I finally joined the gym on Tuesday. It was another hour-long process of filling out forms and trying to understand what various thing meant (much like my cell phone acquisition) but it was worth it. For the first time in months I had a proper workout, and the facilities are actually quite impressive! The my only complaints are that they don't have a rowing machine and tattoos are supposed to be covered at all times.
Yes, you read right - supposedly showing that you have a tattoo can lead to instant cancellation of your membership, if any member "reports" you. I have my doubts as to whether or not this would really happen, and in any case, what is the purpose of such a policy?
Well, for those that don't know, tattoos are most closely associated with yakuza in Japan, or gangsters. The thing that baffles me is that gangsters get very easily recognizable tattoos, often full back-pieces if not larger, of dragons and swords and the like - it's not like anyone could ever mistake my wolfopuss for that! But as always I err on the side of strictness and just deal with it, carefully avoiding any exercises that expose my thigh... But really, what a silly rule. Even if a gangster were to become a member of the gym, would anyone actually have the gall to tattle on him for having a *gasp* visible tattoo?
I think this is a prime example of the kind of thing that would be considered blatant discrimination in America, but passes as fairly normal over here. It's not like it's really that bad, merely an inconvenience, but I felt the need to vent about it a little. This blog won't be on a downward spiral of Japanbashing any time soon.
On the subject of tattoos, there are way more young people with them here than I had thought. It is slowly going the way of America and they are becoming more and more common - I even saw some ridiculous guy on the train the other day with face tattoos, metal spikes on his arms, huge boots and a shirt that said Tokyo Punk. A trifle overboard in my opinion.
On a completely unrelated note, here is a clip of the latest thing I'm watching, a rifftrax of Memento:
Yesterday I was jogging and somehow managed to hurt my left knee. What does this mean for me? No more jogging for at least a week, and limping up and down all the stairs to and from the subways. Even the microwave and the toilet are a downstairs trek from my apartment. NO FUN.
I also managed to pay last month's rent, after discovering that the money was still sitting in my account this month. It's an understandable mistake I think, I mean the menu on the ATM is all in Japanese! (and if you take more than 15 seconds to try and read something, it assumes you've walked away and cancels your transaction) What got me was 3 options at the end about keeping receipts and yadayada, 1) was no and 2) was yes. Usually it's the other way around, at least where I'm from.
You may be wondering about the ambiguous title, so I'll get right down to it here. About 2 weeks before I left for Japan, I had planned one last roadtrip with my friends Rich, Laura and Gabe to Virginia Beach. The day before we left I had a tattoo appointment in Saratoga to get this little number done:
It's a Wolf-o-puss, of course!
We had already done outlines and most of the color in a previous appointment, this was just about 2 hours of "finishing touches." So it was raining, and I was in kind of a hurry to get to Saratoga, which is about 45 minutes from where I lived in East Greenbush. It had just stopped raining, and as I took the 270 degree exit ramp from 787 to route 7 at my normal speed if 40mph and began to straighten the wheel, the car started fishtailing. I wasn't paying proper attention and the roads were still really wet, so I must have lost traction. Trying to brake did nothing, and as I spun 180 degrees I watched incredulously as traffic was coming directly at me. About a second later I smashed into the guardrail, myself completely unscathed and with only my rear right blinker knocked out, and the bumper a little dented.
This was incredibly lucky. The cars coming just happened to be too far away for me to have collided with them, so it was a real close shave. I had driven as a pizza guy for almost a year, 6, 8, 12 hours a day and had went on countless roadtrips. Therefore I had total confidence in my driving ability, but all it takes is one slip up like that to bring you back to reality. I got off and the car was fine - I was a shook for a little while and drove very carefully to the tattoo place and back home later. The fun part was getting the lights replaced (much thanks to my step-brother for helping me, no garages would have been open on a Sunday) and wrapping the corner up in red tape to make it look a little better. Not perfect, but better.
The next morning I was driving down the Jersey turnpike and all was well. There were no hitches in the trip and it was a time to remember. Car accidents however are a very real danger that I don't regret leaving behind. While train accidents do happen, they are not nearly as frequent - and it wouldn't even be my fault! And yet, I still somehow miss owning a car and being able to drive, but not the copious maintenance and insurance payments that accompanied it. Or the danger factor.
I'm off to work. I hope you enjoyed this entry, I've been saving it for a slow day.
Normally, I do not use portable electronics while in moving vehicles. I get motion sick, always have and most likely always will. Nevertheless my new macbook, perhaps due to sheer awesome-itude, seems to overcome this fault of mine. Better, faster, stronger. Maybe it's just the bigger screen.
Oh, and if anyone wants to use that word, awesome-itude, please paypal me $5 in advance. ktnx.
As I write these words, I am on the road to Brookline, MA to finish the Damnation Alley EP up with Mike Scoville. The last few days have been wild and crazy, kids, and here is a fragmented recount for ya'll:
Thursday.
Thursday was a great day. Just the fact that I knew I'd be getting tattooed for the first time in, well, it must be at least 3 years kept me consistently elated. I was smiling all day. I arrived at Needlewurks up in Saratoga early to avoid the nasty rush hour traffic, and proceeded to stuff my face at the nearest Chinese buffet. Little known fact: There are Chinese buffets with Mexicans who work in the kitchens, I have seen it myself! Shocking.
Here is where things got ridiculous. Last week at practice (held at Needlewurks after hours) I had noticed a drawing, framed and colored nicely, of what was known simply as "Wolfopuss," a wolf/octopus, with antlers. I really loved the demented, cartoony style of it, and to make a long story short, when I suggested getting this picture done by the original artist, Humplik, not only was he excited about it but he insisted we had to start "today" if I was leaving in under 3 weeks. So, low and behold, no classy Paradise Lost quotes on my arm that day, just a ridiculous piece on my upper left thigh! Sorry to make you all wait, but I refuse to post pics until it's colored in.
The tattoo hurt like a bitch and took about two hours. I am also kind of a wuss about pain, and I find no shame in admitting that, because we're all relatively soft these days, what with the lack of hunting and tribal activities and all. I talked to Humplik about anything and everything to take my mind off of it, but all in all it really wasn't that bad and I am ready for more!
"More tattoos, more tattoos, let's go get some more tattoos!!!" - No Reedeming Social Value
I returned home roughly midnight-ish, and didn't get to bed till around 3 due to feverishly packing and triple-checking all the necessary paperwork for my visit to the Japanese consulate. Oh, did I forget to mention the trip to New York City?
Friday.
Got up at 8:45am, rushed my ass off to make the 11:33am train, got there at 11:22, ran in despite my tattoo being a tad raw, forgot the number of my parking spot so I ran back out to get it, came back, paid, went down stairs, windmilled, spinkicked and made my way into the train with about 2 minutes to spare. Always a great relief, catching that poughkeepsie train (or Po-town as I affectionately like to call it). I drove there - about half way to the city - because roundtrip tickets are only $26, which is a steal compared to $80 from Albany to the city, so it ends up costing me around $70-$75 to go to the city and back, total. None too shabby.
Upon my arrival at famous and historical Grand Central Station, I began by walking the wrong direction for about 2 blocks, before I realized my error. I made a 180 toward the consulate, roughly a 4 block walk from the station. Security was very tight for obvious reasons, and to skip all the boring details I was informed that if I wanted to get mailed my visa, I need only walk to the post office and buy an express envelope with $16.50 postage! Compared to another trip during a hecticly busy week it was quite an appealing offer. So, after showing up at the incredibly large post office, talking to some woman whose son was soon graduating from the school I just did, SUNY Albany, etc. etc.. I made my way back towards the building on park and 48th. The sun was shining, and I thought to myself as I walked through the faceless crowd, this is preparation for what I'll be living in. The purely urbane lifestyle. I listen to Kataklysm and the Killers, smile, and walk purposefully back toward the consulate, through the hustle and around the bustle.
Upon my first arrival the consulate was nearly empty. This time however, it's packed. NHK (Japan's CNN) is playing on the T.V., and I hear parents scolding their children in Japanese to "put down the magazine, seriously, we're leaving. Now!" I smile a few feet wide, thinking all the while: boy oh boy will they be surprised when they find out this 外人 gaijin (foreigner) can understand their language. My place in line is 8 behind the current guy being waited on, so I try to get into Choke by Chuck Palchawnauck, which isn't hard because he writes some very prolific and happily disturbing, destructive work. I'm into it, here's a taste:
"Then she turns on the television, some soap opera, you know, real people pretending to be fake people with made-up problems being watched by real people to forget their real problems." - Chuck Palahniuk, Choke.
I keep glancing furtively at the clock, but eventually stop as it is the other queue moving up, and mine seems to be stuck in slow motion. Lost in the land of clever rhetoric, I completely ignore the number-calling for roughly 30 seconds, and number gets skipped. I proceed to move across the room quite annoyed, sit impatiently and stare unfurtively at the Australian guy taking far too long to straighten out his paperwork, while J-babies cry and newscasters talk about crazy 60+ year old mountain climbers in Japanese.
2 hours later, I'm sitting on a sparsely grass-laden patch of dirt in equally famous and historical Union Square Park. The plan is to wait here for Naomi, who lives in the Bronx and goes to a fancy expensive Graduate School to get some documentation which says she is a writer. My problem with this? She's already a writer, duh! Why do we really need Graduate School?!?!111
Lying amidst people who must not see much more foliage or "nature" than this on a regular basis, I soaked up some sun, played some Final Fantasy 4 on my DS, read some more Choke, and actually felt inspired to do some writing! (If you're interested, please check out my writer's cafe account for semi-frequently updated short prose and poetry). I felt bewildered by some overheard remarks of extreme apathy and insensitivity though. Case in point: A valley girl, the kind with big bug-eyed white-rimmed sunglasses, mediumish brown hair (so she's not too traditional, but still feminine) and some presumably fashionable combination of a blue top and a yellow, the leader of the little brood of fast talkers and Sex and the City wannabes. All of this I can deal with, I've gotten used to it. What bothered me was that she, the queen bee, was laughing about her incredibly naïve friend who gave $20 to a homeless guy. Sure, that guy could have been a druggie, or an alcoholic, in which case it is rather ignorant on the part of said girl... but he could also have been an honest man who was just horribly down on his luck. I decided to keep my mouth shut, as I so often do to avoid unnecessary conflicts. If only I could speak my mind 100% of the time, and we could actually debate these kinds of things.
On that subject of bums and the homeless, I saw a man with a cardboard sign that said: "Why lie? I need beer." Honestly, I felt inspired by his honesty, and almost gave him a dollar.
Eventually the evening picked up and Naomi, who is always cute and funny without even trying, leads us on a rambling journey to some sketchy neighborhood in Brooklyn, with her carnivorously nomming earrings and a nice black dress, with striped stockings that were so akin to Lydia from Beetlejuice that I almost thought that a Sandworm might manifest itself through from the ground up and start tearing shit up.
For the first time in my life - and I guess this happens 2 or 3 times a week in Troy, I'm just sort of an indoor kid - I saw a hydrant blown, water gushing like a free car wash without the softball team to assist. We resisted this public bath since we both were not nearly drunk enough yet. It was however hot as hell when we arrived at the party, and it kind of looked like it too, in a strangely aesthetic and subtle way. Over the main doorway to the kitchen, 3 round clocks said 6:00 all in a row. There was a Last Supper picture with some custom clip art of new Disciples and some delicious cake (And who is to say they had no sweets in early A.D.?), art which portrayed a deformed Winnie the Pooh sitting victorious upon a pile of raw bones, chewing the flesh of his latest victim. That one even made me shudder, having been raised on the lovable honey-addict, who I am now convinced is emblematic of a pothead. Also, on eye-level with any dude pissing in the toilet was this ominous odometer:
I got more hammered than I would like to admit, and got along with these artsy types better than I had expected - although I did say some very vulgar things in Japanese to a girl I later found out was a former Japanese major. LOL.
Naomi and I. Yes, I strictly take very ridiculous pictures.
Saturday.
5 hours and a nasty headache later, me and Naomi awaken in "Vietnam," an independent country that exists in a constant state of guerilla warfare, with inhuman, unreal living conditions...within an apartment building in Brooklyn. We ate breakfest, and made our way to Grand Central (her home was in the same direction), and at the transfer stop where we parted ways we watched a very talented Asian man playing what I believe to be a Chinese instrument. It sat like a harpsichord but had a set up something like the inside of a piano, with wires that are vibrated with fork-like sticks. He played something like Beethoven's 5th, then proceeded to freestyle!
The real talent in New York doesn't get played on your top hit lists.
Here's nice shot of Grand Central Station, what a symbol of American freedom:
The trip home was, well, nothing in particular to write home about, so I won't. I was supposed to see a free play in Altamont, Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night" which is a cross-dressing adventure of drunken debauchery, rampant malarkey and situational comedy. Sadly, it was taking place outdoors and the weather was very stormy. Curse you high culture-hating percipitation!!!
The night however was far from a bust, and after calling in to work (like I was going to work 5-8 after 4+ hours of travel and minimal sleep, seriously) I made plans to see the new Will Ferrell movie Step Brothers with some good friends. It can be summed up as a compilation of coarse, vulgar, laugh-out-loud humor, and I have to say I was actually pretty impressed! Possibly one of the most epic post-credits scenes every filmed, as well. Regardless of your taste in modern comedy, something much funnier happened even before the movie. I was in a hurry to get out and make it on time, which actually turned to be a needless worry since the showing at 9:20 was sold out anyway. Regardless, I arrived wearing this brand new spiffy shirt I had recently bought for my new job, a Ralph Lauren striped black and white dealy. I'm not usually one for fashionableness in the slightest, but I think it looks pretty swank. Anyway, to make a long story short, I sat down next to my friend Zach, and began eating a recently purchsed 1/2 lb. cheesy bean and rice Taco Bell burrito™, my only weakness. As I opened the packet of fire sauce, it squirts out with pressure equivalent to a busted fire hydrant, squirting down my shirt and on my pants as well. This earned me the nickname of "Burrito-on-Shirt" Ben a few days later. Hysterical!
After the movie, me and Gabe hung out, because we have done that for well over 7 years. We are brothers from unrelated mothers. Here is a video of Gabe's testimonial of my future, and how Japan will change my life:
(That's "brots" as in bratwurst, by the way)
And yes, that is Suffocation playing in the background. No video of Gabriel should go without brutal death metal, naturally. Now that I'm getting the hang of iMovie, I might start doing a few more video blog entries; Although no new technology can possibly replace the ubiquitous, tried and true practice of good old fashioned writing.
We proceeded to watch Lost in Translation which Gabe had never seen before. Having seen it before, I understood roughly 60-70% of the Japanese dialogue, and translated it for added movie pleasure. I think a year or 2 in Japan, and I'll be taking the JLPT! (Japanese Language Proficiency Test) A fun fact about the JLPT, passing it at the highest difficulty is rewarded with documentation which basically says you are bilingual.
Ah, some day.
Anyway, I am afraid that we have to close shop early tonight. Right now I am far from that Sunday car ride to Boston; I am currently sitting in my room in my underwear, thinking about how tired I am but how I can't fall asleep due to copious coffee consumption. Damn it.
Get stoked for a big band-related entry about mine and John's amazingly fun time recording with Mike Scoville, and all the insanity that has taken place over the last few days. DAMNATION ALLEY TAKING OOOOVEEEERRRRRR 2008 BOOYAH!
"This is the way of the modern world, everyone's lying for dollar bills... Everybody knows what's best for you" - Bad Religion
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.
