Can You Write Me a New Story?

The Ongoing Diary of Casey Neal Can You Write Me a New Story? (April 2020) It is late morning, and although a cold front has crossed into Japan overnight and brought with it cloud cover and a temperature in the mid-forties, Ichihara has decided to take a walk.  I am tagging along beside him, but […]

It’s the World that is Small

The Ongoing Diary of Casey Neal It is the world that is small. (April 2020) Diego Rúbio may well be the poster child for what baseball is on its way to becoming. I probably hit on this thought because as I was coming to the ballpark today, I was thinking that I came to Japan […]

Go Watch Baseball

The Ongoing Diary of Casey Neal Go Watch Baseball (March 2020) We walked back through Higashi Kawaguchi in silence, following Ichihara’s lead. It felt like the city parted before us, letting us by without so much as a cricket’s chirp in comment. Ichihara slept on the train, short though the trip was. He laid his […]

I’ve Been Afraid Before

The Ongoing Diary of Casey Neal I’ve Been Afraid Before (March 2020) I thought about running. It was what I absolutely most wanted to do. We could make it, I thought for just that moment, perhaps as a boy of 12 might think when caught doing the wrong thing.  We could run back, back through […]

Ichihara Does Not Lose Well

The Ongoing Diary of Casey Neal Ichihara Does Not Lose Well (March 2020) “Are you okay-dough-kay?” DK leans over and says to me. We’re sitting at a bar, drinking vodka that’s flavored with something coarse and gingery.  It’s getting late, and the music is gaining volume.  Some kids are playing a new thing called Videorama, […]

Returning

The Ongoing Diary of Casey Neal Returning (March 2020) I returned to Japan (or should I say I was returned to Japan), to find Chief Inspector Yuni Ichihara in a state of deep funk.  I had called him with the news, of course, so when I came back with the photos I had been allowed […]

A Real Cyril Takayama

The Ongoing diary of Casey Neal A Real Cyril Takayama (March 2020) “Casey Neal,” the voice said with an accent that you could not miss. I hung up, and was doing a quick check of all the things I might have done to piss the Russians off.  Couldn’t think of a thing. My last stories […]