mjj (flemmings) wrote,

I still don't have a rain icon

Ouchou Romanse 3 has me convinced that I can no longer read Japanese, so I turn to ozarque's post about the various rains and do my own. Though I think I've mentioned most of these before, which suggests I don't have much of a life either.

THE DISCONCERTING RAIN that didn't make me wet, on the steps of the Runaway Temple above the green-grey forests of Kamakura, where nothing quite worked the way it did at home.

THE THUMPING RAIN on the roof of my childhood bedroom where I lay next to sophisticated red-haired Patricia, the new girl at school (from Michigan! an American!) on her first sleepover.

THE SIDEWAYS RAIN that slashed the deserted main street and the green Wani bicycle abandoned outside the Coop store, with a one yen coin in the basket that said this bike was, in fact, mine.

THE COTTAGE RAIN falling all day on the grey lake as we did jigsaw puzzles on the glass-topped table, to make a picture of rainy Paris streets with tattered theatre posters and empty sidewalk cafes.

THE SUNDAY RAIN on the courtyard in Pau, harpsichord music on the radio in the apartment overhead, thin unsatisfying tea not enough to warm me in the October chill.

THE COLD AUGUST RAIN that soaked my sandals into stiffness so they rubbed the thin white skin from my feet

THE LOOSE-END RAIN that never stopped, with nowhere to go on a Sunday in Tokyo, and the morning spent at MacDo's buying unwanted iced coffees so I could stay in their light and air conditioning.

THE FIVE O'CLOCK RAIN that drenched the leaf-scattered boulevards in front of the house as evening drew in and a man I didn't know emerged from a taxi to ask me to deliver a letter to a woman I didn't know living up the street

THE HA HA YOU CAN'T GET ME RAIN because I have a rain cape and rain pants and a broad brimmed hat under the cape's hood and fenders on both wheels; and my trouser hems still get soaked.

THE KYOTO EVENING RAIN, black and grey clouds racing, watched with my sister from a warm little restaurant up on Fifth St.

THE RELIEVED RAIN that cloudbursts when the thunder has gone on forever. Though the thunder can still shake the house and rattle the windows, and will, the end of it is in sight.

THE RUN-RUN-RUN RAIN of first year university, ten minutes to get across St Mike's campus, Queen's Park, and the bulk of the main campus to my ten o'clock lecture at Sid Smith, and then to do it again for my eleven o'clock lecture back at St. Mike's, dripping in my seat and my notebooks limp with the wetness.

THE AFTER RAIN ON BEDFORD, black pools shining under the street lamps, seen from my parents' bedroom windows.

THE TYPHOON RAIN OF NAGOYA that soaked my bag and my travel supply of 10,000 yen notes so I had to lay them out on the bed to dry; and the old man in front of Nagoya Castle, stubbornly posing in the downpour with his son while daughter-in-law took their photo, because no trip is complete if you don't get a photograph of it.
Tags: japan, place, rl

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