done beforehand was, we’d found earlier that week at P****’s dad hard-drive a recording of the Vampire singing along some rap music and we kind of spliced in some bits we mixed together with some bootlegged software, and transferred it to a cassette tape.
Now, how the hell we ever managed that particular stunt is a matter related to lots of bad wiring and a technology altogether lost to the mists of time: It was but the dawn of the Creative Labs multimedia kits and Soundblaster cards, anyway. A year before the internet hit big-time. But we did it, anyhow. And it worked like a charm. And it just killed everyone once we cut in Green Day with the Vampire singing his rap piece, including the Vampire himself who was one hell of a kidder in the first place.

I met the cute Nisei girl once again the following afternoon at this basketball game I think P**** was playing and she was probably over just to see him play, despite his being entirely oblivious to that fact or to herself.
In hindsight I think I probably did hit on her that afternoon by the basketball court during half-time but I’m not sure. Either way it wouldn’t have amounted to anything, anyhow.

The cute thick-legged Nisei girl with the green eyes moved over to Japan, eventually, and returned to her native shores on one particularly dismal evening a few years later, in those days when the 20th century was drawing up to a close.

B**** took her over to this place I shared with some friends in São Paulo while at College and I had just undergone some minor back surgery. I don’t think I had the hots for her anymore. I mean, not then with all the cotton stuck into a bleeding gaping hole in my lower back just below the edge of my underwear.

She asked in a funny accent, which she picked up while in Japan and sure didn’t have back in 1995, if there was any tea at the apartment because she was all jet-lagged and feeling constipated. It was the first time a girl ever told me she was constipated.
Oddly enough, I’ve heard it many times ever since, from different girls on different occasions.

She went away the following morning, I think B**** and I walked her to the bus station or the train station or something. I clearly remember limping a bit because of the wound on my back.
Before saying goodbye B**** and I asked her if she’d bought any hent*I p*rn while in Japan and she said No, she hadn’t.

B**** once told me the story of the girl’s boyfriend back in Japan, whose forefathers had been Samurais or something, and had their wonderful armors and kabutos encased in glass at his place, and I felt vaguely jealous:
Not because the boyfriend was the guy getting it on with her, not really, not then & there, but because there really weren’t any Samurais in my family and I really have a soft spot for that kind of stuff.

The day after the basketball game with P**** back in ’95- it was a Monday- and after school I sort of eloped to the Shopping Center and finally bought myself a Green Day album.
When I got home later that afternoon I listened over and over to tracks, Basket Case, Burnout and She, just so as I’d have something to talk about to the cute Nisei girl if I ever got the chance.
If I ever met her again.

Funny thing is, I did meet her again many times during that year and the next one too, but the subject of Green Day songs was never really brought up, anyway.

But I haven’t forgotten.
In the end, I mean.

In hindsight, I don’t think I’ve quite forgotten anything.