Sunday, April 26, 2009


Had a lovely time this weekend with my friends + Walter at Hatsu Beach near Okagaki/Ongawara/Ebitsu. We did beach (complete with violent sand), bathtime, izakaya (bar/restaurant), and karaoke. I'm still a terrible singer and my band is falling apart.

The world as we know it is ending slowly as everyone is dying off and the weather is at this point wholly unpredictable and the developed nations sink into depression, but I feel pretty great and I have a lot to look forward to. I'll be going home for a couple weeks in the summer and bringing Miho from Tagawa with me. She loves America more than most red-blooded Texans and it makes my trip home twice as meaningful to show her around Albany and NYC, making her dream of New York City night views and big American style homes come true.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

The magic of drunkenness looks much less magical through sober eyes.

It amazes me that anyone has fun at my school's nijikais without being at least "pretty drunk." The wrinkly 50 year old hostesses, bagged snack foods presented on plastic dishes that try to look like glass, and crappy whiskey/water cocktails would prevent me from enjoying myself. Luckily, they beered me up nicely, and so I felt the magic in the room when we were all screaming some stupid drinking song. Then I came home and realized the sad futility of life, especially for the teachers at my high school. Work=life.

Monday, April 13, 2009

a slice of Italy in Tagawa?

Japan sure has an interesting relationship with Europe. The Western style restaurants that aren't desperately trying to be America are desperately trying to be Italy. Like Huis Ten Bosch (which wants to be the Netherlands), most of these Italian restaurants are far too shiny and pristine to be like the real thing, and rely on glass bottles of fake olive oil suspended from ceilings and wax produce for their authenticity. Most serve some variation of spaghetti (with seaweed and fried eggs) or pizza or the magic "doria," which is basically a bowl of mushy stuff with runny cheese on it.

Tonight Wizard Bob and I were trying to find a restaurant after our English conversation class ended, and we came across this little place with no sign that looked like an empty wine bar. Well, turned out they serve REALLY awesome Italian food. Now I'm no expert, having never been to the hallowed hooker-boot-shaped land of hairy women men and Vespas, but I would say that for food cooked by a little Japanese man who's never lived abroad, this was pretty damn authentic. I got some pork thing (pictured above) and it was fantastic - the perfect balances of garlic and pepper in the sauce, the green veggies were cooked just right, and the meat was really tender and tasty. Wizard Bob is a HUGE food snob - possibly a worse offender than my ex Mike (who introduced me to the world of expensive gourmet food) - and he approved enthusiastically, so it wasn't just classless me getting all excited that it was better than Ruby Tuesday. Anyway, I thought you should know.

Also, the plague monstrosity has returned. Cicadas, curse them for all eternity. I never knew a creature lacking mouthparts could be so awful. Words cannot describe the horror of having heard that familiar screeching sound tonight as I was walking to dinner. I am absolutely not sticking around here during summer holidays.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Sunday, April 5, 2009

This Is Not This Is Not Miami.

You've of course heard "This Is Not Miami" by Sander Kleinenberg.

Well, I like this one better.

Samael, "On Earth"

Before we could talk we were singing
Before we could run we were dancing
Life is short but not a day is lost
The world goes round and round
And we go on and on

Beijing to Amsterdam
Berlin to Buenos Aires
Sydney to L.A.
Rio to Abidjan
Stockholm to Athena
Dublin to Guatemala
London to Brasilia
Madrid to Philadelphia

Paris to San Fransisco
Detroit to Warszawa
Moscow to Mexico
Oslo to New Delhi
Helsinki to New Orleans
Vienna to Ankara
Roma to Lisboa
On earth, we're all...

Dancing with a hidden tribe
Learning to move and fly
Touching the sky with our hands
Longing to love to understand
Dancing with a hidden tribe
Learning to move and fly
Touching the sky with our hands
Longing to love to understand

New York to Tokyo
Melbourne to Budapest
Prague to Jaipur
Shanghai to Montreal
Vancouver to Singapore
Sofia to Johannesburg
Hong Kong to St. Petersburg
On earth, we're all...

Dancing with a hidden tribe
Learning to move and fly
Touching the sky with our hands
Longing to love to understand
Dancing with a hidden tribe
Learning to move and fly
Touching the sky with our hands
Longing to love to understand

Uploaded for you here! Beware of heavy Swiss-French accented English and growly vocals.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

GG Allin

Late to the party as always.

I've been reading Apocalypse Culture at work during downtime (of which there is an endless supply) and one of the little chapters is about GG Allin.

GG Allin was a punk rocker. GG Allin took laxatives before shows, shat on stage and then ate his shit or threw it at the audience. GG Allin went to prison for allegedly slicing up a groupie's tits. GG Allin wrote hundreds of songs with inspiring titles like "I'm Gonna Rape You," "Fucking The Dog," and "I Wanna Fuck Myself." GG Allin died of a heroin overdose, and at his funeral they kept his corpse as was - bloated and bloody - and fans did all sorts of things to the body that would normally be viewed as "desecration."

His music sucks but I definitely buy into his legacy of transgressive shit-slinging and self-destruction. He didn't just write lyrics about chopping ladies up and shoving things into his urethra. He did it for himself. Fuck the fans.

If you want, here's "Dirty Love Songs."

Album cover image linked because it's NSFW