alex's blog

I Fought the Law and uh... I Won

2009-11-26T23:23:00.003-05:00

Well it was actually my friend Ivan who fought the law, and he certainly won.

Ivan got a ticket from a Metro Transit Authority officer early one morning, after he put his feet on the chair beside him to take a nap while riding home. I hear stories about such disgruntled cops all the time who look for ways to turn a great night into a minor inconvenience for us happily drunk, mid-20's aged people.

Instead of paying the measly $25 fine which would eventually get tossed into the bottomless black hole that is the massive debt incurred from years of wasteful spending, Ivan both literally and figuratively put his foot down.

After having gone to the NYC Transit Adjudication Bureau Ivan came in late to Price Theory class, and he had on this priceless grin that, despite the professor's efforts, no derivation of any consumer utility function will ever be able to explain.

After class Ivan showed me this:

(I held a mirror in front of my computer and took a picture of the reflection so it wouldn't have to be read backwards, but I guess it doesn't really matter since it's still illegible)

The above is a copy of Ivan's Notice of Decision and Order after Ivan appeared in court to contest his ticket. The officer did not show up, and Ivan told the hearing officer standing in as a judge his side of the story. In the soon-to-be landmark case of Ivan Khilko vs. New York City Transit Authority (2009), the court's decision is as follows:

"TA rule 1050.7j(1) prohibits a rider from occupying more than one seat when to do so would interfere with transit operations or the comfort of other passengers. I note from the details of violation that this incident occurred at 4:15 am on a Tuesday morning. I credit the Respondent's [Ivan's] testimony that there were only two riders in the car. I find that at the early time of this incident, it is more probable that the train would have few riders so that the Respondent's conduct would not have interfered with other passengers or with transit operations. Accordingly, I find the Respondent is not in violation and the Notice of Violation is dismissed."

In other words, I made a copy of this notice so that the next time I am stretched out across the seats of the subway at 4 in the morning and an officer tells me to sit up, I will calmly refer them to the section that basically says he or she can go to hell.

Black Trek

2009-11-14T00:40:00.002-05:00

Apparently I'm not the only one who thought of this. I need to collaborate with this guy.

The best part is the intro. I don't really understand what's going on after that.

Black Trek

2009-11-05T20:56:00.004-05:00

I spent the first half of my Mathematics class thinking of a script for a TV series similar to Star-Trek, but paralleled with what I realize are gross misrepresentations of what were already gross misrepresentations of generic black stereotypes. In case you may be wondering, I had already read through a significant portion of the chapters in which the professor had structured the first hour of class, so my time was spent doing something much more valuable in my opinion.

(I'm actually more of a Star Wars fan, and in fact, the average Trekkie will probably scoff at my superficial command of Star-Trek knowledge, but the parallels to black culture were so much more fun and easier to make when applied to the Star-Trek series..)

Black-Trek: Deep Penetration 69

[Scene 1: The $tarship Hypnotize is being chased through a time warp by a Bling-on warship] (if you're not already laughing it would be hard for us to continue being friends)

Deck Officer Wanda: Captain! Muthafucka's shootin!

[Captain J.L. Rashard henceforth referred to as Cap'n Pinkie sets his cranberry vodka on the ship's navigation control panel and furrows his brow]

Cap'n Pinkie: Blast on those fools! Full powah!!

[Enter Ronnie on the intercom, the high-yellow dude down the block who grew up in the Midwest and talks with a funny accent]

Ronnie: All the ship's power is being concentrated on keepin' the shields up. We cain't hit 'em with that stanky stank unless you wanna take some blows.

[Cap'n Pinkie to the ship's navigator, Young Jeezy]

Cap'n Pinkie: Young Jeezy got skillz! I seen him roast Po-Po after we done rolled on some niggas last week! Wanda! Tell Ayeesha to get me some ice for that drank!

[Wanda pauses for a bit, noisily purses her lips, turns and walks away in no hurry, like a disgruntled post office employee after you hand her a parcel slip]

[Cap'n Pinkie and Young Jeezy watch Wanda walk off and silently mouth 'Damn' while staring at her voluptuous booty]

Unfortunately this is as far as I got before my Math professor started a new topic on Taylor and MacLaurin series, which unfortunately I had not done before. I had to stop scriptwriting and take serious notes.

North Korean Diet

2009-11-02T21:57:00.002-05:00

The situation here is pretty stable.

Halloween was a sloppy mess. Whatever enthusiasm you feel when walking outside for the first time with your costume is automatically shattered when you see some idiot wearing the same thing you are. Within the span of the time it took me to get to the bar where I was going I found about 7 or 8 other Where's Waldo's.

Since I'm cheap and didn't want to spend $20 bucks on the authentic red and white striped sweater, I bought a brown and white, boys aged 12-14, striped zip-up from the ABC Super 99 retail outlet down the street from my apartment, at an economically priced $6.99.

I wore it with my brown corduroy pants and brown winter hat. I told everyone I was going for a more festive, Earth-tone Waldo, and there lies the solace I managed to salvage.

And now to explain the meaning of the title of this post...

My recent employment has left me considerably less paid than when I was a paralegal taking orders from extremely overworked associates. Still I am able to pay all the bills and have a little left over for causing mischief and mayhem. This goes without saying that I've obviously had to make some sacrifices, beginning with the food I consume.

We have staff meals every day at the Japanese restaurant where I work, so its dinner that I'm left to fend for myself. After reading a recent article on how the North Koreans creatively dealt with famine during the mid 1990's, I was inspired: I am not going grocery shopping until I've expired all the edible things in my apartment.

Tonight's dinner:

Curry Grits
Stale Olive Bread w/ Honey and Butter
Pancakes w/ Nutella (1/2 of the actual Aunt Jemima mix for the flavor, 1/2 Flour to add substance)

Tomorrow's Potential Dinner:

Regular Grits
About 8 Rotini Shells w/ stale Ragu sauce (pour water in the bottle to make it look like there's more in there...)

Math Galore

2009-10-27T00:42:00.003-04:00

So I will blog about something soon. I'm studying for Math midterms and see nothing but differential equations floating through my weary mind.

For Halloween I'm dressing up as the black Where's Waldo.

Lost and Found

2009-10-11T16:58:00.002-04:00

Recently thought lost notepad was found in the back pocket of an old pair of pants I wore a few weeks ago. Along with random Japanese words I heard at work that I wanted to look up later, I found a few more thoughts I'd like to share in addition to the few from the last post.

1. New Iphone Application called "Cell-Phone Signal Jammer"

Some friends asked if I had any good ideas for an Iphone app, and I immediately thought about a bus ride I had one early Saturday morning on the way to a make-up Micro Theory class. A portly black girl sat next to me with a phone to her ear and I immediately knew there was going to be trouble. I prayed she was only checking her voicemail, but when she started cackling I knew it was one of those, "And I was like... and then he was like.... and then she were like....." conversations. And it did play out to be one of those conversations.

Anyway I thought to myself, how nice would it be to pull out my phone and emit a jamming signal that blocks cell phone service within the confines of a small radius about the size of a bus.

2. Medusa's Period

On one entire page of my notepad there were only the words "Medusa's Period" written, and I can't to this day remember what I could've possibly been thinking.

Lost Thoughts

2009-10-05T19:12:00.005-04:00

After several unsuccessful attempts to write in and not lose a small pocket journal for my notes, I'm trying to record some things that came to me within the past few weeks. The following is my hope to recover a few lost valuable thoughts.

1. A poem I wrote while waiting for the A train to take me back home late one night:

Waiting for a train.
Waiting for A train,
waiting for my life.

2. When I call customer service regarding an inquiry for my bank account, they make me type in a bunch of personal information which they say is supposed to help speed up the process. Then when I speak to a representative they make me repeat my information all over again.

3. There was an article about the newly crowned tallest man in the world, Sultan Kosen, who hails from some Anatolian plateau in Turkey. In the article they listed in no short order all the negative consequences of his abnormal pituitary excretions which included, an enlarged heart, a short life expectancy, a dependency on crutches to stand up straight, and the general feeling of being a freak. You get a sense of his unenviable disposition in his own words,

"I can't fit into a normal car, I can't go shopping like normal people, I have to have things made specially and sometimes they aren't always as fashionable. The other thing is that ceilings are low and I have to bend down through doorways."

Then, not to make the reader feel too bad for the guy, the article gives you something to lift your mood with,

"But he [Sultan Kosen] noted some advantages too, including the ability to see people coming from far away.

In conclusion, on one side of the scales of life we have the negatives (1) a short lifespan (2) heart problems until you die (3) being crippled, and (4) a general feeling of being a freak, whilst on the other side we have a positive (1) the ability to see people coming from far away.

That's all from my newly lost notepad #4 that I can remember. The next one I buy will have a proximity sensor attached, that way when I am outside of the 2 foot radius it will emit an ear piercing shriek louder than Medusa scraping her teeth against a chalkboard.

Japan Revisited

2009-09-19T08:09:00.005-04:00

There has been an upsurge of Japan-related events in my life right now. Recently I started working at a Japanese restaurant in the Tribeca (TRiangle BElow CAnal street) area of Manhattan. To say that communicating with the waiters in Japanese, and having to wear a portable intercom system with random Japanese commands and orders shouted over the airwaves is but a small distraction would be an understatement.

In other Japan-related news, my friend Sachi who got me a sweet part-time job at a beach bar in Hagi just sent me photos of the time we went surfing near the coast in Abu-chou. It was also a time for her to showcase her new dog, Bunta, to her friends. Sachi has a blog, whose main purpose is to show the world thousands upon thousands of photos of her dog, which could not possibly be any more adorable, yet I sometimes wonder just what is so damn special about the connection Japanese people have with all the cute things in this world.

Anyway, to the pics!

When they told us we were going surfing here, the first thing I noticed was the incredible lack of danger of the 2-foot waves that came crashing--or should I say came massaging the continental shelf, and kissed the shore ever so gently after the swells broke.

This is me and Bunta. I decided it wasn't worth it for me to get cold and wet on an especially chilly day in order to ride a 2-foot wave for a couple of seconds and have people cheering me on like I had been Kelly Slater.

Instead I spent the afternoon watching dolphins play, hoping that one of them would get close enough to my friend Kawashima and scare the shit out of him. Since he's Japanese, he would probably have tried to eat it.

This is my friend Sachi who lives in Hiroshima now. And for some strange reason all the people in the pictures on her blog have their faces blurred out. Only mine, and her dog Bunta's aren't afforded the same treatment. I've presaged that there is going to be a new horror movie with pictures of people with blurred out faces that die all of a sudden, and then come back to life as zombies to terrorize the still living.

Here are some more friends from Hagi trying to skateboard in the parking lot... Which adds a new element to my movie idea, because I'm pretty sure it would be the first time anyone used the theme, ZOMBIES ON SKATEBOARDS!!

More Awkward Running

2009-09-10T23:02:00.011-04:00

After my class in Mathematics for Economists, I found myself straying to a nearby friend's house, Leo, to eat some carne con platanos and to watch Raphael Nadal lose to some Chilean dude in the U.S. Open.

This is my friend Leo who lives a few blocks from my school. In this photo we were enjoying some beers and looking at women at a bar called the Half Pint in the LWS on the corner of West 3rd and Thompson Street.

Unfortunately, ominous-looking clouds during the second set tiebreak gave way to a rain delay, and after a few minutes of flipping back and forth between the Steelers game I gave my friend Leo some departing words and was on my way home. Since I inevitably have to pass through Harlem to wait for a bus, I thought it best to not let it get too dark. I'm all about bravery and all that nonsense, but there are still certain parts of NYC that make me feel just about as tough as Red before he gets knocked the fu** out by DEBO.

Anyway once on the bus we shot across the RFK bridge, and I got off at Astoria Boulevard and walked home. It started to drizzle a bit, and that's when I decided to run the rest of the way home, while still wearing my bookbag.

That's when I discovered it. No matter how hard you try, its impossible to not look gay while running with a backpack. Accelerating your walking stride into a lively jog causes the contents of your bookbag to shift awkwardly from side to side, whilst you, in your pathetic attempts to counter the shifting weight, swing your arms wider hoping desperately for a more even and controlled rhythm. Despite your commendable struggle, all that gets accomplished is that you successfully look like a jackass.

The only good thing about running with a backpack on is that at least your name isn't Tyler and you're running with your backpack on, like the kid on the left in this picture probably is.

Wedding in LA

2009-09-09T12:56:00.005-04:00

My sister got married a few weeks ago, and I'm totally jacking some of the photos from the website of the company that was hired to photograph the event. Most companies usually have some sort of code embedded into the HTML that prevents you from right-clicking, but obviously this was not the case. Even when they do prevent you from right-clicking you can always just hit the 'prntcscrn' button, open the image in Microsoft Paint, crop it, and save it as a *.jpg file.

Here is a picture of the temple where they tied the knot. While we were driving, we came around a bend on the highway and nestled in the gently sloping foothills of Southern California we see this crystal-white grandiose temple that looked like something from Willow. I swore I heard harps and angels playing God's sweet overture as cherubs circled my head when we pulled near.

The area for the reception was quite nice. Behind those palm trees in the background was a lovely vista of the Pacific Ocean. I got a yearning to go down to the shore and stare out at the horizon because people feel reflective when looking at pretty things, and I am no exception. Once that activity had lost its ability to make me reflect, I'd had enough of staring at the ocean and went back to join the crew.

Here is a picture of my 1-year-old niece Maya, who knows how to do nothing but look ridiculously cute all the damn time.

Here are some more ridiculously cute children from the groom's side of the family. My first impression struck me a little nervous because for some reason they reminded me of CHILDREN OF THE CORN!!

They say that its difficult to look at something that's too beautiful. I agree with that, but it also doesn't help if you have immaculately blond hair and wear all white when the sun is beaming down on us with a cloudless sky overhead.

Because this is my blog it goes unsaid that I can post a picture of myself whenever I see fit.

Notice how everyone is looking at me and laughing. I can't quite remember, but I like to think that I just said something clever or witty, which is why I'm the one with look of incredulity that says, "My God, how did I get so damn funny??...."

Random Funny

2009-09-04T00:35:00.003-04:00

My friend Catherine Montemayor came to visit me one time last year while I was living in Chinatown.

This is a picture of my friend doing her impression of a creepy ghost.

I lived in a small apartment on the 6th floor next to a laundromat on Madison Street, and all of the neighboring tenants were of Asian decent, or were white people who appeared to be squinting all the time.

Anyway while I would be at work I would give her the keys, and she would venture out on her own and go exploring around downtown.

We got to talking about the other tenants, and I told her that up to that point in time, I hadn't met anyone else in my building, especially any young-looking people.

Then she said, "Well, actually I was leaving your apartment and I saw Sum Yung Gai."

And I was like, "Who the fuck is Sum Yung Gai and how do you know him???"

Then she thought about it for a second, and replied, "Noooooooooooo, I meant some young guy!!"

Then I started laughing and had to explain to her why that was funny. She started laughing too, and then we went out and got drunk at a bar in the lower east side.

Welcome Back NYC

2009-08-30T11:46:00.007-04:00

Back from a 2-month pleasure trip to Japan and a weekend excursion to Southern California for a weddng, I'm finally able to spend large amounts of leisure time in my apartment without having to worry about taking a plane trip anywhere in the upcoming weeks.

The past few weeks I've spent trying not to look for employment; a considerable amount of cash remains from the tranche I deposited from my savings account. With that being said you might do well to consider me part of that elite group known as the 'idle rich', since I spend most of my time daydreaming and night-owling. After all, the idle rich are responsible for the world's most creative and sometimes lucrative forms of artistic expression. Without them, we wouldn't have things like Modern Art, or Curb Your Enthusiasm for example. Once I do exhaust this first installment of my hard earned cash, I'll be begging just like the 9-10% of our nation's actively job-seeking workforce.

In other news I'll be starting grad school next week, my first class in Mathematics for Economists on Thursdays. I've also got a few going out stories to tell, but I'll wait until I receive some photos for better visual enhancement.

Random things that make me happy despite living in NYC:

1. Coming back to an unfamiliar spot where I locked my bike and still having both wheels and the frame intact.

2. Going to a bar on a random night and hearing the bartender tell you there is a 2-for-1 drink special.

3. DJ's that play any song by Prince.

Hagi Digs

2009-08-12T11:16:00.004-04:00

My friend who put me up for 3 weeks in his home in Hagi just sent me some pictures. He thought it was funny that as he would rise in the morning to make his cup of tea, I would be getting back from a long night of drinking. Then as he would lay down to take his afternoon nap, thats when I would wake from my gentle slumber and prepare for another wild night.

This is Juko Nakamura aka "The Artist". He is the best-known maker of these medium sized traditonal Japanese figurines that are put on display during a traditional Japanese wedding. They sell for about $200 bucks a piece, and he makes dozens per day. He busts his ass during the Fall and Winter making hundreds of these things, and after he sells them off he can relax during the spring and summer months. During his time off he also paints. One of his works was shown in the Louvre during a special exhibition, but he wants to have his own museum featuring his own works, and those of other artists he admires.

This is Juko's apprentice, Mio. She's from Osaka.

This is the bedroom where I slept. This is was Juko's basement where he kept all of his paintings when he did not have any open exhibitions going on in some part of Japan. I slept next to a replica of Duchamp's Fountain.

You should've seen Juko's face twitch when I innocently pointed towards the "Fountain" after he asked me if I knew where the bathroom was in his house.

I thank Juko for his incomparable hospitality. The first night I slept here, the mosquitos gorged themselves on my blood, and I had to buy one of those machines that creates a mosquito forcefield with a radius of about 25 feet. I have no idea how it works, but on the second night when I plugged it into the wall and switched it on, I slept as soundly as a ladybug in an amber paperweight.

Carbonite Hangover

2009-08-04T04:37:00.003-04:00

You may or may not remember a trip to Europe that I took last year to watch the soccer championships. While I was in Austria pounding Bavarian beers at our hostel in Vienna I met a Japanese guy who is from a town not far from Hagi. I rang him up one day and told him I could come visit for the weekend to catch up and that sort of thing.

Shimonoseki is the largest city in Yamaguchi prefecture so I was pumped that we were going to make a wild night out of it. After Yuichiro picked me up, I noticed we were slowly drifting into the country. He told me we were going to eat dinner at his house which is unfortunately not located in the kind of night locale I was expecting.
At his house however, there was beer by the kegload and he told me that we would be going scuba diving the next day, so my mood had certainly perked up a bit.

What I didn't predict was the quantity of beer and wine I would consume in one night, and after waking at 6 AM sharp to drive to Nagato I felt about as good as Han Solo just after waking up from his carbonite sleep.

While coping with what I call a "Carbonite Hangover", the scuba diving had certainly tested me, but I fought bravely against the urge to reverse my bowel movements into the mouthpiece of my oxygen tank.

Here is a photo of me losing the battle against the Carbonite Hangover. While everyone was eating lunch I passed out in the grass in this uncomfortable position while my newly acquainted friend Taka mocks me.

Here is a photo of me in better spirits after napping for a bit. Yuichiro is the fellow on the far left. Some other girl in our diving group was celebrating her 50th dive.

There was a moment when Taka led me into a cavern about 15 meters deep, where the suns' rays could not penetrate, and the temperature had noticeably lowered. We reached a dead end and I got a feeling for some reason that Taka might rip my oxygen tube from the tank like Roger Moore does to that dude in Never Say Never again. I had to turn around just calm myself down. Another symptom of the Carbnite Hangover is paranoia.

This is Taka and me posing for a photo.

Then Taka said he wanted to be cool like me and pose with his shirt off too.

On Thursday I leave Hagi for Fukuoka, and Taka and I are going drinking for what will be the last time before I head home on Friday morning from Fukuoka Airport. It is impossible for me to describe how much fun I've had the past two months, so I won't.

Pictures

2009-07-21T00:08:00.003-04:00

This is Taisho. His name is Takashi Imada and he was quite honestly the coolest Japanese person I've met so far. I stayed on his compound for the past month and here are a few pictures I took from his camera.

Squid Fishing and Taisho got stung by a bee just below his left eye. He said squid ink was a local remedy.

We went to sell some of the products that they make on the farm at this market festival. In the tent next to us was a pair of guys who taught us how to make pizza dough with empty plastic bottles. We had to do a silly dance to mix the flour and water. Taisho is wearing the cowboy hat.

This is a picture of Taisho carving meat from a wild boar that he shot.

This is the fam. Taisho and his wife, Kishi. Ryo is behind me. Go ahead and try to guess what their respective ages are before I tell you in the next few words. I was shocked when I learned that Taisho is 58, his wife is 48, and Ryo is 41. This place must also have the same mystical qualities as that of Neverland, because apparently you don't age while living on this farm. I guess that's what happens when you eat only fresh grown vegetables and wild meat.

Robot Dreams

2009-07-18T04:51:00.003-04:00

The population in towns like the one where I currently reside is rapidly dwindling. The government has dispatched teams of researchers and scientists to discover why. I recently was a part of an overnight tour group sponsored by an organization seeking to attract people away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and to acquaint them with the serenity of life in Japan's countryside.

Taisho told me that young people from Tokyo, Hiroshima, Osaka, etc. would be present, but he does have a tendency to exaggerate. I was part of a legit 'Tour Group' in every sense of the word when most of us hear that phrase. We had a couple in their 50's, a few unmarried women in their late 30's early 40's, an retired man who wore a fanny pack, a 62 year old dude who biked from the next ken over (approx. 300 km), and me.

When Taisho saw the make-up of the group I was apart of he gave me his cheeky look that said 'my bad, I thought there would be young people'. He then hopped into his car and sped off laughing after he told me he'd pick me up tomorrow.

The tour actually turned out to be quite nice. We went to a place that makes traditional Japanese paper, and I got to make my own sheet. Whenever you get to make something yourself, it doesn't really matter what it is, that object immediately becomes what I like to call a badass life token.

Then we climbed up a mountain to a shrine to have dinner. Of course there was alcohol. Of course by chance I sat across from the one dude who would teach me how to be a proper drinker, the 62 year old guy who rode his bike from Tottori ken. After we toasted he downed his beer in about 3 sips and smiled at me. I tried to keep up with his pace but struggled. Before the end of one hour we had finished 5 beers, and then he reached for the Shochu (Japanese whiskey).

I ended up losing to this guy who was a salaryman for Asics for 30 years, and now drives cabs part time in Osaka. He has enough money to do whatever he wants but prefers getting permanent bruises on his ass from riding his bike all the damn time. I confirmed this when we went into the Onsen (public bath) after dinner.

That night I had a strange robot dream. I can't really credit my sleeping brain alone for coming up with this idea. The alcohol helped me sleep through the night which is good if you want to see the crazy stories that you dream about actually resolve themselves. The robot story is probably from the remnant of an Isaac Asimov short story that I might have read some time ago.

In the near future they invented the first advanced robot that worked in office buildings and could do simple tasks like retrieving the mail, going on deliveries, and stocking the kitchen among other things. He would also respond to human commands like 'Tell me the weather forecast' or 'What's the spot price for one troy ounce of gold in the commodities market'. Reporters often followed him everywhere to ask him random questions in order to pick his artificial brain and get a sense of his demeanor.

He would politely correct people who would unintentionally call him a cyborg, and he amicably demonstrated a capacity for humor when a reporter asked him if he could dance. Among other moves that he expertly performed like a young Michael Jackson (rip) high on acid, he said 'This one I call 'the human'', and everyone laughed. They laughed because a robot did a dance called 'the human'. I can't really perform the dance myself, but in my head I see it perfectly. It's a combination of the Michael Jordan victory walk and the Twist.

Sadly, they shut him down the instant he responded to the question 'Do you dream?' He said yes and everyone was afraid that he would try to enslave the human race one day, which was probably somewhere within his faculty.

2009-07-15T11:22:00.004-04:00

It's hard for me to describe life here. At the risk of being too verbose, I will try to put into words the past 4 weeks...

When I came here, I was under the impression that Taisho was an all-business type of dude until the first time he snuck me a beer during lunch while Ryo was discussing with me my duties for the day. After Ryo left for his part time job Taisho gave me the cheekiest look I'd ever seen, and told me to hop into his car. (the fact that there is a beer tap at this place is badass in and of itself...)

That day we drove to his Udon Restaurant that he owns and operates in Hamada-shi (population 40,000), and after buying an apron and chef coat he told me that I'd be waiting tables for the day. We went through all the basic polite expressions that you use when working in a restaurant, and when opening time came I greeted customers and took their orders with a cheery "Irasshaimase!!!"

A few days later, just when Ryo was finishing another insightful yet boring description of the proper way to harvest a green bean, Taisho gave me the same goofy smile and I knew that something was brewing. "Nigeou!!" he said after Ryo departed. Nigeru is the word for "to escape!", but the way he said it roughly translates to "Lets get the fuck outta here!!" Taisho took me on a 2 hour trip through country backroads and tucked away mountain paths nestled in the rustic Japanese countryside. Afterwards I climbed trees like an adroit lemur and shook all the bayberries from them while Taisho stood beneath me holding a large vinyl tarp and wore that same goofy grin. We then fermented the berries and made a very delicious alcoholic drink that also takes on the most beautiful hue of the color red that I've ever seen.

We visited his friend, the badass honeymaker. I call him badass because when we went to his hive, this dude did not wear a bee suit. Apparently, 70 year old Japanese men that live in the country care less about being stung by a nest of around 300,000 bees. His lot was directly on the slope of a mountainside. I saw onions and garlic hanging on some bamboo poles near the structure where he keeps his machines. I look out in the distance and see nothing but groves of neatly planted cedar trees and plum orchards.

Taisho is now starting to be too good to be true. We meet a cute elderly woman (Taisho's age) at a weekend festival at the local beach, and she tells me I should come to her shop in Masuda sometime to play music. I say OK, thinking that I'll never see her again, but Taisho, after tricking his wife into thinking that we were going on a business trip to market the crazy-strong rice liquor that they make here, tells me that we are leaving that same night!!

More on this night and much more. I haven't updated in quite a while so left out a bunch of stuff. Tonight I played Futsal at the nearby Futsal park (a strange attraction in a town who's annual census reports a population of 1,589 people), and afterwards went to a newly acquainted friend's house for drinks. Am drunk now and cannot write much more without sounding incomprehensible. I have got a lot of catching up to do!

Good Night!

New Kicks

2009-07-02T08:56:00.004-04:00

I started writing about the locale, the people, and all those other piecemeal posts I said I was going to, but it was just way too wordy and boring. Instead I'm going to do what I usually do which is start out with some of kind of ambitious plan and slowly back away from it.

June and July are part of the rainy season, so when it starts to pour the people here don't let me work out in the fields. Its funny because I can still see the 80 year old Obaachan (old woman) I work with continually plucking onions from the Earth's ripe bosom, or hoeing away at some patch of dirt, all during a torrential downpour while I'm sitting on a heated rug sipping on warm miso soup.

Because of today's rain, Taisho and his wife took me on a drive to Hiroshima city to do some shopping. Taisho wanted some new Timbalands, and his wife wanted to get out of the country and release some tension with a nice long drive. On the way to Hiroshima, I decided on my next pair of kicks.

They are called Jikatabi, and mostly construction workers, low wage laborers, or ninjas in the footclan wear them. During the entire time I've been in NYC, I have yet to see anyone wear these. Once I bring them back I'll be the baddest dude on the block for sure. And because of the stigma associated with people who wear this type of shoe in Japan, they are cheap as shit. Only $20 bucks!!

Once I get these kicks I'll have all I need to get the nod from The Shredder. Then I can freely distribute cartons of cigarettes to minors, steal television sets with the rabbit ears attached to them, and do all other types of hoodrat stuff with my friends.

Day One

2009-06-25T09:43:00.004-04:00

First, out of respect for the significance of this trip, I'll be breaking up the summary of where Im currently staying into several piecemeal posts. One for "The Locale", one for "The People", one for "The Field-Work", and so on as I see fit. This first post will be a brief summary of my first day on the farm.

6:00 AM

Ryo and I wake up and go to Taisho's house (Taisho means boss, and I wouldnt dare call him by his real name out of sheer respect) to walk his 8 hunting dogs. 8 divided by 2 people is 2.66 repeating, so that means we have to take more than one trip. I get to walk one dog, Ben, who also happens to be an androgynously-named female. Ryo tells me that once I prove myself I get to walk two dogs at a time. During the walk, we make sure each dog makes an unkou, and then we can go eat breakfast.

7:00 AM

Breakfast at Taisho's compound. Ryo goes over my daily duties and then promptly leaves for his part-time job.

8:00 AM

Armed with a Japanese version of a weedwacker, which looks like a regular one with a circular saw attached to the end instead of a plastic cord, I start cutting a patchy area of grass as well as near the edges of the fields. I work with two 80-year old women who look like they've mysteriously shrunk over the years. Their childlike mien makes me laugh sometimes.

12:00 PM

Lunch and rest.

1:00 PM

Taisho takes me through a path in the woods until we reach a clearing. He unfolds a hammock he made earlier with a canvas sheet and two wooden poles. We hang it up between two trees, and he asks me what I think of it. I tell him it could be better and he starts to laugh. Taisho carefully lays down to test it out, and I lie down on another hammock just because there was noting else I could think of to do at the time. Taisho closes his eyes to take a nap and I eagerly follow him to afternoon dreamland.

4:00 PM

We wake up and Taisho asks me to help him transplant a tree to another part of his compound. After digging a new hole and replacing the tree, we patch it up.

5:00 PM

I come back to check on the recently transplanted tree and the leaves are all droopy. I think its dying. 5:00PM also happens to be the time when the work day is officially over, though there's still much work left to do. I have to make a fire in the boiler which heats the water for the tub I'm supposed to bathe in after about two hours time.

6:00 PM

Dinner. Rest.

7:00 PM

Take the dogs for their nightly walk. This time I get Kotaro who stands on her haunches and high-five's me every time I approach. Kotaro also makes a very marvelous unkou.

8:00 PM

I take a bath and head home on my bike. Its hard to describe how dark it is. Take Danny Glover's face and mix with tar, then toss down into a black hole. Kate Winslet wouldn't even be able to see her hands in front of her out here at night. Luckily, I guide myself home by the recursive bursts of light coming from the thousands of lightning bugs in the vicinity. When I get home, I hastily throw my futon on the tatami mat and pass out from exhaustion.

True Story??

2009-06-19T13:22:00.005-04:00

This is a long post, but I basically had to document my first day so far...

Arrival in Tokyo at 5 PM. 2 hours until my connecting flight to Fukuoka. I passed a couple of ATMs but I figured, hey, might as well hold out until I get where I'm going. I use up 100 of my 500 yen to surf the net for about 10 minutes, and wait for my flight to leave.

Arrival in Fukuoka at 10:00 PM. It's just as I remembered. Clean as hell, jacked up hairdo's, and random bursts of laughter coming from groups of hot girls walking down the sidewalk. Now I decided to finally get some cash from the ATM at the 7 Eleven in Solaria Plaza.

"Invalid Card" said the machine as I tried to withdraw 50,000 yen. No time to panic yet. Just go to another convenience store and try your card there. Turns out that 7 Eleven is the only store that will accept a card with a visa logo so now I'm officially fucked. Hmm, just try your credit card. The interest rate for withdrawing cash is ridiculous, but I have the money so I wouldn]t incur any financing charges during the grace period.

"Enter PIN" said the machine. Fuck! Do I even have a PIN for my credit card?? How the hell should I know that??! After 3 unsuccessful attempts to guess the PIN for a card i didn't even know there was a PIN for, I fumbled through the change in my pocket and knew I had only one other option...

I called Bank of America from a payphone. I deposited 4 of the 100 yen pieces, my absolute last exchangeable piece of currency, and dialed the number on the back of my card.

As soon as the recorded guy started talking about this and that, I started shouting "Operator!! Operator!! Operator you bastards!!" It's only been 1 minute and one of my 100 yen pieces just dissappeared on the computer screen that tracks how much money I put into the machine!!!

My hopes faded when the Japanese voice came on and said something about "No money", and I didn't even get so much as a breath from a living person on the other end of the line.

Evaluate the situation. I had 150 yen in my pocket, about 2 bucks, so I walk back to the park near the subway to strategize. It was late. I thought maybe I should go back to the airport. I went to the ticket machine and what do you know, the subway started closing down for the night. "Last train!!" yelled the station manager. I decided I would change my mind about going back to the airport. How would that even help me??

All I needed was a phone to call my bank, or to hook up my USB which has Skype installed on it so I could call someone from my bank to chew them out. I went to the internet cafes, but they all looked at me like and idiot and said they didn't take VISA. I went back to the park and sat down. I pulled out my guitar and started playing a few melancholy songs into the night, hopefully to blend in with the atmosphere and appear as just another random, wandering soul in a park.

I had less than two dollars in my pocket, a heavy duffel bag with enough clothes for 2 months, and a bookbag weighing me down as I walked probably close to 5 miles. I thought I should sit still from now on. Any further walking was gonna burn more calories and leave me with a horrible choice to make. I could use that last change to do my train scam and make it all the way back to Hagi, or I could buy something to eat in the morning.

I started reclining in the wooden chair I was sitting in, resolved to the point where I knew I was gonna sleep in that park that night. Before I left to come to Japan, my girlfriend pleaded with me not to do anything which would be on par with what a homeless person would do, and i was about to do just that.　Its not so bad, I thought. At least its Japan. Everythings cleaner here. Its not like sleeping in a park in America.

I found the darkest part of the park to lay down for the night. I began hoping that some Japanese wanna-be gangsters would try to mug me so I could beat the shit out of them and take all their money instead.　There are no guns in Japan, and to be quite honest there aren't many things a Japanese person can do that would frighten me in the least, except if they somehow morphed into The Predator.

I started playing music but I wasn't getting tired at all because of the jet lag. What the hell, I thought, and hid my duffel bag and guitar behind some bushes while I tried one last time to resolve the predicament I was in. I walked to a police station, and they called all the net cafes in the area that would accept VISA. There was one. In Japan you have to pay after you're done using the room, and knowing that my card was going to get rejected anyhow, I took a chance.

Conclusion

While in my room I took out my USB and plugged it in. Ok its recognized my device. Now to see if Skype works. BALLER!! Now to plug in my headset and see if the line for Bank of America is still toll free.. PIMP!! While I'm talking to the lady from the bank, the Japanese woman who works at the cafe knocks on my door and says that says that I'm not allowed to talk on the phone. Meanwhile the woman on the line from the bank is thinking, "WTF is going on," while I'm explaining to the Japanese woman in Japanese my situation.

We compromised that I would talk at a whisper, and now the woman from the bank really thinks I'm crazy because I'm whispering to her my account information. She never quite said it, but I could sense the change in the tone of her voice that let me know she was basically telling me, "You are a fu##ing douchebag-idiot!!"

On the phone she says there's no hold or freeze on　the account, and that the problem was that I can only withdraw $500 a day. Before hanging up the phone, I tell her to go screw herself for getting rude with me, leave my passport at the front desk so they don't think I'm leaving for good, and this　time tried to withdraw about $400 from the ATM. I was playing it safe.

"Invalid Card"

Here's the funny part. Because I chose to withdraw an amount that the bank would let me, NOW they decide to place a freeze on the account. I run back to the cafe and go through pretty much the exact same process, tell the woman on the phone to go screw herself for getting rude with me, leave my passport at the front desk so they don't think I'm leaving for good, and withdrew succesfully 40,000 yen.

All is well. In the future, before you go somewhere, always call your bank to let them know you'll be leaving the country so that they don't freeze your money. I've got a few hours on the room, and in the morning I'm off to Hagi.

Karate Kid

2009-06-17T11:58:00.003-04:00

I had a dream last night about an old, wise Japanese man who was teaching me how to make a traditional, yet completely fictitious Japanese dish. It looked like a dumpling made of rice paste, with fresh green-colored pasta cut into small squares that I used to wrap it like ravioli.

I asked him how to make the two sides stick together and he dipped the ravioli in a bowl full of beaten eggs. Voila! Rice paste ravioli or something like that. I'm not sure it's even real. It's probably not real. If it was, I can't imagine it could taste much better than gnocchi.

I recall being genuinely interested in what the wise, old Japanese man was teaching me, and I was eager to learn how to make this interesting creation. Then when I woke up the first idea that popped into my head before I could unleash my stewing dragon breath into the unsuspecting air in my room, I realized that Daniel LaRusso from The Karate Kid was an ungrateful bastard.

If I was some punk kid getting my ass handed to me every day by some douche-thugs in a group called Cobra Kai, I would've been a little more willing to put up with an old man who taught me self-defense.

In my dream, i was learning how to make some crappy dish that doesn't even exist, but I didn't complain. Danny LaRusso on the other hand throws a temper tantrum when Mr. Miyagi tells him he's not ready to learn how to sweep yet, though in his own corny/sarcastic, yet endearing way.

Go to hell Danny LaRusso! You get free room and board, not to mention free ass-kicking sessions from a martial arts master, and you still manage to be more of a punk-bitch than Ralphie from Lord of the Flies.

~~

I'm getting on a plane Thursday to go back to Japan, which is probably the reason for the strange dream I had the other night.

During my stay I'll be on a farm near where I used to live in Hagi, learning the types of things Danny LaRusso learned, except how to kick someone's ass which I'm already well-versed in anyway.

The host I'm staying with says we'll probably go boar hunting, which not only is another reference to Lord of the Flies in this blog, but is an entirely badass situation in and of itself.

While I'm gone I'll be doing some writing/posting, song-composing, reading, lots of thinking, and all the other creative stuff I was unable to do while working for the man in NYC.

~~

Something funny I thought about while on the train.

Three middle-aged women were sitting in front of me in the last car of the Long Island Rail Road, talking about inane things middle-aged women talk about, when I heard one of them say, "Boy Louise, I really got a bad headache."

Just then, as I got ready to get off the train I pulled my journal from my bookbag, and a travel size packet of ibuprofen fell into my lap. I started thinking, "What if I were to be a nice gentleman and offer the woman the packet of ibuprofen as I left the train."

"Thank you young man.." she probably would've said along with other generalities about how there aren't enough nice young people like me left in the world.

She would've changed her mind though, when she found out that instead of the ibuprofen I had slipped her some acid.

Hell hath no fury...

2009-05-29T14:40:00.001-04:00

Two Roads Diverged...

2009-05-17T12:54:00.003-04:00

Cool!

2009-05-13T22:56:00.000-04:00

Check out these illusions.

Funny Cartoons

2009-05-07T15:09:00.002-04:00

You could say that I was inspired by the artist who draws these cartoons. You can look at more of them by clicking on the "Funny Cartoons" link on the top right of this website.