little satans

11 hours left in Japan.

2011-07-31T04:39:00.004+09:00

My scheduled departure from Fukuoka to Seoul is 16:45 and it is currently about 5:30 a.m. I am making excellent headway as far as packing and apartment preparation goes - I might even be able to sleep for a couple hours. This is my second all-nighter in a row and I suspect I will sleep like a dead baby most of the flight home.

I don't have feelings obviously but if I had to use emotionally based language to describe what's going on, I'd say it's a kind of deep sadness not dissimilar to how it feels the few days after a breakup. I have been purposely overstimulating myself with booze and lack of rest so that I can hide behind it (and look awful in all the photos).

There's something incredibly moving and awe-inspiring about watching the sun rise. I have grown to associate it with a successful night out, with a tinge of sadness that it's over. I guess the three year long wild night that was my time in Japan is seeing the sun rise.

Funemployed

2011-07-27T20:16:00.002+09:00

That's me. Funemployed. This morning I went to the immigration office and downgraded my visa from a 3 year working visa to "temporary visitor." I packed up my things from my desk at school and at 4:30 this afternoon was escorted out the door by a hodge-podge group of teachers and a few students (there was hardly anyone in the building).

I came home and had a nice big cathartic cry, something I haven't done at all during the entire process of farewells and goodbyes. It's been overwhelming and surreal, and a large part of me is fighting the inevitable huge changes that lie ahead. I still have a couple days left in Japan so I'm going to enjoy myself and look forward and spend my time with the folks I care about.

Above all else I am dreading the loss of my social circle that revolves around Oldies. I went there for dinner last night - Miho made me a chimichanga - and we sat listening to the '80s satellite radio channel, uncomfortably skirting around the issue of me leaving. She is a dear friend, a sister, and possibly the kindest person I've ever met. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't fuck around pretending to care about people. I know of course we will see each other in the future and stay in touch, but it's not the same when I can't walk 20 minutes down the street to say hey.

Two lives, one heart, we all knew it was gonna be hard.

Farewell speech

2011-07-16T00:53:00.002+09:00

How are you? I say "I'm fine" but to be perfectly honest, I am very sad. It's been three years and my time here is coming to a close. I cannot fathom that on the 31st of this month, I will be back in New York.

My time here has been interesting and full of unique, one-of-a-kind experiences. I really enjoyed teaching English classes. I also relished the opportunities I had to talk with students and teachers outside of class and work. Everyone here has been so helpful, and I have learned many things. Before I came to Japan, I was nervous at the prospect of living in a foreign country. However, once I got here, everyone welcomed me with great kindness.

I was surprised at how truly generous the people in Japan, particularly Chikuhou, are. I have never experienced this degree of kindness in my life, and this was probably the greatest culture shock of all. I do, however, believe that people across cultures are fundamentally the same. Generosity and selflessness are virtues that anyone can possess. It is simply a choice you make.

You may not have donated a million yen to charity or personally saved a dying man's life, but there are many everyday situations in which human kindness shows. I often see you out and about eschewing selfishness in favor of altruism and helping others. You are helping a blind man find a seat on the train, staying up late consoling a friend who is upset, and bringing vegetables from the family garden to share with your coworkers.

I don't care what your priorities are. Perhaps you love to speak English and are interested in living abroad. Maybe you're not the academic type and prefer sports or music. Whatever. The important thing is that you live your life as a good person and show love and kindness in your own way. I wish you all the best in whatever you choose to do.

Not surprisingly, it will be considerably harder for me to leave Japan than it was to move here. I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to all the students, teachers and staff who looked after me and welcomed me so warmly into my beloved Japanese life. Because of you, I have grown to truly identify as part of the community at school and in town. It will be impossible to walk away without feeling great sorrow. I have two lives, but I only have one heart. I will miss you deeply, but I know we will persevere and keep on living. Life is short so please give it your all. Thank you.

One month of contract left

2011-06-27T12:58:00.003+09:00

Life is too short not to eat cold noodle soup on a hot summer day.

I can't believe the end is so near. More on this when I don't feel like the walking dead.

Adventures in pictures

2011-06-14T11:30:00.002+09:00

Jinkosai festival in Tagawa, May 21 - Chris got pulled into the river.

Shinsaibashi, Osaka - guy passed out on the floor near a slot machine in a capsule hotel common area.

My high school's culture festival; during the "Fashion Show" component some jock boys put on bunny ears and pleated skirts in homage to AKB48, a festering bedsore of a girl group slowly eating Japan's pop culture world.

Holly and Walter, about to embark on an epic donut eating adventure mere minutes after we all ate a whole pizza each.

The musicians at the last Oldies concert. The finality of having played there for the last time left a big spiderweb crack on the windshield of my heart.

I'm going home!

2011-05-26T09:36:00.003+09:00

Bought my one-way ticket home last night. Korean Air via Seoul to JFK, KE085. It was a truly underwhelming experience and I was in a foul mood when I purchased it. July 31st it is, love it, hate it. I naturally feel both emotions at warp level intensity.

LOVE:
Happy reunion with my folks.
Better selection at supermarkets.
Able to start fresh and prepare for the Big Move to Austin.
English everywhere.
Wearing clothes with a "S" in the size tag.
Makeup, daily goods etc are cheaper.
Driving my car.
Hanging out with old friends and rekindling my social life.
Better coffee with free refills.
Delicious salads.
Pleasant summer weather as opposed to oppressive heat and humidity.

HATE:
Fat unhealthy people with entitlement complexes.
Getting stared at and objectified in public by men.
Crappy and sparse public transit/sidewalks.
Dealing with the rift that 3 years has inevitably placed between me and old friends.
People are spawning and/or have spawned and I hate babies.
Having to deal with the "designated driver" question if I want to go out for drinks.
Gas is $4/gallon and the car only gets 18 mpg.
Sharing living space with people for the foreseeable future.
Looking a bit different as opposed to fitting in 100% lookswise.
Not having a super secure job that pays well.
Missing my Japanese friends, people I've met, and way of life.

Fruits

2011-05-16T13:55:00.003+09:00

...nope

...yessssss.

I'm talking about citrus fruits in all their Vitamin C-rich glory. Perhaps later there will be an addendum about why Japanese grapes suck, but for now please enjoy my candid reviews of ten citrus fruits you can find here.

#1. DEKOPON デコポン
Dekopon are the best goddamn fruit in the entire world. They look like smallish oranges and usually have a nipple-like protrusion on the top, and are the result of the engineered mating of kiyomi (mikan + orange) and ponkan ("Chinese honey orange," in fact a tangerine relative). Grown almost exclusively in Japan, dekopon are extremely sweet and seedless. Apparently dekopon were introduced to U.S. markets just this year under the name "sumo."

#2. MIKAN みかん
Possibly the most well-known of the J-citrus fruits, mikan are called "satsuma" or "seedless mandarin" in the West. They are sweet and delicate, easy to peel, and while not always seedless it is rare for a mikan to contain more than a couple. Mikan are by far the most popular Japanese domestic citrus fruit, accounting for more than half of the cultivation areas in the country.

#3. IYOKAN いよかん
The iyokan is garbage. The flesh is dry and bears little if any flavor, and it's certainly not sweet. I don't know why it's the second most widely produced citrus fruit in Japan; it's like a crappy grapefruit that wants to be an orange. Oh well, the more you know!

#4. AMANATSU 甘夏
Grown mainly in Kumamoto and Ehime, amanatsu is a step above iyokan but just barely. It peels easily and doesn't make too much of a mess, but each fruit (marginally smaller than a grapefruit) contains ~30 seeds, which makes it a laborious process to eat fresh.

#5. YUZU ゆず
For whatever reason, yuzu skin and juice comprise an extremely popular flavoring agent, but the fruit is almost never eaten fresh. Salad dressing, dipping sauce for stewed meat, hard liquor, dessert sauces, vinegar, hot beverages...few winter foods escape the distinctive, zesty tartness of yuzu. I'm not a proponent but apparently a whole lot of Japanese people would disagree.

#6. JUICY FRUIT ジューシーフルーツ
I have no idea what a "juicy fruit" is called in English. I'd compare it to a large grapefruit with pale yellow flesh. The flavor is slightly sour but overall sweet. When ripe it peels very easily, and it definitely lives up to its name - have a hand towel or napkin handy to clean up the inevitable mess.

#7. BUNTAN 文旦
In English, buntan are "Chinese grapefruit" or "pomelo." In Japan, they are expensive gift fruit. They're big, pale yellow things with thick skin that requires a knife (or really sturdy stiletto nails) to peel. Once you get inside, you are rewarded with dryish flesh chock full of seeds. You've already worked so hard to get in there that you go through the effort to remove the seeds and convince yourself that the bitter tartness is luxurious.

#8. MINNEOLA ミンネオーラ
The minneola is a tangerine hybrid of Floridan descent but has made its way onto the shelves at supermarkets everywhere, replacing the winter staples mikan and dekopon. Like dekopon, minneola have a nub/nipple/bump, but they are thin-skinned and so juicy that it's rare for them to survive peeling without dripping everywhere. The juice is very sweet, but they fall apart too easily and leave you wishing you had a mikan or dekopon instead.

#9. SUN FRUIT/SUN QUEEN サンフルーツ/サンクイーン
Another popular import from Florida, these are referred to as "Seminole fruit" in English. They bear resemblance to Minneola but are much seedier and more expensive. It is an exercise in futility to sit there pulling 5 teeny tiny seeds out of each wedge of a messy little thing barely the size of a Clementine.

#10. U.S. IMPORTED NAVEL ORANGES/RUBY RED GRAPEFRUITS
As you might expect. Usually California grown. The age old argument/local pride joke is that California oranges are for eatin' and Florida ones are for juicin'.

I'm a Laura!

2011-05-15T22:25:00.004+09:00

Today, a sunny Sunday, my talented friend Laura G came over to my house in Tagawa. We ate apples and oatmeal and made joyful noise on violin, ukelele and melodica, practicing our cheeky covers setlist for a Japan tsunami relief concert next month. It was so great to have another person to bounce ideas and harmonies off of. Music and friendship - they add meaning to my life. Noteworthy: today also marked my very first daytime visitor to my house in three years of living here. Three YEARS, one daytime visitor. No one ever wants to come out here since I'm so far removed from the hustle and bustle of "things to do" and "civilization." I'm glad somebody finally did.

Too bad our roads are forking so soon, or else we'd get a ton of shirts printed saying "The Lauras." I refuse to let this go.

Laura blogs at Ichigone, by the by.

Make it so

2011-04-29T10:53:00.002+09:00

Walter and I have recently become completely obsessed with Star Trek: The Next Generation. We are planning on attending the world's largest Star Trek convention in Las Vegas in the summer. I want to learn some Klingon.

What is happening?

Practice in the dark

2011-04-21T21:36:00.000+09:00

Shortlisted!

2011-04-20T13:42:00.003+09:00

The JET application process is a big fat multi-tiered layer cake of bureaucracy and paper pushing, and it all culminates the day results are released. Applicants are placed in one of three categories: (A) Shortlisted aka "Welcome to Japan;" (B) Rejected aka "You fail;" or (C) Alternated aka "We're going to drag out the waiting game indefinitely, welcome to hell." I got a message at a JET-related website (which I may or may not have nearly 26,000 posts on...) a couple days back from someone whose cover letter essay I proofread back in December announcing excitedly that he had been shortlisted. Great job, slugger!

I can't believe it's been three years since I received notice of my applicant status. Like 9/11 or my first clubbing experience in Berlin, that moment is burned into my brain all flashbulb-like. I was at Pizzeria Uno of all places with my best friend and this Chinese dude who was explaining that Shanghai girls uniformly fall all over themselves when he walks into a room (unlikely). Got a phone call from Walter saying JET applicant results were out. He was alternated so I was nearly certain I had either been alternated or rejected, but after having him check my email, it turns out I had been shortlisted! I was beside myself with excitement but naturally had to downplay it so as not to rub salt in his gaping wounds. The minute I hung up the phone I yelled "I'M GOING TO JAPAN, OH MY GOOOODDDDD" in an uncharacteristically girly squeal, and my friends were happy for me.

Walter ended up being upgraded from alternate status a couple weeks before I left the United States. Prior to this great news there had been crying and stressing over the possibility of a future, and it was always lurking there shitting on my parade. Similarly to the "shortlisted!" phone call, I remember it perfectly. I was driving to the bar with a friend and nearly swerved off the road when he broke the news over the phone. Just another excellent notch on my already-charmed life. I celebrated a lot and probably shouldn't have driven home from the bar that night.

It's really fun to think about all this, now that I've got just over three months left in Japan and the next big mystery is imminent. Why is it so much easier to wax nostalgic over the past or to fantasize far into the future than to concentrate on the present?

Dead dandelions

2011-04-11T00:41:00.001+09:00

There's nothing sadder than when you pick flowers and come home at the end of the day and they're all wilted and sad looking. Still, even dead flowers bring life!

A mother in Japan

2011-04-07T21:25:00.001+09:00

The cutest!

2011-03-31T00:01:00.002+09:00

"Happy Doll" sundae from Baskin Robbins, with "Easter Party" flavor ice cream.

Checking in

2011-03-30T11:39:00.002+09:00

As I write this, my mom is cooking a sweet potato at my apartment while I'm at work. On Monday she cleaned the kitchen unexpectedly while I was gone. I like having someone to come home to and hang out with, and I'll be pretty bummed when she leaves tomorrow. We did a lot of traveling and there are a lot of photos to back up this claim, which I will show you soon. I've been better, but I've been a WHOLE lot worse in these past few weeks. Perhaps the onset of spring is making life easier, or perhaps it's that I have decided to quit dieting and start living. Realizing that if something doesn't change I will be both huge and looking at a full-blown binge eating disorder helps, of course. You can only start from where you are, and your friends will still love you even if you weigh a thousand pounds. I suppose this is my public declaration that I am going to be nice to me. It's about time.

Admiring the Japanese spirit

2011-03-17T17:41:00.002+09:00

By now you've followed the heck out of Kyodo and BBC and Al-Jazeera. As fits the "charmed life" model perfectly, Fukuoka is almost entirely unaffected by the disaster at large. Unlike Kanto and Tohoku areas, we have electricity 24 hours a day, no earthquakes/aftershocks shaking us several times daily, our grocery stores have food on the shelves, and gas stations are operating normally. It is incredibly surreal, and if I believed in survivor guilt I would be feeling it. I don't, though. Instead, I intend to celebrate my own life doubly in thanks that it has been spared.

Today I gave blood. Tomorrow, payday, I will put forward a sizeable chunk of my paycheck toward the relief donation campaign my school is running. I won't waste electricity and I won't stockpile or hoard bottled water or batteries. Life marches on.

That's what I like about the Japanese. Unlike my countrymen who dwell lingeringly on tragedy in a very masturbatory and selfish way, the Japanese accept what befalls them and work together to move beyond it. Their powerful stoicism and strength has reappeared, easily forgotten in a sea of effeminate man-babies, a frustrating educational system and suicide-inducing workaholic corporate culture. Some people misinterpret the "perseverance" attitude as disrespect, but I understand it more as a refusal to break under pressure. In this perseverance I see unmeasurable bravery and pride. No one is running away.

Except the French of course. What's with that?!

Tiny Dancing Man

2011-03-07T22:23:00.003+09:00

This motherfucker is seriously about eighty years old. He hangs out all day long on clear weekend days in the park behind Solaria Stage in Tenjin, Fukuoka, with a boom box and creepy props like this clown mask and a variety of brightly colored gloves. He owns those shiny pants in more than just hot pink I'm told, and he is actually a really bad dancer with little to no sense of rhythm. I'm so glad you don't need a license to street perform in Fukuoka.

"Cafe" music and パリ syndrome

2011-03-01T21:54:00.005+09:00

In Japan, "café" is its own music genre, and it is 99% either chilled-out bossa nova or some sort of quaint take on a French chanson. Essentially, all that is domestic and adorable is equated to France here. There are not enough fingers and toes on all the polydactyl cats in Asia to count the number of twee trinkets, clothing shops, kitchen accessory shops, notebooks, stickers, etc etc etc ad nauseum that boast meaningless French. I don't know what you would call it...with English it's Engrish. Furansuçais?

Either way, it doesn't take a genius to work out that Japan has a boner for France - ah, excusez-moi, "boner" is rather inaccurate - perhaps a giddy wetting of the vaginal walls in preparation for getting boned on tour packages to the French capital. I have done a little traveling in France - been groped and offered cocaine in alleys by its nationals, sipped wine in spectacular vineyards on a beautiful summer day, smoked Gauloises and downed strong coffee, taken that tedious day trip to Monaco - all those things you do in France should you find yourself there. There is romance everywhere and it is a magical place - the Japanese got that right. But it hits a lot of Feudal Nipponese tourists a bit hard when they actually put themselves on a plane to CDG.

パリ/Pari/Paris is every Japanese woman's fantastic candyland of love, and you can't go anywhere in the city without running into gaggles of J-ladies carrying hazardously wide open shopping bags draped over one arm. With so many beautiful buildings, quaint cafés, and incredible shopping and style, the appeal is a no-brainer. About a million Japanese visit Paris in a given year. Unfortunately, as with any enormous city built on tourism and political unrest, there are obstacles that get in the way of Japan's vision of perfect bossa-nova France - sexual harassment, a sizable crime rate, racial and ethnic tension between immigrant groups, bums upchucking on Le Métro, graffiti (heavens, no), etc.

I know this was all over the news five years ago, but as I see it, no modifications in the Japanese attitude toward "café" lifestyle and tacking French onto everything have been made. So I'll leave you with a link to an article describing "Paris syndrome," which basically amounts to "Japanese people going insane from culture shock because their dream visions of Paris have been shattered." It doesn't take a whole lot to make people go crazy here judging by the country's suicide rate, and Paris syndrome doesn't surprise me at all.

(...This all came up because I'm thinking I'd like to go to France again soon. Japan has infected me. I just downloaded half a GB of Putumayo world music albums.)

A slice of home

2011-02-23T22:47:00.002+09:00

My usual Japan order:
Six inch turkey on wheat bread, toasted, with egg, lettuce, tomato, green peppers, onions, pickles, jalapeño peppers, and mustard.

Awaken

2011-02-22T11:45:00.005+09:00

"Awaken" as a word always reminds me of Metalocalypse, particularly of Mustakrakish the Lake Troll.

But awakening is pretty much exactly how I've been feeling over the past few days, as if I had just been dormant and lackluster for those couple cold winter months. I put on five pounds and now I'm taking them off, I feel motivated to do my hair and put on Outfits with a capital O, and overall life just seems pretty awesome. I've got things to do before I leave Japan, and I've got lots of things to do once I get back to America.

I'm stuck in this really funny place between wanting to savor the rest of my time here and just hurry up and get back and re-start my "new" life. It's unbelievable how easily and rapidly you accumulate plans and obligations; every weekend for the next month and a half has been spoken for in some capacity or another. I have concerts to play/attend lined up for every weekend from this Friday through the end of March; my mom is visiting Japan for two weeks during spring holidays, I have a road race to train for in early April, and there's a big gathering in Nagoya the weekend after the race. With all these things to be planning and thinking about, I am still just sitting around watching videos of people eating fried butter at the Texas State Fair and daydreaming about America.

America really isn't that great, but I've built it up in my mind as some kind of wonderland. Nothing makes you love home like living away from it, I guess. Obesity epidemic, tipping culture, culture of unjustified entitlement and all, I have to admit I feel a bit proud of the big honking eagle on my passport. Now if only I could get a nifty burgundy/purple European Union passport too...

Saladface

2011-02-18T10:17:00.001+09:00

Mizuna (水菜), Cheddar cheese, Borlotti beans, Sultana raisins, fresh strawberries, and sesame oil as dressing.

A+.

To The Motherland!

2011-02-10T10:56:00.003+09:00

Well would you look at the time! I'm off to Seoul this afternoon for two full days and three nights of mayhem with a few of my friends living in Japan. None of us have achieved any level of proficiency in Korean; I can barely read hangul and I think I might be the only one who has bothered to learn any emergency phrases ("Dog meat soup, please" - "Bosintang juseyo").

This doesn't feel like any kind of pilgrimage or identity-searching journey though. It's just a long weekend adventuring in a new place with friends. I'm not sure whether to feel sadness at the lack of emotional/personal weight of this trip or to feel relieved that I am just going to eat Pizza Hut and muck around enjoying myself. We are staying at a hostel that shares a building with Dunkin Donuts. My to-eat list for Seoul is quite optimistic and involves a lot of meals-squeezed-between-meals.

1.) Bosintang (dog meat soup)
2.) Pizza Hut
3.) Dunkin Donuts
4.) Korean BBQ with galbi (beef) and samgyeopsal (fatty pork)
5.) Dakgalbi (spicy chicken mixed with veggies and rice cakes)
6.) Tteokbokki (rice cakes in spicy sauce)
7.) Mandu (dumplings)
8.) Japchae (cellophane noodles)
9.) Jajangmyeong (Chinese black bean noodles)
10.) Samgyetang (chicken stuffed with rice and dates)

I am definitely in denial that Seoul is going to be colder than Berlin, which felt as if it bordered on absolute zero outside. I will regret my poor choices in socks and appropriate layers. I suppose I will have to drown my discomfort in hot soup, preferably with dog meat floating in it. Part of me associates eating dog with revenge against all the stupid dogs who have jumped on me, licked my face and hands, scared the crap out of me by barking at me while I walk in the dark, or in recent cases chased me snarling viciously while I run. It also marks a departure from the Western mindset that dogs are somehow precious and not fit for human consumption. Meat is meat; if I could eat babies, I would.

The Motherland, in a few images

2011-02-08T22:16:00.005+09:00

Seoul was an incredible blur of obscene overeating (like 6000 calories a day), blinding neon, pushy crowds, delicious and stylish people, and whirlwind sightseeing. I probably got to eat fewer than one third of the items on my to-eat list. As predicted, the amount of time we were there was just enough to infect us all with the burning urge to get back to Korea ASAP.

I think these photos are pretty well representative of our adventure.

Hey

2011-02-04T20:47:00.004+09:00

Been trying to meet you...

I've fallen in love with yet another song. Going to do my best to do justice to the guitar bends via a borrowed violin at tomorrow's friendly jam session.

I love my pee colored sweater

2011-02-02T23:50:00.003+09:00

Yes, I do. The elbow patches are without a doubt my favorite part - they somehow add tons of personality to what is otherwise an unflattering item of clothing that adds about ten pounds. I got the monster baby on clearance at Zara. The grey pants are from TRIAL which I lovingly refer to as "the Wal-Mart." I slipped and fell on ice today and ripped a hole in the left knee, but it's hardly noticeable. The boots were on super final clearance at the mall tonight for only ¥1000. My kitchen is so fucking messy and my head is in a weird place as I am finishing up Day 4 of cutting out candy/sweets after basically binge eating over the weekend.

AMS?

2011-01-30T22:45:00.003+09:00

Snapped a paparazzi shot of the lead guitarist in local rock legend Sinnocular at a tram stop this morning. He probably knew what was going on. That's what you get for being famous - Sinnocular are not only featured on the cover of this month's "Fukuoka Now" magazine, but an interview with the band as well as preview footage and concert dates are on the front page of the Fukuoka Now website!

I was so excited about Austin. I still am excited about Austin. But there is a new layer of possibility, and it's famous for pancakes, legal vice, and outspoken anti-Islamic politician Geert Wilders. If I do in fact require everlasting culture shock and stressful acclamation to new countries and funny foreign languages to course through my veins at all times, chasing my man to the Netherlands with no visas, job leads or Dutch language skills could certainly satisfy.

I picked out that jacket and bought it for him. I wish someone would hire me to play paper dolls with rock bands. I'd be a great and much needed help.

Initiating a breakup.

2011-01-25T14:58:00.005+09:00

I think Austin is going to win. I really love the idea of it and no matter what, there will be more going on there than there is in Albany, NY.

Not that there's anything wrong with "The 518," "The ToC," or "Smallbany" (a modest sampling of its many monikers) - on the contrary, I really loved growing up there and I had loads of nice friends, a great nuclear family with a big house with a great park literally in my backyard. Since Albany is the capital of New York State, there were internships to be had at the state offices downtown, some music festivals, and smatterings of interesting nightlife.

I suppose I realized I'd outgrown my pond a bit when I went home to visit last summer and felt like I had managed to do everything there was to do in the area in two weeks. Most of my friends from childhood are married, engaged, parents, soon-to-be parents, or otherwise domesticated. Some moved to other cities and states, and quite a few more simply grew boring and useless to me. My parents hate the high cost of living and the snowy winters. I found the lack of Thai restaurants indicative of many things.

(Universities and colleges in America are ranked informally by their percentages of Jewish and Asian students - the higher the percentages, the more expensive and competitive the school. I use a similar system to rate cities. Cities with lots of Thai restaurants have lots of arts-conscious 20-somethings who have passports. People like me. Albany has no well-known Thai restaurants and only a small handful of Indian places. Manhattan/Brooklyn, Los Angeles, and Boston have at least eight of each on every block.)

Walter will be coming to Austin too. There we intend to recreate our present perfectly betsu-betsu (separate, individual) lifestyle - each keeping our own apartments and doing our own things, forming our own circles while having loads of adventures together. Our relationship and our bond seems unshakeable today, but if for some reason we don't make it as a couple, it's not like there's any shortage of cute single people around. Austin is consistently ranked as one of the best U.S. cities for young singles. Single girls make good girlfriends. Everybody wins.

My parents will probably move to the area too, since as I mentioned they are not fans of winter and in their mid-sixties are becoming a bit fragile for heavy-duty shoveling on a steep driveway in icy conditions. Dad's from rural Tennessee and Mom's from Dee-troit; they're both already sort of out of their elements in suburban upstate New York. Austin is still Texas, but compared to other major cities it seems, on all accounts, more foreigner-friendly, at least toward atheist liberal types. I've been doing some research; housing is affordable compared to NY and they should be able to find a tiny house or condo near downtown to grow old in.

In the past, my breakups with boyfriends have all been fairly straightforward, like ripping off a Band-Aid that was sort of falling off already anyway. I think saying "smell ya later" to my hometown will be like that, too. I'm ready for change and coming off of a three-year stint abroad, if I don't immediately flood my senses with more excitement and change, I'll wilt like a corsage after prom night. I'm so excited for this.

Oysters

2011-01-24T20:25:00.002+09:00

On Saturday I went to an oyster festival in Mojiko. I'm not sure if this is peak oyster season or what the cause for celebration was, but it was definitely my first time being around oysters at any capacity. Unforgettable and delicious they were, and naturally no event in Japan (or anywhere on earth) is complete without a plush mascot.

Starting the day off right

2011-01-20T21:42:00.003+09:00

My buddy John Redcorn came to town for dinner last night. We sat at Joyfull (the Japanese equivalent to Denny's) for a few hours completely engrossed in various conversations about life, living, seeing the world, whatever. He convinced me to move to Texas with promises of deep fried butter and beer at the Texas State Fair. He also surprised me with a wonderful souvenir from his recent trip to Vietnam: a coffee maker and 200g of ground coffee!

I'd describe Vietnamese coffee as some strange middle ground between espresso and Turkish coffee. It's potent for sure but not the super-creamy concentrated consistency of espresso, yet its texture and flavor is distinctly different from Turkish, and it is drunk with condensed milk for sweetness. I'd never had proper Vietnamese coffee before today, but so far this might be my favorite subgenre of coffee - and that's just made at my own clumsy hand using months-old sweetened condensed milk!

Needless to say, upon this joyous news I drowned the sorrows of this week's emotional hell (special woman time + the misery of nicotine withdrawal + readjusting to normal diet) in delicious thick coffee with liberal squirts of sugary condensed milk. Tittering and grinning ear to ear with pride at how cool my little coffee maker is, the entire mood of my day was saved. I will look back on January 20, 2011 fondly for all eternity.

Eating my way through Germany

2011-01-19T18:16:00.002+09:00

In chronological order, these are a few of the Facebook status updates I made on my trip.

12/28 (midday): having a gigantic breakfast with like five different kinds of cheese prepared for me, sitting around listening to reggae, and there is a picture of a topless asian chick scotch taped to the toilet. life isnt easy in germany!

12/28 (night): Today: french fries with mayo, giant piece of cake, western style sushi, dark chocolate spread on bread with Brie, and I bought a wheel of goat cheese. Got a KONNICHIWA from an employee at a sword/weapon shop too but I shouldn't be surprised.

12/29 (morning): I would talk about all the cool things I have been doing but honestly I can't think of any. Just eating bread and cheese 5 meals a day.

12/29 (afternoon): Yesterday was pretty good. Pizza, chocolate twice, a giant taco thing, a tuna melt with onion rings at an American diner, beer, red wine, absinthe, and mead straight from the bottle. Oh and a giant bowl of pasta with salad right before bed

12/30 (afternoon): officially splitting buttons on a dress that fit perfectly yesterday. brunch today: chocolate spread, Brie, aubergine cream cheese, hot mustard, jam, sun dried tomatoes, cucumber, dill, fried tofu, clementine orange, espresso, and approximately an entire loaf of bread. and yes it is 3:30 pm

12/31 (morning): Heute gehe ich nach BERLIN!!! Was kann ich essen da?!

Choose Your Own Adventure: Where Do I Go?

2011-01-18T10:06:00.004+09:00

Gadling.com: Top 10 Travel Spots in the United States

You know, out of the places on this list I've only been to three. I've been to far more interesting cities, towns and mountain ranges that didn't make the top ten list, but the fact remains that I ain't seen nothin' when it comes to my own country. Since I'm not recontracting to work another year in Japan this means I'm going back to the U.S. in August. Rather than just staying in the Albany/Capital region of New York forever, I intend to relocate somewhere new - preferably somewhere with less snow and lower living expenses. There are so many options. Where am I supposed to begin? I guess making a list of considerations has been overdue. Here are five so far.

1.) Austin, Texas.
+The only city in TX with a considerable number of Democrats and Thai food places. Job market OK considering. Warm weather, little snow. Lots of young people and artistic types. Friendly to country and cowboys. There is a decent airport. Living costs reasonable compared to Northeast.
-Far removed from pretty much everywhere else in the country. TX is flat and plains-y, a stark contrast to the woods and mountains I'm used to. Rich Tex-Mex food means it will be extremely difficult not to get fat. I'd need a car to get around.

2.) Boston, Massachusetts.
+Near home, visiting the folks would be super easy. Lovely city and I already have a lot of friends and acquaintances there. Great public transportation means I wouldn't need a car. Lots of young people, great restaurants and entertainment. New England is familiar.
-Cold snowy winters. High MA income tax. Rent and other costs of living very high, would need to share living space. Completely urban environment may be off-putting and overwhelming due to competitiveness.

3.) Knoxville, Tennessee.
+A change of pace from the Northeast. Family all over town. Comparable size to where I grew up. Proximity to Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Decent if not great arts scene. The airport is OK. Cheap cost of living, could probably afford my own place.
-Southeast means lots of conservatives and other people who non-ironically voted for Mike Huckabee. College football dominates everything. More sheltered worldview than bigger cities. Would need a car to get around.

4.) Tucson, Arizona.
+Definitely no need to worry about shoveling snow in winter. Beautiful surroundings and lots of outdoor recreation. Active arts/nightlife/entertainment/music scene. Airport is fine. Cost of living reasonable though not especially cheap. Good food.
-So hot in summer that I could die if my A/C unit breaks. Would need a car. Would also need to learn Spanish to be an ideal job candidate. Somewhat isolated from the rest of the country. Currently host to a whole load of political and racial tensions that may take a while to clear.

5.) Los Angeles, California.
+Ideal climate and weather. I already know lots of people there. Unbeatable restaurants, shopping, and nightlife. Excellent international airport. Proximity to beach, desert and mountain hiking. I would have no trouble keeping weight off.
-Very expensive to live in; would need roommates, car, and connections. Cutthroat competition for everything, possibly very isolating environment. Rampant eating disorders. Traffic and pollution a real concern. CA income tax very high.

The Arctic Chill

2011-01-17T09:54:00.003+09:00

Lately it's been cold here in Tagawa. Not so cold that it's hazardous to step outside or anything like that, but just relentlessly unpleasant. The temperature hovers around freezing, and if we're lucky it's ten degrees warmer inside.

I believe I've voiced complaints in years prior about the Japanese lack of effective heating in homes, schools and offices, but every year it's such an all-pervading onslaught of discomfort that being cold becomes the only thing I can think about. Every night I fill a 2 liter bottle with boiling water and place it in my bed where my feet are supposed to go, and every night I squirm around for at least half an hour trying to get my feet warm. Every day at work I hover over a kerosene stove cursing Japan and the weather gods in an effort to warm up freezing fingers. Students pop their heads into the staffroom and exclaim "It's warm!" because the hallways are even colder. Teachers come and go, every other phrase uttered: "It's cold!"

What bothers me about this isn't the cold itself. It's the fact that even though insulation and double-paned windows and central heating are a very tangible reality that has been adopted by countries with much smaller economies, the vast majority of Japan just won't do it. Instead they've come up with temporary solutions like kotatsu, a heated table you sit underneath, and kerosene heaters that require you to crack open a window. Sitting under a kotatsu is great and all but wouldn't it be nicer if you didn't need one at all?

I suppose this rage has been inspired by my recent trip to Germany. Germany, like Japan, suffered great losses during the Second World War, and was at least partially rebuilt with American funding. They're both well off financially but Japan is slightly richer. The cost of living seems comparable, and the people in both nations are infamously rigid and workaholic. Both have cold snowy winters and warm summers. They're not so different. So why is it that the Germans get to be warm indoors all winter long while the Japanese refuse to adopt modern comforts?

cause you are GOLD

2011-01-11T22:01:00.000+09:00

Mannheim

2011-01-10T23:32:00.001+09:00

24.

2010-12-24T14:26:00.002+09:00

I'm "officially" 24 now. I was born at 2:15 p.m. in Korea. Japan and Korea are in the same time zone and it's after 2:15, so I really can't be telling people I'm 23 anymore. A bit sad really as this marks the beginning of my mid-twenties, though mother insists I started the mid-twenties at 23. I'm not too concerned though, I fixed a good portion of what was wrong or broken in the past few months and feel good about how I'm living. When I turned 23 I felt despair and confusion when the clock struck midnight, but 24 feels hopeful and happy.

Tonight me, my suitcase, carry-on bag, and a big bag full of Christmas presents will go to Fukuoka City and meet up with Walter. We will eat cake and enjoy being together for クリスマス in Japan. My first Japanese Christmas. And then on Sunday morning I'm off to Germany. Europe still feels magical despite the fact that this will be my 7th trip there. I just can't help myself.

the morning.

2010-12-22T23:07:00.002+09:00

Right after it rains, everything is just right. From my walk to work this morning.

I've renamed my blog "Little Satans." The Krampus shtick got tired. The name will be inane forever.

Top Five: German Food

2010-12-20T21:28:00.004+09:00

#1: TORTENBUFFET. I don't even need to say more. Cake buffets are the best invention of all time.

#2: Käsespätzle. Cheesy egg noodles topped with fried onions in a big bowl. Just a big bowl of carbs and fat that will probably give you bad breath. I'm already waiting in line drooling into my drool cup.

#3: Nordsee. The only other fast food I get this excited about is In-N-Out Burger in California/Arizona/Nevada. Nordsee sell fish, shrimp and other seafood in sandwich, patty, filet and recently sushi form. I'm a fan.

#4: Flammkuchen. From what I've read and seen it's similar to a thin pizza and can be topped with anything. I can't wait to actually taste one!

#5: Currywurst. It's really just a crappy hot dog with curry powder and ketchup on a paper plate, but it represents so much more. Currywurst is the iconic sausage that stands for Berlin, and Berlin is where magic happens.

Back to life after being dead.

2010-12-16T00:17:00.004+09:00

Here it is, a song that lifts my spirits to the point where I grow little horns right out of my skull. It's like I woke up from a coma and suddenly remembered who I am. I cannot translate my feelings into words so please accept my terms unconditionally: everything is right in the world. The little part of my brain reserved for psychedelic drug experiences, eating delicious forbidden food and rocking the heck out has been stimulated. I believe this is "spiritual."

Yes I know Mercyful Fate did it first, but Ghost and their unabashed return to the roots of black metal (which is somehow "psychedelic" or "doom" in this confusing modern world of classification...?) are such a welcome breath of fresh air. I haven't gotten really excited about metal in months, but "Opus Eponymous" is an album that's going straight to loop on my playlist.

"Ritual" is probably my personal favorite due to the blissful simplicity of the keyboard and vocal harmonies present during the chorus and flawless guitar work throughout. There's no extraneous wanking anywhere - proof that "badass" can exist without the inclusion of 64th notes. I'm a huge fan of the spoken passages in goofy demonic voice too. If you can't appreciate cheesy soliloquies about sacrificing virgins and goat lords, get the fuck out of the hall.

I have thought about my fascination and relationship with metal, Satan, Satanism, evil and hellfire imagery. I do not actually believe any of it is real yet I do genuinely find it titillating and thrilling to imagine the situations painted on cautionary medieval murals, where naked and lost souls fall into the fiery pits only to be tortured by grotesque looking demons with two dicks each. I have considered the possibility that it is a disingenuous or ironic fascination, but it's really not and it never will be. If you don't get it, you probably won't.

Hail Satan!

Top 5: Japanese Food

2010-12-15T12:31:00.004+09:00

広島お好み焼き：　Hiroshima-Style Okonomiyaki. Like a cabbage/pork/egg latke sitting on top of fried udon or soba noodles. Best with copious amounts of sauce and mayonnaise. Bonito flakes wave in the wind. It's never not unsettling watching them move; are they waving hello or contorting in pain?

すき焼き： Sukiyaki. A delicious assortment of beef, tofu, and vegetables that is cooked in a hot pot in a delicious sweet and salty sauce. Wintry food, ideal for entertaining guests as you can make a lot at once. All major food groups except chocolate are covered here.

エビチリ: Chili shrimp. There's an obvious Chinese influence here. Usually at restaurants the sauce is very sweet and not really spicy at all, which is the giveaway that those silly delicate-tongued Japanese have neutered an imported entree (you should taste their "kimuchi" bullshit).

豚丼： Butadon, aka sliced pork on rice. Simple and easy to make. My school cafeteria makes a KILLER butadon that is worth dreaming about and possibly dying for. I'd probably be properly thin if I didn't insist on eating butadon every Wednesday.

なす田楽: Nasu Dengaku/Baked Eggplant with Miso. The most delectable of gourmet dishes. It's just an eggplant with miso paste in it, yet it has somehow achieved food perfection. You can't get this glorious treat from a crappy vending machine restaurant.

The sights and sounds of Tagawa

2010-12-14T22:11:00.004+09:00

Sights: Odd furniture here and there, more flower boxes than in the whole of Paris, rice paddies, cats with and without tails, and cheeky vegetable patches.

Sounds: Stillness, cars, countryside quiet, the eardrum-raping revving of 50cc scooter engines, and the eerie sound of fighter jets circling overhead.

I took these on my walk home from work today. The clouds cooperated nicely.

Christmas Capitalism

2010-12-10T12:35:00.003+09:00

Japan isn't the place to be if you've made a bet with a friend to see who can find more "Jesus Is The Reason For The Season" bumper stickers on cars. Christianity, while legal and tolerated, is not a big deal here - though Nagasaki does have its fair share of Catholics around. I think one teacher out of all the staff at my school is a Christian, and she's a Nagasaki-born Catholic who doesn't seem particularly pious.

If you're a secular "Kristen Kringle" type (please refer to this book for details), Japan will please you in ways not even America can. Should you find yourself out shopping any time between October 31 and January 1, you'll find the malls, shopping centers, plazas, department stores and restaurants flamboyantly decked out with "illumination" lights and decor displays (see image) and special promotions and sales. Your ears will sing and dance to myriad variations of the Wham! classic "Last Christmas" as well as .midi covers of "Good King Wenceslas" and "We Wish You A Merry Christmas," and if you're quite lucky you may be treated to a dainty, tinkle-y music box rearrangement of Mariah Carey's Christmas album. KFC's Christmas roast chicken dinners have become a hallowed and wildly popular tradition, and you can order a "Christmas cake" from any convenience store or bakery. I'm still not clear how a Christmas cake differs from a regular cake, but seeing as I'm spending my first Christmas (and my birthday, Christmas Eve) in Japan in just two weeks' time, I'll be sure to let you know. I'll be doing it the proper way - spending the day in bed with a lover, moaning and groaning in pain from too much cake.

scrambled think-eggs

2010-12-09T00:14:00.006+09:00

I'm almost satisfied with my appearance. Almost. I still have gross shitty crooked teeth and a flopping gut, stretch marks and shit that jiggles some places, but I can almost overlook those. I was trying on boots at Uniqlo Shoes yesterday and I couldn't get most of the zippers halfway over my calves, but instead of getting discouraged I just felt like a major badass because my legs are so muscular. Seriously, if I flex and slap my thighs, nothing jiggles. There is space between them. It is a victorious state to be in.

I talk about weight loss and running and blah blah food food food exercise a lot, but it's only so I can catch up. I feel like people who have always been thin and in shape simply don't have to worry about it. For those of us late to the party aka former fat people, it's truly a gigantic lifestyle change that warrants laughter, tears, and a shifting identity. Some days you get bitter, tantrum-like notions of nostalgia and overromanticization of a less healthy past. It's just like culture shock and fatigue when you extend your stay in a given new locale beyond a month or two weeks' vacation honeymoon. Just like I am sometimes convinced I actually miss pasty, obese, ignorant retards aka the cream of the American crop, some days I feel like the world is a dog and I am a chew toy, and why the FUCK don't I get to eat plates of rice with lunch like my 45 kg colleagues?

This morning I weighed myself and I was heavier than yesterday despite eating less yesterday than I did the day before. But I'm going to quit using scales as the tell-all. A scale is after all just a measuring device that does not take into account that the miso soup was oversalted at Yayoiken. A scale can't tell that I'm getting JACKED (okay, not actually) because I want my shoulders and back to look awesome in my backless, mostly frontless New Year's Eve dress. The scale also does not take into account that I've come a fairly long way, beating nicotine addiction and a very strong conviction that I will never be able to run for longer than five minutes.

I know what I'm doing works and that if I keep it up, I'll be healthy, progressively able to lift heavier things, and my endurance and heart will be optimally functional. Maybe I'll even live to be old and hot. I hope when I'm fifty I can have an affair with a hot nineteen-year-old. Now that's a goal worth working towards.

I like capes

2010-12-06T22:58:00.003+09:00

Sushi

2010-12-01T08:50:00.005+09:00

I prefer Westernized (some would call them "abortions") versions of sushi to the traditional Japanesey kind. Give me a Philadelphia roll - salmon and cream cheese - over sea urchin or raw squid any day. The more deep fried crap, dairy and mayonnaise, the better. A lot of people think sushi is health food, but it's really not when you break it down (Sashimi, the immaculate pure protein, is excepted from this rule). Maki (roll) or nigiri (sitting on top of rice) sushi is really just a little carb bomb that you soak in pure sodium, and since they're bite-sized it's plenty easy to eat them by the truckload. With that in mind, we should strive to make sushi as decadent and fattening as humanly possible.

At my old Vassar haunt, Sushi Village in Poughkeepsie NY, they had this one memorable sushi roll that my then-boyfriend Mike really loved. He was a cross country runner so he could eat whatever the heck he wanted. This roll was called the "Poughkeepsie Roll" and if I recall correctly it consisted of salmon, jalapeno pepper, fried onion straws, BBQ sauce, and cheese, all slapped on top of a sizeable hunk of rice. The Poughkeepsie Roll was $12.00 or something and each piece (there were six pieces) took at least 2-3 bites to wolf down. Even highly experienced binge eaters such as myself and Mike could hardly handle its rich greasy goodness. That's what sushi should be all about.

Another pointless anecdote...I recall fondly speaking with a Korean exchange student who visited Japan about conveyor belt sushi. The Koreans weren't big on Japanese food because of its relative lack of zazz as compared to Korean cuisine; however teenage boys will be teenage boys, and they got a little competitive when they went to a conveyor belt sushi restaurant in Osaka. Apparently the winner ate 25 plates (2 pieces per plate - 50 pieces of sushi). That's the spirit, fellas.

What am I trying to say? Well, for one thing I've arranged to meet a friend in Karlsruhe during my Germany trip for the near-sole purpose of chowing down on beautiful Westernized inside-out sushi rolls, hopefully containing cream cheese. I am irrationally excited about it - people ask "why would you go to Germany to eat Japanese food?" - but honestly the only German food that holds any interest is spaetzle and currywurst. Speaking to the "bigger" picture, I'm quite excited to move back home. Ironically, the "Japanese" food is often better there.

Musical Discovery: Welle: Erdball

2010-11-29T22:11:00.005+09:00

It seems if I so choose, I can see these guys live in Berlin at K17 on Dec. 30. I think I would like to. People ask me why I'm so infatuated with Germany, and I think Welle: Erdball sum it up nicely by combining elements of nerdy electro beeps and boops (pioneers of 8-bit), EBM/synthpop vibe, and a touch of retro/steampunk for good measure. It helps that their style is fucking fabulous and they create music about computers. One more "I'm such a doofus for not acknowledging the existence of such excellence years ago" to add to the big pile.

산해경/Mungunghwa

2010-11-24T11:44:00.006+09:00

Something big is happening in Korea now. The North has attacked the South and the world is on alert. I have no idea what's to come - how many will end up dead, how many other nations will end up getting involved, what it means for the future of the Korean Peninsula. I do know that when I read news of the attacks, my heart sank into my stomach.

I was born in Gyeongsangbuk-do in the east of South Korea. My birth certificate just lists the county so it's possible I could hail from a tiny fishing village, or from Daegu which is one of the biggest urban centers in the nation. Anything is possible, and it's the uncertainty of it that makes me a bit sad sometimes.

I'll never know who my biological parents are. I sort of envy "homemade" people who can look at their parents and know with absolute certainty that they have their mother's nose, their father's eyes, and facial bone structure just like Grandpa's. On the other hand, it's nice to know I dodged the bullets of wavy/curly hair and ahem "strong" noses that both my adoptive/real parents have. I don't have to shave my legs, my hair is effortlessly straight and manageable, and I have a symmetrical face with small features. Thank you, blood-mom and blood-dad.

I applied to donate eggs for money in college, and was turned down because of my lack of family history. While it's probably not a bad thing that I didn't go through with the egg donation, it was brought to my attention that I don't know if any of my blood relatives carried hereditary conditions or illnesses that could spring up later. I'm not bipolar or an alcoholic or diabetic and I never get sick. Despite having abused my body for years stuffing it with junk food and wasting 4 years smoking cigarettes, I am proud of my health. Thank you, blood-mom and blood-dad.

"The story" is that my birth mother couldn't take care of me and gave me up so that I would have a better life. She was 40 years old when I was born and I have a feeling she and my birth father were not married and possibly not even together as a couple. Maybe he raped her. Maybe she gave birth and thought I was ugly or something. I don't know. I'll never know. But I do have a pretty darn good life and I'm proud of her for giving me up. I got to grow up with loving parents who planned for my existence and wanted me in their lives. They raised me well and taught me that it's okay to live your entire life with split identities.

People give us shit for being white-washed as if it's our fault, something we did wrong. As if looking Asian but being raised by non-Asians is somehow criminal and inferior to a "real" Asian-American upbringing. Sometimes "real" Koreans look at us and feel pity, like we've been cheated out of our destinies. I feel humble and lowly in a room full of bilingual Korean-Americans as if I am an impostor. It's irrational and it shouldn't be, but it is. Just in my few experiences on flights and layovers in Korea or on Korean airlines, I feel nothing but idiotic talking to Koreans who could be my fucking cousins or something in English, Japanese, even German. I haven't been traveling in Korea because I am terrified of how stupid it feels to be in your birthplace and not be able to understand anyone or speak the language. It's a two hour boat ride away and I've used every excuse in the book not to make the journey. I don't think I'm ready.

A weekend getaway

2010-11-22T23:04:00.005+09:00

A few good friends and I took a road trip to Aso-Kuji National Park in the rural mountains of Oita. Perfect clear skies, mountain and volcano views, mini-hikes, and natural hot springs. I won't be forgetting this adventure any time soon.

A Parisian life

2010-11-08T15:01:00.005+09:00

I made an omelette for Walter for his breakfast yesterday and he was flabbergasted that I can cook. It's not unreasonable; up until just a few months ago I ate out or bought 90% of my meals from convenience stores like a Japanese bachelor.

Now that I'm cooking and packing my own lunches for work, life feels different. I don't make anything too gourmet or complicated since my love of eating is equally rivaled to my disdain for cleaning up. But coming home and seeing the fridge full of vegetables, tofu, eggs and yogurt reminds me that I am far more in control of things than I used to be. My simple concoctions are healthy and I know exactly what goes into them. I try to buy groceries from the nice little old ladies on the corner instead of at the gigantic corporate Wal-Mart clone.

Paris is a famously thin city. Factoring out heavyset tourists, it is rare to see French women bigger than a size 8 in any given street scene. It is normal to buy your groceries in smaller quantities several times a week and to walk everywhere since public transit is good. People complain that the French must be superhuman in order to eat all that bread and croissants and raclette and duck confit without getting fat. A diet book, "French Women Don't Get Fat," became an overnight sensation in obesity-ridden America. A study comparing fullness signifiers was conducted in Chicago and Paris. Chicagoans said they were full when their plates were empty or when their TV shows were done, and Parisians said they were full when their stomachs felt full.

I am working on the last bit. I still have issues with leaving food on a plate since for whatever reason I feel like "wasting food" by throwing it in the garbage is worse than putting it in my body even if I'm already full. But other than that, I think I have almost successfully achieved what some people would call a Parisian life. I walk everywhere: to work, to the train station, to the supermarket. I buy groceries for 2-3 days at a time instead of trying to load up for a whole week in one go. Produce is always fresh, never canned. I cook in single servings because I don't trust myself not to peck at leftovers once one plate is finished.

And I am sincerely worried that I won't be able to maintain this lifestyle when I move back to the U.S. in the summer.

***

The easiest thing ever...

-Spinach (any amount will do - the more the merrier)
-8-12 shiitake mushrooms
-Some sort of cheese - I use individually wrapped Camembert
-Garlic
-Soy sauce

1.) Boil the spinach and sautee the shiitake mushrooms in soy sauce in a pan.
2.) Cut spinach into sections of 2-3 inches.
3.) Cut cheese into tiny cubes.
4.) Throw it all in a bowl and sprinkle garlic on top.
5.) Eat with a fork.

Peeling back the layers

2010-11-03T18:46:00.002+09:00

Different shoes in each shot, all brand new.

Cool!

2010-10-28T21:20:00.003+09:00

Today was an incredibly clear day, not a drop of humidity in the air. Made for perfect visibility (as pictured) and beautifully vivid cloud formations that I forgot to photograph. This picture was snapped from my phone as I walked home.

I set a new running record for myself. Perhaps I was fueled by my unsightly peanut butter feeding frenzy when I got home from work, but whatever the cause I was able to maintain a pretty good pace for over an hour without slowing down or walking. That probably means I should be pushing harder, but damn! Only a few months ago I thought it was a physical impossibility to run for longer than five minutes at a time.

Two stylish Finns

2010-10-19T11:31:00.002+09:00

Inspirational. Looking forward to payday. The peacock tights in the second photo are particularly great. Ganked from Hel Looks.

Epic Hike: Hikosan

2010-10-17T20:47:00.002+09:00

japanese weekend

2010-10-11T21:31:00.004+09:00

Really chill weekend. I went down to Kumamoto to hang out with Walter like I often do. We mostly just ate ice cream and pizza and junk food to counter our futile attempts at healthier living. We also saw a nice little lantern festival downtown. There were thousands of candles lit by Kumamoto Castle and in a park nearby, most of which containing wishes and hopes penned by school age kids. Everything from "world peace" to "more money."

Sinnocular (Walter's band) was scheduled for a regular gig on Sunday at Drum Be Nine club downtown, but the drummer got hit by a car and was unable to perform (he's okay, just a bit banged up). Impromptu unplugged show!

While Sinnocular practiced, I played dressup with the girls. In loose conjunction with the lantern festival, there was a daytime festival by the International Center and one feature was free kimono fittings! Teams of ever so patient little old ladies and eager English speaking young women dressed us and primped us just so we could take pictures of ourselves. Among the hordes of Malays and Indonesians combining kimono with hijab, this Korean-American felt a little conflicted - but mostly just vain and peacocky prancing around in the kimono equivalent of a Big Gay Rainbow.

Drag queens, you're jealous. Happy National Coming Out Day!

Too much nostalgia.

2010-10-03T22:22:00.002+09:00

Related to the last entry about cataloguing one's life experiences using playlists and albums and songs: when is nostalgia detrimental to living in reality?

It occasionally occurs to me that everything I get excited about falls into one of only two categories: remembering something epic from the rose-coloured days of yore and getting emotional about how great it was, or anticipating some major event in the future such as major weight loss or a vacation and counting down the days. What's so unbearable about the present that daily life revolves entirely around time traveling to better times? Everyone says it's better to have goals and aspirations so that you don't stagnate entirely and flounder aimlessly through life, which I can't disagree with, but I do wonder sometimes.

I suppose these are the things you think about when you live your life on autopilot from weekend to weekend. I'd like "LIVING IN JAPAN" to become magical again, please.

Music fanaticism.

2010-09-28T18:48:00.004+09:00

I love music. I obsess over my "currently listening to" like a teenager. I play the violin whenever inspiration beats laziness. I am going to play creative nu-metal covers at an upcoming gig. I take karaoke ever so slightly too seriously and get mad when people ruin the vibe of the song in question. I would actually commit murder to see Kraftwerk perform in a live setting. Perhaps most importantly, I may never outgrow the adolescent tactic of using songs to define moments and emotions in my life.

Everyone has different methods of cataloguing their highs, lows and middle grounds. I just happen to rely primarily on the dates on digital photos to keep accurate timelines, and on songs and bands that feature prominently in remembering.

The Horrible First Heartbreak was "Cut Here" by The Cure.

My First Scandalous Affair was "Beating Heart Baby" by Head Automatica.

The Great Pants-Peeing Psilocybin Adventure of Boxing Day 2008 was "Electric Feel" by MGMT.

Stupid Bout of Really Awful Depression in Japan was "In der Palästra" by Sopor Aeternus and the Ensemble of Shadows.

etc forever.

My mother doesn't give a rat's tail about music. While she is familiar enough with relevant songs so as to narrowly avoid the "pop culturally autistic" moniker, she has no interest in music as a form of entertainment on a daily basis. There is never, ever music playing at my parents' house. Music is just something dad does when he's driving solo. I had to find the joy in enjoying and obsessing over and loving music independently of my family, though I give them lots of credit for encouraging me to pick up violin.

On the "fandom" end of things, it all started with Limp Bizkit. Arguably the worst band ever to become even marginally popular. I fell in love with Wes Borland, but I would have let Fred Durst take me to bed if he'd asked. I obsessively read fan websites about Wes Borland - the best was "Obsessy With Wessy," hosted on Angelfire - memorized his favorite food, color, shoe size, all this stupid bullshit. I actually think I cried once or twice thinking about how frustrating it was that we might never meet and he would certainly not fall in love with me. I was just an overweight teenager with acne, had no boobs to flash at concerts like some of the other female fans did, but I loved him with all my heart and then some. With this unstoppable love came a fervent fanatic addiction to Limp Bizkit as a musical entity. I owned every album up through "Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water" (which was obviously bought the day it was released) and I memorized the chugtastic guitar riffs, lead AND backing vocals, and the ins and outs of every song. I went to the bathroom six times before the opening act came on the one time I scored arena tickets to see them (I remember the date - it was December 11, 2000). This went on for some time.

Ten years later I look back on how silly it was to be so obsessed with Limp Bizkit and feel jealous of my younger self! If I were that passionate about anything, at this age I could conquer the world.

Shrinkage

2010-09-26T22:57:00.001+09:00

Wicked! Down from a US 10 to a US 6.

SPACE WORLD

2010-09-23T22:12:00.002+09:00

Not a bad use of a national holiday. Roller coasters, fair food and no lines because Space World is a sad bubble economy theme park! Photo courtesy of Chris Harber.

Why can't I quit you?

2010-09-09T21:20:00.004+09:00

I'm going to Germany again. This will be my fourth time in less than three years, and I have not lived on the western half of the Eurasian landmass for any of those three years. I'll be there over the New Year holiday in Frankfurt and Berlin. As if that weren't awesome enough, I will be accompanied with three of my best friends from Japan, who all happen to be English and therefore already nearby for Christmastime. To say I'm excited would be an insincerely understated lie.

It's funny how any given place represents different things for everyone. For a friend who will be joining me in my travels, Germany is synonymous with uptight boring people who wear socks and sandals. For plenty of Americans, the first things that come to mind are Nazis, shit porn and Oktoberfest. For me, it is (incorrectly) a futuristic haven of minimal techno producers with cool names, power plants, Kraftwerk, and kinky shit. I studied the language rather casually and by this point speak extravagantly poorly - just well enough to survive, file a police report, and say "tee hee" to cute strangers.

Obviously it is just a country, with all sorts of variations in language, dress, geography and politics. In my short but sweet times there I've watched the sun rise over Berlin on New Year's morning after in the company of a druid, danced the night away at a pro-Israel/USA communist squat, and I've also been yelled at by a cranky middle aged woman on a train for having my feet on my own seat.

It's these mundane occurrences that become "unforgettable experiences" and define how we think of X locale, and this update exists solely for my own purposes. I'm including a few photos from the prior three trips that I find particularly nostalgia-inducing or representative. Enjoy!

A chilly pond by Ravensbrück concentration camp memorial site: Brandenburg, March 2008

Revelers at Icon, first "real" clubbing experience in my lifetime: Berlin, March 2008

TV tower in Alexanderplatz on a snowy New Year's Day: Berlin, January 2009

Summer flowers on top of a mountain: Baden-Baden, August 2009

Maren, a notably excellent Couchsurfing "coffee or a drink" host who introduced me to some lovely people: Munich, August 2009

I can't wait until it's winter again.

2010-09-06T19:04:00.001+09:00

the fashion crisis

2010-08-31T21:42:00.005+09:00

The other day I was shopping at the Forever 21 superstore in my hometown mall in Albany and looking at these horribly tacky gauzy puffed-sleeve fashion abortions in bright lame with absolutely zero practical application to the daytime world, and it dawned on me that I could just say "fuck those guys" and wear WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT ALL THE TIME. I even walked out of the store with a shamelessly too short, bright blue ruffly dress that only fits me on skinny days. I didn't bring it to Japan because there are giant cockroaches and venomous centipedes and mold monsters, and also because there is pretty much no occasion to wear such a dress here since there is no '80s night. But why should I need an occasion? I could dress like Björk at an awards ceremony EVERY DAY.

It occasionally drives me nuts that I always gravitate toward sensible and plain clothes. I see pictures of incredibly cool outfits by the baker's dozen every day of the week and I have the money and easy access to fantastic and affordable shopping, so what gives? It's like my entire life is spent waiting for the opportune moment to "improve" or "change" in a given way, and when that moment shows its face I just shove it back to the back of the waiting list. This is why nothing gets done and why I don't look as cool as this chick does when I leave my house on a Friday night.

They Killed Romance For All Of Us?

2010-08-26T22:35:00.003+09:00

In Chuck Klostermann's satire/humor piece "Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs," he lambastes John Cusack as singlehandedly destroying and rendering futile the efforts of all men in the United States to behave in a romantic fashion toward women. Squeezing into her seat at the multiplex, caramel popcorn and a 32 oz. Diet Coke in hand, the average American woman who wears a size 14 watches Sarah Jessica Parker find the truest love in Manhattan. Teenage couples finding themselves alone in parked cars in dark shadows switch on the radio in desperate searches for an "our song" that will define their magical moment - romance cannot happen in silence; it must have a soundtrack. Depending on who you ask, the sound of romance might be the Philadelphia Orchestra on a summer night as heard from lawn seats. It could be a German language dance song at an '80s night. Perhaps it's the most cliché of love songs, "Hey There Delilah" by the Plain White Ts as heard on Top 40 radio in a car somewhere. There is a carefully weighted order in which things must be done; falling in love is like building chemical compounds out of toothpicks and balls of clay.

The only thing that's for sure is that domestic violence victims aside, all women are completely jaded by mass and indie media when it comes to defining romance. The classical dateable guy in the '50s that everyone desired was a charming guy to bring home to your parents who opened the car door for you and paid for your dinner, blah blah blah. Chicks swooned over Humphrey Bogart and Clark Gable and John Wayne. This idyllic and possibly nonexistent "perfect man" archetype oozed over and under the free love of the '60s and '70s into the hedonistic and complex '80s, where we saw a shift from "respectable" to "hunky and damaged" with Harrison Ford protagonists, coked-up yet sexy party villains, and affairs galore. The '80s, undeniably the turning point of modernity in Western society, gave us a ball of clay to mold to how we see fit through the '90s and into the millennial years starting with 20~. The formulaic romantic comedy (I dislike "rom-com" for obvious reasons) perfected its chemical compound-like structure.

Nowadays, everyone enters a first date expecting witty and gender-appropriate banter just like in the movies and TV. Carrie from "Sex and the City" and her courtship with Mr. Big are a star example of the bloated expectations and ideals today's woman searches vainly for. Song lyrics have moved increasingly from direct feelings to descriptions of situations that could be construed as romantic. Roy Orbison sang frankly about crying over you. New Order turned up the heat with open-to-interpretation allusions of a bizarre love triangle. Lady GaGa - well, she likes that fucked up shit and probably enjoys being spanked with hot irons. Social networking profiles offer universes of insight on what we want. Like me, I'm willing to bet at least 33% of the girls on your friends list have included this quote somewhere in their profiles:

“Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep... wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you're just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky his is to have you.... The one who turns to his friends and says, 'that's her.'”

(Barf.)

Now, think long and hard about the most romantic scenarios you've experienced - those moments where you felt so adored that you almost peed. Ten bucks says the thought "it's like a movie!" popped up in your head. Which brings me to my final question: did romance inspire media, or did media invent romance?

Out of the darkness and into the next level of darkness

2010-08-22T10:38:00.003+09:00

It's a morbid new fascination.

The Price You Pay

2010-08-16T11:56:00.003+09:00

I'm doing things and seeing places and meeting people and learning stuff, which means while I am doing, seeing, meeting and learning, I am also missing everything and everyone that is elsewhere.

How many close friends' weddings is it worth missing to continue my stagnant lazy adventurer lifestyle here? Then again, how many of those friends actually noticed whether I was there or not? My parents are getting old and it's starting to show - I should be there for them since they won't be around forever, but all they do is sit on the couch reading library books. Stuck at work during my 36 hours of free time each week, I can't shake the nagging assumption that at this given moment I could be anywhere on earth doing something else. Maybe tripping on a mountain with hippies and pagans at the Beltane festivities in Heidelberg, fighting my way through restaurant menus in China, or going for a cherished morning exercise walk with my white-haired mother through our quaint suburban neighborhood.

No matter what you find yourself doing, you'll always be faced with the painful dilemma of missing out on one of the other areas of your life. Everyone has experienced the minor yet really annoying annoyance of missing something fun because you couldn't get the time off work. It's shitty because you need to make money but you really, really wish you could have made it even just to say hi. You just know someone there said "oh, [your name] had to work" and everyone else said "oh too bad" and that was it. They didn't miss you as much as you missed them, yet of course you built up the event in your mind until you were convinced it was PARTY OF THE YEAR WOULDN'T MISS FOR THE WORLD fantastic. It's not really rational but it still sucks, yeah?

I suppose that's how I feel about being in Japan in general. I have to do my job and put in time and to be frank I certainly have a much more "exciting" life from an outsider's perspective than the average Jack or Jill in my hometown. But sometimes I do yearn to be in two or more places at once, living both my main lives plus living all the fragmented sub-lives I've built through meeting people and making connections in my travels. I often wonder what the people I know and care about are doing right now, and feel irrationally jealous of them for having quick access to futile crap like Nordsee or Dunkin Donuts. And I hope they do too.

Orientalism in Italo and Euro Disco

2010-08-14T11:11:00.005+09:00

Jessica - "Chinese Magic"

Aneka - "Japanese Boy"

Peter Randell - "Lost in Tokyo"

Murray Head - "One Night in Bangkok"

Fuck your life. Leave it behind and head to the exotic Orient, where neon lights and golden opportunities await your every need with a ninety degree bow and petite feet. The sprawling Asian megalopolis is "Blade Runner" gone utopic, so unexplored and so utterly foreign that it will eat you alive and you will never be the same. Enjoy complete and absolute anonymity in the Far East; fall in love with a beautiful creature that you can bring home later; even the strongest and mightiest of men fall prey to the wicked and unexpected charms hidden in dark alleyways, go-go bars and tea salons.

As much as we like to pretend we are creatures of enlightenment because we read Edward Said in Asian Studies 101, I think we as Westerners in Asia all carry a little bit of this Orientalist fantasy with us when we hop on that long flight. Asia is still uncharted territory as far as young Western interests are concerned - how many people do you know that can name more than five cities in China? As far as North Americans are concerned, many more opt to head to Western Europe or the tropical islands to the south for leisure travel. Those who make the trek over to Asia often (sometimes un)consciously carry little beacons of pride with them on their travels, peering down their noses at those pawns who think Paris is a big culture shock jump because the French speak French. Yeah brah, Europe is cool and all, but Asia is for the adventurous.

It applies to me, too, even though I have much more in common physically with the feline, almond-eyed geisha-ladyboy-me-love-you-long-time sex object than the awkward-looking visible foreigners stumbling around Tokyo with maps and backpacks. No one looks at me twice over here, and they have no idea that I am listening to "Chinese Magic" on repeat under my blanket while China Airlines Flight 0011 lands bumpily at TPE. As mentioned in this wankfest entry from a few months ago, it didn't take long for Tokyo to lose its magical mystery. I think I know deep down that the sprawling capital cities of Asia are just like anywhere else, with possibly more hepatitis and deformed beggar children, and that's why I'm afraid to visit and keep running away to Europe instead of exploring the countries and cultures in close proximity to Japan. I actually want Asia to be the exoticised fantasy land of Italo and Euro disco from 25 years ago, and not simply part of a globalized world that has been raped and pillaged by American popular culture.

When love fades...

2010-08-12T11:43:00.003+09:00

I don't think I like airports any more.

I used to be convinced that working in an airport would be some kind of dream come true. Just imagine being around travelers eight hours a day! In those eight hours I could meet people headed for Stockholm, Riyadh, Shanghai, Johannesburg, Tel Aviv...mmm, all the celebrities and rich people and beautiful twentysomethings I'd see on a daily basis would be so worth it. In the past, whenever I traveled I would excitedly run around the terminals and check out all the international departures. Ooh this plane is going to Tokyo, I wanna go! Oh man look at the Lufthansa check-in queue, everyone's over six feet tall! Airports represented freedom from routine, fresh starts, reunions, and the possibility of boundless romance between strangers. An airport was in some way a safe haven of ultimate anonymity, a free zone where you could reinvent yourself and be whoever you wanted. The entire travel experience was defined by the magic of the airport and the thrill and excitement of being on the move.

Now I'm sitting at JFK (a least favorite airport) surrounded by hundreds of exhausted people from all over Asia who like me are sick of travel before they've even made the first boarding announcement. Miho is recovering from a stomach ulcer and is sleeping next to me and there are crying babies and children running around and everyone around me is speaking some language that sounds like variations of cats dying or mating. I personally feel a bit bloated and dehydrated and minorly carsick from the stressful stop and go traffic between Albany and NYC. My makeup looks terrible as a result of crying while saying goodbye to my parents at the Greyhound station and my eyes are swollen. While getting in line for the TSA security check, the guy checking boarding passes yelled "NIHAO NIHAO" at me despite the fact that my UNITED STATES OF AMERICA passport says KOREA on the inside.

This isn't magical at all. This is like the stage in a relationship when you start thinking about other people during sex and impatiently ask "are you done yet?" Something good needs to happen.

Homesick?

2010-08-05T14:29:00.003+09:00

I'm at home right now but I feel more homesick than I ever have. I'm homesick because I miss how things were, and of course I know I have to get on a plane in a week and fly back to my other life. I'm a completely transient, temporary fixture here and my friends are grown and no longer need me since I'm never around. It's a fool's hope to think life would screech to a halt and wait for me while I run around frantically "figuring myself out" or whatever it is I've been doing in Japan, and not surprisingly I'm finding that the gap between me and the people I consider bosom friends is widening with age. In the past two years I've been away, countless friends have gotten engaged, married, moved in together, started families, divorced, whatever. The economy has been in a rather hellish state of woe and the faces of the government have changed and my countrymen seem to have gotten fatter, sloppier and stupider than ever before. So it's not without considerable and significant changes in the environs that I'm finding myself just a bit stupefied and feeling like a fish out of water being back, but it is still weirding me out to feel like a stranger or alien in my own hometown.

Incoherent and a bit rabid, those are my thoughts. It's of course my own decision to have extended my stay in Japan for three years' total and to have been a shoddy correspondent via email and Facebook and whatever. Maybe that's just how I plan on going about creating a fresh start or a new life. Hurts like a breakup to see everyone changing and getting married off but it's that time in our lives and of course I'm a bad friend if I resent people for making a choice I will not personally make myself.

Greetings from Taipei airport

2010-07-28T15:39:00.002+09:00

Chinese noodles and dim sum: Conquered. They were unspeakably amazing. Beef udon type noodles in an oily broth with chunks of beef, green onions and bok choy. Shrimp and pork dumplings with a variety of dangerously hot sauces. May have contained MSG?

Now I feel sick and Miho has fallen asleep.

Here I goooooooooooooo!

2010-07-28T00:42:00.004+09:00

I have to be out the door in less than 5 hours to begin my journey. I hope to have some interesting photos up in the next couple days, but I might be too busy receiving free coffee and cookies (and phone numbers) from Panera employees or scarfing down Chinese takeout leftovers during a particularly severe case of the munchies while watching Doctor Who with my dad.

I can't wait to buy new clothes that fit. I weighed myself after my run today and was quite pleased; seems I've lost almost 20 lbs since early spring. It sounds like a bigger difference than it really is.

Really though I'm just psyched about eating dim sum and noodles at Taipei Taoyuan airport. Also excited to see Walter, who has kindly offered car service from JFK all the way to Albany. What a babe. :)

My stupid friends and our clothes.

2010-07-26T10:39:00.002+09:00

Jinbei for a summer festival. Vest and patchwork/paisley skirt as swimsuit coverup. Obnoxiously large aviators.

Jinbei bottoms, linen striped top, farmer straw hat, aviators as a final touch.

**********

Had a lovely weekend running around with these fools and some other friends. Too much beer and too much festival/bar food so I'm up almost a kg but I'm not going to have a prolapse over it as spending quality time with my favorite people (and food and beverages) is a damned good excuse. Found possibly the only dance club in Kokura and the DJs were spinning actual Japanese music rather than American/European foreign fare - reminescent of Capsule and other J-electropop artists. Held a birthday party for Shaun and Greg (pictured) at Miho's restaurant with Mexican food, cat ears, and sexual harassment. Spent Sunday lazing about in Nogata (and taking the above photos), with a fireworks festival in the evening. Lounging on a blanket in the grass with my favorite people eating festival food and watching colorful explosions in the sky was the perfect way to end a perfectly imperfect weekend. I'll never tire of the sound of music in the distance at an outdoor festival while relaxing on the outskirts.

A weekend in pictures: Kobe, Osaka and Fukuoka

2010-07-19T22:36:00.002+09:00

Running

2010-07-12T14:47:00.004+09:00

I have been vocally anti-running ever since I tipped the scales at 48 lbs in kindergarten, but in the past couple weeks I have been, um, actually really getting into it. I'm still awful and slow and easily winded, but the exponential improvement factor coupled with the ever growing firmness of my ass and thighs is very encouraging.

My recent interest in this stupid hobby stemmed from entering a weight loss race with a few e-friends on a forum I post on during work. Seeing what other people are doing to combat lardassery and get in shape is a good way to figure out something that works for you. A few folks mentioned the Couch to 5k program, which is designed to get people who have never run before in their lives into running, building up to running 5 km over 9 weeks. I downloaded the first podcast and tried it out and found it was pretty good, but I got bored of the mediocre music and found it was too easy after the first run. The phasal exercise-bulimic in me was dissatisfied in the total amount of time running --> calories burned, so I decided to push myself some more.

The very first time I was absolutely shattered, out of breath, keeling over from stitches in my sides, and my lungs and legs hurt so badly I thought I was going to die. I've only gone out running a total of like 6 times, but I am already at least ten times better than I was the first time I went and I know I'll be even better the next time I do it. The last couple times I ran with DJ Fab's History of Italo Disco 5 megamix. I originally thought I'd prefer running to death metal but turns out I'm partial to '80s cheese with subpar English lyrics about absolutely nothing.

Hopefully I won't blow my motivation load prematurely and revert to inputting lasagnas intravenously. I used to be quite hefty when I was younger, and I'd strongly prefer not to ever look like that again.

My dad is a badass.

2010-07-06T14:33:00.005+09:00

Last night dad called and we talked. I was in the middle of watching Forrest Gump for the second time in one month when he called and had just finished the scene where Forrest and Jenny meet at the big anti-Vietnam protest in D.C. I asked him how realistic that scene was, and he said "very" and proceeded to share his experiences.

Dad went to said protests when he was a college leftist in 1967. After he transformed from a Young Republican with a crew cut to a long haired liberal with a ripped up draft card, he was one of the most radical students at his school (Albion College, a moderate-conservative Methodist liberal arts school in Michigan). He got in some trouble with his classmates for questioning the authority of the school's decisions regarding curfews for women but not men. When he went to the D.C. protests, he brought along a gas mask and carried a blackjack in his pocket to defend against the evil wills of cops and soldiers who wished to crush the resistance. He drank beer in the back of the van and smoked pot outside and brought only $10.00 for a whole weekend. He schemed and plotted how to storm the Pentagon and upon returning to Michigan wrote an extremely positive article in the school paper about the experience. After the Kent State University riot incident, he was absolutely convinced that the U.S. was going to Fascist Hell and flirted with the idea of joining the Weather Underground.

Then he married my mom, they didn't talk about politics, and now he reads Dostoevsky for fun. He still doesn't trust cops.

Cat People vs. Dog People

2010-07-05T09:58:00.003+09:00

Generally speaking, dog people place a lot of value on home, the family, and pooping where you are not supposed to poop. They listened to "Want You To Want Me" by Cheap Trick a few too many times in their youth and are convinced that even though they have like 12 human saplings already, they need a Peter Pan dependent in their home - something that will never, ever grow out of the drooling, floor-shitting and inconvenient noisemaking characteristic of babies and just-barely-higher-than-vegetables adults. What better to fill this role than a dog who is bred specifically not to bite children who may pull its ears? How about one of the "Family Friendly" breeds with floppy ears: Golden Retrievers, Yellow Labradors, Chocolate Labradors, or any combination of those?

I've been a cat person since day one and I have observed throughout the years that dog lovers are often red-blooded Americans who resemble the disgusting hambeasts in my "MILFs of America" post and drive Dodge Caravans with "I LOVE MY YELLOW LABRADOR" bumper stickers on the back. Dog lovers tend to resemble their beasts of choice: loyal, conservative, and a little bit retarded. They are well suited to careers in sped handling, early childhood education and other jobs that involve lots of care with little to no progress. Their arguments against cats are that cats are cool and moody - why have a pet cat when you can have a dog who humps you fiercely the moment you walk in the door? Some dog people engage in behavior that straddles the line between "affection" and "bestiality;" letting their dogs lick them on the mouth like it's not gross. Also, and this is a big one, 9.9/10 adults who use the baby talk voice to interact with eight year olds are dog people. I don't even need to provide evidence because you know I'm right.

I like dogs better than children for sure, but I would never date someone who likes dogs better than cats. Sorry, I have standards.

MILFs of America

2010-07-04T23:12:00.001+09:00

Stay tuned for the Japan edition!

belly dancing

2010-06-30T23:37:00.002+09:00

I saw this porn once where this guy was banging Lela Starr and at one point he just yelled at her "OOOH YOU'RE SO FUCKIN SEXY!" That's pretty much how I feel when I am failing miserably at learning belly dance moves via Youtube and making the earth shake in my paper box house while wearing a wolf shirt, sweating all the while of course.

My latest crazed plot to weigh significantly less than right now is to incorporate copious amounts of dancing into my daily routine. This is a pretty recent thing; I'm tired of being stuck at a plateau for like a month straight so something's gotta give and dancing is fun. After I've humiliated myself thoroughly by not being able to follow Billy Blanks (who may be the king simpleton of all exercise videos) for 45 minutes, I'll fling myself at the ground and do pathetic knee push-ups because I can't do real ones, do 200 crunches all in rapid succession which I'm sure is not how they are intended to be done, and then dance. On Monday it was drum and bass. Today it was the song "Tangerine Speedo," with some Crazy Town and Wheatus and a little Lou Bega (mix CD from my teenage years). I also tried to do the Mashed Potato but it gives me really bad rugburn on the soles of my feet. Possibly unwise.

Meanwhile my insatiable fetish for Lebanon rages on. Inspired by Youtube videos of sexy bitches with fake tits wiggling around on Lebanese TV, visions of hedonistic nights clubbing in Beirut, and the fact that I ALMOST got a falafel on Saturday, I'm mapping out a trip in my mind. I'm looking at you, Wael Abifaker.

rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, raining, rainy, rain

2010-06-28T21:05:00.002+09:00

If you've never walked 45 minutes from work to your house through rice paddies in a torrential downpour while listening to The Smiths and screaming along, you should. Never mind the occasional old lady who looks horrified at your atrocious squawking and wild umbrella waving, it's your world and no one can hear you sing if you can't hear them say anything.

I love headphones invincibility. It's why I pick my nose shamelessly on trains. If I can't hear them, they can't and are not judging me.

Typical work garb

2010-06-21T22:23:00.006+09:00

Looking like a lemon (or dehydrated pee) with salt, pepper, and a dash of demure 1950s housewife.

Believe it or don't believe it, but this outfit is totally wild child compared to the rest of the ladies in the teachers' room in their muted short sleeved sweaters (edgy!) and suit coordinates. Sometimes I feel like a lifelong 14 year old refusing to simmer down and fit in, but most of the time I'm content to sit around feeling smug that I'm the only female teacher at work who isn't wearing hose. And since I don't shave my legs, I am definitely the only female teacher parading her leg hair around at school.

Bring it on.

Happy Father's Day

2010-06-20T18:04:00.009+09:00

I spent my Father's Day with Miho and her parents in a beautiful restaurant and pottery complex in the mountains of Soeda. They treated us to an incredible lunch that easily puts Gonpachi to shame; we had our own private air conditioned room with ROTATING CHAIRS, a seemingly bottomless supply of quality green tea, and of course (ha) course after course of wonderful delicacies. After lunch Miho's dad, an artistic man of few words who once carved a gigantic Buddha out of wood and who grows his own vegetables, took us on a mini pottery tour. Apparently the resident artist is well known for his creations using rare red clay.

I think I'll let the photos speak for themselves.

P.S. Tell your dad you love him today!

Chicken woes

2010-06-16T22:33:00.000+09:00

If there is anything in this horrible world that is grosser than rectovaginal fistulas as a product of violent sexual assault or sitting next to someone who is vomiting into a barf bag, it's the "grilled chicken" you can order at cheap restaurants in Japan. Shit on me all you want for giving Joyfull and Big Boy my business - you and I both know that even Friendly's and Denny's have proper chicken back in the U.S.

Boy oh boy I could just heave up everything I've ever eaten ever just thinking about how fucking foul the chicken I had for dinner was. Imagine a slab of succulent, low-fat, lean, skinless white meat chicken breast, perhaps grilled to the point of browning on the outside and firm enough that a knife is required to cut it. Now imagine the complete OPPOSITE of that.

The meat is all dark - hardly preferable but still edible right - wrong. The dark meat is what ribeye steak defenders would call "marbled" with fat, so it is pretty much impossible to separate food from fat. The skin remains, which would be fine except it is approaching ONE CENTIMETER THICK and completely taints the flavor of the cheese and sauce sitting on top of it. I believe the preferred term is "Juicy" for this kind of chicken, and juicy it is - juicy with GLOBULES OF FAT, as well as the extra saliva that comes when you are about to toss your cookies.

Remember how I mentioned that tasty lean chicken breast requiring a knife? The chicken I had for dinner tonight could have been eaten with CHOPSTICKS, as there was so much fat that it simply fell apart with the slightest pressure from the edge of my fork. Chewing was an adventure - which soft globule or rubbery cartilage bit would trigger my gag reflex next? The potential extra burst of tasty flavor from regular chicken skin failed miserably; everything just tasted like oily fat.

Seriously, and I do NOT joke about food, when it comes to my 2-week trip home this summer, the thing I'm most excited about is eating REAL, PROPER chicken. There should not be a pile of reeking fat on your plate when you are eating chicken breast, and your body should not violently reject said chicken before it can even be digested.

Daughter

2010-06-15T11:00:00.006+09:00

Tonight I will be attending the wake for my friend's father, who died yesterday of stomach cancer. I'm pretty nervous and apprehensive since this will be the first wake I've ever been to and I am not terribly familiar with Japanese Buddhist customs. I don't know what to expect but people here are kind and accommodating so I should quit stressing.

Naturally the recent events combined with the onset of rainy season have gotten me thinking about life and its dreadful impermanence. I've always had a strange relationship with my father - not in the traditional "daddy issues" sense of neglect or abandonment, but more in that I feel extremely protective of him and spend a lot of time worrying about his health and well-being. He is not well, physically or mentally, coming from a very difficult past and dealing with a multitude of minor health problems which add up. It actually tears me apart to think that he will die someday, and I will have done less than I possibly could to maximise our time together.

I feel guilty for every time I have ever disappointed him by making bad choices, guilty whenever I get on a plane headed to Japan, guilty whenever he does me a selfless favor out of the goodness of his heart, guilty to the point of not ever wanting to live far from him ever again because he will miss me and I don't want him to have to deal with the pain of missing someone. He's not a happy person, has never been and may never be, and I feel responsible for making sure he can live vicariously well through my own happiness. I don't think he knows I feel this way about him, and I hope he never finds out because it would cause him great undue stress.

Since I am halfway around the world, I called him this morning with a great lump in my throat and tears in my eyes to tell him I love him. If you love your father, you should tell him. Life is fleeting.

Together forever?

2010-06-13T23:08:00.001+09:00

Today you had some free time between soundcheck and show time. We found ourselves sat like bums on a street corner of the biggest city on this island eating gummy bears and Ritter dark chocolate w/chocolate mousse. The mousse chocolate got really melty and you decided it wasn't your thing. I was too self conscious about dieting to eat it myself, though in truth I really wanted to because it feels so wrong to waste candy. You LOVE candy and I think it is so cute that as soon as we finished our chocolate cake with whipped cream and fruit, you wanted to pop over to the candy store.

I asked you about the future because you are a budding rock star with real dreams and I am merely complacent doing whatever, so our destinies remain entirely unwritten. You smiled and said perhaps you would like to work in a studio because you like the stability of a 9-5 job. And maybe your band will hit it big and you will tour. You're not too hot on staying in New York because the taxes are ridiculously high unless you live in Manhattan.

Then you asked if you could keep me, because you know you would always like to have me around, and is it okay if you keep me?

Of course, I said. And I am pretty sure I meant it. It's not healthy to view lifelong commitment as the end of the world after all, and I DO like you an awful lot and can see us being very happy together years down the road.

Sex and the City 2: An Extremely Concise Plot Summary With Spoilers And An Editorial

2010-06-10T00:47:00.003+09:00

In the much-awaited sequel to "Sex and the City 1," we follow our beloved middle aged protagonists from their midlife crises (marriage related of course) in New York City all the way to Abu Dhabi (first class aboard a fancy-shmancy private airline, obviously), where they are to receive a week's worth of paid-in-full luxury R&R as some kind of PR stunt to a sheik Samantha meets at the afterparty of her hot ex's movie premier. Oh and before I forget, the movie begins with a fabulous gay wedding where Liza Minnelli sings and dances "Single Girls" by Beyonce.

Anyway Abu Dhabi = the "new" Middle East according to Samantha! They are greeted by some brown man in a white nightgown at the Abu Dhabi airport and receive four privately chauffeured cars. Their hotel is pretty much a gay replica of the Taj Mahal and the "Jewel Suite" where they stay costs $22,000 a night. They have four personal servants, one of whom is named Abdul and is a faggot, and Carrie the horse-human hybrid has a moment of bonding with hers, who is a man named Gauran from India who sees his wife a couple times a year because he is an indentured servant employed by the oil-swilling man pigs in UAE.

Anyway, Carrie is buying shoes for OMGZZZZ $20 WTF CHEAP at a souk (did you know "souk" means "street market?") one day and as the official call to prayer sounds throughout the town, she just happens to run into her old flame who seems like a bit of an uncultured hillbilly - a far cry from "Mr. Big" who calls her "kid" because he thinks he is Humphrey Bogart or Clark Gable, and is really tall - of course old flame (Aiden) is really tall and generally wide as well - anyway he invites her to dinner and after reading a scathing review of her latest book in the "New Yorker" in which it is insinuated she needs to tape her mouth shut (should have been the nose, or the entire face), she says "fuck it" and puts on kohl eyeliner she bought at the souk (market) and a sexy dress and goes to meet Aiden at HIS hotel. Charlotte (the prude goodygoody one who needs to get punched) in an act of soothsaying says "You're playing with fire," and Carrie fires back "look bitch just because you're insecure about your marriage..." and away she goes.

Charlotte and Miranda (the ginger) talk about how hard it is to be a mother, and this scene is intended to get the audience members who are stupid enough to have reproduced to nod at each other and go "UH HUH" with enthusiasm. Samantha puts yams on her face because customs stole her creams (she is obsessed with aging, which is understandable for a white woman of her age) in a bathtub.

By the by, they went on a camel ride together in the desert and Samantha saw a hot Danish architect riding his jeep around like Napoleon Dynamite's grandma (she also makes a really gross pun about labia in a sexual way) and LO, turns out he is at the same hotel - one night at a fabulous karaoke bash after singing "I AM WOMAN" as a quartet, Samantha arranged a hot date with Danish architect but DID NOT BLOW OFF HER FRIENDS WOAH GIRLFRIENDS FOREVER, HEY GUYS WE ARE SOULMATES.

Anyway while Samantha chills with yams and Charlotte and Miranda whine about their kids, Carrie and Aiden have a fantastic dinner and accidentally kiss for like two seconds. Carrie goes running back to the hotel and disrupts everyone's evening to tell them she kissed Aiden, and they all tell her not to call Mr. Big right away and to sleep on it but she ignores them and at 2:30 am calls him and says she kissed Aiden. Instead of reacting, he says "I'm at work, gotta go" and then Samantha calls and says she has been arrested for making out with Danish guy on a beach (after deep throating a hookah pipe and they show his boner) because some outraged conservative man reported them to security. They all rescue her or whatever, and then the front desk calls as soon as they walk in the door - the sheik has pulled out of the deal, leaving them on their own at $22,000 a night in just one hour.

Frantic packing ensues, and they all freak out and whine and moan about the possibility of having to fly COACH home. Carrie left her passport at the souk (market) and the nice man there saved it for her. Meanwhile Samantha is wearing shorts as a "fuck you" to the people of Abu Dhabi, and during a scuffle with some scammers her purse breaks and she scrambles to pick up the contents off the ground. At this point her boobs are hanging out and a bunch of sand nigger terrorist pigs are crowded around her getting outraged. Condoms are among her belongings and in a fit of menopausal fury and fervor she waves them around screaming "CONDOMS! I HAVE SEX! I HAVE SEX!" and it becomes a huge ordeal. Some mysterious figures in niqabs invite them into the women's chambers and they all de-hijab and HEY they're all dressed in the latest high-end designer fashions, because Gulf Arabs are goddamn rich as fuck. They escape from the angry mob outside by borrowing some niqabs and Carrie shows her leg to hail a cab and they fly back to New York first class of course.

Mr. Big comes home and is pissy for about 5 minutes but forgives Carrie for kissing Aiden because they are married (?). For her punishment, he has bought her a black diamond ring to wear since she is not interested in diamonds, and makes her say "I will not kiss anyone but my husband" and everybody is happy.

This stinking piece of shit, devoid of plot or any real character development, was great fun. Seeing it once in the theater was perfect. Reaffirmed my non-desire to marry or have kids.

The End!

When God's children shed their skins

2010-06-08T21:57:00.004+09:00

Taken at my high school: part of the "fashion show" component of the annual Culture Festival.

to-do list

2010-06-03T23:17:00.005+09:00

-Clean house because people will probably crash tomorrow night
-Photocopy "Canon in D" sheet music for Andy
-Make Nao a birthday card
-Learn/practice oboe part (on violin) w/brass band for culture festival on Tuesday
-Practice violin for charity concert on Saturday
-Successfully co-throw surprise birthday party for Nao at Oldies
-Not contract a hangover Saturday morning
-Book a hotel room in Tenjin for Saturday night
-Go to Nathan's house to borrow his violin for charity concert to lend to Andy
-Transport 2 violins and myself to Tenjin on Saturday
-Plan dinner/drinks for Saturday night with visitors from out of town
-Not gorge myself and gain weight back

whew! thank gosh I wear a watch.

I also would like to share what I had to eat today.

breakfast:
-canned coffee (Georgia European Blend)

lunch:
-711 side salad (mostly lettuce and tomato) with goma dressing
-1 tuna mayonnaise onigiri (triangular rice ball wrapped in seaweed)
-LG 21 yogurt

snack:
-some nice teacher left me 2 Andes chocolate mints

dinner:
-HottoMotto bibimbap with half portion rice
-beans
-calcium supplement/dessert bar, "blueberry cheesecake" flavor

FOURTHMEAL:
-water
-a birth control pill

:)

The glamour of flying

2010-06-02T12:39:00.006+09:00

It doesn't get much more "back in the day" than this photo, does it?

One time on an American Airlines flight from Narita to Chicago I met Shirley the flight attendant. She was an overweight white woman in her fifties or so and was obviously a senior flight attendant. Let me tell you, Shirley does not take jack beanstalk from anyone. "You don't touch me, you TALK to me" in response to a Japanese passenger tapping her on the shoulder. I'm pretty sure she actually asked other passengers to help her stuff luggage into the overhead compartments. Shirley is not the living picture of long-legged glamour; she represents "service with a sneer" to a T, the archetypal complaint material of businessmen who only fly Asian airlines and still call them "stewardesses."

However, as cranky and culturally shocking as Shirley was to me (I'd gotten used to petite and demure Japanese cabin crews who bow to you), she inspired me in a huge way by snapping "Are you a flight attendant?" when I stacked the food trays before handing them to her. Puzzled and flattered, I asked why she thought I was a flight attendant, to which she replied curtly "I dunno, you just seem like you know what you're doing."

What if instead of settling down like a good adult after my homecoming, I ran off again, this time in hopes of snatching some residual glamour from the rare sparks and flashes that remain somewhere in the earth's skies? For every songless land whale requiring a seat belt extender or stinking pile of baby vomit, there must be SOME perk that keeps flight attendants from committing suicide every day. I think I'd like to find out what it is.

maxi dress!

2010-05-30T21:32:00.000+09:00

I gave in to the inevitable. ¥1000. Have happily managed to avoid small flowers and stupid looking straw hats thus far. I'll stick to the "dark hippy evening wear" aesthetic, thanks.

Melancholic.

2010-05-25T18:08:00.001+09:00

Rainy season seems to be here.

A little cloudy, a little monsoony, a little sad. A little lonely, a little introspective, a lot of solitude. The absolute last thing I feel like doing is socializing with people I know. I'd rather chat anonymously to strangers or write escapist wank about fictional emotions.

Without the albums pictured above it would be much harder to keep myself in this artificially rendered fog. Thank you to the brilliant musicians out there who strive to capture the exact kind of melancholy that we all love to wallow in.

How to take a compliment?

2010-05-23T21:35:00.000+09:00

Last night was the big gig night, the "kind of a big deal" party I'd been waiting impatiently for. I gathered my (borrowed from the neverending generosity of John Crow) violin and stood in front of a packed-to-over-fire-hazard-capacity bar wailing away. I didn't really do my best since I was so nervous, but it wasn't embarrassingly bad or anything.

As tends to happen, people crowded me after the show and showered me with praise and compliments ranging from "YOU ROCK" to "I couldn't love you any more than I do now" and all I could do was DENY, DENY, DENY. Have I been in Japan too long, a silly island where it is considered uncouth to sing your wife's praises and the proper response to a compliment is "no?"

Tokyo then, Tokyo now, and coming to Japan

2010-05-22T00:12:00.001+09:00

Ah, Tokyo. The biggest city on earth. For years I stared at photos of the Hachiko scramble crossing in Shibuya, longing desperately to just walk back and forth along the zebra stripes under the dazzling neon. I watched "Blade Runner" and fantasized about how incredibly advanced and how very 1980s Tokyo must be. I read the "Fruits" photo books, drooling over each and every mismatched and too-brightly-colored outfit. Spent hours lying on my bed with my eyes closed listening to J-pop - so foreign and so futuristic somehow. Developed highly detailed fantasies of the night when I could finally walk the streets of sacred Tokyo. I would have Sennheiser or some other unaffordable brand of noise-canceling headphones, and through said headphones would play the 1991 "The Mix" version of "Computerliebe" by Kraftwerk, "Rydeen" by Yellow Magic Orchestra, and "Depend On You" by Hamasaki Ayumi. I was to be 100% alone. Just me, the music I love, and a brand new megalopolis straight out of that Daft Punk anime movie "Interstella 5555."

When I applied for and was accepted into the JET Programme, a gateway into Japan through which all new English teachers would first stop in Tokyo, the reality of it all struck me. I had previously held similar fantasy-feelings about Berlin, and they were fulfilled 200% and then so much more; Berlin is my favorite city on earth. And so I went to Manhattan and pretended it was Tokyo, walking up and down Times Square after dark with my music and hyping myself up for the Big Pilgrimage.

The morning of my departure, I woke up next to Walter in a friend of a friend's spare bedroom. We kissed "see you later" goodbyes and I took a car service to JFK, which is possibly the worst airport of all time. I smoked a few nervous cigarettes with a gaggle of beautiful Saudi Arabian flight attendants and went inside to check in. As I always do no matter where I go, I made a friend who suggested we drink beers for breakfast. And so I boarded the flight completely flushed with inebriation, passed out before takeoff, and woke up about an hour and a half later with a hangover. No more sleep for the remaining 12 hours of flight, doped up on Dramamine, flight attendants tried to give me the Japanese customs forms, almost 100 new JETs on the plane but it was hardly a social butterfly experience.

Needless to say, I was feeling posthumous by the time we landed in Narita; in fact I have no memory whatsoever of the customs and immigration procedure. I remember a bunch of overenthusiastic greeters in obnoxiously bright colored t-shirts shouting "WELCOME TO JAPAN" at us, I remember dashing to the smoking area, and I remember boarding a bus that would take us to our hotel. It was 3 pm or so but I wanted the Tokyo fantasy to begin. Over the excited chatter of folks on the bus, I blasted "Rydeen" and stared at the beastly concrete overpasses and skyscrapers against the sandman's wishes. It was too daylight and I was too tired. Fantasy fail.

Fast forward through the orientation with its lectures and vegan lunch meats, somehow all my friends who were studying in Tokyo had contracted food poisoning and couldn't come out to play. This left just the professor, Hiraku Shimoda, who was the indisputable heartthrob of the history department at Vassar. He swung by the Keio to pick me up, and we wandered around with no particular objective. I said I wanted to go to Shibuya, so to Shibuya we went. Japanese summers, especially in concrete jungles, are oppressively hot and humid. I remember sweating my way across that scramble crossing while trying to get Prof. Shimoda to take flattering pictures of me and also snapping stalker photos of people I found interesting on sight. It was not unlike the first time I saw the Eiffel Tower: "Oh, so this is it."

*******

I've been in Japan for almost two years now, and I do not "know" Tokyo as a city. I've been back twice since JET orientation, and I am not terribly eager to get back. The futuristic paradise of promise, robots and gothic lolitas is now synonymous with "transportation clusterfuck," "boring people," and "shitty nightlife." If I have money to spare and a free weekend, you can bet that I'll be spotted in Osaka, not in Tokyo.

Tokyo is the loneliest place on earth. I spent an hour or so alone in Shibuya last May, and it was such a long hour. It's not "Lost in Translation" lonely since I have been here for a while and the language barrier isn't a big problem - it's just lonely in the same way that New York City is lonely. No one knows you, no one has your back in case of an emergency, no one is going to approach you who isn't selling something, and there is no way you are going to run into someone you know unless God has been proven to have a bushy beard. Tack onto this the impossible-to-navigate system of trains and subways and the sheer number of neighborhoods and stations, and it's quite discouraging to "explore the city" when you have some time to yourself.

Loneliness aside, in being so massive and all-powerful Tokyo seems devoid of personality or defining characteristics aside from the fear and wonder surrounding it. There is no flavorful local dialect, most people range from lukewarm to frigid, and there are too many tourists and visitors. The freaks and goth kids on Takeshitadori in Harajuku are so well-known that there are now large Nigerian men hawking lolita outfits to rabid hordes of overweight white girls with lip rings. Go out for a night on the town, hit up Atom or Womb, and you will find unpleasantly strict doormen and a bunch of party people who are totally disinterested in speaking to anyone they didn't show up with.

Unfortunately, the magic of a place dies when you live in it. I am about 500 miles from Tokyo here in Tagawa, but Japan is the same all across the nation. Now that I understand Japanese people, I understand Tokyo well enough that it has ceased to be the fight scenes from "Kill Bill," Ridley Scott's 2019 vision of Los Angeles, or even a Yellow Magic Orchestra song.

Sometimes I hold a small funeral in my imagination, remembering the innocent days of yore before I ever laid foot on Japanese soil.

Manorexia

2010-05-18T17:45:00.000+09:00

I always feel a little bad saying this, but James Malone of Arsis looks so much better now that he's thin. Yeah I know he's anorectic, crucify me.

A Scottish memory

2010-05-14T20:36:00.001+09:00

This is the first photo I ever took outside the United States, taken from on top of the National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh at the end of May 2006. Edinburgh was my first international destination, the first of several stops on a "Best of Britain" package tour with my mother. The evening of the day this photo was taken, I wandered across the street from our hotel to "The Globe Backpacker Bar." It was my first time legally being in a bar, and the first legal alcoholic beverage I purchased. Being naive and 19, I ordered a Guinness, and within five minutes had friends for the evening: soldiers serving in the (now-defunct) Royal Scots from South Africa.

A German memory

2010-05-14T07:44:00.001+09:00

Delirious with the flu and a cough racking my entire body in Heidelberg, Baden-Wurttemberg, August 2009. We had spent the day with my mother sightseeing, climbing mountains, and downing a few beers at an Irish pub. She hobbled off to bed in her old age, and we sat by the bridge getting reacquainted as we had not seen each other since the year kicked off. It was a chilly night and you wrapped me in a rain poncho and then made fun of me because I looked ridiculous. I coughed and coughed like a terminal lung cancer sufferer and you took me to a shot bar to drink chocolate rum. Spirits were low as I had to see my mother off in the morning, and my fever was steadily rising.........

A French memory

2010-05-13T23:08:00.001+09:00

Sarlat, Dordogne, France, early June 2008. A rather modest sized city smack dab in the middle of duck confit and foie gras country. Pristinely maintained cobblestones that hurt the feet, more than one's fair share of slow moving tourists who are only there to buy olives at the market, a well hidden medieval shop with friendly (and very nerdy) employees who are more than happy to share mead and wine samples with young female customers, and an interesting underbelly ice cream shop that doubles as a shot bar for addicted young people during the wee hours. A tattooed guy wearing leather chaps and gauged ears plays bagpipes at the main square several times per day. At Bar "Les Iles," Renaud flirts like the devil, and there is a half-Japanese waiter at a neighboring bar. Beware of the too-friendly American expat woman who will demand your email address.

Candid stalker shots.

2010-05-08T10:09:00.000+09:00

From Hiroshima Flower Festival and Iwakuni Friendship Day. My new favorite hobby is amassing candids of people I find to be interesting or stylish, and over Golden Week I managed an enormous collection, most of them not actually that cool in 20/20 hindsight. :)

Golden Week was amazing, by the way. I'll put up some tourist photos later. As dictated by coworkers, I ate Hiroshima style okonomiyaki with udon noodles inside and a fried egg on top, visited Miyajima and battled thousands of other tourists for access to the friendly deer, and gorged myself on Taco Bell at Iwakuni Marine Corps Base. I hadn't eaten Taco Bell in something like two years, and it definitely took its toll on my body, but the masochist American in me enjoyed the flecks of blood spotting up the TP.

Unfortunately for me it was a bit tricky to find interesting women to shoot, as the Japanese female population seems to be wholly enchanted by the current (and tragic) trend of boater hats with twee florals and extra light denim jackets and skirts. Still though, as a rule you are far more likely to run into interesting fashion statements in a large collection of Japanese people than in sweet home upstate New York where the hambeasts in jorts run wild and flats are considered high shoe fashion. I think I'll be standing around stealth shooting like a creep more often. Stay tuned for more posts like these.

The Importance Of Being Polite

2010-05-07T12:03:00.000+09:00

(Written for Flights From Hell)

When you think about it, we are all just big babies who have been potty trained and conditioned to suppress our tantrum urges. The frustrations of air travel are abundant and impossible to ignore: waiting in line just to be told we were sent to the wrong line, weather delays, stupid people everywhere, harried staff that come off as rude, what have you. All these things encourage us to let out the shrieking man-baby within. Wouldn't it feel great to just punch the smirk off that smarmy counter agent's face, flush the screaming newborn down the lavatory toilet, recline your seat as violently as possible into that tall guy behind you simply because you don't like his looks?

Don't do it. Fantasize away, but now you are grown and you must act accordingly. For the love of all that used to be posh and civilized, you will be rewarded if you exercise restraint by knowing that you have made someone's day a bit easier. Be considerate and helpful to flight attendants and airline staff - chances are you make more money than they do, and stressed/irritable passengers are everybody's problem when you're working as an airline team. I can't count how many times I have been thanked by airport and airline personnel, indirectly via a smile or extra peanuts or with a "thank you for being patient," simply because I am polite.

There is surely truth in the most recent post about expectations and whatnot. While Japan still refers to customers in the humble polite tense and bows to every single passenger as they deplane, it is a fool's hope to expect that same kind of treatment from U.S. airlines, and so we lower our expectations. Some employees ARE genuinely rude and deserve to be demoted to family-oriented Disney World Orlando flights, but it is my belief that American airline staff have grown cool and curt at least partially as a reaction to the way passengers treat them. They too have lowered their expectations. I've seen middle aged men snapping their fingers at busy flight attendants, young moms losing it and screaming at gate agents in front of their children, and all sorts of customers ranging from difficult to deserving of death. Most people are decent (by "decent" I mean they refrain from throwing tantrums on board or at the airport), but unfortunately many of the memorable ones are the indecent ones.

Think back to the jobs you worked - surely anyone without a trust fund has some customer service-related work experience. Remember those jerks who yelled at you and insisted on speaking to your manager when there was nothing to be done? But I'm sure you also remember at least a few nice people who chatted with you at checkout, complimented your haircut or your earrings, and thanked you like they meant it. The folks who tricked you into thinking "I could ring register my whole life if everyone were like that!"

If in the turbulent throes of our travel woes we cannot actually kill people, why not do the second best thing and kill them with kindness?

iPhone love

2010-05-04T23:37:00.001+09:00

Is this the future of international romance?

Engrish, LOL and ROFL

2010-04-28T23:46:00.001+09:00

I can't believe I didn't buy this.

"Laughing Out Loud"

"Rolling On the Floor Laughing"

A review

2010-04-27T22:55:00.000+09:00

The following is a blurb about Oldies, where I spent approximately 74.82% of my free time in Tagawa:

Located in the shopping arcade right next to JR/Heichiku Tagawaita Station, OLDIES Izakaya is a combination Tex-Mex restaurant, izakaya, and party venue. It's also more or less a shrine to kitschy Americana - the walls and ceilings are completely covered in Elvis, Marilyn, and James Dean. Friendly co-owners Toshi and Miho serve reasonably priced classics ranging from hot dogs and karaage to burritos, enchiladas and a rather famous taco salad. There are weekday drink specials on tap beer, as well as a selection of imported beers like Corona, Hoegaarden and Dos Equis. Several times a year, OLDIES hosts all-you-can-drink parties with live music from local JETs as well as Tagawa rockabilly bands. Very popular hangout spot for Chikuho area JETs. An English menu is available. Miho speaks excellent English and wears Old Spice deodorant.

Open 6-11 pm, closed Sundays.

I am going to wear this to a party.

2010-04-22T23:32:00.001+09:00

So I am going to this party tomorrow night.

The dress code is "put on your best threads, no flip flops."

Black dress is from Zara, rabbit fur gloves were a birthday present from Miho, gold boots are from the OPA department store in Osaka. Will also wear fishnet tights and much louder makeup. If there's anything I love, it's attempting to smoothly blend dressy with silly, with a touch of "serious business." It's rare I expose this much skin in an outfit, but I think it's well suited to this "HIGH IN THE SKY" business that Fukuoka Now is promoting.

See you there!

Night driving in the mountain pass to mend a bruised heart and back

2010-04-22T09:52:00.000+09:00

You know this would be a great place to get murdered.

You mean a great place to murder someone?

And then we passed from questionable civilization to none at all, just us and the heart heavy trees bent like grandmas over the road. Lurching and jerking we sped over mountains in the most inconveniently twisted path imaginable.

This is the shit Japanese postcards are made of!

Like the "Japan's Nature" ones?

Yeah!

It is so wonderful to be out here in no man's land like this. If we died up here no one would ever find us, would they? We could pass in a head-on, since the road is so narrow and curvy that staying in one lane feels like an unnecessary chore.

You know you're lucky I don't barf in cars.

Please don't barf.

Every so often while making a turn you can catch a brief glimpse of where you are - somewhere, lost forever, in some vast coniferous mountain range.

This is what the Black Forest is supposed to look like!

The Black Forest?

It's a real place?! I thought it was just the name of the cake.

DUH I've BEEN there.

It's like nighttime in here, with the setting sun behind rain clouds and thick fog like the Tenerife disaster takeoff you'd never know what is happening in the real world. Nor do you particularly wish to return to a place with houses, supermarkets, schools or hospitals. It's disappointing when you reach the summit because you know you're on your way out.

Oh we're halfway there. Now I can use my brakes again!

Oh.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Returning, after nursing a bruised heart with rich food and a fat man who tried to order our friend a pizza. It's pitch black, foggy, raining. This is better than primal, perhaps primordial. We are listening to "Fantasy" by Mariah Carey.

You know, with the music video and everything, this is strangely fitting.

At this point I don't ever want to leave. I can't see shit save for the plant debris on the road and the road reflectors but I know I am in a forest and right now a forest is the only place I want to be.

Bunny!

We switch to "Orion" by Metallica and then a string of Clan of Xymox and A Flock of Seagulls songs because I have totally hijacked the music. On our way down again it's disappointment all over again. I don't want to go to work tomorrow. I want to stay on this road forever.