Let's take a closer look at that bottle.
This, however, is his more usual company.
T's bewilderment for the day: Rudoph's got a girlfriend?!
(Ahhh, dark haired Perry...)
This is called alternative publishing. I don't hate it. It has grown on me. As a matter of fact, I quite like it. A box full of stories and poems and artworks, each their own little accordion paper.
Speaking of artwork, they also published the fancy (ahem) piece of brush and ink I worked up for the piece.
I've got a thing about trains, especially over crowded ones. It's a love hate thing, mostly hate.
But last night...
I attended a wedding party of a co worker (that has or shall be blogged soon, as vast amounts of alcohol were consumed and I made an ass of myself ... yet...again). I took a relatively late train home so of course it was relatively crowded as well. You see, I have never acquired a sturdy pair of train-legs and must use those plastic rings hanging from the ceiling to keep from falling all over the place. I slip into the car...
Now the key to this story is that it is winter and we are all dressed in cushy coats, scarfs and mittens -- okay, no mittens, but soft bear-like clothes. Crowded trains in the summer are another beast all together, sweat and sticky and skin, strangers. Bleh.
It is winter.
I reach over and grab a ring and I'm not letting go. Soon I notice that I've wedged myself in between three brothers (they all have the same nose, this is how I know they are related). This is all fine. I'm protected; I'm wearing a coat. I'm hanging my head down. I got Chili Peppers on extremely loud in my ears. I begin to examine three that surround me.
One brother is round and has scant hair and is short, the second sorta dark-skinned, medium build but with creepy eyes. Now, the last brother is a tad taller than me, thin, he's got this amazing Adam's apple that is going up and down, up and down as he talks. He has this chin that is starting to grow in a beard and eyes that are almost hazel. I begin to grow infatuated. This train makes a sharp right and I fall into the fake fur of the hood of his coat...it smells like tempura...dreamy!
But I had a plan. While shopping at the local DIY store I bumped into one of these.
Yep. A metal toolbox! And I had an image in my head much like this.
There! The six/seven inches needed to see above the crowd. Now, I only had two real worries:
①That he'd be too tall and get in the way of people in the "Z" section (sods that they are).
②We had to pay a visit to the American Embassy before that and they're like hyper-paranoid of things such as...fingernail clippers and soda cans. Can you imagine what they'd think when they saw my husband approaching lugging this baby!?
The Embassy went as expected. There were at least a dozen cops on the road leading to the building and all of them quick to stop us and ask WTF! Then we get into the place and aside from body searches, metal detectors and leave-your-ice-tea-in-that-box-over-there they weren't too unkind. Mostly giggly that we would even THINK of bringing such an object into the place. Lock it up, Sato!
<>
And believe it or not worry number ① was taken care of when I realized that the "Y" section is indeed the last one. "Z" is the monstrous mixing board (and they are all on stools) with a "Special Guests" area to the side.
Maiden was great! They played the entire new album and several oldies ending with "Hallowed Be Thy Name" which made me very happy. I was also tickled pink to notice half way through that the Guest Section was filled with band members' families including Lauren and her band. They were so close I could have easily tossed a sticky rice cake and gotten someone in the ear. Lots of long-haired, good looking kids climbing all over the mixing boards behind me and even Rod Smallwood (their manager) was back their with his arms crossed all bigger than life. I made eye contact and smiled but I don't think He knew that I knew who He was. Yea, or probably he didn't care.
Again. Great show. Bruce's voice was fantastic! Part way through the show he reached down and single-handedly (as in using a single hand) pulled up a very large (with tripod) television camera. He was pissed off about something. He threw in behind him and some roadie grabbed it. Dave nearly soiled his leather pants he was laughing so hard. Me? I couldn't help but wonder what a shy Japanese photographer could have done to piss him off. Later in the evening though Bruce spoke to that person, asked his name (something Not Japanese) and asked after being so so many shows if he knew what song was next. The man couldn't answer, Bruce scoffed and yelled "Two Minutes to Midnight"! Oh yea!
It was a good night.
Part Two:
Michael Schenker sucks.
I used to like him. Not a lot. But some. And I did pay money in high school to see him once.
This past Friday my husband took a half day off work, paid 80 bucks for tickets, and over 150 bucks for trains to get to Tokyo and back just to see him (he's a UFO fan). I get a phone call at seven thirty and he tells me, "Michael just played two songs and walked off the stage."
Ass.
I mean Japan might be the only place he even HAS any fans left. Not anymore. It isn't the first time either. I googled "Michael Schenker" and "canceled show" to see if there was any news about why he walked out of the arena and there were tons of hits. He does this a lot evidentally. Just because he used to angelically gorgeous is NO REASON!!! ...
My husband was a good sport (as was everyone, no one rioted...I wish I had been there!) and said there were people who lost far more money than he did. And indeed, I just got a text message on my phone from a friend in Tokyo, his friend came all the way from Niigata, paid $700 for front row tickets, $300 for trains tickets, and $150 for a hotel...all to have Mr. Sphincter walk out after two songs. Why? Because he was "feeling bad". My husband said he was playing shitty from the beginning. Selfish brat. The band came out and apologized.
The word around Japan is "Yappari Oniisan ga ii!". Michael is younger brother to Rudolph. I always like the Scorpians better. Bleh!!
I just borrowed this from Youtube, didn't take the video myself. I'm not so brave.
It is pretty.However, despite its beauty I said only one word, repeatedly. No No No No No!
Now, I've started paying attention to the commericials.
I don't know how long I can hold out. Today my mantra is more like, no no no no...
Luckily we're poor.
[5J proudly displaying his rusty, left-handed (he's a righty btw) kama.5 ]
[5Here's a picture of all the kids sitting and listening to the rules of the game. Those arrows are all pointing to visible kamas5]
The whole event was incredibly well organized. Each class had a job and they rotated. Jobs ranged from cutting the rice and piling it into neat stacks to tying the rice into bundles and hanging them on these bamboo poles to dry. Oh, and scarecrow removal, I can't forget scarecrow removal.
[5Here is part of J's class cutting down the rice5]
The whole job took about two hours and to my dismay there was not one cut or scratch or severed finger.
After the rice dries it will be prepared and then they'll pick all the sweet potatoes they planted and have a party of sweet potatoes and rice!
[6Did I mention scarecrow removal? Here was one of my favorites. Her name is Sadako (from the Japanese version of The Ring). I like the bloody lace shirt and while it doesn't show up on this pic she was wearing big blue rubber gloves6]
[6And you can't have any event without a bit of samurai fighting. Since the kids weren't allowed to use the kamas they made due with bundles of rice6]
I said, "Wha? Huh? Eh~?" And he goes yes, all the kids have to bring one to school today. I'm thinking he's offa his head. But it's true. Today they harvest the rice and that is the weapon, nay, tool of choice.
Here is a picture of what kids train to do with kamas via video games.
I am trying to form an image of the nuns from my elementary school telling us all, Tomorrow bring an extremely sharp and heavy metal instrument to class, everybody now, you hear me!?
So the question of the day is: Do normal Japanese families just have kamas laying around their houses?!
I will post this and then later today, during the open house, I will take some actual pictures of the carnage that ensues from 100 11-year old kids brandishing blades.
So many blogs to blog.
Stay tuned for...
1) Horror in the Rice fields
2) Iron Maiden Concert or The benefit of Y
3) Salvador Dali and the Tengu Mummy
4) That Harvest Festival (still not blogged)
5) What One Man Jumping in Front of a Bullet Train Can Do
"I have a reputation!"
It wasn't for barking, digging, biting, howling, dancing, drooling, sniffing, jumping, eating, humping, pooping, peeing, drinking, growling, staring, scratching, ... nope.
My neighbor just had a baby. But before that, when she was just about to burst, I would find her hanging around outside and wanting to talk. So we talked. That's when I discovered her motive.
In Japan dogs are believed to be good luck for pregnant women because they have safe, easy births. She doesn't have a dog. We do. So she explains to me what she wants Cha-Cha (ie...me) to do.
I listen. I'm game. I'm a tad worried about the dog though.
So she squats down and I take Cha-Cha's paws (he just Hates that btw) and I rub her belly and say, "To have a safe and easy childbirth" and all that jazz. And that goes on for a few minutes. I'm furiously worried because Cha is just about to blow. I can just see him jumping this enormous pregnant woman thinking she wants to play. But before any damage was done it was over.
And that was that. She rubbed his head and thanked him.
"You're kidding, right?"
No.
Our neighbor comes home the other day with a beautiful, tee-tiny baby girl. It was wonderful.
Then a few days after that, I see her outside hanging out those darling little baby clothes and she says to me,
Her: "Do you know how long I was in labor?" (this is her third child, btw)
Me: "Oh, dear, I wouldn't know...an hour or two?"
Her: "SEVEN hours!"
Me: "Oh."
Her: "Cha-Cha didn't do a very good job."
Me: "Yea, I'm really sorry about that. It was his first time and all."
With that she went inside.
Yikes.
"The shame!"
He lives with his son who sculpts women. All sorts of women. And they're always naked.
Here's one of the women in the front yard.
He's got about a dozen or so around the house and twice that many in his little shed. I really had an open mind and thought, wow, a real artist who is stricken with the beauty of the female form.
Roughly a year after that thought, I was invited into the shed while the son was sculpting and noticed blushingly that the walls were covered with cheap porno mags.
Art.
This ain't about the naked ladies though.
So this festival lasted for two days. Basically, after several months of practice, everyone dressed up and paraded around the streets stopping occasionally to play flute and drums and to dance. It was much cooler than that, but I don't want to get off topic again.
One of the places they stopped was near the old fella's house. So he came out to watch.
I go to sit beside him in the shade when he leans over and says, What kinda camera you got there? I tell him. He reaches out his shakey hand. Mmm...okay. I hand it over. He examines it, closely, then far away-ly. Closely again. Which button you push to take pictures? That little one there.
Next thing I know, he grabs his cane and starts to get up. Only he can't. He has my camera in one hand and bless his heart he needs both hands to push himself up. Me and the elderly fellow beside him give him a little heave ho.
He starts walking off. My husband looks at me. We give each other a few looks. I tell him to film it (as he is in charge of video). He says, if he steals the camera what are you going to do? I said, Don't worry I'm faster than he is.
So this fella goes over right in front of the sitting audience, right in front of the drums and lays down! All the way down. He starts snapping pictures. Only I'm thinking to myself, gee, poor guy is probably just turning the camera off and on and off again. I mean that button is small.
He does that, starts rolling around, takes pictures of the audience, rolls back, clicks a few more of the show and then comes crawling back to me on all fours! I run over and help him up. He tells me he isn't sure if he took anything or not. But I say he had the best angle of everyone there. He laughs. I sit him down, go retrieve his cane that got lost along the way. Someone else brings his shoes, I didn't even realize he had taken them off.
Here is one of the pictures he took of the girls playing drums. You can tell he's really down there.
Hot Pink.
And it sliiiides open.
The darn thing is smarter than I'll ever be. Of course it has a camera where you can choose size, pixel size, ISO, aperture, shutter speed etc., it has a radio, and some messenger thing where I can mail friends and we can become these little barnyard animal manga-looking characters and chat. It also tells me it even has a library! Oh, and since it goes online there are infinite games, shops, and other online goodies.
That's all fine and dandy.
But right now the part I'm most excited about is that it holds a memory card (of up to 4giga) and works like a Walkman. Since I'm the only one in the family without a portable listening device, I am ever-so stoked about this. I spent all last weekend filling it will Primus, Yes, A Perfect Circle, you know, the works. I know sleep with the thing.
On my last visit to the states (almost two years ago) I was shocked to notice not every, indeed hardly any, American had a cell phone growing out of their ear or attached to their palm. Things may have changed since then. I am looking forward to seeing what's up on the mobile telephone scene when I go back this winter. And you just know I'm gonna show off by making a long distance phone call with my pink puppy!
Here. You'd be hard pressed to find someone without a cell phone. And I'm talking the elderly and children as well. I have been tutoring my mother-in-law on how to use her new one for a few weeks now. She got one because all her friends had one, she admits. And half of J's fifth grade class has one. I know first graders who have them. The reasoning behind giving them to children is because of all the abuctions of recent. The children's phones come with GPS and alarms and stuff.
Here is a short list of what phones are used for here in Japan:
※ Read novels. Yep, they really do. I actually wrote an article (I am too lazy to dig up) about an author who writes novels especially for cell phones. His target audience is junior high and high school girls. He sends the story out in installments at several yen per mini chapter. The guy is quite clever as he has developed an enormous fan base and literally uses the girls' daily text messenging feedback to bend his story in directions they will favor. He's filthy rich, and has movie coming out too; the dog.
※Watch TV. There is something called One Seg and because of it everyone has been watching TV on their phones. I don't get it. I like my big TV. But I guess if you are somewhere and want to catch the last minutes of a good game...
※Study. Could find no good links to this but because Japanese tend to commute for great lengths of time there are oodles of cell phone sites now that offer short studies. You can learn characters, foreign languages, loosen up your brain with math quizzes, just to name a few.
※As a navigational tool. Get lost in downtown Tokyo? Here ya go!
※Even as a way to quit smoking!
※Oh, and let's not forget a fashion accessory.
I guess the fancy thing to do now is to use real stones to decorate your phone. Here we have a Hello Kitty and Chanel fan.
Or, hey, how about Eddie Van Halen. {Although I personally stopped liking him back when he flipped me a bird. I was innocent!}
And I even found a cell phone that does more than mine!
Oh gosh. Matt has thoroughly gotten me addicted to Youtube and I was hardly looking when I found this... a new movie, The Cell Phone Detective. The catch phrase is, "We just can't depend on adults!"
