roman candles in Porno Park

*names have been changed to protect the innocent and not-so-innocent alike.

we decided that the other side of the dry-grassy park, the shady side with the concrete benches, would be a better place to take our party, out of the skin-charring sun. we gingerly took our 1400yen Home Wide special grill to the other side and set down all of the barbecue equipment, tennis balls, hula hoops, food and
"HAHAHA you guys look behind this bench! they've got porn!" we checked inside the box. "only chicks though. plus the DVD itself's gone."

in the tradition of *Melvin and Brendan naming Osaka parks after the activities that go on there (e.g. Blowjob Park and Sex Park), we dubbed the abandoned grassy area with its odd cylindrical sculptures with decades-abandoned colorful paint, Porno Park.

i hadn't played catch or used a hula hoop in 10 or maybe even 15 years, easily. but we brought them out for the day to try our luck through the haze of our hangovers.

we'd decided on this barbecue in a rather drunken state the night before; in fact i had to call Melvin in the morning and ask "so did i drunkenly hallucinate this, or is this barbecue thing really happening?" and it was. damn it to hell, it was even though the 1400yen Home Wide special grill and the mokutan charcoal that Mika, Hiro and Kenji had made me ask the saleslady for to practice my Japanese, wasn't taking to fire so well.

"Kenji, leave the grill alone! it'll heat up if you just leave it alone!" Linda let out a sigh of exasperation mixed with amusement at her new pyromaniacal friend. Kenji pretended not to understand and continued poking at the charcoals.

a cargo barge glided into the nearby harbor. "ooh" i hope it's Russians! hello, Russians!" Melvin waved to the boat. this degenerated into our bizarre habit of impersonating Russian lesbians from the TaTu song we're so fond of singing at karaoke.

the conversation veered to sex, as it often does. "you know..." Skywalker mused. "when you shave your nuts in the summer... there's nothing like it." in our loopy starving and hangover-cured-by-more alcohol states, this was hilarious. it still is.

the inevitable "i have never" drinking games commenced. the guy from the karaoke place the night before seriously creeped us the hell out. he hasn't called me again. thank god.

i plucked away at my guitar while Kenji talked on the phone to his girlfriend please don't stop being my friend i have obligations to her, you understand?. fireworks shot off in the distance, legit ones ignited by the city. i continued plucking and strumming, what else could i do while i was forced to disvow all of the knowing gazes and conversations of the past month...

when he finally hung up the phone, he sat down next to me.
"genki?" am i fine? for fuck's sake i have feelings for you, you know this, and yet you have "obligations" she's an angel with a harp and a halo well i have a sparkler and a guitar how's that? what the fuck do you think?
i smiled my best rueful smile. "mochiron, Ken-kun. why wouldn't i be?"

i sang the song i'd written in honor of Skywalker's departure. it was well-received by the departing one. it occurred to me at some point that this was the first time i'd be saying goodbye to someone who'd been with me for The Duration......

when the city fireworks ended, we lit sparklers and roman candles, the kind to which Kerouac likened the Mad Ones, the Mad Ones he loved and cherished so much the way i do.

i felt elated. i felt like shit. i felt alive. i raised my roman candle to the sky. "i'm the Statue of Fuckin' Liberty!"

eventually we attracted the attention of the police. they told us sparklers were ok, but not roman candles or anything that made a noise. whatever. we'd burned all the roman candles anyway.