About Shogo Onoe

I am an artist, a seeker and a confessor, obligated to truth and sincerity.

Good-Bye And Good Luck to the Stupid Job

He drinks a bottle of coke and is looking at the outside painfully for seconds. And then he lets in, “Shogo, I would like to share my worst experiences of ulcerative colitis attacks with you. Do you remember that we were in Acapulco four years ago when I first got UC attack? It was the second nights. When we came back to the house from the night club, everyone was so tired and went to beds to sleep right away. I was so tired too, but I felt strange sensation on my stomach. I tried to ignore it and fall asleep. After thirty minutes passed, I suddenly wanted to go to a bathroom. I tried to get up and lift my ass carefully, but it was too late, brother. I couldn’t hold shit, and it scattered all over the bed. It was so humiliating, you know – I was helpless. I just couldn’t hold it. My stomach totally lost control. It was a fucking nightmare!”

I totally understand how he felt that night, since I actually have the same illness, and I have had the same sorts of horrible experiences; however, I cannot refrain from bursting out laughing and let myself laugh uproariously. After I laugh my head off, I reply with tears of laughter in my eyes, “Sorry amigo, I’m laughing so much. Please forgive me. But don’t worry about your misfortune, because I completely understand how you felt and how humiliated you were that night. It’s impossible for you to hold it when you get UC attack. But allow me to ask you – how did it happen, amigo? Because we slept in the same room with Gerardo and Gabriel, and nobody noticed anything unusual.”

He explains abashedly, “Because I cleaned and washed the goddamn sheet and blanket myself in the bathroom surreptitiously.”

I am still laughing like a madman. “Was it really true?” I tease him, “you washed them in the crack of morning. Did you tiptoe out of the room? Sorry man, but it’s one of funniest things I have ever heard in my life. Heaven, it’s so hilarious!”

“Oh, please, Shogo, stop laughing. I’m so serious and worried about the stupid illness and caca!”

Pause.

“Pay attention, brother, I haven’t finished it yet,” he continues, “the other horrible incident occurred while I was driving for a job interview. In my despair I was caught by a traffic jam, what a bad luck! You know how terrible Mexican traffic jam is – it’s unbelievable. Anyway, I couldn’t move due to the fucking traffic jam, and suddenly, my stomach got a familiar and detestable sensation. Can you imagine that I got UC attack in the middle of the traffic jam? I was so panicked, man! I couldn’t get off the car and couldn’t find any fucking bathroom. And it was too late. While I was panic-stricken to find the way out, shit was shooting out like an avalanche. I couldn’t hold it; actually, it was impossible for a human being to hold it. I gathered all my superhuman strength to hold it and squeezed my ass with all my might, but the calamity of UC attack was ineluctable. And the worst part was that I surrendered to the forthcoming disgrace with dismay, ah!”

“Ha-ha-ha…. Oh my God! What a humiliating blow!” I am guffawing. “You got UC attack in the middle of traffic jam? Heaven, you don’t say! It was helpless, man. What happened then? Did you go to the job interview?”

“Idiot!” he screams. “Are you out of your mind? How could I go to the job interview with shit on my pants? No, brother, I didn’t go to the stupid job interview. I called them and said I don’t want to take a fucking job anymore. Good-bye and good luck to the stupid job. With that, I hung up. I had to endure such an unpleasant feeling over two hours to get home to wash myself. Can you imagine that shit was in my pants for two hours? I opened all the windows to let the fresh air in, but it didn’t work. The smell was repulsive. My BMW was contaminated by my own caca, so to speak. It was abhorrent and humiliating!”

The Same Old Song And Dance

I am being on the way to the office for paying a visit to Jorgito. His life has changed somewhat since Heather’s arrival. He has rented an apartment and lived with her in Queretaro for two weeks. However, during a week, he stays at his parents’ house in Mexico City due to his business.

It is getting around 7:00 p.m. when I come to the office. As soon as I emerge from the threshold, Jorgito’s face brightens. He welcomes me jubilantly, “Thanks for stopping by, brother! I know you’re very busy with writing, but you know, I want to talk with you and miss you so much. Now you no longer spend time with us anymore due to your mission as a writer. I know you have to write every day to finish your book as soon as possible, but I want to enjoy my life with you while you’re in Mexico, you know….”

“Don’t worry, Jorgito, this is my break time, so you’re not disturbing me. And also, you should know that you’re always welcome,” I point out amiably, “remember, amigo, I’m always available for you. But you should understand that this is my big chance to change my life, and I must complete writing the book in a month.”

“Of course, I understand you thoroughly,” he nods and goes on, “I really want to read your book as soon as possible. I hope you can complete it soon, so that we can sail in a table dance, ha-ha-ha…. By the way, how is your stomach? Getting better?”

“Yes, it’s much better; thanks for asking,” I say happily, “my stomach is indeed getting better. The good thing is now that I don’t need to be worried about diarrhea anymore!”

“Shogo, remember when we had a job, we constantly had ulcerative colitis attack. We had to go to a fucking bathroom over six times a day. It was horrendous. I know every doctor says they don’t know the cause of illness, but I’m pretty sure that stress makes our illness worse. Look, amigo, I’m now free as a lord and work for myself, and you, too, you’re free and doing what you love every day. And our digestions are getting better. What do you think?”

“I totally agree with you, amigo,” I am nodding contemplatively. “In Japan, too, every doctor told me the same old song and dance that they don’t know why and how I got ulcerative colitis at the first place. But I’m sure, it’s because of stress.”

You Are An Artist

Several days later, he came back to the apartment, with full of bruises and cuts on all over his body after the first practice of American football. He turned on the light and shouted at the top of his lungs, notwithstanding it was past 1:00 a.m., “Heartless son of bitch! Are you sleeping? Couldn’t you wait for your friend’s return from the first practice?”

The sharp light made me wholly awake. And I shouted annoyingly, “Son of bitch! Do you know what time it is?”

“Ha-ha-ha…. Sorry my friend, I know it’s too late, but I need to talk and share my first experience with you.”

I calmed down a bit and said, “Don’t be sorry, I know you, my friend. And sorry for falling asleep. I was too exhausted due to writing. I wrote so many pages today and got a gratified headache. Anyway, how was it going on? Did you enjoy playing it?”

He was looking at the outside for a while and revealed his shame by howling, “Hell no! What a humiliation! I didn’t understand why I chose this particular sport. Oh my God, Shogo, you can’t believe it. They’re too strong and huge! They knocked me down countless times as if I were a blade of grass. I didn’t expect that I was hurled to the sky so easily. They hurt my pride of manhood, you know, anyway. Look at my body, my friend. I got full of bruises and cuts on all over my body. Look at my right arm, Christ, it’s bleeding!”

Of course, he has never started jogging after work as he proudly announced. Every time I come back to the apartment from my night perambulation, the same scene is repeated. He always watches his favourite TV show, Playboy Mansion by touching himself. I should tell you here that he has a disgusting habit to touch himself, as if he could not do anything without checking on his stallion every two minutes. And I would say, “What happened, man? Did you jog today?”

He would denigrate insolently, “Of course, I didn’t, man. I’m so tired – you should’ve understood the reality better! I have to work hard to pay rent, you know. If I don’t work and just jog around La Condesa every day like Rocky Balboa, who will pay the rent? Who will be taking care of you? I know you think that everyone ought to support you, nourish you along until you are recognized as a writer. You never think that you might take a job meanwhile. Oh no, it isn’t your way. You have important messages to contribute to the world, so you’re not supposed to waste your precious time. You are an artist. Well, downrightly you are, for all I know. You’re living in the totally different world, Shogo. But the rest of us have to work, man! Do you really think that jogging around La Condensa is able to earn daily bread? Think harder about what you’re insinuating, son of bitch! Think twice before opening your stupid mouth, shame on you!”

“Ha-ha-ha, idiot. I just said it because you, yourself announced you would be jogging every day after work, not me, remember? Anyway, please stop touching yourself. It makes me nauseated, man!”

“What is wrong with me to check Gerardo Jr. every five seconds? Is that against the law? I don’t think so, man, ha-ha-ha…. By the way, Shogo, look at TV. Oh my God, she is so beautiful. Her name is Sara Underwood. She is my dream girl. What do you think about her?”

“I guess she is okay and has a pretty face,” I would reply indifferently.

“What? Are you crazy? Look at her closely, man. She is an angel. I tell you, my friend. She is the most exquisite vagina whom my eyes have ever laid on. She has perfect tits and a knockout ass. To cap it all, she has the seraphic face. Golly, her ass, man, I simply can’t keep my eyes off her ass, you know. Yeah! A wonderful piece of ass – and also, I can’t look at her without having tremendous erection, ha-ha-ha….”

Yes, Gerardo is very fine. He is everlastingly obsessed with women, and he has not changed a wee bit since the first time I met him ten years ago.

I Really Need To Change

Gerardo is now moving on. He does not cry for Andrea anymore, and he stops singing a melancholic song at once; he is having an amorous time with Jessica. He confessed to me, “Shogo, I’ve started to love Jessica. And now we’re dating more seriously than before. I still have a tiny feeling toward Andrea, I admit, but what can I do about that? Just say adieu to my old sweetheart and let it go at all once, I guess. Anyway, God has bequeathed a New York vagina to me – Jessica is a New Yorker, you know… lucky me, ha-ha-ha….” 

While his quest of a true love is getting progress, he lugubriously felt that something was missing in his life. One day he came back to the apartment with a heart full of excitement and announced as proud as a peacock, “What? Are you still writing? Shogo, you need to take a break, man. I don’t want to disturb you, but you got listen to me. Do you remember what I told you five days ago? I told you that I need to find something I really like, so that I could be happier. In short, I’ve decided to join an American football team. I’ve already signed up and bought all football equipment and gear which are in my car, so I’ll show them to you later.”

I was so astonished by his foolishness and admonished, “Idiot, are you out of your mind? Do you really think that you can play American football? Look at yourself, man! You are as weak as a sad autumn fallen leaf. And on the top of it all, your legs are as thin as chop sticks. They’ll smash you as if you were a tiny cockroach. It’s sheer suicide, my friend. Do you really think that you’re able to compete with strong muscle dicks? For the love of God, please consider it again!”

“Shout up, man! Do you really think that I’m not strong enough to withstand their tackles? You’ll see how strong I am. You won’t believe in your own eyes how I’ll knock muscle son of bitches about like ninepins. Indeed, I can brow them into the thin air by a single fart, as if a cannonball blasted right beside them, so to speak. You’ll see, my friend!”

“Okay, okay, cool down, idiot. If you say so, I’m not going to stop you. Anyway, how much did you pay for all of them?”

“I paid seven thousand and five-hundred pesos.”

“What? It’s too expensive, man!” I exclaimed.

“I know, my friend, but listen to me,” he lit a cigarette and made clean breast of his conviction, “I really need to change. I really want to try something I truly love. I’ve loved watching American football games since I was a little boy; however, I had never dared to play it. I have to tell you the truth. Because of you, Shogo, you’ve inspired me. Since you came back to Mexico City, you’ve written the book relentlessly like a blissful moonstruck. I thought I should start something I truly love, so that I could get the same zeal toward life as you.”

Pause.

“As you wish, my friend. By the way, I’m happy for you, because you’ve finally started doing what you really love,” I drunk a cold Fresca and asked, “how many days are you going to practise it a week?”

“Thanks, my friend. I’m so excited,” he smiled and gushed with pride, “I’m going to practice it twice a week from 10:00 p.m. to 12:00 a.m. I know it’s too late, but I have no choice, because other teams are using a field. Furthermore, I swear to my sweet Jessica, I’ll start jogging around La Condesa after work every day. As you correctly observed, my legs are not strong enough right now, but in a month, you won’t recognize me, for I’ll be as strong as Clerk Kent, ha-ha-ha….”

I Am Feeling So Alive!

March has been coming with scent of hyacinths. Trees are soughing ecstatically as if heaven and earth were rocking. I have still been staying at Gerardo’s apartment. A month has elapsed quickly since my triumphant return from Los Angeles. Needless to say, I am happy as an adolescent Pan and feel like being on the top of the world. I wake up with a full of vigour every day, for I have a great task to tackle it: writing a book. My book has been bigger and bigger each day, and I am feeling that my journey of writing Seeking the Meaning of Life reaches to the end very soon. All in all, I have started being in love with Mexico and regarding that Mexico is one of my sweet homes. What I love Mexico the most is the weather. Now it is the middle of March, and the bright sun dances on the God’s heaven every day. Mighty sunshine always baths my whole being as if heavenly Father himself nourished me. I need only a t-shirt and jeans to stroll around La Condesa. Thank God, I am feeling so alive!

Since my return from Los Angeles, I have been committing to myself with body and soul and following my program diligently. I have to wake up at nine sharp, eat breakfast, go to Starbucks to write for three hours, amble around La Condesa to lapse into reverie, sit on a bench to contemplate the fountain, eat lunch, head back to the apartment to write for another three hours, saunter to Galerías Polanco to eat dinner, ensconce in a comfortable couch at Starbuck in order to relax with sweet music, and stride back to the apartment to write for another two hours. At the end of day, I always feel exhausted, as Elijah the prophet after challenging the forty-five hundred priests of Baal imported by Jezebel to a contest at Mt. Carmel to prove whose god is the true God. However, it is a good feeling for me to burn out like that, and I feel contented with the progress, that I have made each day.