"Werucomu to Japan!" First weekend edition.

This weekend was a wild, disorienting ride. A hell of a first one though, and part of me already never wants to leave. I've already made some friends, seen some amazing bands, and eaten some delicious food. Check it out:

Friday

I spent about an hour translating directions to "The Shelter," a club in Shimokitazawa where the Melt Banana show was. I really had no idea what to expect, I just knew that I wanted to go, I had to go. Bear in mind that since my plane landed, I'd only slept 4 hours at the hotel and 4 hours the first night in my apartment, so I was definitely running on low batteries. I tried to force myself to take a nap, but nothing doing. I then decided that for better or for worse I'd just load up on food, coffee and beer and make my way through the day, so that I would HAVE to be tired enough to sleep at night.

I managed to figure out how to load a text file of the directions onto my ds (if anyone is curious you can ask me about it) and set off around 3:30. The show didn't start for 3 more hours, but I figured I would get there early and look around. According to the wikipedia article, Shimo (for short) is a really happening, hip place, so I figured there would at least be some cool stuff to see. I made my way on the trains for only the second time, but already everything was falling into place. I later had a conversation about this: The Tokyo subway system looks incredibly intimidating, but not only is everything color-coded, there are signs in English everywhere, especially at the big stations. One just has to not psyche one's self out. Observe:

Anyway, I made great time, and listened to Richard Dawkins' "The God Delusion" on the way there, a very thought-provoking read/listen. I had however made the mistake of eating 2 Big Macs (oh lord, never again) before boarding the train so I wasn't feeling my greatest. I had been hungry and hadn't feeling like figuring out my @#%&ing rice cooker the day before.

When I actually got to the town, I could see the vibe immediately: Young, artistic, exciting. A lot of shops, for almost every niche and weird thing you could possibly imagine. I bought a disposable camera but those pics will be a while if they ever make it up here. There was one shop with everything from weed-pipes and incense to 70's disco lamps to neon signs to, well, it's hard to describe. Random crap, really. Another specialized in matchbox cars, of all things. There were also a lot of bookstores and eateries as would be expected.

So, being there hours early I of course found the venue almost right away. The only thing that threw me off was that according to the Japanese directions, I took a left at Rohson, which actually turned out to be Lawson's Market, a convenience store chain. This is the fun of translating Engrish back to English, people. So I passed it the first time, but otherwise the venue was easy enough to find. The door was gigantic and thick, plated metal, like a dungeon door, and there were stickers everywhere. The guy told me no admission until 6:30, and there was a sign on the door that said NOREAD-MISSION, so I figured I had better go and get some food and coffee beforehand. By this point I was pretty tired, but moreso in the lacking sleep sense than being physically tired.

I moseyed around, tried to eat a chicken sandwich from the convenience store that almost made me throw up due to its pickly ketchup and slice of processed cheese, and read and took a picture of a sign that said "you move out of way, but your smoke doesn't." There was a whole diagram on it and I'm still not sure what the meaning was. I saw a guy with a t-shirt that said: "My idea of fun is killing everyone," which made me laugh. I really want to blatantly take pics of all the terribly funny Engrish shirts sometimes, but of course I'm not going to point my camera at some person I don't know; That'd just be rude.

The funniest thing that happened was, while I sitting at a bus-stop bench waiting for the show to start, playing my ds and keeping to myself, these 4 kids walked over, two boys and two girls. They looked 13- or 14-ish, and they're all laughing about something, but I tried not to place too many furitive glances. Suddenly I see the two boys start dancing in unison with each other, like a sideways electric slide, in an obvious attempt to impress the girls. Then the one girl promptly tells them her opinion: "Gay."

I had to try really, really hard not to laugh. Even more ridiculous was that he immediately tried to save face, and if I understood his slang correctly (which I'm pretty sure he did) he said he'd "fight the gaijin for her." ?-_-?

Getting tired of sitting there I went back to the venue, and outside I ran into a white dude whom I had spotted earlier buying a ticket - he had some punk-rock looking gear on and looked bored as well, so we chatted it up. It's easy to start a conversation with another foreigner here: "Hey, so what are you doing here in the land of the Asians?" As it turns out he was a graduate student of Science, from Berkeley College! He said that he was riding on some 5-year grant between scientists in California and Japan, and he had just traveled here from Lithuania where he'd played drums for a band's European tour. That's the sort of thing I want to get to do someday. Anyway, he was a solid dude or at least a fun companion, so we decided to get smashed and watch out for each other.

The first band was an absolutely amazing instrumental act, with an electric keytar-flute, an air harp-thingy that works on electromagnets and a really sick drummer. I was really impressed and went to go buy their cd, only to find out that when I said "that set was awesome!" I started hearing scattered laughter for some odd reason.... I had bought the wrong band's cd! The guy politely offered me my money back, but I refused, mostly to seem like it was on purpose or something. Oh well, live and learn eh?

By the time Melt Banana played I had gotten thoroughly smashed. Earlier, when I had come down off of my caffeine high, I saw swirling colors for a minute and thought that I might have pushed myself too hard for once, but I evened out just fine and the flow of adrenaline kept me up. I should mention a few things: The venue itself was rather small, and drinks were $5, so considering the lack of tipping in Japan it's about the same as back home. There was also a barricade between the stage and the crowd, with a rubber-foam wrap to keep people from getting hurt - so basically, I headbanged and thrashed off this with a few other people moving around in a tight little area while Melt Banana played. At one point I got way too excited and accidentally slipped over the barricade and onto the monitor, landing on my back, feet up in the air - it was both embarrassing and hilarious at the same time.

One thing I need to explain is that if you've ever seen any live Japan entertainment at all, be it Mixed Martial Arts or Baseball or whatever, you may have noticed that fans are not nearly as outspoken and obnoxious as their American counterparts. As such, when a band plays here in Nippon, the audience will clap in between songs for a few seconds, and then be completely silent and listen to everything the singer is saying. This is of course the complete opposite of back home, where no one pays attention and heckling is rampant. I've seen plastic bottles, drumsticks, t-shirts, frisbees, and even footwear thrown at bands back home and vice versa, but I strongly doubt that would ever happen here.

The reason I felt it necessary to make this clear was so you could appreciate that, after the entire crowd had fallen silent in between songs, I was so stoked that I yelled "MEEELLLLTT BAAANNAAANNNAAA!!!" as loud as I could, and the singer just says: ano, gaijin-san (Uh, Mr. Foreigner). Whether it was with a tone of acknowledgement or just to be funny, or both, I'm not quite sure, but I was reflecting on how awesome the set was for the rest of the night anyway.

The last band was rather anticlimactic, but it was their cd release party so they played last. Post-rock mewithoutyou-type stuff, pretty good. I would not have bought their cd had I heard them first, however - all the lyrics are in Japanese so a lot is lost on me. All in all it was an excellent first show, I talked to a few people there, but the Japanese are so introspective and shy by nature that starting a conversation can be difficult, even at a show. I met a cool dude named Hideki who kept talking to me in English while I talked to him in Japanese (lol), and some people I raged with in the pit, who I'll probably see around. The former guy, when I told him I had arrived merely 2 days ago and it was my first show ever here said: "werucomu to Japan!"

After the show, me and my new compadre wandered down what I thought would be a shortcut, but what naturally ended up getting us lost. I can hold my beer pretty well, being the big guy that I am (plus my college "experience"), so it wasn't so much that we were wasted as it was that everything in Japan is really, really confusing. We stopped at a diner-looking place where I had some deliciously over-priced curry and rice - like anything spicy, it makes great drinking food! We talked about random crap or whatever, and I invited the dude to stay on my floor if he needed a place. He refused, saying he wanted to check out a capsule hotel while he was still here, and get up at 5 to go and eat at some fresh fish market Capsule hotels by the way are little tube-like places with TVs above your head where you can crash out drunk, sort of like a last-minute plan if you miss the last train. They are actually really expensive despite being so small though.

I made it home OK, and was very proud of myself to have the way home pretty much down after such a short period of time. And, being so incredibly tired and drunk, I finally achieved my first good night's sleep since Sunday night. Eat shit jetlag!

Saturday

Upon waking up around 8am, I knew the first thing to do was take a shower and promptly get to work on figuring out my rice cooker - I had already eaten out more than I had originally planned to, and I really wanted to make a good effort on conserving money whenever possible. After about an hour or so of translating characters and skimming the directions for what I actually needed to know, I figured it out, and in another hour had some delicous rice with curry, which was featured in my last post. I also picked up the latest Shonen Jump from the corner store - $2.45 for 380 pages of comics? Uh, yes please!

The next course of action was to get my Alien Registration Card. Being a foreigner in Japan, I am currently relying on carrying around my passport, on the off chance that a police officer (who are a total joke to most people here in Japan, by the way) asked me for some identification, I would have it, no problem. However, within 90 days I am obligated to get an ARC, and I need one for my bank account, cell phone etc., so I went to get that taken care of.

The train ride was roughly 40 minutes, and I ate at Mos Burger again. That was the place I had eaten at my first day in Japan - they are everywhere around here and so much better than McDonalds! Also, here in Japan they bring your food to you at the table, even though it's just fast food. Sweet! When I crossed the large bridge and got to the doors of the Town Ward, I was dismayed to see a sign on the door with the dates of ８月２３日-８月２４日, and various kanji that I could read such as "broken," "electricity," and "closed." Annoyed but not willing to take the day as a total loss, I listened to Mitch Hedburgh, hopped the train back to my transfer station and went to Akihabara, also known as Electric Town.

This picture scantly does it justice, the place was PACKED and full of electric signs, niche shops for parts and pretty much anything you can think of pertaining to techhnology, ranging from giant superstores and little street vendors.

So obviously, one of the first things I did was look for a camera to buy. Ironically enough, after going to a stand and checking out a refurbished Casio that was $170, I decided to look around thoroughly to find the best deal...but found nothing cheaper. So, when I got the camera I took a few pictures on my way out. It was raining, otherwise I'd have a lot more:

On the outskirts of Electric town.

One floor of the 9 story SofMap building I bought my T.V. from.

Next stop, cameras!

I like this ad, mostly because the girl on the left is getting pwnt by a cookie, and the other duder is all like FTW

Ladies and gentlemen, the sign on top is either "Mr. Computer," "Mr. Love" or the biggest simultaneous misspelling and understatement of the year.

That is one happy train!

A slow day at the train station.


200 yen from a vending machine. :)

Akihabara is also a haven for Otaku (Japanese slang for those super-nerds who dress up as fictional characters), and I saw a white dude dressed up as Super-Saiyan Goku from Dragonball Z, with a giant blond wig and gi on, the whole 9 yards. I also saw some girls in maid outfits advertising "Maid Cafes." These are places where you pay an abormal amount of money to have a girl act as if she is your servant (no, not like that) by bringing you tea, feeding you, etc. The idea is to make the customer feel at home, but damn what a waste of money!

Anyway, that was pretty much all that happened in Akihabara, besides me being blown away by the sheer amount of people and, well, electric stuff. Oh and I also had a conversation in Japanese with one of the dudes who worked at the T.V. superstore about 360 vs. PS3, and how the latter is stronger but the former currently has many better games. He also informed me that Final Fantasy 13 is coming out for both systems in the States, but not in Japan. For once we get something cool that the Japanese don't? *Shock*

Back on the train carrying around a semi-heavy T.V., and back home. Stuff might have happened but I forget by now. Oh yea, some guy in a business suit said to his friend in a business suit that I smelled bad. I just ignored it, something I'm going to have to get used to.

Back home, I looked over my directions for the show and, despite being tired and destroying a bowl of "spicy-spicy-spicy-delicious curry," which made me into a sloth, I convinced myself to go. Fuck You Bastard was playing, and they were supposed to be pretty good. I wouldn't really know though, because the story is that I couldn't find the venue. I had rushed to get there on time, but stopped to grab a beer at the grocery store which was my very first mistake. The store was right before the train tracks, and sure enough about 4 trains go by including mine while I wait, and it's already 7:20 by them time I even board, about 50 minutes after the show had started. Even better is that right before the transfer at Ikebukuro, there is Kitaikebukuro, meaning north ikebukuro. Me, not paying attention and being slightly buzzed, completely kept sitting on the train while everyone got off, somehow being too oblivious to notice, until of course the train starts off in the opposite direction. I fixed my mistake promptly afterward, but still...

I get into Shinjuku around 7:55, and dash out like a madman to make up for lost time. I circled the same 5 blocks what felt like a dozen times searching for the place, to the point that my feet were throbbing, and still no dice. It was also raining. I asked at least 15 people in Japanese if they knew Shinjuku Wall, but no dice there either. Keep in mind that I was also originally planning on seeing Caliban (metal band from Germany) with Loyal to the Grave (sick beatdown J-hardcore) that night, but the show had sold out like 5 days beforehand. So, the beginning and end of my day were both a bust, but....

Lucky me, I found my way to Cheers street!

And flavor potato, now with more salt!

When I got home, I attempted to hook up the T.V., despite being rather tired. I figured some Japanese cable would be just the mind-drug to help me not dwell on the fact that I felt stupid for missing the show. "There will be many other shows," I thought "no biggie." Little did I know just how great the next one would be! Anyway, I hooked up the T.V., tried to skim the Japanese directions for how to program the remote, figured out it was pre-programmed, scanned for channels and got 'em, but when I tried to watch any besides the informercials I got some message saying "B.S.-Card yaddayaddananika." Bullshit card is more like it! Apparently here in Japan, there is a card you purchase at stores to pay for cable. You then stick said card into the side of the TV. That is whack. Luckily for me both of my video games worked, so I will be able to turn off my brain and play CoD4 with my mates back home without a problem.

Sunday

Are we there yet? No, not quite. Sunday was a great day: I talked to my friend Ian for a while via webcam, and my Father as well. I decided to take it easy since my feet still hurt from walking so much the day before. However, when I was skimming an e-mail that Ian sent me a week or 2 back concerning shows, I realized that Melt Banana was playing again, just outside Shinjuku. I decided to check out the other bands playing, and upon realizing that they were all vicious, relentless grindcore/crust/punk/thrash bands, I knew I couldn't resist the opportunity:

Slight Slappers
Senseless Apocalpyse
Nice View

Maybe these bands aren't quite as impressive on recording, but stuff like this is excellent live. Not to mention, bands like this rarely ever play back in Upstate New York.

I got as prepared as was humanly possible, and set forth around 4, even though it didn't start until 6:30. When I arrived there, it was raining (as it has been and will be for apparently the next month or two, according to Ian), and I set off in what looked like the right direction. I had two landmarks: a huge gaming center and a Tonchan, some kind of pork-themed restaurant. I found the first one no problem, but couldn't see the EARTHDOM or Tonchan anywhere. Seeing a little "police station" (more like a hole in the wall), I asked them how to get there in Japanese, and thankfully someone actually knew what I was talking about this time! It blows my mind that you could work within 100 feet of somewhere and not know it exists, although with the crowded conditions of Tokyo, it is entirely plausible.

Anyhow, I got directions but didn't understand 90% of what the officer said - all I picked up was to turn around and look on the left side of the road. I did that, no luck. I decided that maybe he meant to go past the train station, so I looked over there for roughly 20 minutes, with still no luck. I returned in the direction of the police station, frustrated and hoping this would not be a repeat of last night. However, I saw something that made me very, very happy: Tonchan! I don't think I'll ever be that happy to see a sign for pork again! (I don't even like it that much) I still had half an hour before doors, so I went to the corner store and bought a tallboy Asahi, and went to drink it and nom some tuna sushi outside. Even cheap convenience store-sushi is so much better here! I saw this white lady walk by for what must have been the third time that night, so I said: "Hey, must be the third time tonight, huh?" She gave me a deep look, and proceeded to talk about how she had swords, and had attempted to kill herself in front of the police, all in a thick British accent. Yes, that was actually the kind of nonsense she was spouting.

I popped my beer and decided hey, instead of losing the crazy, I'd hear her out and have a conversation with her to kill time before the show started. She looked to be in her late 30's, sort of hard features like a stout nose, and long, dirty, blond hair that probably hadn't been washed in ages. She wore a slicker over a haggard checkered shirt. The shoes she wore looked like they had been to hell and back, and there was something undeniably sad in her manner and appearance. She went on in her thick accent, mixing in bits of Japanese that proved that she really had been here a long time. There was always a twinge of desperation in her voice as well. Here are some of the things she said to me:

-"Oh yea, my father raped me, abused me, you know the whole bad deal"

-"I'm from South Africa, and they tried to send me to a mental hospital there!"

-"I'm stuck here, it's where I want to be, but I don't have any I.D.. It's my sixth time coming here since 1993."

-"Why did I come here? For love." ("Well, that was your first mistake," I thought)

-"I sleep over there in the park by the man in the box, although we've traded places recently."

-"Oh yes the police all know me, they abuse people here, rape them, put the umbrella right up me pussy, even guys they rape here."

-"I was speaking in tongues and being exercised when I fell backwards and smashed my head on a brick"

-"My brother's pregnant wife stabbed me."

And so on. I would engage her and encourage her and calm her down, whatever seemed necessary. I drank my beer while she talked and showed me pictures of samurai from pre-World War II - the connection having something to do with the "samurai sword that the police trusted her with." It was hard to tell with that furious jumble of British tongue and bits of Japanese. I offered her a piece of sushi, which she initially declined, a very Japanese thing to do actually, but she ate it a few minutes later. Overall, I felt like she had mental problems that were untreated, and was a sad case who really just wanted some attention; And food, shelter, all the things that people normally want. She had most likely been a lot better at one point in time - how else could she have gotten here in the first place - and it's a shame that the Japanese seem to so strongly ignore their homeless. Hell, most anti-psychotics are illegal here, so the woman couldn't even get that kind of treatment if she could afford it! I ended the whole thing by shaking her hand, and telling her that whether she really does believe in Jesus Christ or not, every day of ones' life is precious, and to be grateful for the ability to live and breathe. Maybe she was just impressionable, but this really seemed to strike a note with her. I told her good luck, pleasure meeting you, and walked to the club, hoping she wouldn't follow me.

The Shelter is a basement club with a bar-room that has some very comfortable furniture, paintings of blackbirds on the walls and various graffiti such as "FUCK POLICE" written in English across a vending machine. I would have taken pictures, had I not come with the intention of getting completely shitfaced, and therefore left my camera at home. It was nice, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that I was not the only white dude there! (Friday night it had only been me and the other guy) After finishing my beer, I made my way to the two white gents, who turned out to be British, along with their Japanese friend, a nice girl who spoke good English. As it so happened the one guy, a tall, short-haired dude from Northern England, was in Japan teaching for Interac and his friend had stopped through for a week on his way to a wedding in Australia. I almost met another Whiteguy McGaijin, this one also British but with glasses and a long scar on his arm from the recent insertion of a metal plate to fix an injury, who has lived here a year were my cohorts for the night, and that helped to make it a lot more fun.

The silence in between songs was still strange to me - and besides Melt Banana and No Value, I didn't know who any of the bands were, since they never seemed to say their names and the two just mentioned both have female singers. No Value's singer was really cute, and the way she was bopping around innocently and abrasively screaming to grind was downright ludicrous. Definitely nothing like any band I've seen in NY, that's for sure. She would bounce her hands on her knees in tune with the songs, and other various gesticulations of cuteness. I mean, as much as I do love watching sweaty dudes with their shirts off play music and all... 0_o

By the time Melt Banana played I was again tanked. The club was packed, maybe 150 people or so in a fairly small area, like CBGB's size. I got in the pit and thrashed, and also had my longest stage dive ever, probably around 30 seconds, thanks to my new friends holding me up! Afterwards the tall one says to me: "Bloody hell man! You're too big to be doin' that now!" We all laughed a lot, and I can't remember much specifically of what was said later on, other than me calling football "soccer" and the two English dudes getting really offended! I didn't really pay much attention to the last two bands; I just kept drinking with my friends until it was roughly an hour before the trains would stop running, 11:15. Yes, shows begin and end earlier because of the train schedule in Japan. We all had a blast, and the night ended with the aforementioned Japanese girl being so drunk she could barely stand (she was keeping up with us the whole night!) and telling me that: "You're funniest person I've ever met. You're so funny, you could be comedian!" That sort of made my night. Well, that and actually getting loose at a show over here, it's about damn time! Oh and I define "getting loose" as both moshing and drinking. It's got 2 entries in the Belcher dictionary, so please watch for contextual clues.

Making my way home was fun, and as it turns out the convenience stores are open significantly later than I had thought, especially on a Sunday night. Also today had been some kind of Japanese holiday - I saw a lot of men and women wearing traditional Japanese garb with purple and white colors. (Want to tell me which holiday it is, Ian, anyone?) I grabbed some spicy potato sticks and munched home, leaned on the walls to get into my apartment, and watched the Office until about 1am. Never seen that show before a few weeks ago, absolutely hysterical.

Monday

Almost to the end! I woke up today, feeling excellent as I usually do after a good show, despite being slightly hung over. I talked to my Mom, Aunt and Cousin and Ian for collectively 3 hours, which was nice. My only obligation today was to go to the Town Ward in Nerima, which if you've actually read all this in one sitting I need not remind you is where I go to get my official Japanese I.D.. The trip was relatively fun, except for one thing that made me really, really angry. An Asian couple who were obviously on vacation because of the maps they were holding were sitting across the train from me, and I saw the man putting his hand to his mouth and talking into the woman's ear, both of them laughing and her waving her hand as if to ward off a foul smell. I got the sneaking suspicion they were saying how bad I must smell, being a foreigner, but I brushed it off as paranoia and kept listening to Slaughterhouse 5 on my ipod. After a while though, as the laughing continued I could hear over my IPOD on maximum volume: "He wants to understand, but I don't think he understands at all hahahaha." Now this was in English, and the very audacity of such a blatant insult made me want to tell the twat to shut her stupid fucking mouth. But, being the well-mannered person that I am, I subsided my rage despite the mockery. I shot the woman a look which I think got the jist across, I mean I can look pretty mean, not that I have any desire to most of the time. This has been by far the worst instance of prejudice I've been subjected to, and I'm not making any promises to myself that I'm not gonna start telling people off if they insist on making such obvious cracks. I mean Japanese is one thing, but in English? Really? Right in front of me too. Rageragerage. I'm going to work on my Japanese and seriously lay a verbal browbeating on the next person that not only insults me, but laughs at me and is incredibly obvious about their comments. Everybody has their limits, ya know.

OK, I'm done venting. I brought my camera today, so check it out:

I guess it's local voting time, because these guys with their loudspeakers spewing political shpeels are all over, even where I live.

With his cuteness, we may save the planet!

Fire...bad?

Kind of a lot of comics. There were 5 aisles like this, and this was a small book store.
Japan's fascination with my childhood hero, Thomas the Tank Engine, continues to baffle me.

Destination reached!

The Foreign Resident Registration Office.

A quick story about my time at the office: I was supposed to bring pictures of myself from a photo booth, which I did (and they look ri-freakin-diculous, trust me), but I had neglected to bring the printout of my address with the company's official information. This lead to me having to give the lady who worked there my e-mail addy and password so that she could retrieve it. Of course she couldn't sift through my e-mail even with accurate directions, so I had to go back and do it myself. Everything seemed to be OK, and I copied the information and gave it to her. However, she goes on to tell me that there is no such address on block 23 in Tobu-Nerima. I say that's impossible, since the baggage-movers brought my stuff there. Blah blah yadda yadda and of course as it turns out, 10 minutes later we figure out I had copied the number down backwards, it was really 32. I felt like such an ass, but these are the kinds of mistakes I make with mathematics: Even when I still delivered pizzas, I would have to check the address several times because numbers always get mixed up in my head. Maybe I'm actually lesdyxic?

Anyway, I got that taken care of, and came back home with some groceries and another new manga. Good reading practice and all that jazz. Here I sit in my room, wondering how tomorrow will go. It's my first day of training and I'm a smidgen nervous, but I'm sure it will all be gravy once I actually get in there; I'm most conerned with teaching little kids, anyway. However, getting a chance to wear one of my suits will be kind of neat and fun, at least for now, save the stickiness of summer and me being the supposed King of Stink here in Japan. I kid though, I shower regularly and apply copious amounts of deodorant, so if anyone has anything to say about my body odors, they can suck it!...or perhaps sniff it? Or both. Either or. OK.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm waiting for the next big bug sighting here at the apartment. Just a matter of time. As such, I have found it necessary to link yet another article from Japan Probe, concerning the Japanese equivalent to silverfish (a.k.a. "house centipedes") and daddy long-legs spiders, my loved/hated friends from back in NY who kill all the little peskies for me. *Cringe*

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOUR GRAND PRIZE FOR READING (or perhaps just skimming and scrolling, either is acceptable) THIS FAR: FUNNY ADVERTISEMENTS AND OTHER RANDOM PICTURES I'VE TAKEN:

DRINK THE LEMONADE AND YOU WILL LOOK LIKE US.

I almost bought this.

The skin and hair products of Super-Saiyan Goku and his Shonen Jump pals.


Yeammkay.

Tokyo Disney is pretty close-by!

Is this bad grammar? I can't tell.

Manbearpig?

A ha! The Japanese are all penguins in disguise, no wonder they can't fly!

What 90% of Americans think of when they think of Japan. Oh how I loathe that franchise.

Put a decimal point in two digits to the left and you got the USD price, more or less. $5 for an apple and 4 for $10. If anyone tried to sell at these prices in New York, they would either get laughed at, shot, run over by a pickup truck, or all three at once.

My personal favorite. "Everyone, let's have good manners together!"

I probably spent a collective 5-some hours on this post. If you liked it, please let me know, and I'll keep feeding your Japanese culture cravings, fiiiiiiiiiilthy humans!!!~~~

"What is the universal language? Could it be hate, if not love? Could it be money or power or violence? I say it's music, or none of the above!" - H20

"One more day to say, one day at a time." - Life in Your Way

"Have you ever known fear? Have you ever felt fault? Have you ever felt something? Did you ever seem lost?" - Kylesa

A new feature: CD of the Week

Every week, I will now be featuring a CD that I recommend all you people out there check out! First off it's H20's first cd in like 8 years, "Nothing to Prove." True hardcore heavyweights, they could sometimes be called pop punk, sometimes positive hardcore, sometimes melodic hardcore, but regardless of their genre placement, one thing is for certain: This CD is some of the most well-written, passionate hardcore I have heard all year. It cries out questions that have been eating me for years, especially pertaining to the current state of the "hardcore" and "punk" scene in America:

"What happened to the passion? What happened to the reason for screaming? What happened the music and the message that I love?"

The whole record is solid through and through, and is significantly more angry and hardcore than some of their more "recent" releases. Guest vocals from Lou of Sick of it All, the singer of Madball, and Agnostic Front should be enough to attract any fan of the genre, if not the fact that this band has never forgotten their roots.

There are intermittent clips of a lot of different people talking on this, but especially amusing is the kid on the record who says things like: "H20 GO!" "I'm straightedge for life you suckers!" And my personal favorite: "My Dad has too many tattoos!" Overall the record is, if anything, over too quickly.

My Rating: 8.5/10

Link: http://www.myspace.com/h2ofamily

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Please feel free to give any feedback on these entries! (and all of them, for that matter) I'm also always looking for new bands to listen to, so I'll gladly take recommendations. Expect something more Japanese next week, although I will be trying my best not to limit myself to one specific genre or locality.

A really big update on this crazy weekend coming by tomorrow at the latest, and with lots of pictures! Thanks for reading everyone, it gives me motivation to keep writing!

Everything a man truly needs to live:

Leeeeeet's baby!~~

I am still suffering the consequences of Jet lag: I slept from 10:30-2:30 last night, and was unable to go back to sleep at all, despite the fact that I knew I could really use it. I decided to say screw it and did, uh, stuff. I don't even remember now. Oh yea, I thought I'd go running since maybe getting some exercise would make me more tired, and it would be a great chance to look at the other side of town - I had, up until that particular point in time only been between the train station and my apartment, but I planned on going the opposite way for running. Here's some kind of idea of how this wacky area is structured:

I forgot to write it in, but the train station is near the Department store.

As expected, the roads here are bewilderingly random and make little to no sense, and are also unnamed save major routes, so I rely on landmarks to get around and not get lost. Anyway, I ran while listening to Most Precious Blood's "Nothing in Vain," a true modern-day New York Hardcore classic. I did maybe 2 miles, I'm not quite sure. But I think I will make that my regular route - going left on the street and down the straightaway for a mile and back, that is. It's relatively idiot-proof, and my only complaint is the lack of sidewalks (everyone walks on the shoulder) and the exhaust from cars, but what can you do?

Upon returning, I took a much needed shower. Just before this however I ran into the first of my apartment building-neighbors that I have met, a young-looking blond Australian girl (or maybe English, I'm just guessing by the accent). She seemed skiddish, or perhaps embarrassed that we met outside the shower, and scuttled off. She also had some serious acne, which seems to be a really common trend among English teachers here. That, balding and being really, really, really tall.

2 outta 3 ain't bad.

After showering, I finally had breakfast - some nice looking sashimi (raw, sliced fish) over thin water-noodles with sliced carrots. Between that, the real wasabi (not that fake, Western, horse-radish, green, food-colored B.S.), my own addition of Tabasco and two slices of white bread, I had a really tasty meal:

Oishi! (Delicious!)

After this, I decided that I would put off buying a T.V. and camera until Monday, since it really isn't a life necessity, and other things I needed were more important: a laundry basket, garbage bin, detergent, a rice cooker, etc. I made my way out to go to the Department store (a.k.a. J-Walmart) and, surprisingly enough, on my way out I ran into another white guy! We talked for a few minutes, and he seems like a nice dude - he's from San Francisco, meets two of the necessary English Teaching Prerequisites (balding and being as tall as me) and actually lives in the apartment next to mine! We agreed to go out and get some drinks some time very soon. We were both talking with outdoor voices however, and sure enough one of the Japanese tenants yelled something at him out the door. "At least he didn't see me!" I said jovially - it's good to know I live with someone who can understand sarcasm, a comedic art which seems to be lost on most Japanese.

The Department store was huge but, after a mega-muffin at McDonalds and a coffee, I was ready to take it on. I came in with my list (I had looked up everything I needed in Japanese) and asked the employees where things were; They were all very nice and helpful. After finding everything I needed, including a 10kg bag of white rice, a rice cooker, pots and pans, pillows, a basket and other items, I headed towards the cashier in front of the grocery area on the first floor. As it turned out, you can't ring up items from different floors there, so I had to bring my appliances and utilities all the way back up to the fourth floor! I said screw it and left my bag of rice and bottled water on a bench in between the escalators and went up and paid as quickly as I could. Ironically enough, I got a 5% discount card for AEON English lessons. The cashiers also thought that was pretty funny. In the end, I carried all that crapola out the door and prepared for the not-very-fun walk back home - about a mile, give or take. Here is everything I brought:

And here is how I looked after the fact:




Haha, just kidding guys. I'm stwong.

I'm currently listening to Melt Banana - my god, this is some of the most wacky, weird, messed up music I've ever heard. And I'm going to see them in Shimokitazawa tonight!! My first Japanese show, more "grind" than hardcore, but that is definitely OK. The other band playing, Audio Safari, is another ambient, electronica J-band in the vein of Matryoshka - I may have to buy their CD. Shimokitazawa is also, as it turns out, a hugely popular spot among young people, particularly various kinds of artists. It even ranked in the top 3 of places young adults would want to live in Japan last year!

Figuring out how to get there was interesting, to say the least: I had to look for a while to find directions, then had to use my ginormous NELSON'S ORIGINAL MODERN READER'S JAPANESE-ENGLISH CHARACTER DICTIONARY to look up some characters I didn't know how to translate, but should learn if I want to become better at Japanese; Stuff like staircase, crossing, etc.

(see? That really is the title!)

OK, that's all we have time for today kids. Tune in next week, when I steal a farmer's daughter and fight it out in the street with her father for her hand in marriage, Judo-style.




"You will come down soon too, you will come down, too soon." - Modest Mouse

"Strange days

Everything the world has seems strange. Just like bull shit.
Thinking it formed by the history of power.
There's nothing reallity to me. I feel emptiness.
Why don't you have doubt for life in this warped system?

Please give me perfect answers.
Break Break Break Break the conection
How can I control myself?
It's for change

I'm not welcomed no matter where I go. No. I might refuse it.
I feel like I don't know where I exist.
Walking while being careful on a gloomy road.
How can you keep your sight good in this evil system

The strange days will be done.
Come up the guiding light.
The glorious days will come.
The plot broke down.
I'm searching for the answers
I'm making sure my steps." - FC Five.

A look at the bigger picture

OK, so since there is more to live than what creepy-crawlies live in my apartment - like Jet lag and the inability to sleep more than 4 hours - take a look at this article from Japan Probe on the Olympic Ojisan (Olympic Old man). Just how politically poignant are the Chinese Olympic games? What kind of repercussions will this have on the U.S. and China's relationship? How concerned should the rest of the world be with China's blatant fascist ideals and human rights violations?

The answer to the very last question, I know: a lot. While I realize that the Japanese and Chinese have a long, painful and complex history with one another, sort of like the co-dependence two friends who act cordial in front of others, harbor "secret" frustrations or even hatred that others pretend not to notice, but really could not exist without one another. Dare I say, yin and yang?

Please comment if you something or anything to say about this issue, it'll give me something to do. :)

GIANT COCKROACHES

OMFG WTF JESUS THAT THING WAS AS BIG AS MY FOREFINGER GROSS.

Looks like I gotta buy some bug spray or roach traps or something tomorrow too. I'd heard about the bug problem in Japan, and I guess it's all true. There are little flying guys who make their way in and I don't mind them, I can kill them easy, but big nasty cockroaches are just about as gross as it gets. I smashed it against the wall and its black inner-juices dripped down, it looked like a dried prune with legs when it died.

sfglnzsrgbrsusrfupsrfpseif

Aw dang yo, they don't sell Shonen Jump here!

Well, I made it. Here's how:

The flight was rough, and definitely not one I am looking forward to doing again any time too soon. This year. This lifetime. As I said before, anyone who can sleep sitting up, or in any moving vehicle with ease, I envy them greatly.

We landed in Narita, and I proceeded to customs where I had my fingerprints scanned, picture taken and bags checked, all in accordance with new immigration laws. Despite only sleeping a little on the plane and being rather out of it I did OK, got my bags and went towards ABC movers, the company that moves your bags since everything in Japan is too small for you to do it yourself. I lugged my 120-some pounds of luggage along with my two carry-ons across the terminal, only to later realize there were carts one could use to move heavy baggage. Do'h!

Then, I hit a snag. When I gave the movers my address, they said it was lacking a room number, so I thought, "I'll just call the company!" Only problem was that I hadn't yet exchanged any of my money into Yen! So I did this, then went to a pay phone only to get put on hold for about 5 and a half minutes, leaving me only 30 seconds to talk to the person in charge who basically said "we are not the housing agency, so I don't know either." Great. By this point I was frustrated, but pressing onward I went to go buy something from a stand to get more change. Seeing a magazine rack, I thought: perfect, here's my opportunity to do something I've been waiting for years to do, buy a real friggin' issue of Shonen Jump! Except, as you probably gathered from the title, they don't sell it anywhere in the airport, as a lady kindly explained to me in Japanese. For anyone not aware, Shonen Jump is "the world' most popular manga magazine," featuring the latest weekly serializations of such international hits as Dragonball Z, Naruto and my personal favorite: One Piece. Anyway, I said screw it, bought some funky energy bar instead, came back to the pay phones and called again, and after being put on hold for another 5 minutes they tell me "just tell the movers to ask for you at the guest house, and they should find you." I tried to joke with the people at the counter and crossed my fingers, but the meaning of this is completely lost on a non-westerner.

I found the shuttle and took it to my hotel; Luckily that was free! To my surprise and chagrin however, the outskirts of Narita are fairly desolate by Japanese standards and there was nothing within walking distance of the hotel to go and see. Too tired to travel back to the airport to take a train into the city, I just crapped out in my bed. I slept about 3 hours (to help make up for the near 26 hours straight I'd been awake) and went to the dining hall to eat dinner. As I walked outside my room and fiddled with the lock however, I got my first taste of really feeling excluded for being a foreigner. I heard two little girls laughing, so I glanced down the hall and two japanese girls of what appeared to be 5 and 8 were heading toward the elevator. I turned that way and the little one said "dangerous!" in Japanese, then "safe" when I stopped and let them get on the elevator by themselves. It was innocent enough, and I realize that with my height I can intimidate a child of any ethnicity, but it kind of hurt my feelings just a bit. I'll get over it, or get used to it, hopefully both.

Looking at the dinner menu, and noting all the grave spelling errors such as "red vinagered," I chose the horse meal because my friend Ian had told me horse is delicious, and I believed it! The only problem was it turned out to be fried horse mackerel, some kind of funky fish and tartar sauce, which was pretty subpar for my first real meal in Japan. I bought an Asahi beer from the vending machine because I could, and proceeded back to my room. Asahi is cheap and roughly the equivalent of Molson Canadian in the states: it doesn't taste that good, but it gets the job done. I went to take a shower, because the whole trip plus the ordeal at the airport had left me sticky and soaked in sweat, a feeling I should probably get used to for the remainder of the summer here. So I passed out again and woke up repeatedly before figuring I couldn't sleep anymore around 4:30am. I thought: "well, if I can't get to sleep and I can't get breakfast until 6:30, I'll get another beer and watch some Japanese T.V.!" This proved to be exceedingly more entertaining than I could have possibly foreseen. I will recount in list format some of the things I saw:


-A medley of J-Pop music videos, the first of which had a chorus that went "monkey monkey" in Engrish, cuing a group of 5 girls in yellow dressed to instantly switch into red monkey suits.

-A commercial where 5 female reporters made intense faces to emulate athletic expressions, then held up their mics which caught fire like olympic torches

-A hair-loss commercial that starts with an old woman sprouting a giant mole and a 2 foot long hair out of her forehead, which she yanks repeatedly.

-Olympic coverage of the American basketball team kicking Australia's sorry butt, with japanese announcers who were cracking me up with phrases like: "Damn, that black guy
is really tall" in Japanese and "Naiso shootoh!" in Engrish

-Olympic coverage of the Japanese female ping pong tournament where a girl made ridiculous noises every time she won or lost a bout; She also served by bopping the ball with her forehead.

-Some kind of imitation sumo wrestling match in which two women - one average Japanese-size, the other a classic case of baby-got-back - tried to push each other out of the ring not stomach to stomach, but butt to butt. Hilarious.

-A behind-the scenes interview with "Alien Jones," Tommy Lee Jones' character in an ongoing series of ads in which he plays a space alien who drinks an energy drink. When interviewed, he said something like: "these commercials are great, fun to make, and funny. You also get a lot of presents!" I guess he forgot about the millions of dollars-part. Whatcha' doin with all that dough, Mr. Jones?


And that's just what I can remember. Seriously, I've condemned watching T.V. for all these years but the Japanese have some quality programming, and also seem to have significantly less commercials, but ones which are actually funny and entertaining.

I took another shower, got my things together and went to eat breakfast. This was in buffet format, which excited me greatly, and was also the first really good meal I'd eaten since I went to Pancho's with my Dad and Rich the night before I left. I had: 3 eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, miso soup, salmon (not boneless which caught me off-guard), some black japanese seaweed (which was surprisingly delicious), potatoes in three different formats and some fruit salad (tasted just like the canned stuff, probably was). The things I didn't try included 5 varieties of pickles, and dried sour plums. I would have taken pictures of this and a lot of other things but I am currently lacking a camera and cell phone, not including my macbook which can do both, but is a little clunky to be whipping out and snapping photos with.

I took the shuttle back to the airport, and caught the Narita Express to Shinjuku, where I was to meet some representative from my future employers. The train ride was smooth and rather interesting, actually. Oh, and right before getting on board I bit the bullet and bought Young Jump, one of the only other manga magazine I am currently interested in - they serialize Gantz, an intense sci-fi/horror manga about people forced to fight aliens. I couldn't really concentrate on a book, magazine or my DS, because to the left and right of me was the most intense display of urban sprawl I have ever seen in my life. Apartment buildings everywhere, a person to car ratio of what looks like 1:100, huge skyscrapers in Chiba and, much to my chagrin, giant posters advertising AEON and NOVA. The former is an English-teaching company which denied me a job - they are infamous for pulling stuff like unpaid overtime and not treating their employees so great, so it was just as well - and the latter is similar huge company that went bankrupt this past year due to embezzlement, leaving thousands of foreign teachers without pay for several months. The big thing was that as we kept chugging along - the train ride was almost two hours - the sprawl never stopped. It subsided at times and gave way to some rural areas between Narita and Tokyo, but really, it is just breathtaking how many people live in such a small area. I've known this for a long time, but seeing it in person and reading about it are so completely different. I guess this is the closest I've really come to "culture shock," although it was more like a feeling of just being really, really overwhelmed.

When we arrived in Shinjuku, I got really excited: Here was my first chance to explore, on foot, a downtown area of Japan for myself. I had over 4 hours of time to kill, as I wasn't meeting the company representative until 2, or 14:00 as they say here in Nippon, so i made my way casually through the station. It was huge, and when I finally got to the proper exit, I noted something very, very different from any NYC subway: people were scanning tickets to get out of the station! Not knowing this, I had left what I thought was a worthless ticket stub on the train. Realizing I'd made a mistake, I went to talk to the nearest station worker, but he spoke little to no english and only kept asking: "ticket. Ticket. Ticket?" And signaled for me to move out of the way. I found what appeared to be an officer, or perhaps a security guard, and upon explaining to him in Japanese that I had left my ticket on the train, he talked to the station worker for me. This was where it got weird: the station guy asked me to put, in a calculator, how much my ticket was. Why, I haven't a clue, but I typed in the 3310 yen and he said "Oh, OK," and signaled for me to go on through.

I was supposed to meet someone around 2 at a coffee shop in the station, but instead of that I figured hey, why not just impress them by walking to the company headquarters myself? Then I figured I'd have some time to walk around and explore, despite the two annoyingly heavy bags I was carrying: XBOX 360 in my backpack and my laptop, wii and other things in my leather suitcase. When I saw daylight however, I realized promptly that I had never printed out the instructions on how to get from east Shinjuku station to the company location! I asked around but no one seemed to have any idea who or what my company was. I also tried several coffee shops for internet service but none offered, which I thought was strange. Aren't internet cafes supposed to be huge in Japan? I ended up snagging a map and some directions (which later turned out to be wrong) to HQ from the information office at the train station, and made my way in what turned out to be the wrong direction towards what turned out to be the wrong location. I stopped for a burger and a chance to sit down in a nicely air-conditioned place, whose premiere item was a hot dog with chili in a soft taco shell. The burger was surprisingly excellent, and the service was very friendly - something I've heard about but had to experience for myself to believe, here in Japan. Even at fast food restaurants, people actually take pride in their job, which seems to be a lost art in America nowadays.

After talking to the pleasant folks who worked there I discovered my error in direction, and proceeded to head back across a main road toward the station. However, looking to my left, I saw on a building my employers' name in big red letters! This was in a totally different direction than the Shinjuku station dudes directions told me to go, and I was lucky to have spotted it. When I got to the building, I went inside and up the elevator, despite a total lack of any signs I figured hey, I'll just try all 9 floors until I find it! I quickly discovered why there were no real indications of business locations inside the building however - the signs outside were merely billboards! Feeling a tad dumb, I went back outside and looked more closely at the sign: it had directions on it saying (in Japanese) turn right at the pharmacy and we are right there! Doing that, I found headquarters, a task which amazed the teacher sitting in the lobby. "We usually have to send out rescue search parties for new teachers," he said. This made me feel rather happy, and I proceeded (there was a lot of proceeding done today, let me tell you) toward the personnel department, where they offered to take my bags off my hands, and told me to come back in a few hours. I knew I was early, so this was no surprise. I asked the trainer who escorted me out about any internet cafes, and he said try Tully's and Excelsior. The former had no wifi, and at the latter I asked in Japanese "can I use the internet with my own computer here?" The girl said yes, but as it turned out, after I got my coffee and settled into a nice, comfy chair with a fresh butt-print, she didn't really understand what I was asking, because there was no wifi. Sigh.

So, here I sat for a good hour typing out this entry and sipping on coffee - this place has a nice atmosphere, and now that it's lunch time it's packed with people on break, with light Japanese lounge music in the background, various conversations and the ubiquitous odor of cigarette smoke, a smell that I will have to reacquaint myself with. Let me elaborate: In New York, there were laws past in the last 5 years banning smoking in bars. Smoking sections in restaurants have been disappearing steadily in recent years due to the controversy of second-hand smoke as a cause of cancer. There is evidence going both ways, and in my opinion, the law did more to hurt American businesses than it did to protect American health, although not smelling like smoke after coming home from shows was a big plus for me when I was 18. Also, I have never puffed a tobacco cigarette in my life, nor will I ever.

In Japan, smoking is everywhere. I believe the rate of smoking amount males is something like 55%, which is one of the highest rates in the world. From what I understand, information regarding the safety concerns of soming were not released to the public until the 80's. Crazy.

On a completely unrelated note, one of the girls who just left the cafe had a bag that said "I am not a plastic bag" on it." My oh my, the wonders of Japan.

My laptop is about to die, so that's all for this entry. Hopefully I can get it posted on-line soon. じゃあ、みんあでさよなら！~ Well, later everyone!

--

That was my entry written about 10 hours ago, completely intact save some spelling and grammar corrections. The rest of this day has been, how shall I say, B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

After I left the coffee shop, I had some overpriced rice at a local shop, and asked the lady who worked there if there was a "Supaa" (Supermarket) nearby. She said yes, and when I asked her to repeat the name of it again she was kind enough to write it out for me. Upon my arrival there, I bought a few light items that wouldn't add to my already annoying load: Bread, Tabasco, bananas, pocky, and some dirt-cheap tuna rolls. I still had some time to kill before I was due back at "work" (hard to call it that yet, considering I'm on unofficial vacation until I start training on Tuesday), and I found a record store called "The Warehouse" that was advertising itself as punk/hardcore, so I checked it out. To my surprise, tons of vinyl there - sorry Rich, as much as I hate to admit it, records are coming back big and strong worldwide. I found a cd I actually wanted for $5 in the used section: Engineer - Suffocating The Artisan, actually the only cd by them I didn't yet own. Score!

Finding my way back to HQ, I was waiting by the elevator, sticky with sweat and using a free hand-fan with my company logo on it, when I realized I had trash in my pocket obstructing my ability to reach important things, like money. I saw the trash was just outside behind a door, so I opened it up and sure enough, there is my future boss holding my bag at the bottom of the stairs, next to a guy who must have been 6'5". He was an Australian, and as it turned out was leaving the company after 5 years of employment. A lot of hellos and goodbyes this time of year, I suppose, old faces out and new faces in. After being pointed in the right direction of my future home, Tobu-Nerima, I proceeded- Sigh. I proceeded to stop overusing the word proceeded. I hopped the trains and, after some confusion at the transfer point which involved me talking to a station attendant with the most high-pitched, squeaky voice in the possible history of all station attendants, I made it to Tobu-Nerima.

Now, I was supposed to be there by 3, but I arrived around 2:20. "No big deal" I thought, "I'll just go call this guy from the housing agency that I'm supposed to meet and tell him that I'm early." When I tried his number however, it was wrong. I tried calling HQ but got a busy signal, so I sighed and walked back to stand awkwardly in front of the station exit with my two big, bulky bags, bloated with electronics. Being the only white guy around and standing in front of a main area of entering and exiting is awkward if anything ever was, and here's a few things about that:

-The man across the road, apparently being paid to hand out flyers, is one of the first people I have ever witnessed fall asleep standing up.
-I got my first mean-looking "WTF, another freakin Gaijin (Foreigner)?! In my town?" look from an older dude.
-I saw another, older guy with what looked like liver spots level 50 on his face, something out of a scifi movie (or maybe just a really bad skin condition? Gosh, I'm so desensitized)
-Upon being bored and waiting, I was lightly swinging my hands back and forth when a dull thud hit my left. Of course a little kid ran right into it, and I felt a smidgen bad. Just a smidgen though.

When 3:15 came around, I had had enough. "Whatever happened to Japanese being super-ultra punctual?" I thought angrily. Sticky with sweat, lugging my now downright aggravating bags of video consoles that I just had to bring, I went to the payphone and dialed HQ. Keep in mind that by this time, considering that each phone call is 100 yen (roughly a dollar), I had spent almost 8 bucks just on freakin' phone calls. I explained my situation and read them the number, and sure enough it was wrong, so the boss says to call back in five minutes. Lug lug back to the exit, wait, lug lug back to the phone. "Well, that bit about the number being wrong is strange, but someone will be there within the next 20 minutes. If not, call me back." Lug lug, stand. I finally decide to whip out my DS - I had tried reading earlier but so many people walking literally inches from me was far too distracting to get into Dickens - and about 2 minutes into my game my man finally shows up. I contained my irritation and he explained about a traffic jam which held him up. He also turned out to be a really nice guy, showing me around and being generally very informative. He also spoke decent English, which was a nice break for me, and he said he did a year abroad in the UK.

Much to my delight, my apartment was in a quiet part of town, in a little 3-story building. It's bigger than I expected, right next to the pisser, and I don't have any direct neighbors, just ones down the hall. There is also a sink, fridge and hotpan right in it, so although kitchen and bathrooms are shared facilities, I can do a lot without even leaving my room. After going through all the boring paperwork, details about how earthquakes and man-eating termites aren't liabilities of the housing agency, we wrapped up and I waited for the arrival of my luggage, so I could charge mein comp and get on the internet, finally. I did this, made some calls to the parents, and was starving by this time so I went out with the intention of buying something cheap, but ended up spending 1000 yen (about 10 bucks) at a ramen shop.

OK, American ramen is what, dried noodles and a packet of flavoring? Japanese ramen is pure deliciousness, and besides being made right in front of you it includes delicious broth, a slice of pork, a slice of hard-boiled egg and some seaweed. That and another Ahashi ("EKUSUTURA DORAI," as the slogan goes) had me feeling OK. I made casual conversation in Japanese with the owner, and a nice enough guy who only seemed to have two teeth that weren't black or rotting in his mouth. I felt a little offended when the owner made some kind of comment in really quick Japanese to the other customer, something probably along the lines of "who the heck orders ramen and a beer?" But I'm trying to be tolerant, really. Once I got the impression that the owner had enough of my poor Japanese and random questions about the area I scooted, and prooooooactively mdae my way home, feeling way more juiced than a man should after only one beer and a meal. I guess that stuff really is like Molson Canadian: "extra strong" should be the slogan.

Still, taking some directions I got from the housing agent dude I went to the local "conbini" (convenience store) to buy some stuff, realized just how marked up it all was, and went out instead to the 100 yen store where I got some cheap soap, notebooks and garbage bags. Next stop, despite my feeling incredibly tired was the "depatoh" (department store) where I was completely blown away: 5 huge floors of consumer goodness, making Walmart look like a friggin' mom and pop shop! I was really too tired to look for everything I needed, but found some cheap beer, fish, and the latest volume of one piece manga for enjoyment and reading practice.

I sluggishly made my way home before typing out all this in a desperate fashion before I crash out on my new bed. Plans for tomorrow include buying a TV and maybe a camera at Akihabara (a part of Tokyo famous for its electronic stores), and relaxing. Saturday, Caliban and Loyal to the Grave at Club Asia in Shibuya. Expect many, many, many more pics in the future, with the advent of my upcoming super advanced Japanese camera.

Overall, I like it here.




"It's hard to know, where we should go, one hopes to find a way and, here's a hollow place where people come, to softly hum, songs that scare you most, believe me, I'm scared enough!" - Polar Bear Club

In an Aeroplane, Over the Sea

It is approximately 09:04pm Eastern Standard Time, 10:04am Tokyo Time, and I'm about 36,000 feet above the Northern end of the Pacific ocean, near the eastern most points of Russia. The flight only has about 4 hours left, which seems relatively menial compared to my travel time thus far. I popped a zanax and slept for about 2 hours on and off; I've never been especially good at sleeping sitting up, although I suppose it is one of those skills you can hone over time. I envy the people on this flight who can! It's also pretty amazing what they can do with in-flight entertainment nowadays - this 777 has individual screens for each passenger which can access games, movies, and T.V. shows, and quite a lot of them at that! Me personally, I watched Airplane on my laptop, Flight of the Conchords for my in-flight entertainment, and maybe I'll check out Kung fu Panda, just for laughs.

Anyway, this whole journey seems surreal and will until at least when I step out of the airplane, assuming the effect isn't prolonged. I managed to talk to another caucasian passenger, who happened to be returning from a trip home after teaching in South Korea for a year! He seemed like a nice fellow and we swapped e-mails, with the intent of hanging out at some point, be it in Japan or Korea. I really should consider working in Korea some day, the benefits are out of this world. He also mentioned vacationing in Cambodia, with a beach-side hotel room that cost just $10 a day! I think living in and traveling around Eastern Asia is going to be a lot of fun.

I can't seem to focus enough to read any of the books I bought - Dickens and Lovecraft just aren't holding my attention for some odd reason. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, the dull, lingering headache or the overexposure of my eyes to video screens...or a culmination of them all, most likely.

Saying goodbye to the Parents, the neighborhood, and even my cats - OK, maybe especially my cats - this morning was tough. I already miss them all. But, off I go through this rite of passage, this entry into manhood. Am I being over-dramatic? Not just about this, but about everything? A talented and charismatic English Professor (who got me to like Shakespeare) once told me that "you can go anywhere, as long as you have that Astronaut mentality." Either I have it, or I've gotten really good at pretending I do. I already keep smiling at the bits of Japanese I hear people around me speaking, and I can't wait to start finally putting those two years of studying to some good, practical use! If only there weren't so many damned Kanji, my reading skills wouldn't feel so weak.

Things I plan to do after I land and get through immigration and everything:

-buy a copy of Shonen Jump
-call the folks to let em know I'm still alive
-do a dance and say "HEY EVERYBODY! I FRIGGIN' MADE IT TO JAPAN! JAPAAAAN!"
-walk around and gawk around.

737 comin outta the sky!

Hello everyone! Well after all the stop and go, the waiting and the paperwork and all that B.S. I am finally on my way. I'm currently sitting in Newark Int'l Airport, where they charge $5 an hour for wifi. !!! Here is a pic of my plane:


HUUUUUGE. I had a nice conversation with a man on the way here. He was going to Texas to check a wind-energy site, and talked about how the inner compartment at the top of the tower was the size of a winnebago. This lead to talks about energy - how I am happy to leave behind my gas-guzzling '97 Jeep Cherokee, though she has treated me very well. I support the switch to cleaner energy, and the idea that gas-fueled cars will eventually be looked back on as a obsolete technology.

What was funny, though, was how the guy was sleeping and jumped forward, grabbing the seat in front of him and gasping, when we landed,because he "thought he was on a bus." If I heard that EEARRRKKKBUDUMM sound when I was on the highway, I'd be scared too.

Scared? Me? Never. Ever ever. I feel really good and I am ready to get my culture shocked and to be embarassed at how rusty my Japanese has gotten. I'm listening to some Russians talk about stuff in Russian, and it's making me wonder what shmorgasboard of languages I will be hearing in Tokyo. 12 million foreigners supposedly live there. Well, make that 12 million and 1!


Oh and by the way, with my powers of concentration however, I can raise and lower my cholesterol - AT WILL.



Also, wicked stoked on this movie, especially since I finished the book just the other day and it was a thought-provoking read:



See ya!

"Go to work and go to school, get a degree so you won't be a fool, graduate with a PHD, all that shit it's not for me! ALL MY LIFE PEOPLE TELL ME WHAT TO SAY, THIS IS MY LIFE LIVE IT MY OWN WAY!" - Sick of it All

Final thoughts on leaving.

I am preparing to start a new life. It may be temporary, it may be well-extended, but regardless of the long term effects, things are changing quickly in the here and now. I won't be sleeping in the same bed anymore. I won't be living under the roof of a house that has sheltered me for at least 10 years of my life. I'm leaving behind my friends, family, and country, bracing myself for a trip that seems more unpredictable than anything else I've tried to prepare for in my entire life.

Words like adventure, culture, isolation, shock and party come to my mind when I try to imagine it. My father said to me today: "don't be surprised if Japan isn't everything you imagined it to be. You've been building up your expectations and working on a goal for a long time, so it's easy to be disappointed." I have always believed in applying Murphy's Law - "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong" - to best counter disillusionment and disappointment. In other words, I have tried to keep my hopes and dreams from shooting wildly out of control. This perspective is more beneficial than it may sound on the surface, as it brings about all sorts of fun bonuses, not the least of which is when you are pleasantly surprised when a lot of things go your way, or even exceed your greater expectations. I have confidence in myself to do the best I can do through even the worst of times, and as trite and cliché as that may seem, I think the real key to this game is 90% mental. If I am able to bring a suitable level of cool-headedness, reservation, patience and respect into my demeanor, I believe I can thrive regardless of my surroundings.

Change isn't easy. Change is, however, exciting. Change isn't always desirable, but without it our lives seem stagnant and dull. Much like the technology we rely on, we seek quicker refresh speeds and newer, faster addictions to consume and subsequently quit. Change can seem especially imperative to the post generation-X, light emission addicts of the 00's. We are a new generation of adults, who watch shows like The Office not just for their wit and humor, but also for the acerbic and succinct way that parody and satire reflect real world problems of crushing technological oppression within the human domain, of devastating views of repressed expression through the paradox of political correctness, and an overall lack of the ability to communicate with one another, and what dire consequences this inability can lead up to. I'm not saying technology is the devil, but it's emblematic of our seeming desire to put proxy after proxy between ourselves and everything else, perhaps for protection or safety, or perhaps just to make ourselves more ambiguous and numb to the world around us.

There is a point to all this: I have always been one for speaking my mind completely, barring necessary discretion. I believe in telling it like it is, speaking first then thinking later, unless the person on the receiving end seems like they will be unable to handle "the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." Sometimes I get this vibe from my audience and unload anyway, knowing full well that directness will only repel said person from me. Sometimes, to be characteristically frank, this is preferable. Most of the time however, I like to be as civil as possible, and in recent years have worked on my mannerisms to try and curb this habit without compromising my own individuality. Translation: I can act this way around friends, and in very casual settings, but not the rest of the time. Unfortunately, in Japan I know most of the my life will take place in the latter, not the former. So, I will have to be on my guard and tone myself down, making every effort to stay my personality and be a little more accessible. Most of all, I'll try not to step on any toes, rub anyone the wrong way, or burn any bridges. Wishful thinking? We'll see.

To put this aspect of my personality into the bigger picture, here's some information you may or may not know: The Japanese are a people of subtlety, ambiguity and mutability. Their very language is rife with implication and indirectness, and as a result of this and many other unnameable cultural forces, the Japanese have a really roundabout way of speaking. Directly saying "no" to something is almost always extremely rude (as I know from my two years of schooling in Japanese during college), and something more along the lines of "umm, well...", "not quite...", "that's a little..." etc. are all in active, popular practice. What does this say about the culture? More relavent still, what does this say about how I, a bumbling foot-in-mouth tangential New Yorker will do in trying to exist within this cultural framework? What inevitable slip-ups, mis-communications and accidental acts of impoliteness await me? How much do I have to keep my guard up, and can I ever possibly explain through the exercise of teaching to even one student how to properly express themselves in field so volatile and kinetic as the English language? Tune in next week to find out. Literally.

My impression of Japanese culture, regardless of the college I attended and the commendable professors who taught it to me, is nonetheless built on second-hand information. I must go forth to form my own opinions, and find my way in this new world. My bags are semi-packed, my laptop full of quality films like "Airplane," "Shaun of the Dead" and "The Host," and my spirit ready and willing.

A new epoch of Belcher awaits me. My parents have been so supportive of me in this decision that it's incredible, and I'd like to take a moment to thank them here. Without those two, this would be a heck of a lot harder, if not impossible. I'm getting ready to say goodbye to home, but I've been quite high strung as of late. I honestly feel like I won't be able to relax until I'm on a plane, somewhere over the Atlantic, en route to an archipelago that I expect to rejuvinate my life. A place where I can reinvent myself. Or maybe, just maybe, perhaps, possibly, I can still just be me, and I will make some new friends who can accept me that way.




End Prologue.

Countdown to Departure: 52 hours.




Thinking back to when you were a lost and lonely kid, a look back at the tragic and the damage that it did. Still waiting for the day it all just goes away. That's who you are, don't hide the scar. Now you know the reason why you feel so full of hate, throw a stone I'm sure you'll hit someone who can relate, and now you know the reason for the way you are, but you're still wanting to believe that you can cover up the scar..." - h20

WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHINCAL DIFFICULTIES

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PLEASE BEAR WITH US WHILE WE ATTEMPT TO ISOLATE THE ROOT OF THIS PROBLEM.





























Countdown to D-day: 3 days.

"What a beautiful face, I have found in this place,
That is circling all round the sun. And when we meet on a cloud
I'll be laughing out loud, I'll be laughing with everyone I see,
Can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all."
- Neutral Milk Hotel

My blood hurts

So, I am a liar. But instead of any well-constructed post about the numerous things going on in the last week, I'm just going to talk about today, really quick. I had a 4 1/2 hour tattoo session, and it hurt like hell. Almost ever color made blood permeate through the ink, which looked kind of cool, but didn't feel nice, even thought I took it "like a man." I'm stoked on how it came out, but bummed we had to cut the session short. It's 95% complete but we decided to finish up on Sunday, since I had to get back to Albany in time for last minute band practice with our new, and now 3rd drummer in 8 months, making him the 4th new member.

Throb throb goes the skin.

Tattoos are definitely addicting though. It's a pain you pay for, which is pretty wild if you think about it. Like torture with an hourly rate, only you want it done because it looks cool. And really, what is the point of getting your skin drawn on if it doesn't look good? I guess I really am a superficial consumer whore like the rest! Blast!

At Tuesday's practice (See? I lied again) this burnout dude came in with the debt collector for the practice space, which was all well and good, except that he tripped over my box fan. This fan is at least 10 years old, but the motor is so simple you'd think it would never break.

It broke.

I now have the pleasure of listening to my fan cough and stutter every few minutes. It's like an old man fan, man.

Iamnervousaboutleavingandwillmisseveryoneandeverythingiknowand
loveandihopeilikemyjobandnewhomeandnewfriendsandnewlife.

Countdown to D-day: 11 days.





"Nobody every had a dream 'round here but I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me." - The Killers

The next two weeks:

will most likely see very little posting. I will be consistently busy up until my departure, so for right now the blog is going to be a little slow. Check out some of my friends linked on the right, or wait it out. I'll definitely drop a little something before I take my flight, as it will be the end of the "prologue."

See you on the other side of the world.

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

Goodbye pizza delivery

I will only the miss the free food.

Here's to being a teacher for the rest of my life.















[me, before my job interview in April]

Countdown to D-Day: 13 Days!






"Momma's been cryin' cuz her baby's been dyin and lately, her life's going straight to hell, but I'm going straight today, make a change. I can't believe it, what you're doing, where I live" - Last Call

My Lucky Hat

Lately, I've been wearing my Buffalo Bills hat almost all the time when I've been out doing things. I've called it my "lucky hat" on occasion, but those words seem to be ringing true now more than ever. It becomes an inadvertent conversational piece at bars, sparking conversations about sports fandom which I have never fully understood; Then again, a lot of people might find my passion for music or language equally hard to grasp. Regardless, I wear the hat for two reasons: I'm going bald and have been slacking on keeping my hair short, even though I was shaving it regularly for almost a year. Also, it's my brother's old hat, one of the surplus of Bills hats he owned, and may or may never have even worn when he was still alive. I'm really not sure. My brother and his death are a series of unfortunate circumstances, which I will elaborate on in another post, on another day....night....morning? What is 3am, really? What is it when you are up at this hour on a regular basis? What if you work night shifts, when you eat lunch at 2am and go to bet at 7am, is it really "good night" at all anymore?

But I digress. There may in fact be a third reason I wear my Bills hat proudly, but it is a culmination of the first two: It instills me with confidence. This is partially because the hair on the top of my head is jumping ship faster than a 3rd class immigrant on the Titanic, but also because I feel a sort of bond ethereal bond between the over-priced official sportsgear and my brother. Do I believe in the spirit, the soul, or the ability of treasured physical things to retain some essence or trace of the spirit? Metaphysics are another example of topics that are all too thick and absurd to fit into this entry. But what I can attest to is what I feel, and that is that wherever I go and whatever I do, I want to keep wearing my lucky hat, avidly support the losing side. After all, what is more appealing to the human spirit than an underdog?

Wifi is soooome kinda wonderful

when you can post from a rest stop, much like finding a parking spot in Boston at 4am without getting a ticket

"We're on a mission from God" - Blues Brothers.

But, the recording session went amazing, details TBA. 6 songs in under 20 hours is wild. And for those of you who've never had said experience, just think for every second of produced music you hear, most likely 100x that amount of time went into making it sound the way it does.

BrB.

No transfer!

Hey everybody. Currently in Brookline, MA, working through technical difficulties at Damnation Alley EP recording session 2. Mike, John and Tyler are a riot, this is probably some of the most fun ever possible

"we need a pad, ain't talkin' maxi"

"aren't you glad you aren't paying for this?"

"G string is always the hardest to tie, you fellow guitarists know what I'm talkin' about"

"Condoms are for pussies!" "....well you're technically wrong there."

"Everything is here but me, it's like I'm Bruce Willis in the Sixth Sense"

"Check 1 2! McGillicutty! Reh reh! Visa, Master, check! Want me to keep checkiiin?! THIS IS FOR ALL THE HULKIMANIACS!!!"

etcetcetcetc

Really big post coming soon, sorry to keep you waiting folks, I'm a busy man.

In the mean-time, ponder these photos:

















Grand Central Blur
















Random.
















Anti-Jihad.
















Grammatically correctest
















Dare to be Stupid.
















Summoning the blackest of all metals.















TIME FOR MUSIC!!!


Real update coming Real soon. :)