entry nº 44 // 20180808

yeah, this summer (meaning, the summer of 2018), we got pool floats. by which, i mean, a pool float. real game-changer, i say, if you live by the beach, for reasons which probably don’t require enumerating here. anyway, we marched over to KOMERI one day, our local home center (or was it NAFCO? can’t remember), thinking we were going to come home with a pool float, but as we stood there looking at the selection, and the prices, nothing really felt right. so we did what every self-respecting modern consumer does, and went home, and made ourselves queasy looking at pool floats on amazon jp, and picked out what looked like a good one. a keeper, we hoped. 

of course it’s a bit late in the season, ocean-swimming wise, given that once obon rolls around, i guess you’re kind of supposed to steer clear of the water, because the spirits of the deceased can potentially carry you away while en route to or from their yearly visit home for the festival. and of course i’m already scared shitless of being dragged away to the netherworld by some unseen creature or force anytime i set foot in the ocean anyway, so the last thing i need, mentally speaking, is any sort of external reinforcement of that fear, particularly one based in deeply-rooted cultural belief. 

but the other reason you’re supposed to steer clear of the water after obon is the jellyfish, which, i mean, i’ve never been stung by one of those things before, though shoko got zapped in the leg last year, or the year prior? despite us splashing around in proximity to each other and all. but this year, out kicking around on our bright blue pool float, i felt a real son of a gun electro-caffeine zigzagger of sting there, in my right armpit, and then subsequently felt a kind of double-mirror synonym zap as i apparently reflexively squished my arm close to my body in reaction to the initial shock, and, well, that’s what getting stung by a jellyfish feels like. tried to play it cool, because shoko’s friend was with us that day, by which i mean, everyone’s speaking japanese, and it’s not like i’m at a point where i have the linguistic toolset to easily express pain, shock, etc. in a way that feels direct and embodied enough to like, do what it’s supposed to do? pain-dispersal-wise, jokes-and-goofs-wise, etc. but i digress.

got out of the water to take stock of things, and all said and done it’s not that bad, though the welts started to pop up real nasty after a little bit, and man oh man, from the looks of it you’d’ve thought i was doing the armpit-hand-fart-noise thing, but using a jellyfish i’d happened to have nearby instead of my own goddamned left hand like a true patriot would’ve. but nothing incapacitating, really, and certainly not worth putting the damper on an afternoon of fun in the sun, right? so i got back in there. and no SHIT are you fucking SERIOUS sharp piercing sting in my LEFT armpit?! doggy paddled my way right the heck out of there and onto the shore, and yep, there you go. double armpit jellyfish stings. you can bet your bottom dollar i was at DRUG MORI later that night for some salve for those bad boys, and of course managed to get kind of the wrong stuff? (shoko: “wait, you got the liquid instead of the cream?” me: “huh?”) but, i mean, close enough for jazz, as they say.