.  .  .  I went to Mr. S’s and was a bit bewildered by his ecstatic welcome despite being from there myself. It was without a doubt exposing his certain Tsugaru nature. As soon as we entered the house, Mr. S. took to rapidly ordering his wife about… “do this… do that!” directing her to attend to things around the house.

“Hey yo! I brought you a guest from Tokyo. Finally, I brought him. This is the guy I’ve been telling you about. Dazai. Come over and say hello to him. Come on now, quickly, and pay homage to him. While you’re at it, bring sake. 

Oh wait! The sake’s gone! Bring me apple wine…, whaaaat?! Only a bottle left?  That’s not enough! Go buy two more bottles. Wait! Strip the dry cod hanging in the veranda. Wait! That one… over there! And you gotta tenderize it with a hammer before you strip it…, or else it’s nothing! Wait! That’s not how you do it…, damn! I’ll do it. When you pound a cod, it’s like this…, like this… Aaah, fuck! That hurts. Okay, like this…, okay?  .  .  .  

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