Where does the good go?

There's no grass here. Plenty of concrete ditches, highway overpasses, electrical wires, asphalt, and fencing. Sandwiched between mountainsides are bustling cities linked by smaller towns and villages--an endless, nauseating urban sprawl. No backyards, no hilltops, no open air. In a land where seemingly nothing goes wasted, vacant space for wandering, sleeping, and vacant thought, goes inevitably wasted. Foreign expats living here, learn the exceptions to the ways and means to "rebuild" their previous lives, in a fraction of the space. You can have almost anything you once had--if you know where to look for it, and if you have enough money. Quaker Oats from underneath the train station. Organic peanut butter on Kencho dori. Real fish and chips from Tabloid near Ito Yokado. UnderArmor from Kurashiki. Chrome bags on special order. A Sirrus Sport from Osaka. Just about anything, up to a Hummer (from Tokyo), can be found somewhere within Japan. But those things don't belong here. They seem every bit as out of place here as a patch of green grass or a hillside without a major power line. I feel guilty about needing things that don't belong. Things that are only contributing further to the metropolitan suffocation.

I accidentally stumbled across another Japan blog the other day. Familiar regurgitation, going something to the tune of this:

ther r vending mashines wit beer in em!! i can b krunk 24/7!!! and then last nite I accsidenttly ate a bunch of wasabi ("wah sah bee") becuz i thoght it wuz gwacamoley!!!11 LOL im such a n00b!!! my host familys daughter is a babe! jap gurlz r hawt!!!

The evening express train I was riding into Osaka over the weekend struck and killed someone who allegedly jumped off a pedestrian overpass onto the tracks. I prayed every night since then, that it was this idiotic tosser, and not simply another victim of the reality of living in Japan.