"working on my faults and cracks..."


Too 'le tired' for any meaty complaints

Okayama addresses are totally whack. Tell a taxi driver that you need to get to 1-16-3 Yamato Cho, and he'll give you an empty stare. Say 'pronto' and he'll kick your dumb gaijin ass to the curb. But tell him that you need to go to "the ugly beige brick building underneath the bullet train tracks at the end of that one street that with those peach trees and that little noodle shop that's always closed on Mondays" and he'll have the pedal to the floor like a drug-running wheelman from the J-Fuzz. I only mention this because some J-noob unwittingly asked for my address the other day, with intention of actually finding my apartment. Actual addresses are cryptic puzzles left to be cracked by the friendly Post Office workers and that bastard NHK man when you owe him money. For the rest of the nooby foreigners and Asian mortals, points of reference are wisely used instead. Thinking about dropping by my swinging pad for a drink or a game of CaC? Grab a pen and paper--this one's a doozy:

Apt. #205
Okayama City, Japan
Down the street from 711 by Undou Kouen, used Honda scooter dealership
Behind fenced-off parking lot where that old lady throws her dishwater
Small transformer station under bullet train tracks
Right at the river whose fish you would never want to eat
New building between transformer and coffee can shrine, second floor.

Good luck poop-heads. You'll probably need it.

* The forthcoming video update faced an untimely and crippling setback last night when I lost an entire evening's worth of editing. If you were out collecting the morning paper around 8 or 9 am yesterday, you may have heard the resounding echoes of me cursing. But sit tight. It's still coming.
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