Bilingual Baka Band

note: baka is Japanese for idiot

Today I'll be writing about something that separates my Japanese experience from others: the band. I've done perhaps 5 or 6 bands in the last 10 years, each one carrying different dynamics of personality, interaction and chemistry between the members, ultimately leading to what kind of sound we were able to create. Nothing however could have prepared me for F.I.D., as it has been the greatest collaboration I've had the pleasure to take part in, but at the same time requires the most care, hard work and even multicultural awareness!

(This is starting to sound like a bad PBS special or VH1 documentary, but it gets better I promise.)

I can only repeat myself so many times, but for any random or new readers I joined F.I.D. late 2008, shortly after coming to Japan. The band was originally an all female grindcore act, but they were willing to sacrifice their novelty (which was never their aim in the first place) to get some fresh blood into the equation. Their had a falling out of sorts with the last guitarist, and I filled the gap. Since then it has been a steady uphill climb from 9 months of practicing to old MDs (digital recordings) with no drummer, due to Tomoko's pregnancy, all the way to our recent shows and finally now our writing new songs. It has been a wild ride and I feel like it's still in the early stages. We have all become good friends and there are no egos raging out of control and ruining the creative flow, as has been known to happen amongst bands in the past (firsthand experiences here). I personally have always gotten on well with girls as they tend to be less competitive and self-absorbed than most guys I've met in my life. And they are after all Japanese no less, but attitudes take it beyond all that gender and ethnicity stuff: These girls are in it for the right reasons, namely to write music, play it and have fun. That is first and foremost I love this band.

But it's not all ice cream cupcakes and puppy dogs in the park; Nothing worth doing is easy after all. Anyone who has been in a band knows that to practice every weekend is a lot harder than it sounds, not to mention other sacrifices of free time, energy and finances that come into play. Me and the drummer both travel about an hour to practice every Sunday - carrying our instruments on the subway, which for me took some getting used to but I do like it better than lugging stacks of speakers in my jeep..... though I miss my 5150 and mesa-boogie pre-amp combos!!! Sigh.

And then there is language. Oh what fun it is to interact with people from other cultures, but what a challenge it can be as well. The majority of our dialogues are all in Japanese, and the singer Makiko is the only one who speaks English at a nearly fluent level, hence some things going over my head, some misunderstandings, etc. (not to mention countless times I have to ask Maki to explain what the hell everyone is talking about) If I had a yen coin for every time I wanted to say something simple like: "Ok stop here, then put it some kind of fill, whatever you feel fits and then we will all come back in together for 3 measures until the wawowaw part," but was stopped dead in my tracks by a language barrier, I would have lots and lots of little yens. Granted my Japanese is decent, so I try my best to convey these in my second language, but it's tough and can also (if not often) be difficult to communicate sometimes even the simplest of things. I do greatly enjoy it on the whole, and we definitely make it through, things just take longer.

This segues nicely into another cultural point: Japanese people tend to speak in a vague and roundabout manner and as such are often typified (and not without reason) as indecisive by Western people. I've had my share of Japanese cultural experiences just living here - memories of prolonged conversations to achieve the simplest ends at the bank or the post office come to mind - but nothing compares to the band dynamics. The main difference between this band and my experiences in America is that everything is considered thoroughly before it's acted upon. For example, if I say: "We should speed up that part, what do you think?" It may result in a 5-10 minute debate before we actually just play the part and see how it sounds. While this isn't inherently bad - putting thought into things instead of charging pell-mell into them has merits - it doesn't exactly make for the timeliest song writing. I often find myself (and to be fair sometimes my bandmates are the ones to say it too) saying yattemiyo (let's try it and see). I feel the need to throw around my hasty and arrogant American bluntness at times, while others I flow with the girls in a more Japanese state of mind pertaining to caution, detail and delivery. A mix of both has a lot of virtue I think.

I have to say, it is entirely too cute when Tomoko - who on the surface appears to be the sweetest, most innocent and harmless looking lady you could ever meet - and us are discussing a song, and something comes up like: "you can put a quick fill in there before the next part!" She will sit there and ponder, drum stick or hand lightly touching the chin in a thoughtful manner before blasting out something completely amazing. Kana as well, sometimes a bit fuzzy from doing other band practices, a brutal 6 day work week full of overtime or a late-night drinking party will always put in 110%. She is a bit more tom-boyish, often using the pronoun boku to refer to herself, which is something only tomboys and musicians do and I think is individualistic and also very cute (Japanese are good at the cute thing). She is so much the opposite of Tomoko's seemingly traditional sense of self that it makes for interesting times and great writing. Case in point: Tomoko wasn't 100% after not playing drums for like a year (and who would be after a pregnancy, that's some hardcore stuff!) and I said one day something along the lines of: "Hey, your drumming skills are really coming back eh!" Which doesn't sound so bad in English but was much MUCH too direct and rude in Japanese, to which Kanako said dare omae? (Who the hell do you think you are?) And we all burst out laughing. In fact we have fun interactions like this quite often, and it helps to keep things fresh and interesting when playing a song for the 20th time in one day wears us down.

In closing, let it be known I am in a band with some very talented people and am far luckier than I deserve in that respect. I know I am not a great guitar player, however I am confident in my ability to construct good songs and churn out somewhat original or unexpected ideas. This goes a long way and will ultimately make F.I.D. a stronger band with broader horizons than before, while still maintaining the intensity that it has come to be associated with in the underground music arena.

Whatsoever it comes to in the future - playing shows in Tokyo, recording, possibly even traveling abroad to play a festival or 2 - I am having too much fun to stop any time soon. And I believe the girls feel the same. That is we work our hardest to achieve BBB - Bilingual Baka Band!!


"She she she she's a bombshell" - Operation Ivy

"So you're saying that girls only listen to ballads and love songs? The girls that I know wouldn't think so. But according to you a song should separate all the girls from the boys" - Polar Bear Club

Ben talks about Stuff! [El Fiesta Remix] feat. Opinionz on Brobama and a national debut of meRANTINGaboutMYjobANDjapanesePPL

You know those days where every little thing goes wrong? Well I had one today, and here's a breakdown because who doesn't love a little e-angst? I mean, in a society where it's expected to repress all true feeling and not show your emotions, where else am I going to vent? And will I ever stop asking rhetorical questions?

I'll back up to soften my emo-blow here (because complaining about anything is "emo" nowadays, and I should just wear a smile of dumb happiness like I do at work all the time? Forget that). Yesterday was a good day, and it contained what may have been one of my best classes of all time. I had a student whom I felt very comfortable talking to - her level was quite high and I'd had her before. She is one of a non-rare breed of students who teaches English to kids but can always use extra help from a native speaker. Somehow I got on to the subject of exercise, and explained that until a few years ago I had really been a regular slob with bad eating habits and no real motivation to better myself. Due to events I chose to omit for obvious reasons (but will go into more in the future, such as my late brother Bruce and the impending realities of adulthood), I gave her my success story as humbly as I could; But I'm not going to lie, I did feel good talking about it. I could never imagine going back to the way I was before, I'm a lot more happy with myself nowadays.

Anyhow, she says to me: "Wow, you have such a strong will." And me, cynic/realist me says to her that pretty much any kind of life change is possible if you want it badly enough - you can do what you put your mind too. After this I could tell she was hesitant about something so I pressed her a bit, and she revealed to me that she has been taking a Beginner-level correspondence course for learning medical English (such as Orthodontist or Pediatrician), but it had become quite daunting and when the course was up in February, she was thinking of throwing in the towel. I told her she should stick with it and that it's really a totally doable goal, the real key to it lies in learning some of the basic Latin roots to make sense out of the words. The real kicker though is that she seemed downright touched by my encouraging words, and told me that when she told other teachers about learning medical English they just said things like: "Why?" or "That's way too hard." I find this kind of negative nancy attitude in the workplace - yes, I taught her that too - to be seriously depressing and downright offensive toward my job as a whole. Yes it's a conversational school and not a psychiatric ward, but to be so discouraging of a student with lofty goals is just pathetic. It comes across me as the equivalent of: "oh my life sucks, you're doing something worthwile? You suck, you can't do that." I told her she pays for the lesson and should have the right to talk about whatever she wants. At the end of 40 minutes she said: "It's over already?" I don't think I've ever gotten such a nice response before.

But enough with the positive shtick - if only every student had heart and ambitions like that - or at the very least wasn't a total robot. Yes, the collectivist Japanese attitude and the hoards of "empty shells" (as another teacher so succinctly put it) is starting to get to me. If your biggest hobby is shopping, I don't know why you're wasting our oxygen with your existence. If JPOP is the only kind of music you listen to, you probably care more about what's cool to like then what is actually anything close to good, passionate music. If you want to be in a conversation class, at least pretend that your life is more interesting than watching every episode of The View back to back while trapped in a small room with a ping pong paddle, two sticks and a dustbin.

So.

Last night I was enjoying a quiet evening at home, drinking some beers and watching Clint Eastwood's new flick "Gran Torino." It might be the best thing I've ever seen him do since the 70s. I had a some amount of beer which caused me to be a little sluggish the next morning. Fair enough. It seems every Thursday, basically my last real "workout day" of the week, I'm hurting and have trouble motivating myself. I usually sleep in copiously and by the time I get out of bed, get to the gym and finish up, I have something like an hour to go home, make a lunch, get my stuff together, change and walk back to the train station to catch the train on time for work. And yes, I realize I only do this to myself with my erroneous scheduling.

And to top it off there's this dude named Sakao who speaks fluent English and works at the gym.

Oh, Sakao. Who said the road to hell was paved with good intentions? Well they were right. I talked to this dude one time, and now whenever he sees me he's smiling, waving and asking me how I am and what I think of this or that as an American. I mean, I respect the man and his curiosity and all but it's a bit annoying when you have a set schedule to adhere to and are trying to exercise. I'm nice about it though - and it is cool to have someone talking to me and not giving one of 3 token responses: 1) bowing and saying "Otsukaresama desssu" (you must be tired after working so hard), this obviously being from the staff only. What kills me is when they say it before I've even started - I'M NOT TIRED YET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111 Just one of those phrases that has lost all literal meaning. I also hear it in echos and droves at work. And in my sleep.

Anyway. Token response toward foreigner Ben #2: Look away or ignore. I don't mind this one so much, I go to the gym to do what I do and leave, not to socialize. Though maybe I feel like an unloved gorilla in a bad zoo exhibit sometimes. Response #3: Probably the least common but it still happens, the occasional "WTF" stare, or curious stare, or unknowing stare, however you want to interpret it. I'm used to this so it doesn't bother me much anymore.

What was I talking about again? Oh right, Sakao. So today we were talking about the recent Obama inauguration, a real hot topic over here at the moment. (Obama is like a superstar in Japan right now: black, cool AND relavent!) He asks me if I think things will turn around and I gave him my honest opinion: I think that it will all take more time than the fickle American people want to admit. People have built up Obama like a second coming of Christ, and while he's a great speech writer and his rhetoric is awe-inspiring, his Presidential "change" really has yet to be seen. It's going to take more than 2 months of Obama to turn around the economical trends that have been decades in the making - more than 2 years even. I think that realistically Obama could be a great President and still things could be in the shittier when he leaves office. Consumer confidence only can be pushed so far by one man, powerful and representative of the C-word as he may be. I also made some comparisons between Taro Aso, the current Japanese Prime Minister, and Bush, and Sakao noted how even though Aso entered the position something like a year ago, his approval rating went from a then-60% to a now less than-20%. The masses truly are fickle and impossible to please.

So I said something along those lines. The dude has a pretty good vocabulary and said he was impressed that my expectations seemed so realistic. He said in fact that most Americans he had talked to have shared my passive enthusiasm and hopes for the future. I told him I thought that was not representative of how America actually is - it's a mass of people undereducated in politics who vote more like they're voting in a High School popularity contest, on appearance and charisma alone. I said that I think maybe the more knowledgeable Americans (or at least those in college or with a BA like me) just had the notion that getting the !#$% out of dodge for a few years wouldn't be a bad idea right now.

Wow, hell of a rant. So when I left the gym, my day slowly began to slip into the crapper. It had been drizzling all night and would be all day, so the weather was cold and miserable. Getting back I found what I thought to a totally unnecessary new sign JUST put into my guest house in Japanese and English: "Please take off your shoes AT THE DOOR!!" I do this anyway even though it's a royal pain, and everyone and their mother knows about this particular cultural aspect! We're in Japan for pete's sake, why the need for a sign, especially a bilingual one?!

I realized as soon as I walked into my apartment that I had a stack of dishes and wouldn't be able to make my token eggs and sausage breakfast - in fact I was out of sausage and the green peppers I usually put into my omelettes all went bad overnight somehow. So I went with just eggs which was OK, but the real kicker was when I realized that I had no clean suit in my apartment! I had worn a fairly scummy suit Tuesday because I had failed to drop clothes off at the Dry Cleaners in time. That was no biggie. Then on Wednesday I found out that the place is closed every Wednesday, so another day in the scumsuit. Yuck. Today being Thursday, despite the lack of time I had no choice but to haul ass over to the dry cleaners (a 4 minute walk) and get my suits. I did and came back. Finished washing my dishes since I thought I had time. Put on a freshly laundered pair of pants and, low and behold, there's a tear in them in the same @#$%ing spot above the pocket that there was a month ago when I paid those people to fix it. Curses! So I got ready quickly and hauled ass once again with only about 2 minutes of extra time to drop off my damaged goods at the "High Speed Eagle," as it's called, followed by me not understanding some Japanese and going like "HUH just let me pay for the freakin pants" and finally realizing that it was free of charge, most likely because they had fixed it before. I thanked them and made a mad dash to the train with about a minute to spare.

!o_o!

Two uneventful train-rides later I was on my way to school, but the weather and everything else had just tired me out and made me feel like anything but "teaching." I also realized around this time I had forgotten, for the first time in veritable months, to pack a lunch. That delicious and healthy sandwich on whole wheat bread, one of the awesomest parts of my shift would not be partaken today. I sighed and thought hey, no problem, I'll just go to that cheap rotating-sushi restaurant instead! This pepped me up a bit.

The damn place was closed for repairs.

I ate a Wendy's double cheese instead - not too bad and almost identical to the American equivalent, except perhaps for the sesame seeds on the bacon. I went to work, clocked in and wanted to dropkick a baby seal when I read the note attached to my timecard. It was news about my sub duty on Saturday, and this bears some explanation: Usually I get sent to a random school to hang around and help out where I can, and don't have to substitute-teach anybodies actual shift on Saturdays. I really don't mind sub shifts at all, it's just that they tend to start a good 2 hours earlier, and considering my schedule of 3:30-9:30 on weekdays, 10:15-4:15 on Saturday is no fun at all, especially when the school is a good hour away. The last 2 weeks I've been subbing for this Aussie who is out on a long vacation - fair enough. I had a trainwreck of a class the first time teaching those wacky 3 year-olds, as mentioned a few posts back, but the second time went pretty good. In fact I even had a 1 on 1 model lesson with a 3 year old girl that day which was super fun. Regardless, turns out the Aussie is for whatever reason calling in sick and most likely just extending his vacation. I did not expect to have to teach 3 year olds so early in the damned morning again so freakin soon, and am just not looking forward to it. I'm going to Ian's for a quick dinner (before my unfortunate last-trains come all to soon) Friday night after work which will involve me getting home late, then Saturday is an early day AND I have a birthday party I'm supposed to attend Saturday night. Should be an interesting weekend.

Back to my day though, since you're all dying of suspense here. I also found out my first student was one who made me feel really uncomfortable by hitting herself in the back of the head when she made mistakes and I corrected her a few months back - I dreaded having her again and today of all days, I did. It wasn't so bad in the end, I picked an easy lesson and was as lenient, babying and encouraging as I could be to a 50-odd year old owman, but I swear if she only ever actually studied outside a biweekly 40 minute session she might actually learn something. Such is the case with many of the (often annoying) hobbyists who frequent our schools: Their attitude is more like "Oh my god! I get to talk to a foreigner" than "I really want to learn to speak a foreign language." I now totally understand all the monkey-in-a-suit comparisons that come from jaded English teachers who rant on the net like I have succumb to doing right now: We are objects of entertainment for many, and that is what keeps the English Conversation School business alive and kicking. It's really a zoo out there...

It puts food in my stomach anyway. Oh and the aforementioned self-mutilator student only hit herself twice, relatively lightly, so I'd call that a success? The rest of the day I felt like crud, and I had one good class which involved brutal stories of double-bike riding accidents and intense sunburns, but the others were just forced and dull conversation about things I didn't care about. I felt tired, somewhat cranky and not like teaching, just one of those days. The funniest thing that happened all day was at the end, when me and 3 of my female colleagues were debating stairs vs. elevator - they said stairs and for whatever reason I said something like "OK FATTIES LETS START BURNING CALORIES" and the few students waiting by the elevators thought it was hysterical while I waved an authoritative fist and Kate jogged in place. Oh, the exciting life I lead.

I know that now I'm writing in kind of a sour mood, and the events of today really weren't all that bad. I'll look back and think: "wow what were you so annoyed or upset about?" But I've come to find that this retrospective unacceptance is self-defeating, as I've literally destroyed old journals, poetry and even music I felt ashamed that I had created, and now of course I deeply regret it. (As a certain old pal would never let me forget, I did DJ SPINJAM in my basement when I was 12-14, before I ever had a real band - god would those tracks be great for a laugh right now) So in conclusion I'm telling it like it is, the way I wanna tell it, cuz it's my blog so SUCK IT. At least I don't do those annoying vlogs (video-blogs) where I talk to myself for hours and expect people to be so bereft of any kind of social interaction or worthwhile hobby that they would actually listen - that's just weird.

P.S. Due to hanging my umbrella off my work bag and forgetting about it, then subsequently thrusting my bag up onto the rack above the seats after entering the train, I almost impaled/definitely splashed some residual water on two different poor and unsuspecting Japanese women today, both before and after work. I felt like such an ass.


"First thing I remember was asking papa, why,
For there were many things I didn't know.
And daddy always smiled and took me by the hand,
Saying, someday you'll understand.
Well, I'm here to tell you now, each and every mother's son,
That you better learn it fast, you better learn it young,
'Cause someday never comes." - Creedence Clearwater Revival

"Round and round and round we spin
to weave a wall to hold us in
it won't be long.
How slow and slow and slow it goes
to mend the tear that always shows
it won't be long." - Neil Young and Crazy Horse

"Yea I'm fine everything's great. I lost my job cuz I was five minutes fuckin late!" - Cutthroat.



P.S.S. Awwwwww Yeeaaaaahhh

Charles Bukowski said:

And I'm paraphrasing here because I can't find the quote: "The worst kind of writer is someone who calls himself a writer." I personally don't think there is by definition any such thing as a "writer," through his talents or through nurturing. My point here is that writing is never an isolated thing: it's always a way to express ones' self, a medium to use in relation to everything else. This gets into linguistics and the kind of topic Greg last hit on in his last blog entry, concerning the purpose of speech - I won't get that deep, but I want everyone to know I'm not a writer. I'm just a guy who likes to read a lot, and thinks all too much to keep it all in my head.

Now that we have that out of the way, here are some pictures!

A brief tour of my building:

My shoebox which doubles a mailbox, apparently.

Umbrella holder. Literally every store you ever walk into here has one outside too, and a plastic-bag dispenser if you want to carry your umbrella with you. Efficient!

THOU SHALT NOT PASS.

Hehehe

There are even separate slippers to wear in the friggin' bathroom!

Japanese-style toilet! You squat, not sit.....I go downstairs to the Western-style ones for my "serious business."

Here are a few pics from back home I wanted to post:

Me and the family at Epcot last year, minus Mum taking the picture. On the right is my cousin who loves anime and is super jealous of my current status! She rulez. In the back is my Aunt, who threatens to flash me every time we talk on webcams (!!!) and in the chair my sister Barbara. I miss 'em all! And my beard!

My cat "Lil' Pete" as a kitten almost 2 years ago. This was my background for a while.

Hangin' out.

YOU CAN'T SEE ME

Random fact o' the day: My new favorite way to study Japanese is reading the manga Bobobo-bobobo-bobo. I die of laughter every time! :)

"Don't wanna have to take your shit anymore, I finally concluded that life is way too short, oh... The ticking of the hourglass, the tiny grains of sand, it beckons me like gravity, like signposts on the land. Have you got what you wanted with the force of reprimand? Seconds are all runnin' out, we're running out of Tiiiiiiime.... Let's go!" - Bad Religion (I'm on a BR kick right now)

Visas, vistas and oh valiant veneer - I'd like me a ride I can't possibly steer

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