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Japanese Radiation

April 13, 2011

There was a play by Black Stripe Theatre performed in a small church in the mountains. After talking with the actors for a while, I went outside to try on a costume. I wasn’t in the play, but I felt like I should. It was a hood made out of a towel. It looked like a mix between a Japanese radiation hood and a klu-klux-klan hood. The edges were frayed. It had no front.

I went down the hill a little to watch Adam Well’s group practice their scene. I interrupted and asked one of his curly-haired friends if I could borrow a pair of boxers. “I brought the costume, but I forgot to pack clothes,” I said nakedly. He gave me a pair reluctantly. “They’re very expensive,” he said. They didn’t look it. They looked at me with disdain when I finished their song by rubbing a plastic bag. I thought it sounded good.

I went to my closet, which was standing in a field. When I opened it I saw that I did have boxers after all. I tried the other guy’s pair on anyway. They were damp.

I read the front of different Maggi Two Minute Noodles packets to find out which ones were vegetarian friendly. They were all bacteria flavored. All the writing was kanji, but I was pretty sure that I couldn’t eat any of them.

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