I'll try really hard to get through this whole post without mentioning study or work. Here goes:
So I'm reading High Fidelity now. Almost finished. I saw the movie years ago and the main character (a vinyl obsessed, relationship obsessed owner of a failing record store recovering from a lifelong series of rejections) is pretty much the same in the book. More internal monologue and motivation and depth, but almost the same. I see a bit of my Father in him, but the High Fidelity guy is of course much more emo. What's interesting to me is that the book raises some thought-provoking questions, like this for example: "Do I listen to pop songs because I'm unhappy, or do pop songs make me unhappy?"
While I hardly listen to anything pop made after 1990, I was raised on 60s, 70s and 80s music nonetheless (again, hat tip to my Father, the only man I know to keep his own top 40 list 30+ years. I'm not being facetious either, I think it's cool!). I can relate a bit to the main character's escapist mentality: he gets in a bad situation, and runs away to listen to some music he can relate to. I've done that many times in my life, although I've been making earnest efforts to be more pro-active and not wallowing around waiting for problems to solve themselves.... even though there are cases where nothing else can be done. What's comforting about this kind of self-therapy - hearing someone else with similar woes or emotions to your own - is of course knowing that you're not alone; Feeling the connection with this person you probably never met, who has swirling thoughts in his head the same as yours. I recall someone as saying Cannibal Corpse was the first music he ever heard that "described what was going on in his mind." I say good for him! (I just can't like that band though, personally)
It's a process more exciting than it has any right to be, cherry-picking songs that fit my current mode. Listening to something depressing while I'm already depressed doesn't do much harm, it just emphasizes my mood but also soothes it in a strange, paradoxical manner... I don't think the ability to relate to others feelings, positive or negative is at all a bad thing. That being said, if I flip on, say, Neglect ("I wish I coulda been a coathanger kid/would've been the best f**king thing you ever did") or Joy Division ("Living in the ice age") I find myself smiling more at the absurdity of the lyrics than actually feeling down about life. It's empowering somehow, to know other people see the futility and desperation and insanity that surrounds our world every day... that has always made me smile. If you ask why, then you're missing the point.
I saw Cocobat the other night. I was blown away by how great they were, they must all be age 37-43 judging by the age of the band itself (almost 20 years), and still put on a powerful, energetic performance. If you can imagine a kind of post-bad brains, pre-metalcore approach to heavy music, with original melodies and unpredictable rhythmic shifts, and tons of slap bass, that is Cocobat in a nutshell. See for yourself:
It was kind of a strange night. I had worked until 4:30 at this new school my company opened up, and after changing my clothes I dragged me and my duffle bag down to Shibuya. After some rummaging I found an empty coin locker (hard to come by at that time in the evening, only one was left out of 200) to dump my stuff in. Finally free of that burden (bringing lunch, textbooks, and a change of clothes including sneakers to work then lugging it all on semi- to fully-packed trains can take the wind out of ya) I meandered to the venue, in no particular hurry. As usual the map from the "live house" (japanese-english for concert hall or venue) website was terrible. I later figured out it had the street names wrong - something about the Japanese and street names, eh? - but I found it sure enough. I got a burger from Freshness Burger, the best hamburger chain in Tokyo bar none (I invite anyone to suggest otherwise). I realized I hadn't eaten that kind of greasy goodness since I'd been in the states two months back. I've been eating healthy lately, lots of greens and soba noodles and less meat and all that. This made the experience that much more enjoyable. In short, it was an excellent cheeseburger.
As for the show itself, when I arrived there was a jpop/jrock act opening the gig, which to me seemed downright bizarre. I'm all for mixed bills, but I don't make spaghetti and ice cream sandwiches. I mean honestly, Cocobat is (to use great liberties in appellation) at least an "alternative rock band," whereas Edge of Spirit who played second is complete metalcore, and not the radio-friendly stuff either. Closer to NYC's Irate or Through the Discipline or some such thrash. I though they were great, and had to mosh a bit, even though it wasn't that type of crowd.
Speaking of moshing, and moshpits in general (which I used to be really into and still dabble in occasionally when I'm in the right mood), it's a subcultural phenomenon I could blog about for a while. Let's simplify and leave it at creative expressionist dancing to heavy music, and say it evolved dramatically in the last 30 years, from Slayer-esque pushpits and "slam-dancing" to karate-kicking and dance moves and all that (there is also gang-mentality B.S. that taints it, but lets ignore that for now) I like all styles really - the idea of the pit is to do what you want to the music without any rules or restrictions, so doesn't that make classification somewhat pointless?
Still, for a quick lesson on "mosh," I advise this educational video:
I'm still quite partial to the pizzamaker myself.
This is all of course a late 80s "NY"-slant on things, and there are many different scenes and styles and yadda yadda yadda. But back to the main point: what struck me at the Cocobat show was the pit was comprised 5 or 6 dudes probably as old as the band, all wearing Cocobat shirts and running a no-rules circle pit. They looked they were having a great time, and I had to join them a bit myself. It was that kind of feeling, when the music is so good you can't sit still, that reminds me why I still see bands and go to shows. It's worth it for that experience. This pit was like stepping into a time machine to me, as the style and atmosphere were so far removed from everything I grew up around, more like things I'd seen in old tapes of shows from when I was still a wee one. It was very cool.
And Cocobat is probably one of the best bands in Tokyo still playing. I rank them up there with Slight Slappers. I now have two really awesome bands here I hope to see again. Here's to finding more!
Time for an overdue presentation to the faithful blog-followers. Please open your books to page 2010, index 179.0081, class is in session.
New York was quite a trip. Going home was such a mindfuck, I could actually feel pieces of my memories of Tokyo-life and NY-life overlapping and fighting for dominance in my mind, like someone suffering from split personality disorder. Allow me to digress into a bit about the "counter culture shock" I mentioned a few posts back.
When I walked off of that plane, it was like stepping into a different world. I had been in Japan for about 18 months remember, the only break being a trip to Korea. So I was accustomed to many things which were turned on their heads promptly upon my arrival. To be frank, the sheer mass of people - yes I'm talking about obesity but also average height and girth - and ethnic diversity stunned me. Hearing everyone speaking English, not to mention speaking loudly in line, seeing the attendants looking bored, tired, and wearing blatant expressions of "I don't want to be here" on their faces was nothing less than shocking to me. You've got to understand what service is like in Japan: everyone always wears a smile, they say the veritable equivalent of "Someone honorable is present" (often less literally translated as: "Welcome to our store) every time you enter their place of business, and give you extended thanks and courtesy to the point of overkill. Flipping from that back to the American standard of courtesy on the job (which is pretty pathetic by all of my accounts) really made my head spin.
While I was standing in line for customs (it took well over an hour) I was at first talking to this professional fisherman from Guam on his way to Kentucky for some sort of business-related thing, and I was having a really interesting discussion about America's claim of eminent domain concerning Guam and the history and everything for as long as we were waiting. That distracted me well enough until I got into a separate line and had to take in my surroundings. Everyone was chattering so loudly, and in English mind you, that it flipped some WTF switch in my mind and I had to leave on my headphones for the sake of keeping it together. Granted I hadn't slept at all for about 24 hours but still, it was such overload. The plane ride from Newark to Albany consisted (as per usual) of taxing for nearly an hour followed by a 30 minute flight. I was cranky and just wanted to get home.
When I did, well that was very nice. To see my family, and my best friend Jessica, it was a relief but I was almost too exhausted to appreciate it. On the way home riding in my Mom's minivan and sitting on the passenger side was also really disorienting, it being a dark and frigid December night didn't help one bit (bear in mind that cars in Japan drive on the left side of the road and the passenger seats are also on the left side)
When I got back, I had the pleasure of a bowl of my Mom's homemade turkey soup and with a side-order of my Mom's two-month old kittens. They really helped me relax, although they kept walking on my face in the middle of the night. The one was named Bonnie, the other Butterscotch, though it turned out that contrary to my Mom's impressions the former was actually a boy, making him/her "Bonnie, the sexually confused kitty cat." He/she also has a serious mother complex and is always trying to nurse on peoples ears. WEIRD.
I was only jetlagged for a day or two, but I was wound so incredibly tight, and this feeling outlasted my jetlag. I will never forget the next morning, that lovely, crisp Monday morning roasting at a seasonable 34 degrees, walking into Price Chopper, our local super market, and being awed by the sheer size of it and the offerings of so-long forbidden delights: giant succulent red and yellow peppers, hummus, feta cheese, bagged salads, a plethora of canned goods, whole grain oat and wheat breads, tortilla chips, salsas and even an entire aisle dedicated to cereal!!!!!! My heart never sang with such joy as it did that day. It was almost magical.
Thanks to the kindness of my Father I was able to drive the old 97 Jeep Cherokee delivery-mobile of many a pizza around during my stay. And boy did I drive. A lot. And the majority of drivers in my area - and I'll be damned if it isn't true for most other areas as well - are terrible drivers. Especially in the winter-time. No blinkers, no flashers, sudden stops, running lights, erratic driving, sliding on fresh snow, overly aggressive and unwarranted driving, granny driving, I could go on and on. Long story short is I enjoyed traveling by car around the beautiful capital region of Albany New York and soaking in the never-ending waves of nostalgia, but my god give me trains for the rest of my days and I'll be content. I didn't realize how much stress driving can really add to one's day until I had the opportunity to compare it to living in an urban environment like Tokyo.
Which gives me a nice segue into the urban versus the "suburban," or downright redneck hick-town U.S.A. Upstate NY is full of the latter and I lived in it for like 95% of my life. Suffice it to say I saw my surroundings with new eyes, a greater appreciation for the beauty and historical character of the American city versus the clunky, overly modern and concrete-blockishness of the Japanese city. Albany and it's surrounding areas are also full of nature, and lots of it. So many trees, I'd never really taken the time to look at them before. It was as if I had seen them, but never had any breadth of appreciation save a fleeting one. Even in the wintertime they stood like glorious landmarks of NY's natural beauty in my mind, and I was to spend a good chunk of time just observing and appreciating my environment over the course of my stay.
I mentioned being wound up? I was wound tighter than a rattle snake on speed spun down a hill in a tractor tire. If it wasn't for the courtesy of my friend Dave (writer of this fine music blog plug plug) letting me rage in his apartment for a bit and vent out all the crazy thoughts that were swarming in my head, I don't know how I would have survived the whole ordeal. I did spend valuable time with (in no particular order) Dave, Rich, Phil, Danielle, Kevin, Josh, John T., Kerri, Kyle, Gabe, Jessica, Dana, Fran, Margaret, Kaitlin, Mike L., Mike C., Rick, John B., Alaric and probably many others who are escaping my mind at the moment. That doesn't even include my family, or the slew of people I saw for like 5 seconds and didn't have nearly enough time to catch up with. There are others I'd like to have seen but wasn't able to, and of course the few I was hoping not to run into and (luckily) didn't.
I tipped everyone in a reckless fashion - there being no tipping whatsoever in Japan and also on account of my feeling great about having money and free time at home for the first time in what felt like an eternity. I even dropped 10 bucks in the tip-jar at the pizza shop I used to work at. Some had left but a few loyal employees looked the spitting image of themselves from 2 years ago. Very peculiar, or maybe not so peculiar.
It's amazing how some things and people change so drastically in a short period of time and some stay completely the same. Constancy is a good thing mind you, routine is something we humans crave, but change is also good. Very good, and very necessary even if we don't always want it to be. I am in short glad I've made the choices that I have. My hometown is a truly beautiful place, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life confined there doomed to wondering if there wasn't something more that could've been. That's my take on things, and you can quote me.
I bought/received many amazing books, not limited to Salman Rushdie's latest, Howard Zinn's "A People's History...," "The Unbearable Lightness of Being," a Charles Bukowski anthology called "Run with the Hunted," "Crouching Dragon, Hidden Tiger: Can China and India dominate the West?" An index of classical to modern philosophers and their main theories, and several other tomes which weighed down my suitcase by no small amount. I'm currently digging eagerly through the Bukowski and audiobooking Moby Dick, both of which have so far greatly exceeded my expectations.
I ate so much delicious food when I was home. New York pizza at least 10 times, Indian lunch buffet at least 3 times, hummus uncountable times, my Aunt's homemade lasagna and my Mom's amazing taco dip, divine pork cops, ziti, tuna noodle casserole, exquisite salads, chilis, wraps, sauces, flavors, and all kinds of wonderful things. My tastebuds rejoiced like it was the second coming. Sometimes I just had to stop doing anything else, close my eyes and just bask in the glory of the things hadn't touched my tongue in so very long. I consumed them and it was good.
I even went to church for the first time in what must be nigh on 10 years, with my father and my sister. My feelings on the matter? It was very nostalgic for me, being the church that was also a private school I attended in the 4th and 5th grade (and I refuse to discuss these years in any more detail whatsoever for now) Was I converted back to a healthy life of God-fearing Christianity? Sorry to disappoint you but no, I was not. I did however recognize the beauty in the community that a church embodies in a way I couldn't when I was younger. I saw people supporting each other and reaching out in a very healthy and healing manner, and I thought: "That's great for them. It's just not for me."
I'm a staunch atheist by the way, if I haven't made that clear in the past. We'll leave religious musings for another post but let me preface anything you might think questionable about my stance on religion with the fact that I was raised a Christian, and that I believe in the righteousness of the ethics laid out by Jesus Christ, and even that the bible is full of morally rich teachings. I simply don't believe in any of the supernatural elements of it. Jesus was a man, and a great one, but just a man. That's all. Sorry Mom and Dad and the rest of my family which is uniformly Christian.
However, you don't have to be Christian to do good deeds, like charity of one form or another. It wasn't much but, thanks to Rian and JT and some other really cool people who supported the event or came out, we held a benefit show as was mentioned some posts back. This was a benefit for NBIA, the disease which afflicted my brother and continues to plague my two older sisters. The highlights for me were:
-seeing lots of friends all together in the same place -Kerri preparing tons of delicious baked goods for us to sell. Thanks Kerri!! -Damnation Alley's set. It was so tight. They even opened with River Runs Red by Life of Agony which is an awesome song. Thanks guys. I went up to Dave (guitarist) at the end of the set and told him: "I'm glad I quit the band. You guys got way better without me." -Me raffling off a bunch of Japanese candy (mostly purposefully "gross" stuff like fried squid strips and fish-flavored shrimpy corn puffs) along with a few rare goodies (100 yen-store chopsticks and an F.I.D. CD). I never knew people got so into raffles, made like $60 selling tickets, crazy.
In the end we only raised around $300, but it's that much more to a good cause. You can donate, learn more and spread awareness of this particular cause if you so desire by checking out the official website: http://www.nbiadisorders.org/
This is also a video of my Mother, whose strength of heart I hope to achieve some day myself, being interviewed for the local news about the disease:
Heavy stuff isn't it? Welcome to my family life. I remember when that perfect model of an 80s-bloomed le femme news anchor turned to me with a look of longing to understand and asked me: "How do you process all this?" I could have answered in various ways but chose something along the lines of: "In my eyes, this has been the reality for more than 10 years. I've had time to process it, I accept things for what they are." I could have said a lot more... About the cruelness of the genetic lottery, the random coldness of the world itself, the unfair burdens shifted upon some and not others, how it effected and shaped my personality (which it played a heavy hand in), how my brother's death indirectly lead to my leaving the country. I could have said a lot of things, but I don't bother to say them to those who don't really want to listen. Or at least don't have the time. I bet some of you internet-readers out there care to know it a hell of a lot more than some local celebrity T.V. journalist does.
I can't properly detail and describe everything I felt and experienced throughout my Return to New York (although I do distinctly remember an elderly couple almost backing into my car while I was on my way to the aforementioned church that fateful Sunday). Some details I have left out are too personal, although they would undoubtedly make for great writing. Let me leave it to mystery and say that I love and appreciate the western woman and her independently feminine identity and attitude much more than I did before I left. It was refreshing to see a bit of that while I was home, cultural gender identity was, among other things flipped on its head, as Japan is stuck somewhere in the 1950s as far as Women's lib. is concerned.
At any rate, I made it back to Japan in one piece. And being here, now, I hold a greater appreciation for Tokyo and feel some of the awe and inspiration this city once instilled in me born anew. I won't be here forever. If things go according to plans, some time in 2011 should be an exit date. But while I'm here I'll make the most of it because baby, you only live once.
I'll leave you with a stunning reading by the man who has been reinvigorating my love of poetry from beyond the grave, one Charles Bukowski:
My head has been full for weeks, I could say a lot of things right now. I'm not ready to say most of them yet though, and certain things I have no intention of writing the majority of them in a public blog. Let's just say that coming back home has put me face to face with some of the more difficult life-related decisions I've been reluctantly avoiding for the last year or two. Being an adult? Not easy. But I'm blessed with loved ones who support me, and a will to keep on pushing on. I'm not exactly sure where to push however. I've had to cut ties, turn my back to people and aspects of life I once held dear to be on the "adventure" I am now. And now that I'm back over here, in Tokyo, I'm glad to be here, but it comes with very real price tag. I'm only now beginning to realize some of the weight that has come with my separation with the old world, my old environment where I spent 23 years and some change. Reinventing one's life takes a lot.
I'll be 25 in April. Where will I be at 30 if I'm still kicking? My guess is probably just as philosophical and even more confused about which way to turn. I just wouldn't have it any other way. That's life, and I'm cool with that.
On the plus side of everything, I've written more poetry in the last 2 days than I have in the past 6 months. I'm not happy if I'm not creating something. So here's to you 2010, may you be as revealing and lucky of a year as 2009 was for me, lord knows I've seen much much worse in the past.
"You're not in this all alone just look around and you'll see, the answer's right before your eyes I'm here for you and you for me. It's hard to open up, just try and you'll see, that true friends will always be there." - Sick of it All
I couldn't help looking into the bathroom mirror and laughing hysterically. What a ride. As I walked out of the airport facilities I thought to myself: either I need some tums or I should just keep away from sausage biscuits, not sure as of January 3rd 8pm Tokyo time, 6am at my current location of Albany New York. Albany airport to be exact (about time they provided free wifi here!). Newark, New Jersey doesn't do the same though, so this will be my last communication until I'm back in the Japanland.
This is a red-eye flight of sorts, even though I woke up at 2:30am this morning. Fairly ridiculous when you think about it.
I'm not in disbelief I'm going back to Tokyo, I merely find myself laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. And possibly the unbearable light of being as well. Huge thanks and much love to all my friends and family who made my vacation so enjoyable. Also, list of awesome bands I saw in the States over vacation, that I'd recommend to you all:
After the Fall Born Low Damnation Alley Make do and Mend Down to Nothing Forfeit Oak and Bone Trapped Under Ice Sun God
I could through myspace links in there... or you could just google ANY of those names and the word myspace. C'mon, you won't.
If anyone really wants to know what's in my head, or perhaps why I'm going back to foreign lands and am content to do so, you need look no further:
"Go to work, go to school Get an education, so you won't be a fool Be a doctor, PHD, all that shit, that's not for me
All my life people tell what to say This is my life live it my own way
Was so blind could not see figures of authority, always standing behind me, ready to come down on me
All my life people tell what to say This is my life live it my own way" - Sick of it All, "My Life"
I now leave you as a "quote" in typical E.F.N.Y. fashion, the first track off of After the Fall's latest CD "Fort Orange." It's the best work yet from an amazing local band that has been together almost 10 years... and who I should see in Tokyo this year. Go dudes!! Fort Orange is the original name of my beautiful hometown of Albany, NY, by the way. I don't have the lyric sheet with me so here's most of it from memory.
"December 31st marks the day when Albany police opened fire on Lark street and killed an innocent man. Tell me what the fuck were you thinking, were you following standard procedure, to protect and serve?.... David Scraringe was only 24, he had a family not just another name.... those cops never saw any punishment to this day" After the Fall - "Fort Orange"
or should I say secrets and time? We live our lives based on the clock, yielding to father time's inexhaustible might. I now hold several secrets that would make for exquisite blogging material, yet can't let out the spoilers for fear of those who may read before Christmas. Looks like this post will be shrouded in mystery.
Remember that test, the one I was studying for for, oh I dunno about 6 months and stressing over for so long? I think I passed it. I have a hunch anyway, and if I failed it then it had to be by an obscenely minute margin. So I must have passed. Yes. Nothing to do but try to forget about it anyway, I won't get the results until mid-February. =/
I also need to send a letter in this week to make sure that the JLPT Association doesn't make out any certification to Benjamin. Le Roy Belcher. Yes, they put a period in my name. Yes, I probably accidentally made a mark when filling out the application form. Yes, it's a pain and a hassle, especially when I'm so busy! Packing, banging out a last week of work, blah blah grumble grumble...
4 days from now I'll be somewhere in the sky. That's a strangely reassuring thought. There's a new movie coming out which I may see when I'm back home called "Up in the Air" which deals with the idea of living in the surreal world of flying, where we are truly alone with ourselves and a hundred other strangers. People get really reflect during these kinds of travels, I for one have undoubtedly always enjoyed them. Sometimes more than when I get to the destination itself, but that won't be this time of course.
My bag is full of things that should make people I know smile. I bounce between vehement anti-capitalist and completely giving in to the beast, as I abstain from unnecessary shopping most of the year but fall into a vicious cycle during Christmas. And I like to give people presents, better to give than receive and all that stuff. It's more fun this year than any other, since I live in a place with tons of cool albeit expensive stuff, and I have the best paying job in the history of my life.
Oh and I'm getting my right thigh tattooed, probably take 5 or 6 hours. Ouch much? But dang it will be awesome in the end. Oh yes. The onsen's (hot springs) will be putting up my picture saying don't let this guy in under penalty of blank stares.
Bruce Belcher memorial fund is HAPPENING, attention NY people:
I hope for a good turnout to raise lots of money for the cause (you can learn more at www.nbiadisorders.org) and if facebook doesn't lie than there should be at least 40 people there. Hip hip hooray!
Decided to do a VLOG, video blog, was kind of restless and sleepy at the time so forgive my state, however it's a wrapup of what's going on now. Some old info, some new, and what's it going to be like to re-enter my home country, I wonder...
So maybe only John Torn has been with me since the beginning, but I've been doing this blog for almost a year. What does that mean? It's an accomplishment of sorts, to have kept writing steadily for a year. It also means I've almost been living in Japan for near on one whole year, which is both humbling and scary at the same time.
I took a few minutes to go back and read some of my first posts on this blog this morning. How have my opinions changed, how have I changed? Not so much as I had expected, or at least not noticeably. Though I suppose when one is around oneself all the time one cannot detect the minute differences, can one?... Ahem. But it did make me feel nostalgic about playing in Damnation Alley, my last music project in NY, and one of the funnest bands I've ever done. And JT, if you're reading this, weekend tour, when I'm home, some time between December 13-January 3rd, MAKE IT HAPPEN BRO. Me and Rich are on board!
Anyway, here's a snippet of what I'm talking about: (god I can feel the pretentiousness just oozing from me by quoting myself)
"This process of raging is how I'd like to define all the music I've ever written, but especially this last project, possibly my last New York-based band for a long time. We had so much fun writing and hanging out together, that it almost feels a shame to stop now. But, with Josh moving to Oregon in 2 weeks, and me moving in 5, it's time to say goodbye to the NY music scene, which is basically the same as saying goodbye to family and friends. I've made so many great friends along this wild ride. It was in hardcore music I found people I could finally relate to, words that meant something to me, and inspiration to stop taking life as it came and start changing things for the better. ...although past projects have had rather underwhelming results they have all meant the world to me, and been some of the most fun that I have ever had in my life." - from this dinosaur of a post.
I still rage all the time, yet sadly, don't attend shows nearly as often as I'd like. I can't wait to be doing it the right way, where my band plays the show so I don't have to fork over 3500 yen at the door. And comparing Damnation Alley, my last band, with F.I.D., my current band, is about as apples and oranges as you can get. Two totally different styles, totally different genders, totally different cultures. But they both shared one thing, and that's the fun of writing and creating something - oh, and they're both composed of stand-up dudes and ladies.
Even more embarrassing is looking back on my very first post (you don't want to, trust me) and to see what my goals were. Did I keep the blog free of whininess? As much as possible, but a guy has to complain now and then. Did I keep it un-work related? As much as possible, but work is such a huge part of my life, it can't just be totally ignored. Did I keep it true to my feelings and has it been an outlet that makes me feel a bit more connected with my loved ones back home, and the random people who read it but never say anything? That is where the greatest success has been, for sure.
I have lost my train of thought. Um. I am in a bit of a rush this morning, second Chinese lesson, then I'm going on a quest to find Frank's Red Hot or some facsimile thereof at a foreign food store, and finally work. It's gonna be a full day, I already know that. So let's stop here for now.
"It's an old trick, writing of life as if you really had an angle on it. I do it myself. I even admire my own piss when I'm pissing... piss and writing, we're closest to our own." - Charles Bukowski, "Piss and Shit."
"Another day, another year, so what's the hurry?" H20
"I never want to feel that way, I never want to hear those words again" - Skycamefalling
P.S. I keep forgetting to click the "publish" button when I read my comments - so if you're wondering why yours haven't shown up, sorry! I really like hearing from people through here. :)
Everything shifts, all the time. Language is amorphous and ever-changing, so are the economics and so is the culture. It should come as no surprise that the residual effect is a dynamic yet unstably predictable slew of moods I find myself in each day. I don't know if I believe in bad days anymore, there are too many things can happen in a mere 24 hours. I do believe in the value of time, and a certain friend of mine said the other day he had an "out-date," a.k.a. a set time in mind when he was going to leave Japan. I was a little saddened to hear this as he's one of the few really cool people I've met here, but was of course supportive of his plans to move on, get a real career, etc.. More importantly, this bit of news he followed up with: "Having a set date in mind makes the time more enjoyable, if that makes any sense."
To me, it makes a world of sense. A galaxy, nay, a cosmos of freakin' sense. Goals are important, although mine aren't necessarily temporal (it's old news but as a refresher: learn Japanese as best as I can, help F.I.D. take over the world with grindcore, have fun, etc). In any regard I have never been content staying in one place or doing one set thing for too long, with possibly only 2 exceptions: reading and playing music. And even with these, I burnt out at times, went into slumps, got fed up with them - too much of anything is never a good thing, as the old proverb goes. Have I yet taken in too much Japan?
The answer is a bit counter-intuitive. I would describe my experience in Japan so far in the following chronological way: Seeing everything as surreal, followed by a splash of cold water in the face, followed by adjustment, followed by acceptance. My 4-step program, if you will.
Now there's this thing they call culture shock, but I don't think it's defined correctly. Note:
"culture shock: the feeling of disorientation experienced by someone who is suddenly subjected to an unfamiliar culture, way of life, or set of attitudes."
What's wrong here is the word "suddenly." True, culture shock hits you when you first come to a new place, but it's residual effects are comparable to those who try and quit smoking. At first one has undeterred confidence in their ability to overcome, followed by waves of desire for going back to old habits. That's a lot like my experience of culture shock. Some days are lollipops and neon lights (perhaps better described as yogurt-flavored candy and squid strips), while others i feel the city grinding me down as a whole, just scraping slowly away at my humanity, to risk sounding a trifle over-dramatic. My buddy over at the The Ghost Letters has blogged about this latter phenomenon quite a bit, and it's something anyone in any big city must go through: feeling isolated, getting fed up with the crowds and whatnot. The main difference is that everything here feels like it hits an extremity...
Life in Japan is everything to the max. The colors are brighter, the gadgets shinier, the lights blink faster and the silly humans all squeeze in to make their way, everything going 100 miles a minute. I'm not used to it, I'm getting used to it; some days it feels normal and some day it feels like the veritable equivalent of walking around mars with my helmet off, Total Recall style. For instance, I saw a dude bitching out the station attendant for a late train the other day. He was a young salary man, obviously in a hurry and upset by the late trains. He kept saying things along the lines of (and I'm translating faithfully here): "I'm not fucking around! Do you think I'm kidding here? This train cannot be late, do something, seriously!" While the station attendant apologized repeatedly and profusely, bowing all the while. Thie is a prime example of what one would never see in the New York area: a slave to public transportation venting his anger out on a station attendant who can't do anything, the guy obviously catching flak for a problem he didn't cause, and still maintaining a "the customer is always right" mentality (also known as okyakusama ga kamisama, translation "the customer is god"). I think if you pulled that at Amtrak in Rensselaer, NY, the staff would just laugh at you.
But enough with all that stuff. Moving on. I had a somewhat rocky week, with construction beginning at 8am on Thursday morning keeping me a awake and forcing me to run on low batteries all day. Then I made the terrible mistake of going out Thursday night, getting woken up by the clings and clangs and hollers of construction workers after staying up until 2am, and subsequently feeling a little burnt out for my kids class that day. The real kicker of all this is there was a sign put up just this week, bi-lingual, saying in English: "we will be painting from March 6, sorry for the inconvenience." This was rather deceiving, as it not only began on March 5, but when I later looked at Japanese closer, the characters for "construction" were explicitly stated.
I was better prepared today but still missed sleeping in until 9 or 10 like normal. I tried asking one of the constructoin workers if they would be working on Sunday as well, and he gave me a run-around answer along the lines of "we're working until it's finished," if I understood him correctly. Maybe I didn't. Irregardless, the dude had half inch forests of nose-hairs coming out of his shnoz, and I can live without ever seeing that again, ever.
Work was a breeze, only a couple classes at my favorite school, all the students were animated and a pleasure to teach. Note: this was the exact opposite of an incredibly awkward and painful day I had earlier this week in Shinjuku. I taught a dude today who was on a plane to Vegas when the Twin Towers fell; he said they re-routed him to Vancouver and that when he finally made it to Vegas, everything was just shut down. No lights, no casinos, just desert and dead bulbs. Wild. Another student said he tried to watch Star Wars without Japanese subtitles, and he did fine except that he couldn't understand Yoda! I had to of course explain that Yoda says everything completely backwards, and hence has terrible grammar!
I was thanked several time for being generally helpful today, which always makes me feel good. I've never felt so appreciated in any line of work in the past as I often am at this job. I feel that of all the teachers that come through, a small amount really want to give it their all every time, and not to brag, but when I do something I do it right. I don't like half-assing anything. So, that made me feel good. The staff at that school are also becoming good friends of mine, and I'm crossing my fingers and toes that I'll have a set day there as of April on my next contract, as I'm only there once or twice a month as of now.
Today I came home and what's the first thing I see? A cockroach scurrying up my wall. I try and calm myself down but the overwhelming revulsion I feel for the thing is almost nauseating; I never had to deal with these guys back home, although house centipedes were another matter altogether. Fact of the matter is they both creep me out as much as anything possibly can.
I mustered up the stomach and slammed an old hard-cover copy of One Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (sorry Vernes) into the little bastard. It fell in the corner of my room, next to my bed in a corner of shoes and belts. I decided I had to move my bed and do some hardcore cleaning to get whatever putrid rice crumbs I had let find there way there for little dudes like this to much on (not to mention go buy some bug spray the next day). I proceeded to move my bed, poked at the shoey-belty-corner with an umbrella, and sure enough the little fucker comes sidling out on the wall apparently undamaged. I throw the book at him, my heart leaping out of my chest, and still see him scurry away after being apparently flattened, and into my shoe to boot!
That was it.
I flipped my shoe with the umbrella and he scurried behind the book. I kicked that book so furiously that the neighbors must have thought I was having a domestic dispute with myself, and finally it was over. I spent the next 3 hours cleaning up and working around all the crap I'd been putting off for so long. I watched Blazing Saddles for the umpteenth time while I cleaned, ate some pizza toast and felt inspired to pour out all of this you're reading. So in the end, it really was a good day, on the whole.
As I said at the beginning, things change constantly. Nothing is ever set, it just appears that way.
More wacky dreams lately. One particularly startling image of furless pandas I don't think I will soon forget... I haven't even watched Hellraiser recently!! Another involved me having triplet boys around 4 and meandering through a Walmart.
Sometimes, I'm glad dreams don't come true.
I went to a Sumo match the other day. It's incredibly ritualistic and deep-seated in Shinto, the native Japanese religion. For example, the circle which the basho (bout) takes place is considered a holy place, and no women are ever allowed within. The legs are spread traditionalyl to show that one is carrying no weaponry. Also, salt is thrown to purify the ring of evil spirits. And so on and so forth, once again wikipedia is your friend if you want details.
A match only lasts several seconds on average, with these arduously long, ritualistic actions in between. The buildup is intense, but often comparable to blue balls when the guy slips, falls over and loses 1.7 seconds in. The coolest thing I saw was this one high-ranked Sumo wrestler, Baruto, toss another 350 lb. dude sideways out of the ring. Also, the fans were so adamant, it was like Japan's WWF as Kevin so accurately put it. People would scream the names of their favorite wrestlers, cheering them on even from the nosebleed section that we occupied. Some dude nearby was wasted on beer and glass jars of sake, and was flipping out for this one wrestler, yelling stuff like "Yea! You can do it, kick his ass!" or some fascimile thereof in Japanese. Whenever the wrestlers would make their exaggerated movements, and finally get to the center to face each other, they would (a minimum of 3 times) walk away to wash up, make herculean and apish gestures and incite wild roars from the audience, before returning to the center of the ring to face off and possibly walk away another time or two before actually initiating the match. (Should I add "run-on sentences" into my tags?)
I wanted to try chankonabe, the fish stew that is the traditional meal of the sumo, but missed out. Kevin did and said it was decent. I'll find out someday. Instead I ate some snack-food with various pretzels, wasabi peas and little dried fishies in it. Quite good, actually.
Half-way around the globe, other events have transpired. About 6 days ago, there was a case of a shooting on I-90, the highway that is in my hometown of East Greenbush, New York. Some dude was firing at cops, people were fleeing the scene, complete chaos. I even recognize the ambulence that takes the guy after he gets shot by a cop - it's a volunteer EMS vehicle from W.F. Bruen station. My next-door neighbor works there. Very surreal. Even weirder is that this all made me think of one thing: what a bitch it would be delivering pizzas with part of the highway shut down!
We never seem to shed the past, every experience somehow culminates into who we are.
I've been up and down lately myself. Nowhere near the verge of shootin at anybody though, which is good. However my life is not free of "pain time" as one student so elegantly put it: I had to sub a class of whiny, hyper 3-year old boys last Saturday first thing in the morning and - O Joy! I have it again this Saturday. I botched a few things last weekend so I sought help from a friend who gave me some good kid-distracting/time-eating advice....and informed me that rewind and fast-forward on tape players are reversed in this country. With any luck, I'll make it outta this one alive.
I had so many weird dreams last night. Some of them had to do with going flying home - I've been getting my first real poignant bouts of homesickness lately, of course due to the holidays and the fact that my family is all going to Disneyland, a tradition which I have never missed out on until now.
I remember my dreams the most when I'm drifting in and out of sleep, and due to my vacation patterns of waking up at 7:30am I've been doing that a lot the past few days. Getting back into the routine of work hasn't been the easiest thing, but I'm almost there. I'm a boring guy, I like my routine, it's comfortable and mundane but just exciting enough.
Anyways about those dreams. Some of them were downright bizarre, some unmentionable here.... I remember my bed falling apart underneath me. I never actually took a flight, I was just here one day, and then WOOSH, back in New York 14 hours earlier, so I showed up in my old room at 2am or something. And I didn't have enough time to see anyone before I was zipped back home. There might be some kind of meaning in that, I suppose.
I think there's some underlying anxiety about my job in all that too. I have reason to believe that come contract renewal time in the Spring, some people won't get asked back. I think that due to the recession, despite the company I work for being a big one, they must be experiencing negative numbers like everyone else and will have to cut costs somewhere. For this reason I'm making extra sure to do everything I can right, and considering I've only been late once (by 2 minutes to a school I'd never been to before) I'd say I'm in pretty good shape thus far. This might sound incredibly trivial, but in Japan being late, even slightly is a really big deal. Punctuality seems to take precedence over even appearance or job performance - just being there is crucial, even if you forgot to shave and your tie is backwards.
Anyhow I'm pretty confident my job is secure, I always give 110% and genuinely like what I'm doing, but I think the real fear here is just what the hell will I do after this? I have no real job opportunities with my English degree in the states, unless I go back to school. And not only is the job market in peril, but prices on the cheaper, state-funded schools have just been jacked up too, along with many other New York state taxes. The point is I'm living comfortably here and making decent money, and until I see a good exit strategy I'm going to have to keep it that way.
But enough with all that serious crap! It's just been eating me a bit lately. In other related news the Ben-fan club met again on Wednesday - these 3 middle-aged women who love my class and laugh at almost everything and don't seem to learn much, but are really fun. For example they spent roughly half the class laughing about the English pronunciation of McDonalds: (Mick-Don-Alds) vs. (Makudonarudo). They proceeded afterward to request my class again the next week, and hearing this of course made me feel pretty happy.
Boy am I glad I just checked the weather today - I hate getting stuck in the rain with no umbrella! And if meteorologists are correct (which they seldom seem to be) it might just snow in Tokyo some time soon. A light dusting would result in numerous unnecessary train delays, airports being shut down, and most likely my school being closed. Even regardless of theses things, it would be nice to see a coat of white on this metropolis, if only for a few hours.
I see things happening in my life, possibilities and opportuniies and so often I just shun them outright. I am a total hypocrite in that I like trying new things, but am stubborn and like things the way I know and understand them. Simple. I believe in opten-mindedness, but am generally set in my views and opinionated, though democratic. And I like being single, life is much easier this way, if more boring.
I really do want to drive my jeep through the Adirondack mountains and listen to Clutch, with no particular place to go. Driving is a liberating feeling I knowingly took for granted back home, it was empowering and a total high when it wasn't mundane and boring. Driving around and listening to music is great, I almost (but not really) miss delivering pizzas to strangers and blaring metal around East Greenbush and Rensselaer. And while the paycheck here is oh-so-much nicer, there is no complimentary pizza to go with the job...
More vacation stuff coming soon, I'm being rather lazy about it. In the spirit of things, here's an animated portrayal I found of "deer-bullying" in Nara:
"The girls said I know what it means too" - Polar Bear Club
"They're pushing you and testing you, but you won't cave in. You can't cave in." - Terror
"I'm prepared to fight humanity every day for the rest of my life." - Shai Hulud
P.S. Trash Talk is playing in about a week and a half, and Shai Hulud is playing next month. STOKED
It is without question the result of me reading too much Lovecraft lately, and possibly eating some unusually sweet foods, but I had the most bizarre dreams last night. Naturally it's hard to piece together even though I've been thinking about it since I woke up, but a mere 10 minutes certainly seems to do a lot to extinguish the the memories of dreams. I'll piece it together as best I can.
Something about a bronze ball that said "Love is Cthulhu and Cthulhu is Love." Innocent enough? I had a new apartment in what I knew to be the second layer of my dream world, where I was continually trying to break through to the mysterious fifth. I had a safe underneath my bunk bed (bunk bed?!) which held some precious item underneath the protection of plastic clothespins. At 3am the sun was out fully and I was sitting under a highway bridge with my friend Gabe, explaining to him that about my mission and that this could be the third step. Then a giant mardi gras parade broke out on the streets above and I slipped from what must have been the third back to the second layer, back into my room with the bunk bed. I kept getting these physically written tickets for noise complaints at strangely inopportune times. The rest of the dream was a struggle to try and maintain the ground I had already broken, but the urge to urinate is the last thing I remember upon waking up. So yea, I'm completely nutso!
In other news I'm getting sent to what could be my favorite school for pseudo-sub duty today: Shiki. It's a little place and is awfully quiet but the staff are so pleasant and I always have fun hanging out there. I'm hoping to get put there next year on my new contract, keeping my fingers crossed! Oh and it's only 15 minutes and one train ride away, which is pretty convenient compared to my average commute.
Winter's coming! But I can't feel a thing, and it isn't because my toes are numb this time! Nope, the weather here is much milder than New York has ever been even in its most subdued of winter seasons; It was in the mid-60s for the better part of this week, now moving down to mid-50s. We've had a few nights hit around 40 last week, but even when winter does come in full effect here I doubt it will be a big deal for me, a well-seasoned polar bear.
This brings me to things I don't miss about home, and how about a shot from the latest Noreaster (North Eastern Storm) that tore up New England but apparently missed NY, even though I've heard reports of some less-than-desirable weather there too:
Ice storms.
To finish off this segment I need to recount a story about when I visited my friend Rich in February of this year, which sure seems like a long time ago now. I was on my way through the windy mountain roads to the Castle de Hartshorn, doing my usual 40mph or so since I knew all the roads by this time. The sun had just set, and it had been raining quite a bit. I likewise hadn't noticed that as the roads gradually wound their way up into the mountains, so too did the temperature just decrease enough to create some incredibly dangerous sheets of black ice (ice so thin it can scantly be seen on pavement). I noticed the hard way, by almost losing control and skidding off the road around a fairly sharp corner! Lucky for me I slid my backwheel into an easy area to pull out of, but with at least 5 miles left to go it was not looking particularly good for me. I figured that continuing to go up was however safter than trying to turn around and go down in this kind of situation, so I continued with extreme caution. As I trucked along slowly the ice got thicker - the thickest in fact that I have probably ever seen on pavement in my entire life, looked like nearly an inch solid. Cars sat idling at the ends of their driveways, waiting for some kind of plow truck to salt the way. I pulled to the side for a minute to try and call Rich, but he didn't answer. Or maybe I didn't have a signal, I don't remember. After a minute I saw a pickup truck heading in the same direction as me, and decided it best to follow at a distance. If I went off the road at least someone would see it!
As our path wove on we continued to cruise at about 5-10mph, the ice not heeding in the slightest, and it seemed strange that this truck was heading in exactly the same direction as me, since Castle de Hartshorn is located in kind of an obscure area even for these mountain roads. Feeling safe enough I tried calling Rich quickly again, and upon his answering I started explaining my situation when he said: "You mean that hasn't been you behind us for the last 20 minutes?"
"Swallow all the planets, the profits of doom! Quarterly projections, the prophets of doom! A colleague, rabbi and a bishop walk into a bar, one says to the other: 'hey now brother we haven't gotten very far'" - Clutch
While this is a "live" blog, updated regularly, I consider it to be an unfolding story as well. I will therefore be sorting out the events here in rough chunks of time labeled as "chapters," with a prologue beginning in New York. I will list here the current "chapter" of this chunk of my life story, which I have decided to share with anyone and everyone on the internet.
