Mottainai

Baby

2006-01-11T20:54:00.000-08:00

Jan and Fabiana, Congratulations on giving life to a beautiful (I`m sure) daughter!!!!

I am so happy for you. I want to go to Finland!! See you this summer, I hope.

This is milk that I am feeding you. It comes from Mordechai the milkman, whom you will meet one day. He gets the milk from a cow, which is a very strange and troubling thing if you think about it, so don't think about it...
This is my hand that is petting your face. Some people are left-handed and some are right-handed.We don't know which you are yet, because you just sit there and let me do the handling...
This is a kiss. It is what happens when lips are puckered and pressed against something, sometimes other lips, sometimes a cheek, sometimes something else. It depends...
This is my heart. You are touching with your left hand, not because you are left-handed, although you might be, but because I am holding it against my heart. What you are feeling is the beating of my heart. It is what keeps me alive.

(Jonathan Safran Foer)

I Have Become An Adult

2006-01-11T17:05:00.000-08:00

Well, that took a while.
I enjoy fairytales.
Thus, I have become an adult.
No need to pretend that I am an adult.
Childish behavior ceased to be childish.
No longer caught in-between.

Now, how would Harry do matched against the White Witch?

Happy New Year?

2006-01-09T06:25:00.000-08:00

New year.
New ends.
No beginnings.
Good bye, Forever.
What did I just do?
No answers.
Just new questions.
I ended it.
It's all about me.

Will somebody please give me a cigarette.

Let's Rock 2006!

The EU and the Swedish overnment is run by wankers!!

2005-12-22T00:41:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I hate Sweden and the EU. Below is an article (unfortunately in Swedish) about a man who escaped from Iraq to Sweden. He came to Sweden, learned Swedish, got a job, wrote a letter to the Ministry of Immigration saying he wanted to pay tax and didn`t need welfare anymore. Then, the police discovered that he had been stopped by the police in Italy on his way to Sweden, thus making him obliged, by EU-law (Dublin-convention ironically enough), to apply for asylum in Italy. So, the cops send him back to Italy where he ends up living on a park bench, before finding refuge in the Swedish church. Idiots!!! FUCK the EU and the Swedish Ministry of Immigration, who according to the Swedish newspapers celebrate succesful deportations with champagne or cake.

On another note, the head of the EU delegation to the WTO meeting said that agriculture is just one issue among many, so no need to discuss it so much. Well, yeah...if agriculture constitutes one or two percent your GDP. If it doesn`t, i.e. if you are a developing country, it is the only issue. So, all you unelected EU leaders: start talking and please, please, please STOP subsidizing farmers and remove all tariffs on agricultural products. In fact remove tariffs full stop for products from developing countries. Free trade as interpreted by the EU, Japan and the US is a sham. Oh, and if you are a farmer in some freezing part of Sweden where there are a few rocks too many to make a living from farming, then stop farming!! There is no point!! Herd reindeer or move to the city. Don`t grow potatoes in the arctic!

Merry Christmas

From aftonbladet.se, 051222

Khalel kommer från irakiska Kurdistan. Han tvingades fly undan en maffiaorganisation som lovat döda honom. Han lyckades komma med en lastbil genom Turkiet mot Europa. Vägen gick över italienska hamnstaden Brindisi. Italienska polisen hittade honom ombord på lastbilen. Han fick sitta i arresten i sju dagar. Sedan var han fri med ett tillfälligt uppehållstillstånd och kunde resa vidare. En snöstormig vinterkväll ställde lastbilschauffören av honom i en skog utanför Göteborg. Khalel anmälde sig hos polisen och bad om asyl. Så började han lära sig svenska och till slut fick han också ett jobb och nya vänner i samhället Fegen. Och där kallar alla honom Kalle. -Jag ringde Migrationsverket och tackade för hjälpen. Jag sa att jag inte ville ha något bidrag längre. Nu ville jag betala min skatt och börja skapa mitt eget liv, berättar han. Men en dag hann EU:s Dublinkonvention i kapp honom. Italien var det första EU-landet han kommit till. Det var där hans asylansökan skulle behandlas, säger reglerna. Två svenska poliser hämtade honom. Han flögs från Kastrup till Milano. -I början sov jag i en park men sedan blev det för kallt, berättar han. -Jag sökte skydd i ett sjukhus. Jag fick sova över natten men eftersom jag var frisk fick jag gå. Han tog sig till Rom - där är det varmare än i Milano. Han hittade en smyg med varmluft, skaffade sig kartonger och sov bland alla andra uteliggare. Så fick han kontakt med prästen Alf Lindh vid Svenska kyrkan i Rom. Sedan några veckor tillbaka bor han på soffan i samlingslokalen. -Här kan jag ju se svensk tv. Någon italienska har jag aldrig lärt mig. Jag känner mig bara hemma i Sverige nu. Dagen före julafton ska han inställa sig i Varese och visa upp alla sina handlingar. Där finns ett entusiastiskt brev från företaget Weland i Smålandsstenar. Efter en månads praktikanttjänstgöring där fick han fast anställning.

Am I Daniel?

2005-12-19T08:50:00.000-08:00

Middle-aged, smartly dressed, full head of wavy hair, the man was walking behind me.

- I hate Americans and Brits
- Are you talking to me??
- DON'T MAKE FUN OF ME!!
- What??
- I AM MARRIED WITH DANIEL! WHY ARE YOU HERE!?!
- Eh...
- DON'T IGNORE ME. DON'T PRETEND I DON'T EXIST. I AM MARRIED WITH DANIEL.

He never stopped, he looked at me one last time, fuming, and walked briskly down the street.

I was left in a station full of people staring at me.

30

2005-11-18T00:15:00.000-08:00

Now I am 30, Japan-time at least. My twenties are over, and I think it is time to summarize the last decade. I don't know what we are expected to achieve in our twenties. I read somewhere that F. Scott (I think) said that if a man (or woman I presume) hasn't done something great by the age of 25, he (she) will never do anything great. I don't know about that, and I don't think I achieved much of anything, but this is what I did:

I had 10 birthdays. I lived in 4 countries. I moved 11 times. I travelled to 15 countries I hadn't been to prior to my 20th birthday. I slept with X women. I loved a few. I married 1. I divorced 1. I had 7 jobs. I learned 2 new languages. I went to 6 weddings (only). I got 211 university credits (Swedish system). I read.....well, a whole heap of books (I think I learned a few things). I got drunk innumerable times. I played in 5 football teams. I got 1 conviction in court. I don't know how much money I made, but I spent most of it, without having any material possesions to show for it. I read 4 Russian novels. I started 1 blog. I made many friends, I lost many too.

That's all I can think of. Maybe in my thirties I'll achieve something.

Yeah Yeah Yeah

2005-11-14T23:49:00.000-08:00

I am lazy and I know it.

I've been working like an idiot.

I made my DJing debut (haha). It's true. Not many people witnessed it, but there'll be more people next time. Me, Luke, and Dave (Aussies), play indie stuff at a small club in Shibuya. We'll be doing it once a month.

A student gave me an I-pod Nano (for no reason, I think). Crazy, but great. I put it on shuffle on the train today. Great rock exploded into my brain. I had to restrain myself, so as not to jump up and dance on the train.

I watched Motorcycle Diaries and decided I want to be a revolutionary. A romantic one, but I don't want to die and I hate guns. It's all peace love for me.

Tomorrow I will work for twelve hours.

I don't have time to think, which is probably good. Saves me from unhappy thoughts.

I hope all is well with all of you.

(I will write something more interesting some day. Have faith!)

Blue, White, and some Shades of Grey

2005-10-31T23:32:00.000-08:00

I keep having this vision in my head. A vision of snow, mountains and darkness. I am travelling on a bus. A white bus with blue stripes. A Chinese bus, where the doors have to be opened by hand. There is no heating and it is freezing The smoke from the breaths of my fellow passengers cloud my vision. But, I am not in China. The men on the bus, there are mostly men, suggest that I am in Eastern Turkey, Iran, or somewhere in Central Asia. Leather jackets and empty eyes staring through the window. Sunflower seeds and cigarette buts litter the isle. I don`t know where I am going and it is cold. Unbelievably cold. The snow keeps falling outside my window. We pass through towns. Grey concrete and filthy cars. Russian and old japanese cars. Nobody speaks English. Men fiddling with their prayer beads. We stop on the outskirts of dead-end towns. Everyone is carrying bundles of something and boxes. Traders? I want to be on that bus, but why? Where am I? Why do I want to be on decrepit bus driving through the snow?

I'm Your Mint Daddy

2005-10-23T12:46:00.000-07:00

A new wave of addiction is spreding through Tokyo like a wildfire. Particularly widespread among workers in the service sector, this plague is threatening to reach disastrous proportions, unless something is done soon. Yet, governments continue to turn a blind eye. The addictive substance remains legal, widely available, and highly affordable. Meanwhile, I see more and more people around me who are plunged into a life of addiction, an inability to consume water, and ever-present fresh breath. Yes, I am talking about mints. Small, round, white tablets sold in plastic boxes at the negligeable price of a couple of hundred yen.

All around my office I see people shaking their plastic boxes to get their fix. Sometimes an addict will run out of pills, in which case he or she needs to go look for the mint daddy. As this is still a rather new phenomenon, there do not seem to be a regular mint daddy. Instead, the addicts seem to take turns to act as mint daddys. The mint daddy is always ready to provide the addict with a quick fix, but will at a later stage ask for the favour to be returned, with interest. Thus, those who ghave approached the mint-daddy, will henceforth live in constant fear of the mint daddy coming to get his payment. At present, the affordability of mints is limiting the problems caused by the mint-daddys. Only the truly desperate ever need to approach a mint-daddy.

The producers of mint are pushing their products in every convenience store in Tokyo, and their are many. The initial culprit is Frisk, a Belgian cartell, whose somewhat upmarket mints are the cocaine of the mint-world. The flavors are subtle and discreetly named - eucalyptus, peppermint, spearmint etc. Following the immediate success of Frisk, local manufacturers were not slow to catch on. Decidedly more plebeian Mintia offers a cruder fix for the less discerning. At half the price of Frisk, Mintia offers a more imaginative range of mints - Wild & Cool, Berry Mint, and - the crack heroin of mints - Dry Hard. The users of Dry Hard have sunken the furthest into mint-hell. You can recognize the unfortunate by their artificially fresh breath and a complete inability to drink water (due to the strength of Dry Hard, users are unable to drink water as it hurts their throats too much).

Having seen mint addiction up close, I hereby urge the government to take immdiate action, in order to curb mint addiction. I propose immediate criminalization and that all mints currently on sale be confiscated. Furthermore, thousands upon thousands of mint addicts will need assistance in order to return to a normal life. I recommend that each city assist in the creation of local MUA chapters (Mint Users Anonymous). Only through these measures, can we remove mints from the streets and save our young.

And, as a Mint Daddy, I look forward to rising prices and the prospect of using mints to lure people into becoming addicted to more lucrative substances.

Criminalize Now!

J. Mint
President
Tokyo Mint Daddy Association

Remembrance

2005-10-19T09:08:00.000-07:00

There is a big hole. It isn't always there. But, when it is there, it is big, gaping, empty....and inside me. It appears when I listen to songs that were big on P3 (swedish radio). Kim Wilde makes it bigger. In the crisp autumn air I imagine that we are walking to the supermarket. The football stadium in October. Jumping up and down with Okinawa on my mind. The hole grows and grows. Do I have to throw half my record collection out the window? This is so fucking stupid.

You know who you are.

Tomorrow I won't need you.

Earthquakes 2 and 3

2005-10-19T08:46:00.000-07:00

Well, it was only a question of time. In a café among the trees earthquake no 2 struck. My Tiger beer rattled. Conversations were left hanging in mid-air for half a minute. No biggie at all really. Sort of half-way through any earthquake you realize that the roof isn't going to collapse and stop contemplating weather to get out or not. Conversations resume where they left off.
Today, while I was working earthquake no 3 rattled my world. It got of to a slow start, but increased in power and Hiroko looked at me and said that maybe we should get under the table. But, the halfway mark came and went and everything was in its place. And, importantly nothing had fallen on my head. So, we resumed our conversation, which had been left hanging. Kaori said that if there is an earthquake we should go to the bathroom. It took me a while to figure that one out.

On another note, I am starting to feel very much like I'm living the first song on Pinkerton (Weezer).

Oggie and the Dragon

2005-10-07T23:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday a most pleasant surprise rocked up in Tokyo. My very long time ago colleague and Beijing buddy, Oggie, came to Tokyo. We hooked up in Shinjuku with Junko and her colleague. After some standard Izakaya stuff, Junko suggested Absinth. And why not? Why not Absinth on a thursday night in Tokyo? We let her lead us to a basement near the citizen registery (convenient if you need to change your status to disabled after going blind from drinking A). Che Guevara loomed large over the entrance. The place was shoddy to say the least, it felt like China - sanitation wise. The bar, and yes this was only a bar, had only a counter and six bar stools. Russian cartoons were pojected on a screen, Che hung around on a flag behinde the bar, a dildo in formaldehyde (?) was perched on top of a jug of 60% fire water. Behind the bar stood Dragon, slightly round and bald propietor of this bar, wearing - yes, you got it - a Che t-shirt. Dragon poured some absinth in tall shot glasses. Oggie looked suspicious: It is supposed to be green, and why is there ice? I thought they held a spoon with sugar over the glass and lit fire to it. Dragon said he had the green stuff too, but that this was better, and I have to agree that it was a rather pleasent drink. That it fucks with your head is an added bonus. Oggie finished his fancy absinth and asked for the green stuff. And I want you to lit it on fire, no fucking ice. Dragon smiled and embarrassed smile: I don't do fire, it is a house-rule. Oggie looked at him quizzically. Why? Dragon looked like a child who has been caught red-handed stealing from the cookie-jar: Eh....My last bar burned down, so...ahem...I don't do fire.

LOVE TOKYO!

This Is My Truth, Now Tell Me Yours

2005-10-05T11:48:00.000-07:00

Not everything I write is necessarily true, or at least not always immediately true. I am not about to make a break with the fictional and the imaginary, or with embellishments and interpretative truth. I just thought I should let you guys know that not everything is true, although that might depend on your definition of truth. You are all free to choose what you want to believe is true. If you have a need to know according to a standard definition of truth, then just ask me directly and I'll try not to lie (Don't want to make any promises).

Fading Out

2005-10-05T01:10:00.000-07:00

On saturday it was hot. I sweated. I ate noodles and sweated some more. She wore black. She sipped red wine in a comfortable chair. Her lips were purple. She smiled as she turned and walked away on the platform.

Today it turned cold. Black or white. I choose black, but black fades to gray. I can't see gray. The clouds are gray, the buildings are gray. all around me just gray. She fades to gray and I can't see her. A note in my hand says 'don't try to find me'. So, that's it? A crumpled note in my hand. Everything is gray. I guess that this is the end.

Tomorrow I'll look for real colours.

I am slightly concerned

2005-09-29T01:47:00.000-07:00

I went to training. Training to be a better English teacher. I am not really an English teacher at all, but I have a full time job pretending. The trainer did a small psychological test. I have yet to go to any training of any sort, where a Cosmopolitan-style psychological test isn't conducted. Usually I end up being blue (as in the colour), although once I was yellow.

We were asked to think of three words to describe how we would feel if we woke up in a room with white walls and no doors or windows (there were other questions too, but they were terribly dull).

After writing the trainer said that this is meant to tell us how we looked upon death. Each person in the room read their answers. One guy said 'afraid, scared, and lonely'. Another said 'afraid, panicky, and dead'. The rest of the answers were along similar lines. I looked at the words I had scribbled on my paper and thought 'what a weird bunch of suckers'. Then I read my words to the class:

Curious, intrigued, and slightly concerned

Silence. 'What are you on??'. More silence.

In my head: 'fuck you all'

Now that I think about it, I think I am slightly concerned.

Ten Storey Love Song

2005-09-26T21:36:00.000-07:00

The Stone Roses don't sound like I remember. When I was 15 there were The Stone Roses, Happy Mondays, The Charlatans, The Cure, The Smiths, Depeche Mode. There was a girl down the street. My brother and I played hockey on the dry tarmac. I wore ugly glasses and I hated going to school. I wished I was an F1-driver, an explorer, living in another town, had money to buy CDs, could kiss the girl down the street.

That was 15 years ago. Now I am nearly 30 (and panicking about that). Different bands, still equally important. Different girl, almost as elusive. Still wish I was an explorer, but F1 has lost its attraction. I'd still play hockey on the dry tarmac, if given the opportunity.

So, how about in 15 years from now? More of the same? When I was 15 I didn't think 45-year olds could be desperately in love, and I still don't. How will that affect me?

The Beautiful and the Damned

2005-09-19T19:57:00.000-07:00

Last week:

I tried to read 'The Beautiful and the Damned'. It was very trying indeed. For a week I haven't touched the book for fear of crying on the train. It was a fairly smooth ride until the turning point in the book, where Anthony and Gloria's love starts to wither. I threw the book on the floor, and left it there. I picked it up and got throught a few pages, but for the most part 'The Beautiful and the Damned' lies on the damn floor, reminding me that maybe I am more fragile than I like to think.

I went to a free party. Shoncho had spread a large blanket in the park. The Okinawan Samurai had lined up bottles, all promising intoxication. Santos was playing a drum. Masa was freestyling. An indie-pop girl tried to talk about Swedish design. From there on it became a blur, until I put my hand on a candle.

I played futsal two days in a row. Now my legs hurt.

I went for drinks with a friend from Niigata (Snow-country). In a small bar with an abnormally high counter, we talked about snow-angels. After drinks, we went to a shrine and prayed for better fortunes.

I prayed for the snow-angels.

Shades of Grey

2005-09-19T18:07:00.000-07:00

Night

She comes at night. Always dressed in black. A smile says 'I am happy to be here'. Never for long enough. A kiss says 'I am happy to be here with you'. She sits on the bed. Black against the grey sheets and white walls. I don't want to fall asleep. Sleeping is morning. Morning is leaving. For now, it is black outside. Inside, there are white walls, grey sheets, a 'London Calling' poster, the girl in black, a kiss, and me. It is enough for now. I don't need more, I just need time.

Day

There are colors now. A hairpin left on the floor. Insecurity left in me.

A Brilliant Sentence

2005-09-10T00:45:00.000-07:00

A japanese girl I know, who can't speak English, thought for a while and said carefully:

-I don't like Dazai.
-Really, why not?

She looked down and I could see her lips moving as she tried to articulate her reason for not liking the man, who I had just told her I thought was one of Japan's greatest mid-century writers. Finally she looked up again:

-He often commited double suicide.....is that right?
-Hmm, maybe not. What do you mean by double suicide?

She whipped out her electronic dictionary, typed for a while, and then with pride in her eyes showed me the screen.

-See
-Right, a couple commits suicide together. Ok. But, what do you mean by 'often'. Once you have commited suicide it is usually rather difficult to do it again. Suicide is not an act which lends itself to repetition. It is definetely a one-time affair.
-Huh??
-Commit suicide. Dead. How do again??
-Oh.....................................girl dead. Dazai undead
-You mean not dead?
-Yes
-So Dazai found himself a girlfriend, formed a suicide pact, then invariably managed to survive, while his unfortunate lover died.
-Huh??
-Dazai finds girl, says I love you, let's commit double suicide, girl dead, Dazai not dead. Dazai finds new girl, says I love you, let's commit suicide, girl dead, Dazai not dead. Repeat often enough to make it often.
-Mm
-This is true?
-Yes, true
-That is terrible....

Some days work is more fun than others.

-So I say right?
-Well, yes. Pure brilliance.
-Br.....what?
-Nevermind. Your sentence is fantastic. Good work.

Manga Man

2005-09-05T02:18:00.000-07:00

No, this is not about manga. I have never read any manga, other than Doraemon (blue space cat with tools), and it is not likely that I ever will.

There is a man in my park. He proves that anything really goes here, or at least in my park.
Imgaine you are the parent of a lovely child. I can't imagine what it is like to be a father, but I am sure being protective comes with the territory. Now, imagine a wild-eyed man with crooked teeth. His hair is long and tangled, he spent last night outside. His clothes don't fit, and his glasses are held together with wire and scotch tape. He didn't shower last night, or any other night this week. Today he sits in the park. He has spread out a blanket, on it are piles of manga, his only worldly possessions. He looks mad, his eyes are on fire and he moves fitfully.

Do you let your beloved offspring anywhere near this guy? Not likely.

Yet, a bunch of kids sit around him, as if he was a librarian and it is fairy-tale time at the local public library. Only, Hannibal Lecter would do a better job posing as a librarian. But, Manga man reads manga as if he is an actor and it is the last play to be performed before the apocalypse. He is in trance, the kids are transfixed. Manga man shouts, waves his arms, and the characters leap off the pages. They are in the park, the kids can see them. Now, that's all cool. What blows my mind is that the parents of these kids are cool with them being on the same side of the fence as Manga man.

I take my hat off to these parents for allowing some lunacy into the lives of their kids.

Did you grow up yet?

2005-08-30T13:12:00.000-07:00

Mom: He has grown up so quickly

Dad: What can we expect from him?

The Son (with tears in his eyes): YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO WHAT I WANT!

Scary Teeth and Freaky Lanterns

2005-08-25T22:49:00.000-07:00

We fell off a cliff, me and her. With the water approaching fast I thought we'd never let go. We crashed and the hard surface of the sea broke every bone in my body. I lost her hand. I keep sinking, unable to swim. There is no air here. Only fish with scary teeth and freaky lanterns sticking out of their deformed heads. I can't see her. There is only darkness here. Did she stay at the surface? Knowing that I am with her, but still able to breathe. I can't breathe. I can't call out to her. I float in the cold water, only hoping that she is next to me. I have no control anymore. My faith is in the hands of others now. I don't know that she is not down here with me, only that I don't know. Always this uncertainty. Always dark. Always cold. Will I grow scary teeth and a freaky lantern if I stay here too long. Where is the exit, where is the surface? I need air - soon.

This is my home, so....

2005-08-21T15:15:00.000-07:00

I moved today. During the last year I have shed much of my load, and these days moving only entails getting my backpack up on my shoulders and go to where ever I am moving (and retrieving a box of books from Riki's parents house).

I live in a bright room with white walls and stars on the windows.

I walked through the park to Kichijoji today. Sunday afternoon. The hippies are peddling incense, cheap jewellry and sarongs. Artists flog hand-painted postcards and printed t-shirts of artistic qualities ranging from atrocious to barely passable. Musicians fill the park with their sounds. A man plays Beatles-songs on a Chinese fiddle. A singer-songwriter tries to overcome her stage-fright. A group of not-so-young squares try to sound like the Dubliners. My favourite is BroomDuster, a man of considerable maturity with a cool-looking guitar, who, clad in impossibly small shorts (only), churns out some pretty mean blues. He struts up to the bemused audience and stands less than a foot in front of a, by now paralyzed, girl and sings about things that might be considered offensive by the less open-minded. Oh, and there are a few too many clowns making balloon-animals for me not to feel slightly concerned in a scared sort of way - never liked clowns.

I like it here, and I haven't even told you about the bars, restaurants, live houses, book stores, record shops, and used-clothes emporiums that make Kichijoji.

Romance Isn't Dead (Yet)

2005-08-19T12:05:00.000-07:00

The most beautiful smile in the world said: I like you, you know.
I said: I don't understand why, but I like it that you like me, 'cause I like you.
The most beautiful smile in the world smiled and said: Then we can like each other.
I said: I'd like that.

Is this real? Or, am I delusional, hallucinating, imagining, insanity-prone?

Dogs on blogs

2005-08-17T15:00:00.000-07:00

Today I looked around at other blogs. Normal people who upload pictures of their dogs, speak of barbecues, whose profiles say they are mothers of lovely daughters, talk about their hobbies, and so on.

Maybe I should become more normal, or at least content. Are there any drugs that help (I really don't want to have to get a fucking dog or, even worse, get a hobby)?

Can somebody tell me how to go through life without hurting people? When did I build up this armour protecting me from the emotions of those who are close to me? I'd let you in, ask you to fly with me, but I am scared of what happens when you fall. I don't understand why I feel this urge for solitude when I have someone by my side, only to desperately want someone who cares about me when I find myself alone. Selfishness personified. Pitiful.

Shibuya Solo

2005-08-16T15:08:00.000-07:00

Japan has to be the best country in the world for solo-drinking. No one bats an eye (lash?). Just part of life, like solo-peeing or wanking. Man's gotta drink, that's all. Whiskey drinking suits with the inevitable Mild 7s. This bar breathes lonliness. Quiet men huddle over their drinks. The bartenders, there are too many, try to busy themselves. They're not doing very well. I wish I knew the exact time rather than a vague 8 or 9 or so. How drunk is too drunk? It's like that Hamell On Trial song, can't remember the name. Guy has a date, but gets high as a kite and collapses on girl's front porch stark naked. Good thing I don't do any drugs beyond the conventional coffee, cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe I'll make a phone call in 30.

This country: Cooking shows, vending machines, whiskey, chery blossoms, mini skirts, too cool to be true, aesthetics, fried food, comic book heroes, trains, trains, trains, late-night drinking, futsal, fucked up politics, hentai, mirrors, talking to strangers, racism, cramped, damp, cold, hot, shot bars, russian hostesses, daikon, paying the bills, names on bottles, shoes off, Mild 7, t-shirts, i-mode, safe sex, feeling sleepy, cleanish toilets, game shows, rules. Great to be back.

How much longer, I stare at my phone. Maybe just one more drink.

Commenting

2005-08-16T12:52:00.000-07:00

In the unlikely event that anyone is reading this I thought I'd offer some advise on commenting. You might have noticed that when commenting you are asked to create a blog, which is obviously a pain in the ass. Please do not despair! Simply write your comment and select anonymous and your comment will be published without having to log in. Don't forget to write your name at the end of your comment to let me know who you are.

Earthquake I

2005-08-16T12:39:00.000-07:00

One week - that's how long it took from my return to Tokyo until the first noticeable shake. I can't say I really care much for shaking building. Today's quake wasn't too bad, strong enough to wake me up from my drunken sleep and to make me decide that maybe I should put on some pants. Getting dressed seems to be my response to any earthquake, and I think it is an ok one. Not being properly dressed can cause embarrassment in a number of situations, including being dragged up from under the rubble of a collapsed building. Not that today's quake would cause any buildings in Tokyo to collapse. The lamps were swaying, glasses rattling, and the thumping of the screen doors providing the base. Actually, it is after it stopped shaking that it became uncomfortable. Being a good earthquake conscious building, the building continued to sway after the shaking. The after-quake swaying made me nauseus (have no idea how to spell that). Now everything is calm and I can go back to nurturing my hang-over.

The earthquake is numbered, because there will be more...

It turns out that this earthquake was much more serious than I thought. In the northern city of Sendai many people are injured. I sincerely hope no one was too seriously hurt or worse.

The Long Distance Runner

2005-08-15T12:49:00.000-07:00

I've been running for years now. I am tired of constantly reacting to any situation by running, the slightest inconvenience and I become an olympic champion. My shoes are worn out, no sponsors. Maybe they got me far, but mostly it was just mindless running around the track. So, last week, on a bus close to the sky, I decided to give up running. I move into my new place in Tokyo (Inokashira Koen station) on Sunday and I will put my shoes on the shelf and leave them there, only serving as a reminder of choices made and not made.

On a suburban train I saw the most beautiful smile in the world, maybe I'll see it again today.

Joy Joy

2005-08-12T13:43:00.000-07:00

Note: The following posting will make no sense what so ever to those of you who are (un) lucky enough not to have endured the 80s in (or any other decade for that matter) in the lands of Volvos and Saunas.

Trance Dance is Joy Joy. Remember? Two swedish guys with too many blow-driers in their closets and a set of Finnish twins, who did.......what did they do? If nothing else, the twins explain why the blow-drier boys were wearing neon. Finalnd: Thank you for giving us neon-fashion.

Swedish reporter: Your band`s name means sylt in Swedish - jelly, but that is not what you mean at all, is it?
Paul Weller: No.

To dance trance or to trance dance, that is the only question for me.

I'll do graffiti if you sing to me in French

2005-08-11T15:49:00.000-07:00

Sent the e-mail to let most people I know and actually have the e-mail address to know that I am here. Feel free to forward that e-mail to anyone who knows me.

Jocke: please fwd to Olof and Rickard
Jan: please fwd to Tanja and Rasmus

Tokyo: Hot and humid. I can't leave Riki's apartment because I don't have a key. So, I kick a football against the sofa and sing along to Maximo Park - "I'll do grafitti if you sing to me in french" - not the best band in the world, but surprisingly competent.

Should be writing on an article about a search for Shangri-La I did in northwestern Yunnan a few weeks ago, but motivation is a problem, as always. Besides, the Chinese government is full of shit - they decided this dead end town called Zhongdian was actually the real Shangri-La and subsequently, in a move to attract tourists, renamed the place Shangri-La. The town has a nice temple, but is otherwise a dump. At least it is good to know that you can always trust the PRC government to be lying. Did manage to go to Deqin, on the Tibetan border - very cool area, and cold :)

Tomorrow apartment hunting in Kichijoji begins....

Mottainai

2005-08-11T15:44:00.000-07:00

Always catching on to trends when they have become decidedly untrendy, I have decided to start a blog. Main motivation for this momentous move is that almost everyone I know live where I don't and I can't seem to be able to write e-mails to save my life. I

f you are reading this and actually know me, you have already recieved a brief update on my latest exploits, but keep checking this blog for updates on everything from the supremly trivial to ..... well, whatever. Please post your comments and let me know what's up and all.

Not staying in touch with friends is mottainai

Mottainai = japanese word which in my very gadgety electronic dictionary translates as 1. wasteful; (be) too good (for) 2. profane; irreverent; impious; gracious

Ok, all translation devices have their flaws - C3PO where are you??? Any of the japanese speakers who might be reading this and are able to offer an explanation: feel free!