domestic difficulties

The domestic situation has been getting more humorous. My Floridian gay republican roommate is not speaking to either me or Tasmanian Matt anymore. When we address him, he merely replies with a grunt or a one-word statement, then speeds off in the other direction or into his enormous Japanese room with tatami matting and slides the doors shut. Matt and i simply can't understand it. We never professed hatred for Florida, republicans, or homosexuals. We do however, live in the same apartment and Matt enjoys watching television and laughing in a hearty Australian manner. That could be it. But even so, he never speaks to us about what bothers him. All he does is leave the house and retreats to a friend's house. It is a strange thing to have the more weathered roommate feel threatened by the incoming ones.
I had previously told him that if he wanted to cook something, to use the other pots in the cupboard because i didn't want animal grease all over my food when i make dinner for myself. He sulked and moaned an "okay" and then shut his door. Today i saw he had bought canned refried beans, which of course contain lard, and asked him if he would cook them. He said, "Yeah, I'll buy a new pot." When i reminded him there were many pots in the cupboard and that i just didn't want him to use any of the pots i normally use he said, "Yeah, you told me that already", then shut his door. Matt and i simply smirked and went on with consuming our nightly victuals.
Perchance he will move out. Time will tell.

team of researchers develops new NOVA books

Yes, we have new books for the beginner students. If my theories are correct, which they all might be if i ever bothered to check, a team of highly paid researchers, probably the same ones doing "scientific experiments" on meat-market whales headed for Japanese restaurants, developed our new textbooks. I can tell from chapters titled "What's Johnny Having For Dinner? Mom Made Whale Sashimi!" and "Dad Dislikes The International Whaling Ban Treaty! What International Treaties Do You Dislike?" Each book even comes with a complimentary package of freeze-dried whale jerky.

Sometimes i feel like i can't take a step out in the street before my mouth is full of whale meat.

Jamie learned: "Bicycle"!

I have had many a dream of this day. When i would advance to the next stage of self-propelled locomotion. No longer would I be confined to the two feet I have relied on for all my years. I would be able to turn two wheels with nothing but the muscles of my legs, and this action would help me move through space like a dolphin cuts through water.
Well, i am not exactly that graceful yet, but i am working on it. I took my roommate's bike out into the stormy weather and walked it to the parking lot in the alley behind my house, with determination written upon my brow. I gazed up at the angry heavens and solemnly promised myself that a new page in the book of my life would be inscribed tonight. I mounted the vehicle and thrust myself forward, bracing my weight clumsily and coaxing my feet skyward. I let the soles of my sneakers taste sweet pedal as i pushed down vigorously, allowing velocity to have its way with me, and further throwing my center of gravity into disarray. There was much squeaking of rubber, both sneaker sole and tire, there were tears and there was blood, there were groans of anguish and cries of joy, and there was the moment when i found myself released from the stubborn grip of the earth and given the gift of flight. Soon i was speeding past the prostitutes and wheeling precariously near moving cars, not ceasing after nearly plummeting into a rice field, not turning back after my clothes had gained a tremendous weight from rain water. Truth be told, half my time was spent remounting after my balance failed me, and i even fell completely to the ground at one point--my face inches from the wet cement, i pushed myself up on tireless arms and leaped back on the dripping seat--but the accomplishment will not be ignored. And let us forget the humiliation of the idea of a 22-year-old man learning to ride a bike. Let us instead concentrate on his steadfast and unflinching perseverance in the face of oppression, and his noble, if not godly, humility about his triumph.

up Bizan

I hiked up the mountain, called Bizan (literally, Eyebrow Mountain) near my apartment building today. The entrance to the trail is a length of stone stairs that runs by a shinto temple and beneath a torii (one of those arches with the slanty tops). Up another long flight of stairs is a larger temple complex, and beside it, the trail begins. I hiked up the trail, which is lined with small statues of deities and buddhas in small stone houses with triangle roofs. Small coin boxes sit at their feet. Some even have little brilliantly colored scarves tied around them. I met a monk draped in brown robes with some women dressed in white along the way, sweeping off the statues and collecting the coins. When i arrived at the top, the view was quite expansive. The same enormous neon spiders claimed the area, and some webs even housed their smaller mates (probably males). The croaking of Asian crows could be heard from within the foliage. The wailing of different cicadas was primarily a constant, but by now i fail to notice them as much. Some sound much like car alarms, with siren-like repititions and buzzing clicks. There was a pagoda at the top that had photos of Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the bombs and various religious paraphernalia. At the very top was a small shrine with offerings of plastic-packaged foods, little rice gluten cakes, and even cigarettes. I suppose the Buddha enjoys a smoke after his feast of salted rice snacks and fruit jellies.

drinking a white peach sake

Well, today was a very nice day indeed. I went with my new friend Travis who is absurdly tall (and therefore a town celebrity of sorts, or at least one who receives the attention of a fireworks display) to a supermarket ironically named "Coop". Unfortunately, it compared not to the only true COOP, which naturally exists in SUNY Binghamton, but we cannot expect any coop, or place named "coop", in existence to compete with its superior standing. I bought some more interesting groceries and am now cooking on a level that i cannot be embarrassed of. I even picked up some black sesame Japanese "tahini" or whatever they call it. Peanut butter is called "Pinatsu Kurimu" here, and comes in tiny containers, and i still cannot find a normal container of ice cream, only small pint-size haagen daz ones for close to 300 yen. Unacceptable. I tried Matt's vegemite the other day and liked it, even though it is thick, pasty and black. After shopping, i had tea at Travis' house and we discussed the matters of the day. It was nice to have an intelligent conversation with someone here. And his green tea was excellent. He cooks most nights and invited me to join him and his wife for dinner in th future. I was much obliged.
I wish this post contained something negative, in order to be consistent with the rest, but i am afraid i will have to disappoint.

slowly becoming integrated i suppose

So in the past few days, i got a new roommate from Tasmania, and he is a regular obnoxiously loud guy of Oceanic persuasion, like the ones you see on tv. Like that guy who puts his head in crocodile's mouths. Except this guy is nice so far, but my pessimism gives him a few weeks. But he knows about thylacines somewhat, or at least what they look like. When we talked of the current project to clone one from a preserved embryo, he said he thought they would inject the zygote into a canine, because they were the closest relatives. It really amazes me how little Australians and others in the area know close to nothing about marsupials. A koala is more related to a thylacine than a dog, but i didn't want to embarrass him too much. So i tactfully corrected him. I love being a bio-snob.
if you want to be a bio-snob just like me, here's a good place to start! (by the way, for best effects, only study things that are thought to be extinct, and firmly believe they are still alive)
http://www.naturalworlds.org/thylacine/
More interesting news: My republican roommate from Florida is gay. I learned through a third party. I wonder what zany adventures we will have--a loud-mouthed Tasmanian guy, a gay republican from Florida, and an arrogant self-centered pretentious bio-snob who thinks he's indie... it would make for an excellent reality show.
I went to a few bars with my roommates yesterday and enjoyed the neon-sex nightlife of downtown Tokushima city. The places we went to were actual normal bars, one with karaoke, that are mostly packed with nova kids and foreigners. Almost all the others have something conspicuously seedy going on inside. Young men in tuxedos stand outside and rush up to you on occasion to point convincingly at pictures of showgirls they hold in their hands. I usually ignore them but sometimes i let them talk until they realize i dont understand a word they are saying. Then they stop and walk away. Non-violent protest.
If my roommates and i were a crime fighting team, who would we fight? And what would our name be? I will take suggestions. For all you aspiring comedians, this situation is a goldmine.

being a social parasite

Parasites are hated for what they are built for--leeching the life off other organisms, in the form of blood or ingested nutrients. What we forget is that we also rely on other organisms for vitality, the only difference is that we kill our sources. We usually need to end the lives of other organisms in order to gain nutrients, with the pitiful exceptions of the honeybee, the cow, and other slaves of production. In this society that operates on the binary of the consumer and the consumed, we do parasitize some organisms, but only to supplement our diet centered on the ending of life. Of all the purely heterotrophic organisms, parasites take the nonviolent approach, and we shun them for this simply because they may hamper the growth of other organisms. We should celebrate their unwavering determination to remain opposed to confrontation, not ridicule it simply because we, as murderers, do not understand this vow of peacefulness.

i just made a beautiful dinner!

a small bowl of white rice, a small bowl of dark ochre miso soup with wakame and shitake mushrooms, and a bowl of sliced green peppers with beansprouts in a curry sauce with a german vege-hamburger topped with mashed avocado spiced with pepper flakes and accompanied by a dash of soy sauce. it looks beautiful, and i wish i could take a picture of it.
i have cynthia (<3) to thank for all this--she is directly responsible for all my cooking ability, and i am in deep gratitude to her.
well, it is getting cold. itadakimasu!

the plot thickens... something is revealed

My roommate has always acted odd around me, so i suspected he had some sort of malfunction, but i could never put my finger on it. Everything made sense when i heard his answer to my question "Who did you vote for in 2000?" His casual reply: "Bush." I had to prevent the muscles in my face from distorting, and i managed to eke out this query: "Are you voting for him again?" A simple "Yes" was his answer. When i further probed as to "Why?" he became annoyed and stated "Because i believe in what he does." Fair enough, but this is Bush we are talking about, not Elton John or Gandhi. I let it go, and after silence proceeded, and mentioned "I guess you don't want to talk about it", and he muttered something incomprehensible.
It all makes sense now. He is my sworn enemy, the Republican, from Florida no less. And half-Mexican to boot. He is an enigma wrapped up in a box with chains. If only i could throw the box into the ocean....

my new friend

Tonight i ate dinner at a small food establishment that can fit about 20 people. I was in there before, so they knew my peculiar eating habits. I sat next to the only patron, an old man drinking a beer and fondling the bones of some fish on his plate with his chopsticks. He was to become my new friend.
He spoke English decently and said he wanted to go around the world 7 times. He had been to America (America means US to Japanese) 10 times, and wanted to return. I ordered my food and we chatted some more, and he taught me some filthy words in Japanese. He then told me that he would bring me to meet beautiful women, and it was then that i called him "warui otoko", or childishly put, "bad man". He staggered backward and laughed heartily, and he apparently loved me all the more for slandering him. He demanded that we drink beer together at a later date, and it was evident that i could not refuse, as it is a cultural commandment to accept all invitations to get drunk, even if you don't plan on ever doing it. The last thing i want to do while here is break an ancient law of immense cultural and historical significance. I was told that if i refused to bow when someone bowed to me, or if i failed to properly acknowledge the storekeepers' greetings of "irasshaimase!", i would be promptly thrown outside of the country, probably into the ocean part of the outside. Where the sharks are. They survive solely off of haughty Americans.

still thinking of more...

Carnaged yokels need tremendous help in Arkansas.
Chicken yolks numbered three hung in arches.
Cleaning yaks never took hours in April.
Can Yemenese nectarine trees hoard Inuit artifacts?
Careful young narwhals take harmless insects away.
Cougars yelp noisely together hiding in apprehension.
Clean yellow nymphs talk happily inside apples.
"Clumsy yetis need training harnesses," interrupted Aster.
Climb yonder near tremendous heights, impossible apexes.
Colloquial yammerers need to have intelligent aquaintances.
"Creep!" you naggingly taunted him, implying audacity.
Castrate ye noble, tremulous honorables, infamous aristocrats.
Certainly you never thought he initiated aggression?
Converting young natives: 'tis holy in action.
Crippled yet not totally handicapped: it's applaudable!
Credible yentas need these hormones injected appropriately.
Carnival youths naked trampling him illustrates anger.
Come young nimble toddlers, hide in anthills.
Cringe, yell, never tire, heinous ill anger.

i live behind prostitute alley

I had to turn down about 8 or so prostitutes tonight on my way home from work. I hope i never have to say that again.
Work is getting a bit better as things sink in. I suppose work as a whole becomes easier once things begin to get repetitive. Easier, but monotonous? We shall see. I can only hope for some slight variety in the scheme of things to keep me interested.
There is a television in my workplace near the front entrance that blares the same commercial all day long. It is advertising a video set with camera that hooks up to your TV for video-conferencing. NOVA uses it for distance language learning. The commercial is trying to market its capability as a link between family members far away. The whole idea is quite sick, but the premise is that family members can communicate, lovingly i suppose, through video-conferencing. The commercial showcases a grandfather on TV with his two grand-daughters sitting watching him. He is smiling broadly and half-whining half-yelling (as everyone does on TV in Japan) to his grand-daughters, i believe asking them some question. Their response--a hideously annoying sound much like that of a squeaky rodent that just acquired a child's voice. I don't even know if it's a word. But if three utterances of this in a row was not enough, the next two responses are strings of squeaks that end in the grandfather's deep-throated laughter. And as soon as it's over, it starts anew. The same as the immortal phoenix, except annoying as all hell. I asked the staff if it bothered them, and they didn't seem to even hear it anymore. Repression is a simple way to cope with hardship.

weekend starts monday

Monday and tuesday are my days off, so my week has shifted two days. Only one of many things i have needed to adjust to. Let's make a list of wacky Tokushima shenanigans:

1. Whenever you go into a store, at least one clerk greets you formally, usually all. And when you leave, they all formally thank you. I was in the bank today, and when i left, every single teller said thank you in a row as i walked towards the door. There must have been close to twenty. Like a stack of speaking dominoes!
2. However, when in the streets, everyone does their best to avoid looking at you. If you ask them a question, they snap out of it and become human again, then try to help you!
3. Most fruits you will find are unbelievably expensive. I have seen Japanese pears for 1600 yen (~16 dollars) and melons for close to 5000 yen (~50 bucks!). They are "gift" fruits, and i suppose they must taste good. Ordinary fruits are found in the grocery store, where apples are a mere 2 bucks each. No, the fruits never get cheap!
4. There are many streets, and they all have names, but there are no signs to remind you of them!
5. Sometimes you will be lucky, usually on a big street, to find some signs with its name on it. But unlucky for you if you can't read kanji!
6. Everything has fish in it except fresh produce. Even the air! I try my best not to breathe, but some always get in because of my damn muscle reflexes!
7. My roommate doesn't like to talk to me. When I try to engage him in a conversation, he usually gives me a one word answer and rushes away somewhere. And i can't figure out why!
8. The phone in my apartment is a rotary phone! This means I need to use my phone card outside at the pay phone. I forgot rotary phones even existed!
9. Japanese is hard! One year of college study leaves me a bumbling fool. At least i can ask for directions and tell people i don't eat fish!
10. To read ingredients on a food product, i need to spend a good hour or so with my trusty kanji dictionary. Good thing i get to study kanji as i hope to god there is no fish extract in my food!

That will be all for now. There will be more later. I hope my tear-inducing hardships put a smile on your face. Cheers!

still breathing

I like the fact that i can pour all of my creative energy at a given moment into something that will not recoil from inconsistency. This online journal lets me explore every tunnel of my subconscious without insisting on conformation. In this journal, I am god!
Power trips aside, I am still in Japan, believe it or not. I had my first two days of class today as a real working teacher. There was frustration, jubilation, aggravation, resuscitation. My first day was a living nightmare because of various things on my mind that punctured my skull and took residence in my stomach. And the stress of having to plan lesson after lesson given only ten minutes between each did not help matters. Today i learned that i do not need to plan lessons at all, and still come out alright.
I went to a party last night that Norman, the guy who owns the ex-pat sandwich shop called "Big Brother", threw in some basement nightclub. It was nice to spend some outside time with other teachers, and I mostly hung around with my boss Calvin and a teacher named Dani. They are both Australian, Calvin being of Asian decent (I dont know where) and Dani being Assyrian--his parents were born in Iraq. They are both dashing fellows who made good chums for the night. And of course, the party was full of foreigners working at all kinds of English teaching com----------
Okay, there is a pause here because our whole apartment started to shake and the floor beneath us trembled. Yes, there was just an earthquake. It only lasted a minute or two, but it was the first one i have ever experienced. It is a frightening thing to have the ground, which you rely on to be firm and reliable, to move from under you! Well, back to the journal...
-----panies, such as JET, Gios, etcetera. And assorted Japanese characters to boot, some dancing like epileptics in a room with flashing white lights booming with the Beastie Boys. One interesting face there was an Icelandic gentleman who lives in Tokushima with a host family and specializes in kendo. He and his twin brother, who was visiting, were sitting in lounge chairs with bandanas around their heads, looking tough and Icelandic. There are approximately 200,000 people in Iceland, so the probability of randomly seeing one of them is minute, to be conservative. And here were two right in front of me! A statistician, who just happened to be standing next to me at the time, promptly fainted, and we needed to rouse him with smelling salts and raw octopus.

my glorious return to Shikoku

Yes, it is true i have returned, and from such a perilous mission. They sent me to Okayama on Honshu, which is the main island of this country. I had my orientation there and ended up staying overnight because of the typhoon, which apparently was so strong as to be big news here. On the news, they spotlighted a man whose purpose of employment was to open and close the train station doors for people, pushing heavily against the winds that vied to overcome him. My experience with typhoons is minute to put it mildly, and i must say that there was one casualty because of my haughtiness--the untimely death of the umbrella i brought, which, fortunately for me, was gratis.
It may be too late for explanations or realizations about the writing style of this journal, but i shall say it anyway. I believe the style may be too bookish for the journal's own good, but this is only because i have willed that myself, for whatever reason, and for good or evil, prosperity or ruin, apple or orange, smiley face or the negative parabolic smile of the sad face.
Himeji literally means "Princess Road". There is a large and formidable castle there, illuminated at night much like a New York skyscraper, surrounded by various moats and a small zoo on its grounds. On my third day there, i visited the castle grounds in the morning. The entire expanse is ruled by crows, and i could not tell if they were separate families. I pondered their complicated language that ranged from squawks and squeals to grumbles and hoarse shouts. There were also a number of stray cats that nonchalantly groomed themselves on the grass or crouched beside the bushes, oblivious to me and my wanderings. I did not enter the castle itself; i was content with viewing it from close-up. It was not a castle at all in the conventional European sense. No fortified battlements or spires and stone towers, but a large layered house with those curving Asian roofs, an unassuming structure of defense, but a self-explanatory structure of elegance and royalty. I imagined armies assaulting this castle with long spears and colorful regalia, and ninjas climbing around on the roof and dropping silently through the windows. I wonder if anything like that ever happened.
I watched a polar bear for a while from a distance in its cage in the zoo. Out of its element, its environment, its rightful place in the world. It lumbered back and forth from one side of its cage to the other, its head swinging and its gaze on the floor. When I returned to that viewing spot ten minutes later, an old man was there watching intently. After a little while, he turned to me and said something about it being a bear (kuma), and i said, "Hai, kuma." Then i said what i had been preparing to say, "Kanashi no you" (it looks sad). He kept smiling, though his expression changed, and nodded, and i think he understood. I then said, "Zannen desu yo" (its unfortunate). I was very pleased with myself for having communicated this. Throughout the course of my stay, I had small conversations with two natives, one a noodle stand man and the other a kid with a guitar who was singing songs in an alley with his friend. His friend played a sanshin (japanese guitar with three strings) and sang in an old fashioned Japanese and folky sort of way, something i enjoyed immensely after not hearing music for three days.
I wonder why i feel no desire to explain my training in depth, and rather choose to explain in considerate detail things that would seem somewhat trivial to others. Let us dwell on this.