when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro

News in Brief

More News, More Briefs

Week of June 8

* I just realized I have not done a 'briefs' since October of last year. I have missed the briefs. The briefs have missed me. But as you can see, the briefs have triumphantly returned. Rejoice. 

* With a certain degree of uncertainty, a recently released album by Paolo Nutini was purchased. It is drastically different than what was expected. However, after only the first 6 or so minutes of music, it was decided that should a record better than Sunny Side Up, be somehow found to top my year-end music list in December, I will gladly eat my own face.

* My new San Marco Regal saddle arrived at Soft Cream this afternoon. It is almost too beautiful for even my shapely buttocks. Only a few more key component changes, and the humble Langster's grand transformation will be complete.

* Found myself with nothing better to do this past Sunday for lunch, but stand in line for katsudon. Apparently, for Okayama, this particular place is famous. Unfortunately for us though, the best 'famous' can muster with numerous television appearances over 65 years of pork-frying experience is a few canned peas drowning in gallstone gravy:

* More on recent busyness keeping from blogging: someone was foolish brave enough to convince me to write my own personal "Orange County." However, unlike the film, it will be exclusively of the "word and photographic" variety, contain piles of ridiculous wheelies, and will unfortunately not be starring Schuyler Fisk. Which is rather convenient, because in the event that you completely loathe it, you'll still have an attractive hardcover to prop your feet up on. 
FYI: it will not be called "Okayama County." 

* Three fascinating tidbits about the island of Shikoku: (1) It rains there, unrelentingly, every minute of every day.  (2) All the young people there are either too young to drive across the bridge, or not strong enough to swim the inland sea to reach the mainland. As a result, everyone else has escaped, save for... (3) ...The elderly, who not only outnumber the rest of the civilian population, they also outnumber all registered vehicles, stray cats, tanuki statues, and udon huts on the entire island. No small feat, either. Several metric fucktons of udon down in Shikoku. 

* Riding down at the Symphony Hall underground the other night, I ran into an old student of mine. I taught him many valuable things, but don't remember spray paint being one of them:

* There is a block of text in my blogger draft list that I have deemed to be the final DI communique from Japan. The post has been saved there, patiently awaiting dispatch for 6 months. It's under revision again. Start the countdown. I actually mean it this time.

bury me with my money

News in Brief
More News, More Briefs
Week of October 20
* The mighty Japanese yen just fell below the flaccid US dollar for the first time since the last samurai (the actual last samurai, not that shit Tom Cruise movie). Nikkei hilarity panic ensued.
So if you were ever thinking about canceling your overambitious plans to visit Japan, now might be the best time to do so.

* Yesterday, a Japanese woman vomited upon eating Cup Noodle. And then her tongue went numb. For today's experimental lunch, I did not vomit upon eating my Cup Noodle. And my tongue? Still not numb. Apparently, Nissin forgot to put bug spray in mine. Goddammit.

* In news that made even CNN headlines, a Japanese woman is jailed for 'killing' her soon-to-be-divorced husband's Maple Story avatar. Warcraft addicts everywhere rofl'd, then quickly changed their passwords.

* Despite having never felt the need to run farther than 10 miles in a single sitting in my entire life, I still managed 13 point something miles in one hour and forty minutes in Sunday's Hiruzen Marathon. For my efforts, I received two giant radishes and a hand towel.
Kindly put that in your pipe and smoke it.

* Tokyo's Japan Today finally gets their newsworthy shit together. About damn time too. What's it been guys? Like, five years?

* "All Aboard," the punk tribute to Johnny Cash is released. The collective legend of husky vocals, black duds, lines of cocaine, shooting random dudes in Reno, and jailhouse rock promptly rolled in his grave, stretched his legs, and stood up to mosh.

* Senator Obama wipes errant sneeze on reporter, wins hearts of countless swing voters, steals November election.

* At the continued behest of Westerners everywhere, Japanese people continue to pretend they enjoy eating whale.
Ok, just file this under 'non-news,' and move on...
...That is, unless the new protest strategy is to "eat moar whale!" Excuse me, what?

* PS3 heavy-hitter LittleBigPlanet did not meet its promised Tuesday release date thanks to Sony hitting the red 'panic' button on several Koran quotes tucked within the soundtrack. For a game that will inevitably play host to countless penis-shaped user creations, I would have thought that a whimsical little Islamic diddy should be the least of Sony's concerns. Clearly, the internet and I are mistaken.

* "Babel" progress:

They gave me shoes to shine and a shirt to press. White leather belt over dress blues. Buttons. Brass ones. Copper ones too. Red-trimmed epaulettes on my shoulders and colored swatches on my chest. Even gave me a medal. Glory, somewhere--something to someone.

But drifting stares through the cross-examination at their faces, thin veil of shame hiding mother’s puffy eyes and father’s angry brow, it all meant nothing. Nothing to me, and nothing to them. I was a clown. A glittering Christmas tree of alleged guilt. My uniform, now a public liability, and my badges, criminal indictments.

So I decided not to wait around to find out. Without a word, I’ve gone.
First by taxi, then by train. Fourteen hours, I rode the Tokkaido.
East. Towards Tokyo.

vacation's come and gone too late

News In Briefs
WYWS Edition
* I'm not sure what's more irritating about coming back--the soggy 95 degree Okayama heat (Paris was barely warm enough for shorts), climbing the Ridai hill for another morning at the office in the aforementioned slop, or the culturally-imposed guilt trip upon return from an extended absence to a Japanese workplace without proper omiyage. It doesn't bother me at all that I never bring anyone anything, but for the "always buy something even from the next town over" wiener-trains whose incessant questioning fills my ears, simple negligence will never do. Instead, having finally attained an uncomfortable level of Japanese cultural assimilation, I now feel free to move about and pick and choose the elements of Japan that best suit me. Keeping my shirt on while I run? Ok, fine. Texting or email instead of face-to-face communication? Sure, I'll adjust. But buying your dumb ass a souvenir every time I step out the door? Sorry poindexter, does not compute.

* To its metaphor-loving detractors, while Clone Wars may have been the animated pimp-slap to the aged and botox-infused face of the Star Wars "franchise," it mattered little to me. I am not loyal enough a fan to give two shits about which brand of deodorant George Lucas uses, nor am I casual enough to not know about the Wilhelm Scream.
I am comfortably in the middle--that glorious patch of Star Wars fandom whose inhabitants do not mind enjoying the movies for what they are. We can pay our money for a ticket and some gummies, walk into the theater, and cheer as badass clone troopers shoot the heads off of robot separatist scum for two hours, and love every second of it without having to feel obligated to bitch in an internet forum about each movie announcing the franchises' death knell.
Haters get bent.

* For your immediate viewing pleasure, you can find some new photos from Paris in the now complete album below. Oh, and sorry about the gaping ass crack. Curiosity couldn't be helped. Who would have thought--French butts are just like American butts?

Paris in August

calling all skeletons

News In Briefs
WYWS Edition

* Contrary to certain assumptions regarding my infrequent updates as of late, I have not spent the last 9 days in front of the television, playing, then re-playing Metal Gear Solid 4 (with its staggering level of variety), although that would have been nice. It's that good. I live close enough to readily available energy drinks and melon pan. Could probably hold out for months if the game was long enough.

The Brazilian and American students have moved with the KAKE program to Hiroshima and Kyushu, so I am left in peace and quiet for a few days or so. Three weeks of moving in and out of my apartment without actually living in it, has left everything in a catastrophic state of disarray. Spent the morning picking up clothes, doing laundry, scrubbing dishes, and clearing space for Boston.

* Finally had a chance to put the new MacLappy through its paces with Final Cut--should hopefully have some experimental video short out at some point before I make tracks for summer vacation. Still have some nice leftover time-lapse footage from my vacation in Hawaii. Unfortunately leftovers will have to do, as I haven't had a chance to pick up my camera for over a month now.

* One of my second-graders was kind enough to point out that I was in flagrant violation of Okayama city law for riding my bike while holding an umbrella in the rain last night. This, after we were passed by a college student riding a unicycle while talking on her cell phone, eating a giant wad of cotton candy, and painting her nails.

It would seem that irony is not the only thing entirely lost on the Japanese.

* I now have an urgent appointment at the bike shop. Must go. Leaving you with a recent photograph and a few hurried incomplete sentences instead. Hiked fifty billion stairs to the top of Konpira san, to retrieve a few of our more adventurous yet wayward students.
Snapped photo to justify the headache.

They call it "mini Fuji." Rightfully so.

on my own time

News In Briefs
WYWS Edition

* So we've arrived at a new layout for the blog. Finally stopped tweaking it, so I guess this is where we get off the train.
Anyway, hopefully, future posts will take us toward some semblance of structured thought provocation regarding life in Japan, and the mess that aspiration and direction have become as of late. Until whenever that may be, I'm content making poop jokes and writing vapid posts like this one.

* I'm currently not working very hard on putting together another schizophrenic installment in the Go-En series. I haven't recently had a lot of time to dick around in Okayama with my camera as much as I used to, but a lot of people have been asking for more of me pretending to enjoy life here, so I'm willing to compromise. Besides, I have some sweet unused footage of a Japanese dude wearing a green Borat banana hammock.

* Finally caved and sold back my Guitar Hero III out of pure disgust. Entirely out of protest, I chose not to finish it. And yes, I was only two songs from the end. It became a battle of me versus the shitty craftsmanship on a guitar that worked only 50% of the time. The other 50%, it sabotaged my progress by cutting out on long notes, and not registering on others. It made full combos impossible, and ensured failure against the Lou boss battle (thanks to the idiotic new powerup system).
I suppose I could have taken advantage of the in-box warranty, and gone through another round of Japanese customer service hell for a new one, but I'm done with GHIII and all its hastily tacked-on elements. Thanks to a humiliating note assist system, the contrived boss battles, and the unnecessary in-game sponsorship from Axe deodorant spray, it's the chili cheese skid mark on the otherwise squeaky clean pair of rockstar underpants that is the GH series.
So, I'm already warily looking forward to GHIV and its touted "create a song" features, by which Activision will hopefully rise from the ashes of their shitty craftsmanship and redeem themselves. I'm skeptical though--the magic of the first two games disappeared when Activision realized that from the rock they had just smote, flowed not water, but a raging torrent of cash.

* I'm not sure how hard it's getting pushed in the states, but the anticipation in Japan for Metal Gear Solid 4 is reaching a near-solid state of palpability. Trailers like these are doing little to quell the increasingly cramped quarters in my pants.

* One of the younger, more attractive teachers on our floor has really short hair. It should also be noted that I have a strange attraction to short hair. I pay close attention to these things. So you could imagine my surprise when she showed up one morning early last week, short black hair suddenly having sprouted rogue ponytails. Two of 'em. Smallish buggers--almost as though she had borrowed the "party in the back" section of an adolescent mullet while he slept, then fashioned it into two little extensions. Some days, she wears it. Other days, she ties it into a single tail, and lovingly drapes it over her right shoulder. Still on other days, it's completely gone. Not quite as obvious as a balding man who drops his toupee into a bowl of tomato soup, but still obvious enough for me to keep score on which days she wears them, and which days she does not.
My theory is that it makes her feel young and nubile again, after having just hammered out a 50 pound doodoo machine.

* No, "doodoo" is not hyphenated.
Yes, I checked.

Further proof

News In Briefs
WYWS Edition
Couldn't let the month slip by without a sakura photo
* April is an insanely busy time of year in Japan. It's the traditional end and/or beginning to all the boring economic and societal structures that fit inside a 12 month period (the fiscal year, the academic year, job tenures, passing of gallstones, etc.). I hoped to escape the insanity by feigning insanity; hiding under my desk, blowing bubbles with my spit and wearing old granny panties on my head. Alas, the ploy failed. I was soon dragged out by my bare ankles, and appointed as a homeroom teacher--swift punishment for my crazy insubordination.

Me.
A homeroom teacher. After months upon months of suspicion, with all the subtlety of a baptist minister sex scandal, it is clear that our school's higher ups have lost their goddamn marbles. I haven't been entirely thrilled with having been a teacher for the past year, so you can only imagine the four-letter vernacular ballet I've been perfecting the past week or so. From a hastily composed email sent the day I found out:

Kinda like...uhm...dating a girl for a while who you're kinda on the fence over, and then the night you're walking to her house to break up with her, she sends you an ecstatic text message announcing that she's pregnant. And moving in. And bringing her cats.

It's not the commitment that bothers me, it's the responsibility. Among other things. And yes, I'm aware that the two are one and the same. Shut up.

Thrilled to start the job hunt
* April also marks the "falling man season." Similar to the bothersome rainy season that soaks June and July, graduation ceremonies are often emphatically punctuated by Japanese youth, so overjoyed to surrender their personal freedoms to the working Man, that they heave themselves from gymnasium roofs, and lecture hall balconies, in a massive, preemptive salaryman coup de tat. "Come for the celebration, stay for the police statement" they always say.
Ah, Spring in Japan...

* Old Mrs. Kobayashi is pissed. And extremely frail, apparently.

Pop destroyed the scene

News In Briefs
WYWS Edition
* Contrary to our last edition of the News in Briefs,** rest assured I come to the keyboard this morning sober as a bird in AA.

* Exploiting classic "boiling frog" tactics, I'm slowly but surely re-writing the unspoken Japanese office dress code into something a little more "lax." Now strictly reserved for special occasions, the daily necktie was the first to go. Onitsuka Tigers for dress shoes, then the suit jacket. Button shirts were replaced by thermals and track jackets. Jeans replaced khakis and slacks. I don't really comb my hair anymore either. At the moment, it's standing in a sort of lazy, faux-hawkish pile on the top of my head. Personally crediting myself for introducing casual Fridays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, I think it's safe to assume I'm the proverbial butter on a goddamn roll here.
Pretty stoked for wife-beater weather.

* "Japan" is a title synonymous with with comparison, crazy weirdness, and positively zany contradiction. Or so I had thought, before coming here. I had a small epiphany/rant at my keyboard the other night after a particularly frustrating day at work. I decided that Japan is really only as different and 'unique' as people are willing to make themselves believe. I mean, hey--if 'believing' that being a part of something stereotypically 'perceived' to be unique and exotic, inherently 'makes' one unique, don't you think that it would be in one's best interest to perpetuate the common interest? How many people would rather bite the business end of a .45 than face the reality that their own individuality is a contrived psychological defence mechanism? Hopefully more on this iceberg soon. Unfortunately, I have serious attention span issues when it comes to coherent streams of thought on actual "issues," per se.


"Subway: Eat Flesh"
* A moment of silence for "Doob dog," "Weed-wurst," and "Joint-furter," who sadly never made it off the Subway marketing whiteboard.





**DI Fact: News in Briefs are called so because the first few times I posted under that header, it was morning, and I was still in my undersleepwear.

This Hard Land

I'm sitting in my room on a Thursday night, in front my computer listening to Bruce Springsteen and eating Pooka creamy vanilla chocolate fish. Actually, they're "Pucca" fish. But "Pooka" looks funnier.
Anyway, I'm here to deliver you this week's News in Briefs.
And I may or may not be a bit drunk.


News In Briefs
WYWS Edition

* To anyone who may have asked me about "varying cultural marketing strategies across the globe," last time I saw you, here is further proof.
You owe me $20.

* It's been snowing intermitedly all week.
Like the return of an old friend, there's something reassuring about seeing snow again. Even if it fell in small, Japanese doses. Sunday night, we received the biggest treatment, as the evening streetlights awoke to find their empty byways and alleyways covered in several inches of wet, sticky snow. Made my usual charinko sidewalk dickery several shades more difficult, as the tires slipped and slid all over the place.
But the most interesting thing about Japanese people and snow?

They still walk around with their umbrellas.

Sure, it makes sense, and all. Keep the snow out of your hairspray, and off your Louis Vuitton bag.

"Excuse me strange foreign person, are you walking around without your umbrella!? In the snow!!? Good god man! Have you lost your damn mind!!? Moisture will be the death of you!"

* There's this cheesy Japanese drama called "SP" on the telly, about this team of elite bodyguards who dive headlong into crowds, slide over slippery shit, and then throw themselves into oncoming bullets to protect their VIPs. Maybe "SP" is the moniker for the dude who gets his squibs ruined no fewer than four different occasions--and that's just the show's opening montage. How the hell do you pitch an action/drama pilot to studio execs when your main characters are getting blown away every episode? "Every episode is a dream." Just roll with it.

* I learned tonight over fried nankotsu and beers that "okosu" means "to sit up" and "okasu" means "to rape" or "to violate."

I wish they'd fuckin' told me that before I finally tried asking little Oka chan to sit up in class this afternoon.
No wonder everybody was laughing.

I suck at Japan.

The Iceman Cometh...and Ignoreth

News In Briefs
WYWS Edition
* Okayama is cold. I would be fine with this, in a hypothetical region where one could feasibly expect "winter" with all the delicious trimmings: snow, ice, wind, penguins, Al Gore in a parka, Mr. Freeze, etc. But this is no such region. Here, upon looking out the window, one would not expect from the weather's sunny disposition, to find one's underpants frozen to one's butt crack by the time one reaches their place of work.

Beautiful Okayama: a million below zero, and no snow
* School is back in session. Having finished grading the pre-vacation exams, administering the post-vacation exams, and started preparations on the year-end exams, classes may now officially begin. Hopefully we'll manage to scrape together enough time to do work on non exam-related material. Like, oh, I dunno... actual studying maybe? I'd say that in the year I've been here, we've wasted anywhere from 75 to 99% of our school time on exam preparation. No huge surprise though, as the same could be said for Japanese society outside school, where there is plenty more time to piss away on university entrance exams, English proficiency exams, job qualification exams, various licensing exams, rectal exams, eye exams, exams to get in to schools where they prepare you for other high-level entrance exams... You get the idea.

* Sat next to a dude at lunch who was so good at slurping up his ramen noodles, it sounded like he was sneezing inward. A reverse sneeze? Is that even humanly possible? Oblivious to the scientific impossibility, he kept on loudly inhaling, then pawing at his nose like an eighty year old clydesdale sucking in a massive soupy head cold.
"ssslorp" -wipe- "ssslorp" -wipe- "ssslorp" -wipe- "sssloooorp"
Clearly, I have no idea how my food is to be properly enjoyed.
Just felt like this needed to be shared.

* Q: What do the Japanese call a bald head with a wicked ass comb-over?

A: A barcode.

Proceed with teh lulz.

The DI tries to show his soft side... ...Fails miserably

News In Briefs
WYWS Edition
* If Shibata sensei's phone rings that stupid goddamn pop song one more time today, I'm going to stuff it down his gaping, buck-toothed maw the moment he gets back in from volleyball practice. Pretty sure the only reason he doesn't know how to properly turn the ringer off, is because he still hasn't gotten over making phone calls with a soup can and a piece of twine.

* I'd like to say something about recent gas prices all around the world.
It has been 11 months since I last bought gas, and let me tell you, trying to find a use for all this extra money lying around totally sucks. I think it's high time I own a sombrero.

* The fifth "Go-En" episode is coming very soon. It would have been sooner, but my geriatric iBook is systematically sabotaging the audio editing process, by mixing up/accidentally deleting/sending to Korea some very key clips that I guess we're just going to have to live without. Stay tuned though. I'm trying extra hard to be funny this time.

* I caught one of my students yesterday eating his glasses. Yep. Chewing on the lenses. With his teeth. This is the same village idiot whom I once tried to spite by asking him to spell "boy" in a classroom game. To spite me back, he spelled it incorrectly.
I've got the Diet Building in Tokyo on line three--let's tell them to call off the "Future Leaders of Japan" search in Okayama.

* It's easy to be frustrated in a foreign country. Easy to nitpick, easy to find things to whine about, or resent. At its very core though, a nation or a culture, is still the sum of the people that define it. The very kinds of people that are quickly forgotten in isolated moments of frustration. Why then, is it so often that a nation is defined by its idiotic minority? Because the voice of discontent never fails to ring the loudest.
Anyway, to earn back some of my lost karma over the last few weeks months of admittedly negative posts (and for any future posts as well), I'd just like to say that there are still people here, a part of the Japanese majority, that I admire to no end, like:

• The middle-aged couple whom every Sunday morning, walks brisk laps around Undou Park in their flannel shirts and khaki bucket hats. The husband is actually blind, so they walk side-by-side, hands joined by a small red baton. Their pace isn't always even, and their path isn't always straight, but their faces never hide the fact that they love doing it.


• The crossing guard at the top of the school escalator who, every morning, greets every single student who comes to school with an unfailing smile, and a throaty "ohayou gozaimasu!" That's like going out every morning, rain or shine, saying "good morning," and actually meaning it 1500 times. The dude's a champion.


• All the fathers who teach their daughters how to ride the unicycle down by the stadium. Little J-girls, far too adventurous for handlebars or brakes, teeter precariously on a single pink and white wheel, while the father stands at the ready to catch their fall. It's especially warming, because it's not a special case. On any given sunny weekend, there could be as many as a half a dozen dedicated fathers, out and about with their fearless unicycle-riding daughters. Why the unicycle? I'm not quite sure actually. Because it's Japan? An expected rite of Japanese female passage perhaps? First you like Anpanman, then you ride the unicycle, then you buy a training bra, then you find a boyfriend and wait around for him to move out of his parents' house so you can get married and grind out some babies.

Ah. I see what just happened there.

Can I at least keep my karma and that last sentence?
No? Damn.

Lead the angelic chorus with a baton wrapped in fear

News In Briefs
WYWS Edition
* Open your room window around 10:30 on a Wednesday night (EST), stick your head out, and listen carefully. Hear that? All the way from Japan--the greedy cackling sound as every last semblance of fun is being sucked out of music.
The kids weren't singing loud enough, so the homeroom teacher put them on the roof of the school to apparently teach them a lesson. Compassionately so, because I would assume that death from hurling oneself seven stories to the ground would be less painful than death by pure humiliation. Things in the classroom have gotten rather standoffish lately, most evident in my primary role having been further reduced from "dancing Western clown" to "white guy who scratches detention minutes on blackboard."

* To anyone who thinks their English is better than mine, between "more painless" and "less painful," which would you say is more appropriate? I went with the latter, because my gut says I don't actually need validation from your worthless opinion.
For whatever reason, my gut also says "Don't feed the pregnant lady."
Whoa, I bet that'd make a sweet t-shirt.

* In celebration of all the fantastic software finally being made available on the PS3 this week, I decided to give mine a promotion in sweet irony: from "kitchen traffic coordinator (doorstop)," to "desktop logistics manager (paperweight)." An amicable compromise for an amicably worthless machine.

* Sure, I may be working on Thanksgiving next week, and Gatzke Road may be 7000 miles away, but it matters little. I'll still find a comfortable trough to stand behind, and continue my longstanding tradition of putting food in my face until my lungs threaten to implode, after which I plan to move to the dessert table. Chopsticks, seaweed, and teriyaki notwithstanding, November 22nd is still on.
Like orphan Donkey Kong at a Denny's.

Proud to represent my America.

* This happened the other day. Kind of exciting. Scroll to the bottom for the most recent update.

This year, I went as "Ambivalence"

News In Briefs:
WYWS Edition
* If you'll notice, there's now a survey on the left hand side of the page. It's actually of the utmost importance, so if you'd be so kind as to donate two finger clicks, I'd be much obliged. Through your faithful voting, bets will be won, dreams will be crushed, and large amounts of unmarked yen notes will be passed from gloved hand to gloved hand in silver Haliburton briefcases.
Cast your vote wisely.

* In other non-sushi related news, a gauntlet has been cast down across the internets. If you have a Facebook account, and aren't already part of the group, I invite you to join in on the celebration of manliness. Warm up those follicles--"whoo vhants ah mustache ride?"

* Oh. And happy Halloween. This afternoon, following their pumpkin carving disaster, I was dragged into the first grade classroom for an impromptu discussion on this silly holiday of yours.
So to spite the teacher who decided that entertaining her class was more important than my gchat session, I taught them how to scream "anarchy!" while wrapping her house in toilet paper. Don't forget to hit the rain gutters kids!


Rice harvest this week.
Seasons like reasons, five years in the making, I've seen them all, and I'm running out.

Zero 7 Yamato: Putting the "super" in "superstitious"

News In Briefs:
WYWS Edition
* I know, I know--I'm not supposed to fall prey to trailers advertising blockbuster movies that we all know will inevitably be shit.
But this one has robots.
And Robert Downy Jr.

* The Mayday Parade and Paramore show that I played hooky from work for, was pretty awesome. Getting drunk and then waiting 6 hours for the trains to start running again was most definitely not. Crappy photos are up somewhere else. May I warn you that certain images might need *ahem* explaining.

* A mere 15 days after its mysterious demise, my neighborhood 711 is back up and running, and I couldn't be happier. The only major noticeable difference I've picked up on is the front entrance is now an automatic sliding door. Oh, and they moved the porn rack to the far side of the ice cream fridge. Not that I knew where it was before the explosion or anything.

* To the poor bastard in #305:
Bro, you just gotta know you're in #304.


Sucks to be you, riding the J-train down to unlucky town.






Wait... So if I'm in #205, does that mean...

...Oh.


Son of a bitch.

Getting your dab on

News In Briefs:
WYWS Edition
* Apparently schools in Cincinnati closed their doors for the first time in 10 years on account of the recent heat wave. But here in Okayama, when it gets that hot (usually by 9 or 10 am every day), we just bring gym class inside. God forbid the mercury rise any higher, as we'd be forced to allow the pupils to start wearing shorts.
So, our big "Open School" starts Monday. I'm told it'll be different from the last two, but I'm still using the same lessons ("pin the tadger on the barmcake"). Sure, "Open School" sounds tame enough, but when we get to the bottom of all the advert pimping and whoring that goes on behind the scenes, just to get a few little J-butts in our little seats, I'm having trouble seeing the point. Leave it to the shit-for-brains English teacher to start raising eyebrows when the buck-toothed television cameras start vigorously humping the greasy leg of the propaganda machine. Seriousry, it's rike some kinda X-lated movie set out here or something. Sans "Lake" Peter.

* Yellowcard has finally gotten their nadgers together and released the appropriate vindication for the absolute shit-matsuri that was "Lights and Sounds." Ryan Key not acting like a complete twat anymore is probably a pretty reasonable explanation.

* I know it's horribly late beyond all relevancy, but the Mt. Fuji climb video that Brian and I shot last month is still in the works. I'm in the process of trimming it to fit in the YouTube allotted ten minutes for my peasant account. I'm not gonna lie, it's actually not very awesome--what, with most of the footage containing "rocks," "dark," and "more rocks." But, since it's already taking up precious space on my hard drive, I'm going to force you to watch it anyway. Sit tight.

* "Twernt": Noun. Anatomically, the area between the genitals and the anus. Derived from the expression "if it twern't there, your guts would fall out."

I often find myself desperately wishing I had been born in England as a oft rat-arsed cackhander, growing up with a dial like a bag of spanners, telling all the salad dodging twats and faffers to stuff it up the marmite motorway while rubbernecking the apples packing dead heat in a Zeppelin race.

Sigh...Silly Brits have all the good vocabulary.

Tsuyu Hell

News In Briefs:
WYWS Edition
* Japan is currently wet and rainy, and will be for at least another week or so. This, among a sizable number of other trivial things, annoys me to no end.

* My eyes are out of shape. After spending the last two weeks with the exchange kids, I didn't have time for PS3. Finally logged on last night, checked my messages, downloaded some videos, and then bought the epileptic seizure-inducing Super Stardust HD before playing it for two hours straight.
I can barely see this morning.

* In light of certain scandalous events, I'm cracking open one final box of instant yakisoba for lunch today. Sure, it's not Japan, but if something this big breaks in China, an industry audit of the rest of Asia is sure to follow. We always joked about my noodles being made of cardboard, but I never had much reason to actually believe anyone. Just keep the snooping J-FDA blokes away from my melon pans--the one Japanese thing I outright refuse to give up.

* I just read something on CNN's digital toilet rag about the launch of another expedition into Amelia Earhart's disappearance. There's nothing particularly striking or inspiring about the article, save for the mention of giant man-eating crabs, which hints at the cause for Ms. Earhart's untimely demise. Check back for future CNN headlines:
"Aviation Pioneer Earhart Devoured by Crabs. Case Closed After 70 Years."
Am I the only one who finds this totally awesome?

* Frampton, Brian, and I will climb Mt. Fuji tomorrow night. The most current plan, is as follows:
We'll meet in Shizuoka on Saturday morning, and hit the Eastern Subashiri trail by late afternoon. We expect to make a steady climb, then sleep a few hours in the evening around the 7th or 8th station, before closing out the last leg of the trek to the summit at 3776 meters. Barring heavy rains, frostbitten appendages, or general incompetence, our goal is to be on the summit to catch Sunday morning's rising sun spilling out over the sea of clouds below us.
We are, however, still nervously expecting some entirely unforeseen element to thoroughly shit all over our "carefully" laid plans for the climb.

** UPDATE **
While I'm already planning on sending one to my family, anyone else who would like a postcard (snarky message or nonsensical Monty Python quote optional) mailed to them from the top of the world, can send me an email with their home mailing address (reach me here), by 8pm, July 13, Eastern Standard Time.

** UPDATE II **
Son. Of. A. Bitch. Just as planned, the "entirely unforeseen element" that has "thoroughly shit" on tomorrow's trek, is typhoon "Man Yi" currently sucking and blowing its way across Japan. It is expected to conveniently peter out shortly after we were hoping to make our ascent. Brian is desperate. Not even an act of god will affect his resolve, for he is foolishly prepared to crawl to the summit. I kindly tell him to lower his voice, and to 'put the lamp down.'
More updates after I find something to break.

** UPDATE III (7/15) **
We've got a break in the weather (re: a hole in the storm), and we're going to go for it. A crapshot though--at best, but aren't most hail marys? Come hell, or high water marauding godzilla, Fuji either goes down now, or never.
Wish us luck.

Summer (In 'B')

News In Briefs
WYWS Edition

* Nobu had been pimping his "Killer Killer Fantastic Bomb" live graffiti exhibition for months; stickers, flyers, a website, and more stickers. Sadly, more than I know what to do with. But despite the ridiculous name, and silly advertising campaign, it actually turned out pretty awesome. If only I could do something about these leftover sticker reminders--on my bicycle, my desk, my umbrella, my class notebook...

* When I finally got a chance to talk to guitarist Christian McAlhaney from Anberlin, what did we talk about? The scope of "Cities"? About his stint in Acceptance? Why they couldn't play "*Fin"? Nope. We talked about poop. Or rather, our poop. In Japan. Reminds me of that time when Patrick Stumph and I talked about Ramune bottles and mayonnaise. Geez, I get the chance, and I always forget about the music.

* Why does the new Amber Pacific album annoy the hell out of me? Because producer Martin Feveyear masterfully followed the uninspiring pop punk rules of thumb to a tee:

(1) "Track 1: 30 seconds of ambiant thunder and rain shit. Tracks 2 through 10: power chords. Track 11: use some soaring orchestral arrangement. And power chords."
(2) "Every song totally blows until the first modulation."
(3) "Track 7 is the piano-driven ballad. With power chords."
(4) "There must be no fewer than three, but no more than five face melting guitar solos."
(5) "Intro, verse, chorus, and refrain 5x. Multiple verses are for emo. And Radiohead."
(6) "Hooks? Check. Riffs? Check. Unholy abuse of power chords? Double check. Time to track the vocals."

But my biggest problem with this album? I like freaking love it. It's the very core definition of forgettable pop-punk--predictable and safe, and every bone in my body wants to hate this band like it's my job. But it's still so incredibly goddamn catchy, I can't stop listening to it. Sigh.

* All of my cousins are getting married. Somewhere a clock is ticking...
Still, if you see them, tell 'em I said congratulations. Wish more than anything that I could have been there.

* His name is Tatt-chan, and his desk is next to mine. Er, I mean the dummy's desk is next to mine. Er, I mean the desk of the dummy wearing the yellow "Okayama" hat is next to mine. Tatt-chan, despite having given his plastic life for science, is still often cruelly vandalized by unruly students who stop by the teacher's room between classes.





I remember finishing Ren & Stimpy for Game Boy years and years ago. Upon hours of slaving; throwing and jumping, I was treated to their inspired ending: "Congratulations...you win...LOG!" That's right. Those lazy bastards gave me a picture of a log, for beating their shitty game. Nike is no different--I've got another uninspiring "log" for my monthly efforts. Sweet. If only I had a trophy case to display it in. Two days off, and then we're back at it tomorrow with a new goal.

Home at last

Another batch of delectable news morsels from the Asia-Pacific future.
In my underwear.
News In Briefs:
WYWS Edition
* Kinda like the Daredevil who couldn't see, but had superhuman senses, when one aspect of person's communicative ability is cut off, I'd like to think it heightens their abilities in other mediums of communication. Like, whilst in Japan, my spoken English usage has been dramatically limited, but like, I can like, totally write gooder. And shit.

* Playstation Home. A beta existance so secret, that even mentioning its secrecy or that I may (or may not) have gotten into, is probably a severe NDS violation. I will tell you though, to take heed the Sony storm that's a-brewin'.

* Anyone want to brief me on the Japanese vocabulary basics for social welfare cirriculum and pedegogy? If you happened to know anything about international business, that'd help a lot too. I'll take just about anything at this point; vocab, kanji, whatever tidbits you've got floating between your ears. Freelance translators are expected to know everything about everything. But as a fish-out-of-water freelancer myself, thank god I don't know shit about anything. Or more specifically, anything in this damn series of documents. When requesting services, I don't think my employers realize that not providing clear context or audience is a sure-fire way to get their crappy little pamphlet featured on Engrish.com. Ok, so I'm not that bad, but sometimes, it's very tempting to be.

* In case you were wondering, the two tragic fashion numbskulls in 5/16's post, were in fact, both gentlemen. Moreso, because shortly after I snapped the photo, they wandered into a soapland "gentleman's" club for a mid-morning romp. I'm sure they were completely "gentlemanly" about it though.

* I'm working on another video update. Keep refreshing that browser!

* After today's workout, a banner greeted me upon entering Nike+ that said I have crossed the 200 mile threshold. They gave me a prize--not something useful like spending points for their online store, or an iTunes gift card, but instead, a virtual silvery colored medal stamped with the silver numbers "200" that now appears in my virtual "trophy" case. I'm so stoked about this, I think I just virtually shit my virtual pants. While it's the dream of every virtual world inhabitant to be rewarded with real-world prizes for virtual accomplishments, we are very much aware that garnering such respect and recognition of those in the "real" world, is asking for a bit too much. But this, we can understand. However, for the real world to be awarding virtual prizes for our real-world accomplishments isn't just a lazy compromise, it's downright tacky. Wow, they now have me totally revved about the prize for reaching 500 miles. How about a virtual "good game" pat-on-the-butt from Nike+ voiceover girl Paula Radcliffe?

If Columbus was wrong, I'd drive straight off the edge

Another batch of news snippets from the Asia-Pacific future. "Myujikku...sutaatto!"

News In Briefs:
WYWS Edition
* A mystery that has long since baffled the world's scientific community, is Okayama prefecture's existance as one of the globe's last remaining self-sustaining sausage-fest societies. So you can imagine my surprise when I found myself standing behind a pregnant lady a few days ago while patiently waiting in line for fresh takoyaki. And then, just yesterday, I saw another pregnant lady licking a green ice cream cone and walking a weiner dog in a diaper. I know, I know, who gives a flaming sack of crap, right? But given Japan's dangerously low birth rate, I thought that more than two pregnancies at the same time in Okayama was some kind of incredible omen. In hopes that a rift to an alternate universe had been somehow torn open, I bought a lottery ticket. And a fried-chicken-on-a-stick. Of course I lost (and ate the chicken, respectively), but there might have just been a third pregnant chick holding out on me.
Anyway, sausage parties be damned, there are apparently women here getting pregnant. Holy crap.

* My apartment is finally online. After three months of commuting to the library to check email, post snarky thread replies, and download Gary Jules, I'm finally connected. And so is my PS3. God be praised. I wasted most of yesterday updating all my firmware, downloading demos (Ninja Gaiden: Sigma, Armored Core: 4), and at last getting re-acquainted with some old "friends."

* Worried that all the rice and instant noodles weren't pumping enough fiber in my regular diet, in search of a "magic bullet" injection yesterday, I pounded back an entire box (450 delicious grams) of silly British humor, in a single (one box typically lasts me about four or five days), drawn-out sitting between Resistance load screens. 24 hours later, I now find myself worried that my fiber doesn't have enough regular diet in it. Gastric repercussions aside, I have a new addiction in the form of these curious little chocolate pellets. And if they weren't so damned expensive at the import shop, I think I've got the trappings for a potentially legendary Weetabix challenge. Makin' it neat wheat. Biyatch.

* As of this post, we ('we,' being myself, and the rest of the country) are officially on vacation for a week. A 'golden' week, to be more precise; during which, I have places to go, and things to do--most of which though, rhyme with "Playstation 3." One of them actually rhymes with "Osaka," and maybe another with "cycling in Shikoku," but for the most part, I'm pretty sure it's just "Playstation 3."

* The seat on my crappy grandma bicycle is broken. I know this because when I wake up every morning, there is a raging ache in my taint--like I just made it to the final round of a grueling RoShamBo tournament, and lost to an Australian Nova teacher on his third pitcher. That, and it pokes me in the balls.

* Here's a random photograph that found its way on to my camera while on my way home from the used furnature store few weekends back. The little girl innocently asks "I wonder what's different?" The little boy doesn't seem to be of much help in solving the problem. And honestly, I don't think have a friggin' clue either.

* Oh, and one final note. I'm going to watch Spider Man 3 tonight. Yes, in a movie theater. Yes, before you. Yes, in English, And yes, before everyone else in the United States. Now let that sink in a little as I go find my Spidey mitts.

You can take the guitar from the hero, but you'll never take the hero from the guitar

News in Briefs:
While You Were Sleeping Edition
* I have flown the coop. More specifically, I have been officially released from the borrowed dungeon at the base of the mountain, and moved into my own pimp castle, replete with laundry balcony, heated toilet, and muddy footprints on the kitchen floor. Perhaps a barefoot pimp on welfare, but it's still a goddamn castle. You shut up.

* I have finished watching the first season of Grey's Anatomy, and I still think it sucks. If I want contrived, cut-and-dry tv melodrama, I'll stick with CSI. But I just can't stop watching it. Who would have thought she was Canadian?

* The cherry blossums are out in full bloom. I may or may not be going to the castle gardens this weekend to join the rest of the city in using the blossums as the once-per-year excuse to getting royally shit-hosed before 3 pm. Anyway, I was feeling generous today, so I put my current Facebook stalking and apple eating activities on hold and went outside to take some pictures. Relax, they're just from my cell phone. I don't love you people that much.

* Several nosy wankers have asked if another video post is coming. The answer is yes. But the answer is also "sit on your damn hands and stop refreshing your browser." I have all most of the footage I need for "Go-En II" already sitting in neatly arranged folders on my computer, but once it gets uploaded and edited in iMovie, it chews through piles of gigabyte memory, the likes of which, I only have a few remaining. More specifically, "somewhere between more than nine but less than ten." A 250gig external hard drive has already been purchased to alleviate this nagging problem, and is awaiting its release from styrofoam and cardboard prison. Oh, and the pre-emptive answer to any of your other redundant questions is that the next update will be amazing.
Look for it sometime in July. Like, two pairs of underwear, amazing.

* My mother has recently informed me that my favorite soap has been discontinued. While I have no way of believing whether or not this is true and that P&G is indeed an evil, heartless, corporation, I urge you to buy this body soap in bulk, and send it to me. For reasons beyond that of a notable absence of Speed Stick here in the Land of the Rising Sweat Levels, I refuse to smell like a Japanese man. There is even one such Japanese man who agrees that we must remain Zestfully clean at any cost. Do it for the both of us. Or at least for his wife.

* Much to my dismay, today was the official "picture day" for the new blood; photos to be published in the staff magazine. I wish someone had told me that beforehand. "Beforehand," like, before I put on my sleeveless "Asian moms do it in rickshaws" shirt, and decided not to shave/shower/wear a tie/comb my hair**. I did floss and brush my teeth though, and managed to eat a balanced granola breakfast. I'm sure they'll recognize the extra effort.
Hopefully, this is the issue that the PTA uses for its yearly faculty evaluations.

* Just because I'm in Japan doesn't mean I don't know. Ohio State has lost. There is a god.

* God knows whether or not this movie is ever coming to Japan. But the review...I laughed. I cried. I think I even pooped a little. And to think, I was supposed to be paying attention during a large-scale faculty meeting. Neil is my new hero, and the taquito buffet is his latest masterpiece.





** r.i.p


* UPDATE 4/6 *
Upon further review, I think the title of this post
must have made more sense in my head, because as an
actual title, it looks and sounds positively idiotic.

Peko peko.

"Working on a Saturday:

...about as much fun as a dutch oven from your sister."

Japanese people apologize. A lot. The other night, feeling lazy, I switched on my "ignorant asshole gaijin" mode, and wandered into a big box sports store by the train station to buy some cycling pants that were so expensive, they would have been better off lined with bald eagle feathers. Or stolen. Anyway, the cute little girl who worked in cycling pants world spoke Japanese, and I spoke "only" English. How liberating it felt to place her at the mercy of my idiotic foreign blathering. Over and over, she apologized for everything: I spoke "only" English, she apologized. I wore my shoes into the changing room, she apologized. They didn't have the pants I wanted in gray, she apologized. Another pair that had potential didn't have draw-close legs, she apologized. The pants didn't have "Huge in Japan" stitched in leopard print over the crotch, she apologized. The women's pants were made of better materials, she apologized. And then came the grand-daddy: all the pants were too short, she apologized. Actually, she didn't directly apologize for the pants being short; more specifically, without knowing I knew what she was saying, she actually apologized for all Japanese men, whose legs are too short. Beautiful. Casually sauntering back out after the cash-register beast raping, I realized that I could have walked into that store, ordered an ice cream wedding cake, broken a beer bottle over my head and threatened the floor manager with it, and then taken a shit in their North Face backpack display, and she would have apologized for them not having cakes, for the poor quality of the bottle and the manager being a pussy, and then once more for the men's bathroom being on a different floor. Anyway, it's not an immature character flaw, or a nationwide lapse in confidence, it's just a little cultural thing that's been going on here for centuries. A little cultural thing that drives me positively batshit insane.

News In Briefs...
* I refuse to add $30 to a "good luck/yakitori slush fund" for this guy, just because the principal said so. Oh yeah--and just for that, the principal isn't my 'pal' anymore. Todai grad, my ass.

* What the hell kind of a name is Horatio? Actually, I already know. It's Spanish. But David Caruso is a shitty actor, and he's not Spanish.

* My new bike costed a "a great big pile of goofy coins with holes in them."
But it's smooth. And fast. Daddy like.

* If "an apple a day keeps the doctor away," what does a box of instant yakisoba noodles keep away? It keeps your stools away, that's what.