Up until now, I have been convinced that the best way to keep a house-plant alive is for me to not own it. But I'm trying to be a responsible adult. Perhaps a time lapse study in the attention-span of a Collier is in order, but if I lose interest in the plant, so too will likely go the project. I don't feel like putting a picture up at the moment, suffice it to say that it looks much girlier in my apartment than it did in the greenhouse. I shall do my best.
If this works out, I may add a fish.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Reclinerland (i am in)
home is quiet, all-days of coffee, reheating, sitting, sipping, rubbing cold feet together, making song lists, word lists, new speakers, footrest, blue, confederacy, supply, exist, disconcerting apropos, a cycled apology: never delivered, ben folds, mozart, neil diamond, reclinerland.
armed against the beast, I set out in search of whiskey and chicken
Furukawa, situated as it is on a low plain between two mountain ranges, acts as a kind of geographical outlet of a wind-tunnel. And even on the street beside the 7-Eleven, just beyond the shoe-store and the petrol station, when the snow falls in sheet upon sheet from an utter blackness overhead and the wind oppresses, pushes your feet off course, it cannot be forgotten what an alien and ancient place this is. For the first time, I felt my latitude and the nearness of the sea--stinging my face, and pressing on the back of my legs through the jeans--and I begin (only begin mind you) to understand the Russians.
This I write from my laptop inside my moderately-well-heated apartment, just moments away from falling back into the recliner I just bought from the department store.
But I must say the smartest investment I ever made was my NorthFace synthetic. It keeps me safe, at all costs, like Dick Cheney.
This I write from my laptop inside my moderately-well-heated apartment, just moments away from falling back into the recliner I just bought from the department store.
But I must say the smartest investment I ever made was my NorthFace synthetic. It keeps me safe, at all costs, like Dick Cheney.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Dawkins Thus Far (if you enjoy that kind of thing)
I'm not that far into The God Delusion, so I'll reserve final judgments until I get through his argument. So far, however, I have noted that he delves far too deeply into the intent of the authors of works he cites either to support his assertions or in order to debunk religious ideas.
Regarding his approach to "NOMA," Gould's proposition of 'non-overlapping magisteria,' which states that, "the net, or magisterium, of science covers the empirical realm: what is the universe made of (fact) and why does it work this way (theory). The magisterium of religion extends over questions of ultimate meaning and moral value. These two magisteria do not overlap..." Dawkins writes that he "cannot believe that Gould could possibly meant much of what he wrote," presumably because he thinks Gould is in agreement with him, and only offering the proposition that on the question of the existence of God, scientists can neither confirm nor deny, they "simply can't comment on it as scientists," in order to placate an unworthy but belligerent adversary. Perhaps this is so... perhaps Gould has even stated this was the case. But if not, then why raise the issue, and if so, why not cite it? Whether or not Gould really meant what he wrote, I mean really really meant it, for reals, I think is beside the point. The question is does the argument hold sway? Is it correct? Is it flawed, and if so, is there any way to state it more accurately, and if not, can we debunk it? Surely that is the real test, and one need not go on defending the intentions of the man whose ideas one is disputing. I'm sure he wouldn't have taken it personally.
Perhaps, since this is not the crux of his argument, such rhetorical flare is forgivable.
But then concerning those theists who support this idea of NOMA, he begins again, citing a ridiculous double-blind study (truly ridiculous, mind you) meant to determine what effect, if any, intercessory prayer had on the sick. When predictably the study failed to show positive results for prayer, the study was criticized, and Raymond Lawrence wrote that responsible religious leaders would 'breathe a sigh of relief' that no such evidence was produced, Dawkins asks, "Would he have sung a different tune if the Benson study had succeeded... maybe not, but you can be certain that plenty of other pastors and theologians would." Ah yes, the infallible, "you would have fallen into my logic trap if only the facts were different" argument. True enough.
What actually concerns me more than the fallacious pursuit of the argument is what seems to be his entire approach. He constructs his adversary out of many diverse opinions and when one fails to deliver what he assumes it will, he shifts to another source. I suppose it is common to utilize many opposing voices in order to show that one is taking a holistic approach, but on the other hand, on highly complex belief systems, it cannot be responsible to shift between the views of those who share nearly nothing in common in their separate approaches to religion. Might it be more effective to take on each argument separately, and to separately show each to be mistaken? Perhaps this is not the way to a best-seller. Might I begin conjecturing on intention here? Perhaps not germane.
To be honest, I think part of Dawkins' argument--the part that states that the question "Does God exist?" is a scientific question, and is therefore subject to scientific inquiry--is dead-on correct. Of course, the problem then becomes how does one define the parameters for God. Dawkins seems to take the approach that the most widely held belief is the most logical to be tested. But this is not science. There is not so much consensus as we might imagine... even so, go for it. Although other parameters will also be difficult. We have to stipulate that order and structure and such are not evidence of a God. Neither would evolution, not gravitation, nor any other natural phenomenon be considered such. (And I think it is not just perfectly reasonable, but absolutely necessary that they shouldn't be, by the way).
Hmm, okay. I'm not a scientist, so much. I don't know where to start looking for a scientific way to test for God in a system that seems, by design, to exclude Her. But if God is in all things, surely there is some way to set that experiment up... perhaps we're not to that point yet.
I also buy into another part of his argument (and have been making a similar argument for years) that just because you can put together a question in a proper grammatical structure doesn't mean it's a worthwhile question to pursue. I'd apply that to the "Does God exist?" question. Not to say that the question of God's existence can't be worthwhile. It just seems to me, not so much. My reading on this question in particular, while not encyclopedic by any means, is rather extensive, and I've yet to find an approach that satisfies. Does God exist? Well, let me chase my tail around on that for 30 or so years and let you know what I come up with... Yes, probably. No, probably not. And I'm not sure. All defensible, all difficult to come to, and their importance is weighted heavily on the reader's understanding of the consequence of belief (I might write another tome or so about this topic, so instead I'll just wrap up).
Dawkins suggests pursuing moral choice and cutting out the "middle-man" (his word for God or religion--he uses them interchangeably in some ways that he probably ought not). On this, mostly, I think he is dead on. What is the impetus for the human desire for moral action. It seems to me to have been produced evolutionarily. Fine. And when I suffer, I pray for comfort. Fine. And when I am at the beach, I am either thinking of density, and refraction/reflection, gravity, and the curve of the earth, or I am thinking of the elusive heart of God... Fine. What's the problem? Why so upset? Unless you are not arguing against belief in one thing, but against irresponsible belief in anything... again, I'm on board.
Regarding his approach to "NOMA," Gould's proposition of 'non-overlapping magisteria,' which states that, "the net, or magisterium, of science covers the empirical realm: what is the universe made of (fact) and why does it work this way (theory). The magisterium of religion extends over questions of ultimate meaning and moral value. These two magisteria do not overlap..." Dawkins writes that he "cannot believe that Gould could possibly meant much of what he wrote," presumably because he thinks Gould is in agreement with him, and only offering the proposition that on the question of the existence of God, scientists can neither confirm nor deny, they "simply can't comment on it as scientists," in order to placate an unworthy but belligerent adversary. Perhaps this is so... perhaps Gould has even stated this was the case. But if not, then why raise the issue, and if so, why not cite it? Whether or not Gould really meant what he wrote, I mean really really meant it, for reals, I think is beside the point. The question is does the argument hold sway? Is it correct? Is it flawed, and if so, is there any way to state it more accurately, and if not, can we debunk it? Surely that is the real test, and one need not go on defending the intentions of the man whose ideas one is disputing. I'm sure he wouldn't have taken it personally.
Perhaps, since this is not the crux of his argument, such rhetorical flare is forgivable.
But then concerning those theists who support this idea of NOMA, he begins again, citing a ridiculous double-blind study (truly ridiculous, mind you) meant to determine what effect, if any, intercessory prayer had on the sick. When predictably the study failed to show positive results for prayer, the study was criticized, and Raymond Lawrence wrote that responsible religious leaders would 'breathe a sigh of relief' that no such evidence was produced, Dawkins asks, "Would he have sung a different tune if the Benson study had succeeded... maybe not, but you can be certain that plenty of other pastors and theologians would." Ah yes, the infallible, "you would have fallen into my logic trap if only the facts were different" argument. True enough.
What actually concerns me more than the fallacious pursuit of the argument is what seems to be his entire approach. He constructs his adversary out of many diverse opinions and when one fails to deliver what he assumes it will, he shifts to another source. I suppose it is common to utilize many opposing voices in order to show that one is taking a holistic approach, but on the other hand, on highly complex belief systems, it cannot be responsible to shift between the views of those who share nearly nothing in common in their separate approaches to religion. Might it be more effective to take on each argument separately, and to separately show each to be mistaken? Perhaps this is not the way to a best-seller. Might I begin conjecturing on intention here? Perhaps not germane.
To be honest, I think part of Dawkins' argument--the part that states that the question "Does God exist?" is a scientific question, and is therefore subject to scientific inquiry--is dead-on correct. Of course, the problem then becomes how does one define the parameters for God. Dawkins seems to take the approach that the most widely held belief is the most logical to be tested. But this is not science. There is not so much consensus as we might imagine... even so, go for it. Although other parameters will also be difficult. We have to stipulate that order and structure and such are not evidence of a God. Neither would evolution, not gravitation, nor any other natural phenomenon be considered such. (And I think it is not just perfectly reasonable, but absolutely necessary that they shouldn't be, by the way).
Hmm, okay. I'm not a scientist, so much. I don't know where to start looking for a scientific way to test for God in a system that seems, by design, to exclude Her. But if God is in all things, surely there is some way to set that experiment up... perhaps we're not to that point yet.
I also buy into another part of his argument (and have been making a similar argument for years) that just because you can put together a question in a proper grammatical structure doesn't mean it's a worthwhile question to pursue. I'd apply that to the "Does God exist?" question. Not to say that the question of God's existence can't be worthwhile. It just seems to me, not so much. My reading on this question in particular, while not encyclopedic by any means, is rather extensive, and I've yet to find an approach that satisfies. Does God exist? Well, let me chase my tail around on that for 30 or so years and let you know what I come up with... Yes, probably. No, probably not. And I'm not sure. All defensible, all difficult to come to, and their importance is weighted heavily on the reader's understanding of the consequence of belief (I might write another tome or so about this topic, so instead I'll just wrap up).
Dawkins suggests pursuing moral choice and cutting out the "middle-man" (his word for God or religion--he uses them interchangeably in some ways that he probably ought not). On this, mostly, I think he is dead on. What is the impetus for the human desire for moral action. It seems to me to have been produced evolutionarily. Fine. And when I suffer, I pray for comfort. Fine. And when I am at the beach, I am either thinking of density, and refraction/reflection, gravity, and the curve of the earth, or I am thinking of the elusive heart of God... Fine. What's the problem? Why so upset? Unless you are not arguing against belief in one thing, but against irresponsible belief in anything... again, I'm on board.
new (nothing is)
there is somewhat of solomon trips tongue and negative space filling in with black ink. sennsei. the recommended i. commended she. reads the feet no longer there. one old, a scent of paint. one fresh, the lingering smoke. the teeth of december. she leaves traces from her home in the northeast, the dry southwest, america, all lands of spanish and english. if i follow there, silent, snow-covered cheek, breast, a watch i haven't bought, a letter i haven't received (sent), something new under a new sun...
(forming the katakana,)
if i trace the lines
over and over while still,
i will see new sounds
Monday, December 22, 2008
after a long nap
I awoke a day-and-a-half later, my vocal cords still slightly inflamed, feeling drowsy and quiet. There would be another trip to the dentist. On the way I would try the coffee place that had been recommended to me.
The sweet older man who owns and manages has traveled the world teaching others to select and brew coffee. And I could not--though I almost did--bring myself to add any sugar or cream. It seemed it would have been against nature. The first cup I would have from this man's shop, perfect before it touched the tongue. The first day I do not feel compelled in some direction, and can read my favorite collection of stories.
On the way home from the tooth-cleaning, I veer off the usual streets and come to a little shrine. Even the statues are feeling cold--it is so gray and wet today--and need to bundle themselves.
Last week while I was lost and wandering I happened across a Jazz Club that I have been searching for for weeks. Today, I cannot find it again. And there is a cemetery nearby I would like to see again. But for now it is time to eat. I will find things again. It is inevitable.
The sweet older man who owns and manages has traveled the world teaching others to select and brew coffee. And I could not--though I almost did--bring myself to add any sugar or cream. It seemed it would have been against nature. The first cup I would have from this man's shop, perfect before it touched the tongue. The first day I do not feel compelled in some direction, and can read my favorite collection of stories.
On the way home from the tooth-cleaning, I veer off the usual streets and come to a little shrine. Even the statues are feeling cold--it is so gray and wet today--and need to bundle themselves.
Last week while I was lost and wandering I happened across a Jazz Club that I have been searching for for weeks. Today, I cannot find it again. And there is a cemetery nearby I would like to see again. But for now it is time to eat. I will find things again. It is inevitable.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
The All-You-Can-Drink
It's between 30 and 40 dollars per person. You get several courses of some pretty good food, including a very interesting beef stew, sushi, pasta (italian), thin-sliced smoked pork-loin, oysters & scallops in what seemed a variation on hollandaise, pizza, dessert, and as much alcohol as you can order and put away. Perhaps this is okay for Japanese people. It proved relatively dangerous for this American.
And in the morning, as I walk to work, there is the deep and compelling sound of drums being beat. I might be late. But still I am drawn. What I find is a steam engine. A train. And the tribal sounds surround, but their source is unclear, somewhere in the tunnel nearby. A mixture I did not understand, but found deeply beautiful, as I also found the Japanese Teacher's description of her volunteer work in Cambodia. Her English is concise, and she cannot become overly elaborate.
She describes that which makes her quiet. The moon is large and white. The morning is morning, and full of light. The night is truly black; it is more night than I have seen. I say this is compelling imagery. I'm sorry, she says.
And in the morning, as I walk to work, there is the deep and compelling sound of drums being beat. I might be late. But still I am drawn. What I find is a steam engine. A train. And the tribal sounds surround, but their source is unclear, somewhere in the tunnel nearby. A mixture I did not understand, but found deeply beautiful, as I also found the Japanese Teacher's description of her volunteer work in Cambodia. Her English is concise, and she cannot become overly elaborate.
She describes that which makes her quiet. The moon is large and white. The morning is morning, and full of light. The night is truly black; it is more night than I have seen. I say this is compelling imagery. I'm sorry, she says.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
A Pleasant Generic Holiday and a Reasonably Enjoyable Time
It is that time of year once again. A time loosely defined by the interim between Thanksgiving and Christmas. A day unspecified and often uncelebrated. Even when it is celebrated, we may not even know it has happened until much later. We all think of something that may have occurred sometime long ago, that thing we all believe, you know? And it's very special, and so we celebrate.
We decorate. Who can forget the "spherical decoration," or the "tree object?" What about when your father/mother/relative, gathered your whole (group of like-minded individuals) and sang the Generic Holiday song? The memories are not priceless... not even expensive, but you will certainly have to think about where you go out to dinner for the next week or so.
So have a generic holiday. Remember things. And stuff. And other things. And be pleased about them.
We decorate. Who can forget the "spherical decoration," or the "tree object?" What about when your father/mother/relative, gathered your whole (group of like-minded individuals) and sang the Generic Holiday song? The memories are not priceless... not even expensive, but you will certainly have to think about where you go out to dinner for the next week or so.
So have a generic holiday. Remember things. And stuff. And other things. And be pleased about them.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Gentlman Jack's Troubles with the Maid
The battery in my camera has died, and I have been scouring my possessions for the charger, which may--I am beginning to acquiesce--have been left in the states. All the same, the pictures I would have taken yesterday would have been giant white squares (or small ones, depending on the resolution you choose) as the snow was everywhere. A white-out I believe it is called. I went to a hotspring, an Onsen, I think, and sat outside in the warm water as the snow fell from above and the crystals were blown from the piles of fallen snow and steam rose from the water. I could see nothing, but it was still rather enjoyable. Later I ate dinner next to a run-down ferris-wheel with the words "America World" written in giant yellow letters, meant to be lit up at night in bold neon.
Today, I watched the new James Bond and thought of home. There was a little sadness, and so I decided to see what has been written online about culture-shock... a rather dull pastime, I must say, but I ran across the Worldwide Classroom, which uses the following to describe the honeymoon phase of assimilation/non-assimilation into a culture: "he or she will be taken to the show places, pampered and petted, and in a press interview will speak glowingly about progress, goodwill, and international amity. If he returns home may well write a book about his pleasant if superficial experience abroad."
Ah, yes. The common man's plight abroad. I do so praise the locals in many of my press interviews that I begin to think perhaps I am just another statistic, and that soon enough I'll begin to go through an adjustment period in which I develop difficult feelings toward my butler, animosity toward my inept staff of chauffeurs, chefs, and personal shoppers, and of course, as WWC puts it, "there is maid trouble."
Whatever shall I do?
A note to those planning to live in a castle in some distant land: there is maid trouble. Be forewarned.
I do miss everybody, though, so get on Skype and call me... I'm usually around Monday-Thursday between 7:00am and 10:00am, and between 4:00pm and 8:00pm Texas time. Or drop a line or something... I am making friends, but the small-talk required is monotonous.
Today, I watched the new James Bond and thought of home. There was a little sadness, and so I decided to see what has been written online about culture-shock... a rather dull pastime, I must say, but I ran across the Worldwide Classroom, which uses the following to describe the honeymoon phase of assimilation/non-assimilation into a culture: "he or she will be taken to the show places, pampered and petted, and in a press interview will speak glowingly about progress, goodwill, and international amity. If he returns home may well write a book about his pleasant if superficial experience abroad."
Ah, yes. The common man's plight abroad. I do so praise the locals in many of my press interviews that I begin to think perhaps I am just another statistic, and that soon enough I'll begin to go through an adjustment period in which I develop difficult feelings toward my butler, animosity toward my inept staff of chauffeurs, chefs, and personal shoppers, and of course, as WWC puts it, "there is maid trouble."
Whatever shall I do?
A note to those planning to live in a castle in some distant land: there is maid trouble. Be forewarned.
I do miss everybody, though, so get on Skype and call me... I'm usually around Monday-Thursday between 7:00am and 10:00am, and between 4:00pm and 8:00pm Texas time. Or drop a line or something... I am making friends, but the small-talk required is monotonous.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Okay... (Thumbs Up)
If in my former life I should have witnessed at a table nearby two or more speaking in a language I did not know, I would feel excluded. Their secret code was not mine. But here I can sit at a table and listen all night to women speaking Japanese, and feel that I understand. There is no discomfort, save that of the chair, which is far too small, and closer to the floor than my legs would like.
When I perceive they are talking to me, I say Hai, or Okay, and give the thumbs-up.
And then they tell me I do not joke.
...Okay (big foreigner smile)
When I perceive they are talking to me, I say Hai, or Okay, and give the thumbs-up.
And then they tell me I do not joke.
...Okay (big foreigner smile)
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving From the Future
It's off to Subway. Or if I can't find Subway for a turkey sub, then perhaps KFC will do.
Have a thankfully holiday and a givey feast, and don't forget the historical fiction upon which it is all based.
peace... from the future.
Have a thankfully holiday and a givey feast, and don't forget the historical fiction upon which it is all based.
peace... from the future.
The Future Adventures of Gentleman Jack
The upcoming weekend will be the first time I am able to do some exploring. I must decide what to do. Going to a city would be nice, but would require money that I do not really have at the moment. A journey into the quietness of places, that requires a little travel money, but nothing I cannot spare. I'll attempt something in this area.
And for Winter Break I have a couple of weeks... what to do?... hmm
I find that I have taken a break from serious writing. Well then, okay. I'll not fight it until I feel the need.
And for Winter Break I have a couple of weeks... what to do?... hmm
I find that I have taken a break from serious writing. Well then, okay. I'll not fight it until I feel the need.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Gentleman Jack Goes to Dinner
This has become my nickname among my students and at the office. The reasons may be fairly benign, or not. I wish they would call me Dr. Jack, but Gentleman Jack it is. Here's the people I know so far, most of them:
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
My Coat Frees Me Up to Enjoy This
I remember hating the snow, or at least being indifferent to it. What a strange person I used to be.
Zesty Food (Let's Fiesta)
Here are pictures of a shinkansen densha, my new stoop, a man from the moon, the packaging for a taco at the only place in town you can get tacos (think of a bad taco and then fry it in tempura, and then you will envy me), and an unnecessary photograph I took of some red-leafed plant... I am practicing caring about the garden.
I'll try to remember to take a picture of the warning label they post in all the elevators. It's the best thing I have probably ever seen. And I never exaggerate.
I'll try to remember to take a picture of the warning label they post in all the elevators. It's the best thing I have probably ever seen. And I never exaggerate.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
The Job of an Iron
I am leaving Tokyo in a couple of hours and heading to Furukawa, by way of Sendai.
I asked for an iron, and they said that when I arrived I could either have an iron or a wife.
The iron would be your standard sort, and the wife would be from Korea.
No Japanese? Then forget it, I'll take the iron, I said.
It got cold today. I miss everybody, some more than others, but I don't want to come back. So I'm good, I guess.
I asked for an iron, and they said that when I arrived I could either have an iron or a wife.
The iron would be your standard sort, and the wife would be from Korea.
No Japanese? Then forget it, I'll take the iron, I said.
It got cold today. I miss everybody, some more than others, but I don't want to come back. So I'm good, I guess.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Don't Dress for Dinner
For those in San Antonio and surrounding areas, you need to get in your cars and go and see this play. And for those a little further away, there are trains and planes, and if you own a hot-air balloon, I think it would be awesome to show up in that, all decked out in formal attire from the early 1920's... just floatin' it out there; feel free to expand on my idea.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Confirmation that, yes, the world is indeed full of 'em
My training is going really well. And I'm very happy I chose this particular group to work with. I have to start with that, because it may sound as though I'm complaining. Not in the least as regards my company... they are on top of their shit. But my fellow trainee, the only other one going through this with me, is a bit of a douche. First, he leaves some important paperwork hours away, and demands time off from training to go and get it. The reason he gives is that he doesn't feel comfortable going out late drinking in Shinjuku without it. So he throws this tantrum about it today, and he still has not been over to get it, and after work, he wants to go to Shinjuku... his treat, he says.
Why not?
I'm tired but why not? I always like to experience as much as possible, and he says you can't come to Tokyo and not go to Shinjuku. It's the quintessential Tokyo. That's enough for me, so we go.
One beer, and then I have to watch him play this street-fighter game for an hour, and then get his ass kicked by a 13 year old kid (at the game, mind you--if the kid had actually taken him down I would be writing an entirely different blog about my rad night). So we spent an extra seven dollars on JR line tickets just to go play a damned video game... not to mention that Shinjuku, while impressive, is home to the Krispy-Kreme, McDonald's, KFC, Eddie Bauer... let's see, what other quintessentially Japanese establishments are there... oh there is the Koma Theatres, which cracks me up. They have a giant screen monitor outside the theatre, which they've awesomely titled, "Koma Vision." Yeah, I was feeling that. And I couldn't ditch the dude because, since he's been here for a month and I have only been in Tokyo for less than a week, I'm the one who's figured out how to navigate the train system.
So we get home after this adventure (I have been imagining that this entire evening would have been raucous and unbelievably fun with any number of you--my possible readers, especially with the Christmas lights up an such a spectacle going on, free J.Rock/Pop CDs being handed out, etc.) and one of the trainers asks if we had a good time.
Eh, it was all right, he says.
So what the hell were we doing there?
And then we walk out on my balcony, and I have changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and he is Canadian and wearing a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, and he's Canadian dammit, and he's shivering. It ain't cold. He's freaking out shivering. He's from CANADA!!! I'm from Texas, by the way.
But I found this funny, so whatever. Not seven dollars funny, but entertaining enough.
And that's my English-speaking friend in Japan. I liked it better when I didn't understand anyone.
Why not?
I'm tired but why not? I always like to experience as much as possible, and he says you can't come to Tokyo and not go to Shinjuku. It's the quintessential Tokyo. That's enough for me, so we go.
One beer, and then I have to watch him play this street-fighter game for an hour, and then get his ass kicked by a 13 year old kid (at the game, mind you--if the kid had actually taken him down I would be writing an entirely different blog about my rad night). So we spent an extra seven dollars on JR line tickets just to go play a damned video game... not to mention that Shinjuku, while impressive, is home to the Krispy-Kreme, McDonald's, KFC, Eddie Bauer... let's see, what other quintessentially Japanese establishments are there... oh there is the Koma Theatres, which cracks me up. They have a giant screen monitor outside the theatre, which they've awesomely titled, "Koma Vision." Yeah, I was feeling that. And I couldn't ditch the dude because, since he's been here for a month and I have only been in Tokyo for less than a week, I'm the one who's figured out how to navigate the train system.
So we get home after this adventure (I have been imagining that this entire evening would have been raucous and unbelievably fun with any number of you--my possible readers, especially with the Christmas lights up an such a spectacle going on, free J.Rock/Pop CDs being handed out, etc.) and one of the trainers asks if we had a good time.
Eh, it was all right, he says.
So what the hell were we doing there?
And then we walk out on my balcony, and I have changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and he is Canadian and wearing a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, and he's Canadian dammit, and he's shivering. It ain't cold. He's freaking out shivering. He's from CANADA!!! I'm from Texas, by the way.
But I found this funny, so whatever. Not seven dollars funny, but entertaining enough.
And that's my English-speaking friend in Japan. I liked it better when I didn't understand anyone.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Where I got lost...
I never even looked at a map and I found everything I was looking for using the sun and a few landmarks. Where I got lost was inside Tokyo station. I couldn't find my line going in the direction I wanted to go, and I think it was in the "other" Tokyo station, so I just jumped on the green line (which goes in circles) and found a stop I liked, then hopped the Chuo line home. The end.
Here's a few things I saw today:
Here's a few things I saw today:
Friday, October 31, 2008
it is sinking in a little
It is very warm today in Tokyo. I had come to expect something different, and did not pack for it. Still, my coat makes me feel safe, even while it is waiting on its hanger. There is a demon coming in the winter but I am steeling myself against it.
I have been walking into stores and buying small items just to practice interacting with people with whom I have only a vague concept of how to communicate. The bowing in 7-Elevens is strange, but I haven't had to take my shoes off yet, except at the guest house. Though I have gone by a few restaurants where I can see rows of shoes on shelves near the entrance. I think of an eclectic bowling alley.
I know I will feel like an outsider for quite some time, but I shall try to just go with it. I am not even at a point where I can identify street names. It's all just squiggly to me. And there is something both comforting and disconcerting about what promises to be a prolonged period of forced quietness (silence didn't seem right). This will likely be good for writing, and so I will not struggle too hard.
Tomorrow I am headed to Kitanomaru-Koen Park, where the National Museum of Modern Art, Imperial Palace, and the Outer Garden are. I should finally have some pictures worth posting. There's also a museum called Idemitsu Museum of Arts nearby, about which I know almost nothing, and I'll probably check it out. Was going to head in to Tokyo Station tonight and poke around, try to get a little lost, but the jet-lag continues to suck.
I have been walking into stores and buying small items just to practice interacting with people with whom I have only a vague concept of how to communicate. The bowing in 7-Elevens is strange, but I haven't had to take my shoes off yet, except at the guest house. Though I have gone by a few restaurants where I can see rows of shoes on shelves near the entrance. I think of an eclectic bowling alley.
I know I will feel like an outsider for quite some time, but I shall try to just go with it. I am not even at a point where I can identify street names. It's all just squiggly to me. And there is something both comforting and disconcerting about what promises to be a prolonged period of forced quietness (silence didn't seem right). This will likely be good for writing, and so I will not struggle too hard.
Tomorrow I am headed to Kitanomaru-Koen Park, where the National Museum of Modern Art, Imperial Palace, and the Outer Garden are. I should finally have some pictures worth posting. There's also a museum called Idemitsu Museum of Arts nearby, about which I know almost nothing, and I'll probably check it out. Was going to head in to Tokyo Station tonight and poke around, try to get a little lost, but the jet-lag continues to suck.
I'm in Tokyo now, but have no pictures yet
After staring at the GPS screen on the airplane for 12 hours, I finally got a glimpse of Japan through the window. It was as should be expected: lots of beach, lots of tall trees, lots of rice. Even so, it seemed an alien world, and this impression continued as I rode the train into Tokyo (or very near it), as I noted all the fun little cartoon characters in all the ads and on the sides of buildings, the lack of frequently placed trash receptacles juxtaposed against the pristine streets and sidewalks, the beautiful young women, hipster-punk teenagers, proper men, the odd tourist, the bicycle parking-lots packed with little seven-speeders with large bells and over-sized wheel guards. I thought, this will eventually all feel familiar to me. And then I was filled with my first full jolt of real excitement about what I am doing here. In the final weeks in SA, I probably said it hundreds of times, Yes I'm really excited, but I did not mean it. I wasn't lying, because I knew that I would eventually be excited, and I did not want to worry folks that I was second-guessing. I was not.
Since I arrived a little early, I get the weekend to poke around the city. I'm not sure what I will do yet but there's already a few things that are peaking my interest. I also got my choice of rooms in the "guest house" and took the bigger one with the DVD player and the balcony.
I don't have photos yet, so I'm posting some that I took during my run up to leaving:
Since I arrived a little early, I get the weekend to poke around the city. I'm not sure what I will do yet but there's already a few things that are peaking my interest. I also got my choice of rooms in the "guest house" and took the bigger one with the DVD player and the balcony.
I don't have photos yet, so I'm posting some that I took during my run up to leaving:
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
All the Best (saying one's farewells before a long journey)
I was unable to locate the words and so must remain hopeful that the moment spoke for me. It is not always best to trust that what is unspoken has still been said. Sometimes, however, it is all that is possible.
I learned something I didn't know before. It is my secret to keep safe, so you cannot hear it.
Very soon I will be writing about funny little people, and small camping chairs I can sit on and look down at their faces as they diagram sentences and curse my name in a language I have yet to learn well. (try diagramming that one and see what you get, by the way)
But I am not there yet. And so off goes the unknown island, in search of itself.
I learned something I didn't know before. It is my secret to keep safe, so you cannot hear it.
Very soon I will be writing about funny little people, and small camping chairs I can sit on and look down at their faces as they diagram sentences and curse my name in a language I have yet to learn well. (try diagramming that one and see what you get, by the way)
But I am not there yet. And so off goes the unknown island, in search of itself.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
I Gave My Things to Jesus
Two soldiers from some sort of army showed up at my door this morning and carted away my remaining furniture and all of the boxes that contained the woman's things.
There is dust everywhere.
It is nearly time to leave.
There is dust everywhere.
It is nearly time to leave.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
a tradition of mine
"To the attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty, and in the same field it beholds, every hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again...but...the beauty that shimmers in the yellow afternoons of October, whoever could clutch it?... 'tis only a mirage as you look from the windows of diligence."
--R.W.Emerson
I: an introduction
Hello students. It seems I am going to be joining you soon. I am looking forward to getting to know all of you and, before I arrive, I would like to let you know a little bit about myself. I am originally from Los Angeles, California, though I have spent the last several years living in San Antonio, Texas, where I received my B.A. in English Literature. I have actually lived in just about every region of the United States, and have developed a deep appreciation for the various peoples and distinct beauties of my home country.
I love music, and I am excited to spend some time getting to know the pop-music scene in Japan, as well as exploring the more traditional sounds. I play guitar and sing a little, but I am not bringing my guitar with me. Perhaps someone will show me where to get one in Furukawa.
I have been looking at pictures of the city, and the whole Tohoku region, and it is beautiful. But, being from Texas, I am used to a much warmer climate, and I'm certain you will see me shivering like crazy until I get used to your winters.
I am spending a lot of time these days thinking of fun and interesting ways to approach our English classes. We are going to learn a lot together, and I hope we will also have a good time.
I will see you all soon.
Warmest Regards,
I
I love music, and I am excited to spend some time getting to know the pop-music scene in Japan, as well as exploring the more traditional sounds. I play guitar and sing a little, but I am not bringing my guitar with me. Perhaps someone will show me where to get one in Furukawa.
I have been looking at pictures of the city, and the whole Tohoku region, and it is beautiful. But, being from Texas, I am used to a much warmer climate, and I'm certain you will see me shivering like crazy until I get used to your winters.
I am spending a lot of time these days thinking of fun and interesting ways to approach our English classes. We are going to learn a lot together, and I hope we will also have a good time.
I will see you all soon.
Warmest Regards,
I
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Dates and Places
On November third my training will commence in Tokyo. I will be given curricula, practice sessions, contracts to sign, insurance papers, train schedules, vacation procedures, recruitment strategies, and a place to lay my head.
From there I will make my way to Furukawa, in the Tohoku region of Japan, known for good rice and bad winters. And I will teach.
I expect to be overwhelmed. I even welcome it. By the end, it will feel like home.
I have a little time left to say goodbye to the people I have come to love here in San Antonio, but as I have considered it, I have come to realize that I do not know which words to say. I'm certain I will be forgiven this silence, but I'd like to go out with spectacular theatrical speeches, always recalled for their particular poignancies, that personal touch, a few words, the true meanings of which can only be detected by their intimate audiences, all waiting for my return...
More likely, I will just go. And after I arrive, all my hesitancies will be forgotten.
From there I will make my way to Furukawa, in the Tohoku region of Japan, known for good rice and bad winters. And I will teach.
I expect to be overwhelmed. I even welcome it. By the end, it will feel like home.
I have a little time left to say goodbye to the people I have come to love here in San Antonio, but as I have considered it, I have come to realize that I do not know which words to say. I'm certain I will be forgiven this silence, but I'd like to go out with spectacular theatrical speeches, always recalled for their particular poignancies, that personal touch, a few words, the true meanings of which can only be detected by their intimate audiences, all waiting for my return...
More likely, I will just go. And after I arrive, all my hesitancies will be forgotten.
Monday, August 4, 2008
when coffee complicates my night, tomorrow's just one of those days
Caught a bit of swimmer's ear, so I took some antibiotics and Advil. If you know me and antibiotics, we don't get along, which is fine, but I had a telephone interview coming up at 9 P.M.
Stupid Japan and it's stupid time difference.
Very well, a sacrifice must be made. Wake up at 8 and drink a pot of coffee. Interview comes. Interview goes.
I'll not be sleeping again for a while.
Perhaps John would have a few words about paying out one's debts.
(Bob, if I goad you any further to comment I will feel like I am begging)
Stupid Japan and it's stupid time difference.
Very well, a sacrifice must be made. Wake up at 8 and drink a pot of coffee. Interview comes. Interview goes.
I'll not be sleeping again for a while.
Perhaps John would have a few words about paying out one's debts.
(Bob, if I goad you any further to comment I will feel like I am begging)
Friday, August 1, 2008
It's Today's New Thing
It’s today’s new thing!! That’s right, a NEW THING for the people who want TOMORROW TODAY! It’s the latest in modern ingenuity. Your grandmother won’t be able to work it. You’re going to have to come over on a Sunday and help her program/wire/adjust/tweak/set the clock/explain the remote/re-explain the remote/plug in/reprogram. A minor headache, but won’t you feel so young and vibrant and “with it”?!! There’s nothing like it anywhere! It will make life simpler in just three easy screens and twelve focus keys and limitless preprogrammed voice-command responses. It changes shape! You’ll never lose it! It never breaks! And you can be the proud owner of one of a LIMITED RELEASE. Only three million units are shipping in the first run, so ACT NOW!!! If you wait too long, you might miss the opportunity, and nothing better will come along, EVER, until we release version 2.0, and there will be NOTHING LIKE THAT! EVER! Love yourself. Today’s new thing is for you!!!
[from the people who brought you Atlantis Vacations]
[from the people who brought you Atlantis Vacations]
Thursday, July 31, 2008
things that are not there
I sat in The Coffee Tree for a week, reading europeana, and then gave birth to Leonard. And Leonard has existed only in partial sentences and placeless paragraphs. He has even shown up at restaurants and in dreams. But he has no story of his own. He touches the edges of the stories of others. He is my self in this way.
Every morning I sit with empty pages, blank screens, and I hope that I will fill them with something beautiful.
And every morning I fill them with only words and punctuation. There is nothing to get beneath, to bury a heart inside. I have once or twice in reading forgotten that I am reading lines, and have drifted into the words and could not even hear a voice, like when a book is narrated in a film, but have entered into a dream state. And it was terribly jarring to recall that I was only reading words.
I am less and less alone. It is because of the written word on durable materials that I know that a man three thousand years ago lost as much as I, or more. Even the dead will not leave me alone with their misery and complaining.
Four swans give a song to the sons of a king, something to convey to their grandfather: our sorrow is endless, our misery and torment are great, our tears do not cease.
Why not that they are at least together. That the sight of the sons gave them joy. Are lamentations better than psalms. Perhaps it is so. I require more time to decide.
Every morning I sit with empty pages, blank screens, and I hope that I will fill them with something beautiful.
And every morning I fill them with only words and punctuation. There is nothing to get beneath, to bury a heart inside. I have once or twice in reading forgotten that I am reading lines, and have drifted into the words and could not even hear a voice, like when a book is narrated in a film, but have entered into a dream state. And it was terribly jarring to recall that I was only reading words.
I am less and less alone. It is because of the written word on durable materials that I know that a man three thousand years ago lost as much as I, or more. Even the dead will not leave me alone with their misery and complaining.
Four swans give a song to the sons of a king, something to convey to their grandfather: our sorrow is endless, our misery and torment are great, our tears do not cease.
Why not that they are at least together. That the sight of the sons gave them joy. Are lamentations better than psalms. Perhaps it is so. I require more time to decide.
Friday, July 25, 2008
an opportunity to kill
At twenty-nine, Miyamoto Musashi retired, undefeated, as a duelist. More than thirty years later he would write that a person should think of every movement as an opportunity to kill. I imagine him eating a ball of sticky rice and brushing some dust from the table, and thinking, I must let them know what they are about. If it is not killing, then what? And in each line of the Earth Scroll, he must believe that every stroke, every word, is an opportunity to live. If not living, then what?
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
The Whale Song of Yellow Trucks
The mosquitoes are already busy this morning in the miniature aviary beneath the orange and the tangerine trees at my door. Opening the door: it is like breathing from a warm wet rag. Lawnmower motor sounds filling the living room. Meditation: swatting arms and ankles. Garbage truck soot, rattle, crunch, 8 A.M. song. Monday. The neighbor's father out walking the dogs. Why all this on a Sunday. It is Monday. It is easy to lose track of days. We will convert each jarring noise into a resonance of natural song. Each unwanted odor or color, each needle pressed to the skin to steal blood. Or, rather, we will convert ourselves to them. The yellow garbage truck swims off the shore of our block. It can be heard for miles in the water of the air.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Abandon the Narrative
I have been watching documentaries about architects. Louis I. Kahn, Frank Lloyd Wright, Frank Gehry. And I have in my possession a simple spacial articulation, given to me in order to produce a narrative of sorts. The narrative must be integrated into the existing structure, and initially this seemed very exciting, but instead of producing a story, I have been taking photographs of the model, placing it in several locations, shining lights on it, holding up mirrors to it, making two-dimensional figures that sort out to a page at 90 degrees, forty-five degrees, ad absurdum. Perhaps there is a story in this.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
i get more divorced by 9 a.m. than most people do all day
I keep four journals. Three brown cahiers and one black leather with graphed pages, the three cahiers are titled in black sharpie, lower case, hand printed, “beautiful things,” “things i have dreamed,” and “things i must heal.” The black journal bears no title. Following are my journal entries in one of my cahiers from last night and this morning. They could have gone into any of the journals:
June 17, 2008
Tomorrow morning at 8 AM I will go into room 218 of the Bexar County Courthouse, the red building with the green roof, and a judge will tell me that I am no longer legally bound to Courtney. When my lawyer informed me today that this would be taking place, I went and got a pack of smokes. Now I am sitting with a glass of wine.
What is it to be at an end.
They say it is also to be at a beginning.
Perhaps this is so, but if I am truthful, I only see many false starts and nothing that I might say of it, “this begins here.”
I cannot bring myself to miss her. Perhaps I am simply tired of doing so.
June 18, 2008
I parked my car by the Cadillac Lofts. There is some personal significance for me in this, a place with a good deal of attachment regarding a life that I can not any longer access. And I walked to the courthouse. I waited in the gallery to be summoned before the judge. Between 8:15 and 8:30, it is all uncontested matters. I heard a familiar name, and looked at the woman busily whispering to her client and shuffling papers, and hurrying out into the hall to consult with a colleague, and it was Alison. I have not seen her in somewhere close to thirteen years, and I did not say hello. She looks exactly the same, perhaps a little older, certainly much more a lawyer than a high school student. Strange that I suddenly did not feel alone. Though in truth I was.
The judge had hair that had once been deep black, and is now peppered with course grey strands. She did not look at me. I would not have been able to tell her from a clerk at the post office, or the property tax bureau. I was sworn in. The lawyer asked several yes-or-no questions. I answered with something of a frog in my throat. Not nerves precisely, just discomfort. “I am granting your divorce,” she said, and that was that. Courtney was not around to hear about this. If she cared about such things, that was some time ago. As papers were passed back and forth between the lawyer and the judge, I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath. You have no business here. This is not yours to decide. Except that I grant it. I grant you the right to grant my divorce. Silly. Papers shuffling and now I am a different man. Sign here. What is your social. What is her birthday. Etcetera.
I passed Alison again in the hall. Our eyes met briefly and she did not recognize me. I made no motion toward her. I entered the elevator and was done with it all, walking out the front of the courthouse and then later past the library, my car was waiting for me. It looked different, almost concerned. If I had had a dog, that dog would have been the one to seem concerned, and it would have been no less ridiculous. The beetle, the way-back machine, my object friend. And when I was at home, close to nine o-clock, sitting on my porch, I pretended to the actress that I was relieved and happy.
I am neither.
June 17, 2008
Tomorrow morning at 8 AM I will go into room 218 of the Bexar County Courthouse, the red building with the green roof, and a judge will tell me that I am no longer legally bound to Courtney. When my lawyer informed me today that this would be taking place, I went and got a pack of smokes. Now I am sitting with a glass of wine.
What is it to be at an end.
They say it is also to be at a beginning.
Perhaps this is so, but if I am truthful, I only see many false starts and nothing that I might say of it, “this begins here.”
I cannot bring myself to miss her. Perhaps I am simply tired of doing so.
June 18, 2008
I parked my car by the Cadillac Lofts. There is some personal significance for me in this, a place with a good deal of attachment regarding a life that I can not any longer access. And I walked to the courthouse. I waited in the gallery to be summoned before the judge. Between 8:15 and 8:30, it is all uncontested matters. I heard a familiar name, and looked at the woman busily whispering to her client and shuffling papers, and hurrying out into the hall to consult with a colleague, and it was Alison. I have not seen her in somewhere close to thirteen years, and I did not say hello. She looks exactly the same, perhaps a little older, certainly much more a lawyer than a high school student. Strange that I suddenly did not feel alone. Though in truth I was.
The judge had hair that had once been deep black, and is now peppered with course grey strands. She did not look at me. I would not have been able to tell her from a clerk at the post office, or the property tax bureau. I was sworn in. The lawyer asked several yes-or-no questions. I answered with something of a frog in my throat. Not nerves precisely, just discomfort. “I am granting your divorce,” she said, and that was that. Courtney was not around to hear about this. If she cared about such things, that was some time ago. As papers were passed back and forth between the lawyer and the judge, I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath. You have no business here. This is not yours to decide. Except that I grant it. I grant you the right to grant my divorce. Silly. Papers shuffling and now I am a different man. Sign here. What is your social. What is her birthday. Etcetera.
I passed Alison again in the hall. Our eyes met briefly and she did not recognize me. I made no motion toward her. I entered the elevator and was done with it all, walking out the front of the courthouse and then later past the library, my car was waiting for me. It looked different, almost concerned. If I had had a dog, that dog would have been the one to seem concerned, and it would have been no less ridiculous. The beetle, the way-back machine, my object friend. And when I was at home, close to nine o-clock, sitting on my porch, I pretended to the actress that I was relieved and happy.
I am neither.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)