told everyone i know that i'll be back someday, and truly believe that. it just works out. certain things, certain relationships just don't disappear, no matter how they fade.

sketchy corners at the airport
Posted on May 01, 2002 # 
sitting now in a shady Yahoo! cafe in narita airport. sure, it's free, but they scan and keep a copy of your passport for 'security purposes.'

imagine the vast marketing opportunities this opens up...

ok, so i really am.. picturing this thirtysomething marketing drone--and naming him derek jorgenson--with deep, dark circles under the eyes, red-faced and slightly green from last night's big, important

i should really get more sleep.

now he's mutated into an amalgamation of these blokes i used to work with, as th...ok. that's enough.

just free internet. it's just free internet.

sleeping pill countdown: T-3 and ticking.

morning person
Posted on May 01, 2002 # 
another sayonara dinner? i can't believe people actually show up at this point. even i'm starting to doubt the significance of this departure.

then there was that lovely feeling this morning, on 3 hours sleep, realizing the clock i'd been using was an hour slow. at 6:19 am, putting the 6:00 bus to the airport a little out of range.

turned out a blessing--really. the 7:00 flew through tokyo, arriving 3 full hours before departure. 3 hours? i've never been 3 hours early for anything. except maybe birth. been making up for those 2 weeks ever since.

ack
Posted on April 30, 2002 # 
oh crap. forgot i have to pack again.

back home?
Posted on April 29, 2002 # 
returning to tokyo for 3 days without a job, and without pressure. it's a completely different city. lots to do, and no pressure to throw away buckets of cash to do it. today, maybe sushi for lunch at the local shop, and a walk around shibuya for amusement. maybe a few phone calls, and some time to read in a park.

it's like being a freetaa, a new phenomenon out here with the teen and twenty-something generation. i can definitely see the appeal of working only part-time jobs while living for free off the family, which you'd do until marriage anyway.

lots do this internationally: 3 months in japan at 1000 yen (US$10) per hour gets you at least 6 months, if not a year, in thailand, vietnam, beijing...

definitely beats am rush hour, a slave-driving boss who underpays, followed by the pm rush or obligatory drunkenness with bosses and colleagues from the company.

belated action sequence
Posted on April 21, 2002 # 
despite the extraordinary kindness of a number of people at the end of these weeks, saturday morning could rival battlebots for impassioned destruction of meaningless gadgets. plates, glasses, papers, cords, trays, toys, cinder blocks, granite shelves, wood beams, and all manner of space-consuming junk was slammed into bags, boxes and random piles, flung into the hallway, and crammed haphazard into the garbage heap below the stairwell.

cleaning was too little, all but too late, and the desperate screen door repair attempt nearly saw the door take its virgin flight to the parking lot.

seeing that this action sequence would more naturally come closer to the climax of the tale, we'll stop here--and this the mercifully grinning deletion of paragraphs of wire-action-worthy violence.

safely aboard the 777, i'll say with confidence that every character survived (and a few more were even added in the unscripted background), and promise that the epilogue will follow promptly.

end game
Posted on April 21, 2002 # 
the last chapter, i guess. where all the characters are gone, the story is done, and the reflections...well, it's a little too early for them. those wait for an epilogue, or, god forbid, the sequel. ha ha.

no table, no chairs, no bed, no tv, no stereo. sold off the fridge to some idiot in nippori (which is _not_ 25 minutes away via kasuga dori, you twit), and carted off the washer and drier in an act of senseless giving at 1 in the morning. well...i did get to take the k truck out again...

k truck, you ask? picture speedracer in a wife-beater, ballcap and tatami sandals, tearing down an empty meiji dori in a quarter-size tractor. not quite visually honest, but you do get the idea better that i could ever impress through realism.

not so altruistic after all, i suppose. hey, at least i try.

zengyo
Posted on April 21, 2002 # 
a last day down in the little city, a few laughs, a good time.

e's on to the next level, and i wish him luck. would like to have been around for that, to offer a hand, and to see if a community--if not a village--could help out.

how would i have done that?

flux
Posted on April 14, 2002 # 
lamps: all gone. mirror, too. tomorrow, with any luck, the kitchen table and chairs. wednesday, the speakers (argh) and, well, everything else.

typing these dates into the keitai.

nikki's next to me, incredulous look on her face, saying things like "i was talking to the booook.." and clearly studying too much.

china anyone?
Posted on April 11, 2002 # 
anybody got any leads on china, and what to do there?

off to beijing in 9 days...9?!? Nine. Neuf. oh, crap.

really gotta start packing. reeeeeally gotta start packing. and selling this stuff.

you, ah, should see the pad. in a sadly static state of emergency, while across the border awaits the great state of panic.

Link: in a state

imperial palace
Posted on April 10, 2002 # 
somehow, over 5 years here, i never went to this place before. it's about 30 minutes from home, like everything outside the neighborhood, and has open field after beautiful, grassy open field.

done with tokyo for now, but there's just so freakin much of it.

onsenning bliss
Posted on April 07, 2002 # 
a beautiful spring day immersed in an outdoor hot spring in the foothills of the tanzawa mountains. what have i been doing with my weekends that i wasn't here??

visiting guru
Posted on April 07, 2002 # 
bryce has been in india for 4 months, following a guru by the name of amachi on a tour across the country. after a trip to kamakura with me tomorrow, he'll head out tuesday, going through california on his way to a farm in british columbia.

fascinating guy. traveling and practicing yoga and meditation and following his own spiritual path since graduation (a year ahead of me), and is doing great.

personally, i love the fact that his closest experience to a "real job" was a noon to five he tried for a month a few years back.

perhaps the spanish need an elijah of their own?

crime spree
Posted on April 02, 2002 # 
have to go to the local city hall and complain about the dry cleaner ruining my best suit. sigh. and the camera's on the weird, someone slashed my bike tire, and sign in the elevator warn that the lockpicks are back in town.

ahh, life in the buk'. looking forward to my visitors this weekend.

mission statement
Posted on March 31, 2002 # 
my apologies for length on this one. this goes out to all y'all who've wondered what the hell i'm doing...

what to do.

would love to run parties, the operations side, meaning setting up venue, artist, and the _show_. the lights, the timing, the performers...but that's not your regular job, is it? who the hell does that?

someone up higher than entry level, i see that. and am glad. entry level goals probably wouldn't ease my yuppie mind. (grin)

so, what would a good way in be for me? knowing what i'm good at...which is what exactly...uh... meeting and maintaining contacts, ...id'ing new talent?, and...uh...negotiating? not bad at it. very good at staying with both sides, keeping negotiations from going aggressive and antagonistic. adding value, etc. less experience in hard-ass negotiations, but don't like to lose much, and get hella creative when in a tough spot. yeah, could do that, given a little more understanding of how the agreements themselves look. will get a book on those.

marketing i could do, also. approaching a market--no problem. campaigns, mailings; wouldn't like to end up doing that as my final goal, but it's a strong way to get a feel for what you're going for, where everyone's paycheck will be coming from.

the hurdle here is that the first step is important, for certain, but not what i'm focused on now. i'm still looking at the goal, where i'll be later. trying to get a focus on that better, so when i get excited, wrapped up in the drive and the desire to DO this, i'll be able to articulate it.

before that, suppose i'll need: contacts, some experience in running events (in what capacity, not yet done with), experience in marketing (to some extent to feel the target audience)... and more. probably should extend that list.

that lack of focus on the here and now, and what i'll need to get to this later step, is why i'm up for doing any number of things to start. time's short, i've got little to offer straight up front, and i just want to get in.

and i want to get in where it counts. once i'm in, i impress.

still, stuffing envelopes to get a foot in would be asking an awful lot. (groan, laugh)

so someone needs an a&r man? from what i can tell that ain't your dime a dozen position, but am not afraid of going against others. and i can do that job. give me the rein, entrust me to go out, and i will meet people. impress them. put them on stage in front of me, not literally, but make them feel confident, and important, and see how they react to that. i'll get them if they're good, and i'll know not to if they don't have what it takes to go all the way.

or a marketing rep/exec? i can run research, or outsource if you're big enough, to see what it'll take to increase market share, to increase the actual market. that's long term, too.. hm. i can manage projects from a distance, or start up a new project/campaign, do all the work to get the momentum in there and put it in place, and then leave the day to day management/continuation of it to another.

hmmmm.... could even go into music publishing first, no? get some experience w/ a magazine or a publisher? got some degree of relevant experience.

oof. anyone still there?

next, what would i do with an incorporated licious, ltd?

as a promotions (or is it production?) company, hope to find new talent/willing djs/acts/groups to throw parties with. representing a club or two or three and bringing them great parties....i.e., i'd set up the acts who'd play, the style of party it'd be, and take care of p.r. (w/ the press, etc.) and marketing (flyers/posters/ads/free passes at other events,etc.), and the club, no, actually, i suppose that i would pay the band a little, and then i'd split profits from admission/drinks, since the club has laid out nothing but the electricity and rent and all that, and the risk of not having a good night.

don't know how the fcuk i'll convince clubs to give me a shot at it, w/ zero experience (argh), but i'm looking to barcelona as my from the bottom up experience. and to nyc as my first taste of how those events work. want to work with someone who puts these events together, and find out what i could do right, and new, and better, so that when i go at it in spain, i'll be much better than expected, and won't have to start at the bottom.

then bring that back to the states, and help build a club up with better events, and latin music contacts (?), and new show ideas, and that would therefore, if things work out all right, bring better acts.

anyone following this?

am i a moron?

are there a million other schmoes out there doing this?

is this owned by the uber-powerful moguls, no room left for simplicious jeff herman?

garrrrrrrr... if it is, i'll bite them in the head.

and then probably try to work with them. after the rabies shots.

perhaps what would be best in new york would be to work at a club doing p.r. or marketing so that i could see what they're doing and how while actually being of some benefit to them. would be more than happy being sent around to clubs to check out new acts, also, to gain a foothold that way.

or to go to a magazine that's not looking to sign acts, but looking to get the early word on the acts the labels are trying to sign/signing/looking for/overlooking, and get my contacts that way. that could even be what i'd try in spain. relevant
to oxford, at that.. and more likely to need feet in the summer?

you can't still be reading this.

if you were, cheers! a medal for endurance. and thanks. opinions at this point would be deeply appreciated. it's a scattered way of thinking, i know. i'll be working on honing it into a saner plan, and a more digestible pitch. (smile) but for now, that's where this plan is.

hope y'all are with me.

illegal photos
Posted on March 29, 2002 # 
have just been scolded for taking photos of the tv asahi's doorway, and what must be a top-secret, orally-fixated doraemon.

Link: secrets of asahi television

last...lunch?
Posted on March 28, 2002 # 
this is it!!!!

f r e e e e e e d o o o o o o o o o o o m m m ! ! ! !

i am out like the lights in kabul, and my punk-ass blue devils, and that skanky kogyaru look in shibuya. i am history like musashi, and finished like japan inc's bubble bliss. i am done, over, through, gone, and altogether over the rainbow and back through the looking glass.

long, rolling chuckle..

skittering, squeaking snigger...

loud, bellowing, belly laugh.....

F R E E E E E E E E E E E E A T L A A A A S T !!!!

-laughing-
Posted on March 27, 2002 # 
i'm this close to being done, and i _still_ can't stand it here. really makes this decision to leave a whole lot easier.

fuck people.
Posted on March 27, 2002 # 
simply have to remember to stop offering my assistance to people without demanding something in return. or making boundaries clearer from the beginning.

i somehow expect others to be gracious in accepting assistance, and to understand that it's something i give openly...and will revoke immediately if it becomes a burden or an irritation.

fuck.

spend the past day or so, and a number of phone conversations trying to help my replacement, and now that i'm just generally irritable at being left alone out here, again, she's just being pushy. and i feel no great moral responsibility to do shit for anyone when not getting anything in return but more words and less attention to what i'm trying to say.

this is not going well. and i'm just going to blow her off today. if you want my fucking help in the future, please give me the respect of appreciating it.

worthy
Posted on March 25, 2002 # 
back from a few days of silence, and i think that we are. even though i'm leaving any semblance of an income this friday and making my way to spain to play a drum. somehow i'm actually proud of this decision.

you're an odd one, kid. you don't actually play the drum.@yet.

today's muse
Posted on March 21, 2002 # 
are we living lives worthy of our own respect?

coppertone
Posted on March 21, 2002 # 
she walks by, folder up to her right, blocking her face entirely. it stays there as she passes the sidewalk cafe, then abruptly drops to her side in front of the second table. as she enters the shade. i suppose she does this all day, every day.

why? why, skin tone, of course. pure as a cherry blossom, as the driven snow.

and to think how popular it was until last summer to be so tan as to...

Link: so tan as to actually...

uragimono
Posted on March 19, 2002 # 
how to explain this? i feel the traitor.

lunch at Ark Hills today, a delight. maybe it's the weather, or the bijillion cherry blossoms that have shown up early this year, but i felt this odd sense of belonging in...gasp...choke...roppongi.

sigh. i know, i know. damn me to the 7th level, broil my soles in tar and my soul in cheap imitation american brew pubs. it was relaxing, familiar, even aesthetically beautiful.

no, no! but it was full of outside tables, people flowing all around, many of them looking more or less like me...well, that's still a stretch, but 20s and 30somethings, pretty young people; busy, anxious people; laughing people; eating people; shy people. brief moments of diversity!

oh, leave my standards alone. they're just _different_, and we didn't pick on johnny for being different in the 4th grade, now did we? ah. right you are. anyway...and they're looking almost urban! almost similar enough to toss a casual hello to, and not become the social equivalent of a three-tongued purple penguin with a twitch.

and only slightly lamely expatesque, as a group. with selective attention benefits, of course. and...no! it was ok! it was nice!

yeah, it was the weather.

editing errata update
Posted on March 19, 2002 # 
oxford staff are now, even as we blog, affixing opaque lables in all existing stock of Spotlight On Australia across the known world, masking the offending link.

so glad that won't be me. ;)

march 17th
Posted on March 18, 2002 # 
hap ha birt t m
ha ha birt t m
hap ha birt de je
ha ha birt t m

editing errata
Posted on March 17, 2002 # 
in a small breach of corporate security, here is a direct quote from today's intradepartmental email from the boss. the names have been changed (but the link has not... for all you who just can't help yourselves):

-- -- -- -- -- --

We just received a call from a Senior High teacher using "Spotlight on Australia".

He recommended the web links in the back of the book to his students (all teenagers), but unfortunately, one link:

http://www.anypoint.net/default/htm (included for your reference only)...

links to a pornography site listing hundreds of sites (of all persuasions).

We will deal with the customer directly here to make amends, and I have emailed the UK to have the problem corrected as soon as is possible.

In the meantime, should you be contacted by any teachers about this, please inform them that we have taken appropriate action, and that it is likely that the link will be removed at the next opportunity - the next print run.

-- -- -- -- -- --

dates
Posted on March 17, 2002 # 
f yalls i, in town until 4.20, then off to the big red till 4.30, when i leave china, through japan, arriving in md on 5.1 and to nyc by 5.4.

in md again around late june, and other times i'm sure.

to spain by august?

ha! again, wish me luck.

why.
Posted on March 17, 2002 # 
why am i leaving? it's fairly simple. i stressed, considered, and then really looked at the possibilities. more accurately, the future.

give me one more year at this job. some more savings, another stressful fall, some more experience with limited transferability.

give me 5. chances are i'm a manager of some sort, of the office in osaka, maybe of a different department, or with office shuffling, maybe of the sales department? don't really want to do those jobs, not in this industry. would be a step to transfer at a similar level to another company, another industry... but why not just start now at that other company?

surely the cash coming in is worth something. at the same time, it's a simple shackle keeping me from another job with a higher pay ceiling. i.e., no, 5 years doesn't really pay all that much, and doesn't put me where I want to be, in Japan, in 5 years. at 31.

15 years? really put in some time, do this job, get transferred to another oxford office abroad.. mm. there's that spain triscuit again. sweet, sweet whole grain, just out of reach.. nah. would likely get a managerial position in south america, and spain would be that career destination in say, 12 years? off the cuff guess, but that entirely defeats the point.

i want to go to spain now, to live there. it's the last place i have pulling me to try before i pick a spot to raise some spuds.

1 year, 5 years, 15. time to go now. see y'all at spain.licious before long. with a big fat grin, and a very beautiful woman.

ah, matsushima!
Posted on March 17, 2002 # 
matsushima, one of japan's 3 most beautiful spots. officially.

love these rankings. the 3rd best ramen shop in tokyo is a 15 minute walk from home, too.

basho's famous poetic reaction?

matushima!
ah, matsushima!
matsushima!

hm. this guy is translated into how many languages?

Link: matsushima

interjected reflection
Posted on March 15, 2002 # 
i wonder how my team is doing. and my close friends. spoke with a lot of the closest people to me lately, but still, just once in a while? i don't really know what's going on.

even time with someone around doesn't fill holes, it leaves them behind. starting over again, recounting the past years as anecdotes left to memory and retelling.

already nostalgic. hah. sitting here under the kotatsu on a saturday afternoon, drinking sake from a wooden box, eating fried rice and messing around with this wireless internet connection, it's no wonder.

i recommend a day of nothing in a house out here. it's a marvel to see the sights, but it can be surpisingly peaceful to live them. or maybe, despite my intentions, this has become my second home?

ahoy
Posted on March 15, 2002 # 
see those folks on the bus? not surgeons. when resisting the obvious temptation to strap it over one eye and shout 'ar, you wear these when you've got a cold. keeps the germs off others, and smeared around your chin where they belong.

Link: sniffle

fat taxis
Posted on March 15, 2002 # 
har har. that picture got stretched. imagine everything reduced to 50%. for that matter, do that with every single mental image you've gotten from these blurbs.

reflections?
Posted on March 15, 2002 # 
first of all, there are finally more photos up on this site now. take a look.

Link: gallery

papa's got a big ass bag
Posted on March 05, 2002 # 
oyaji's in town, and we're looking at a week of bullet trains, one-eyed samurai, osaka-mafioso debauchery, breathtaking old-capital temples, and many repeat performances of tonight's noodle extravaganza.

pictures to follow.

sunday morning
Posted on March 02, 2002 # 
2:30 on a sunday afternoon, under the kotatsu, with nothing much to do.

last night reaffirmed that when you get a job in japan, you really gotta get pulled in from abroad. that's the way to live here. ooh la la.

left luke's interior design museum of an apartment in harajuku to take raph for his 28th dinner. barbacoa in omotesando: brazilian all-you-can-eat meat on skewers and, of course, all you can drink. sheer gastronomic violence. think bloody chicken hearts & twisted limeys actually enjoying them.

out to karaoke--with bonus dance-dance-revolution included!--and then to blue in aoyama. ouch of a $50 taxi home at half 4. the exchange rate is going to have to continue its slide. things here are still just plain overpriced.

my poor, poor savings.

murder in kanamecho
Posted on February 26, 2002 # 
so apparently a hit was effected this sunday while i was out of town. in the street behind my bank, just off from my station. not even ikebukuro, the little subway station down from the apartment!

this town, i tell ya. glad i'm not raising a family here.

don't know which group, but a local boss--yes, yakuza--literally got whacked walking down the road i used to bike through every day on my way to the old office. shot point blank in the street.

didn't die, though. rushed him to a major hospital in central tokyo, where, no shit, the assassin tailed him, and actually somehow figured out which room he had been put in. using whatever special knives people use to break glass that's made expressly not to break, this professional individual shattered the window and got off three fatal shots to the head before escaping.

and yesterday i saw the first white girl i've ever seen on the blocks near my apartment (other than those i've invited).

sigh. neighborhood's going to the dogs, i tell ya.

Link: see the Japan Times' version

tomodachi
Posted on February 26, 2002 # 
nakama. mabudachi--one of the first slang words i learned in japanese, taught to me by mitchell-san, oddly enough.

realized that friendships for me here have been defined totally different than those before. the ones in college where everyone kept fucking graduating and disappearing were temporary, but for a few. and mostly the few that were sure to stay were with those who graduated around when i did. the ones who left sooner or later just faded out.

here, though, there are people that i actually plan to stay in touch with for the rest of my life who i've only gone out with a handful of times. distance isn't so daunting anymore, and friends mean something so different, so much quicker.

there is definitely an underlying consciousness here, one that i may have subconsciously (har har) sought from the beginning. hence jungamerican, no?

there is even an undercurrent of, be it culture, or unspoken understanding, or simply a feeling, of foreign life in japan. every country must have that, in every other country, and each subtly different. don't suppose it makes us special for it, but adds a layer to conversation, and even thought, that i would never had conceived of before.

was remarking today on how there are things i rarely speak of in my daily existence, and was taken aback to realize that a number of them only come out when i communicate in spanish. maybe in english from time to time, but even that now is...tainted. somehow, who i was before is preserved far better in the spanish language; when i express myself from there, in that rythym and style, i remember who it is that wakes up every time i leave this island.

eerie to think that i'll lose so much of who i've become to a prison of words and concepts untranslatable. and to an atmosphere that is assuredly not available for export.

cooking chicken fried rice with that on my mind tonight. sesame oil, chinese 5 spices, meat and vegetables from an old shopping street that thrives despite the 24 hour supermarket on the highway just out front. rice in the rice cooker has chimed, and the dishes are clean and ready to go.

long time away
Posted on February 23, 2002 # 
it's been a long time i've been off on this fling. looking back over the journal of the past year, been ready for the change that's now come.

have tried to write observations (and the occasional complaint, i admit) rather than self-focused musings, not sure there was ever much of a flow. still, that's what it's been like here, biding time, being fascinated, taking it for what it's worth--even if rarely at face value.

i recommend japan, in a fascinated, almost shaken voice. i couldn't stay here longer, though; i have no purpose here, and no ties worth maintaining that can't be from overseas.

i'll continue writing, in the last few months that remain, though the attitude will undoubtedly be different.

it is still, and always has been, about perspective.

hi ho, hi ho
Posted on February 06, 2002 # 
i'm off to a seminar, yet another in a line of industry-specific workshops, again revealing the dearth of general (i.e. useful) training.

raison d'etre
Posted on January 02, 2002 # 
paris for new year's. across the park from the sixth story balcony, a stained-glass church window angled to the light of the setting sun. an s-series benz at 220 on the autobahn to get there; on the way back, champagne from the bottle through the sun roof on a back road in Champagne.

crepes for breakfast. lamb, beef and pork stew with potatoes for lunch. seven courses around lobster and scallops for dinner. quenelles. escargot. omelettes. espresso, espresso, espresso. sauvingnon blanc. oysters. lots of burgundy. sweet, sumptuous chocolate for dessert.

how the hell am i going to go on once all this decadence is gone?

back to stuttgart, a few days of peace and family. into the belly of the bird on sunday, and the beast the day after. whether things will feel different right away--for better or worse? ...i think so. something is very different now.

perspective
Posted on December 23, 2001 # 
time to put things in order. japan. tokyo.

i have to get out. letting your professional acumen get japan-specific is like messing with a girl because she's hot and her daddy's rich, and because she keeps sweetly reminding you how fabulous you are, until you get the sadomasochistic dominatrix bitch pregnant, and condemn yourself to a life of materially sugarcoated emotional torment.

rancor? who? just grant me the drama; inertia's a nasty little cuss.

speaking of segues, i had this dream last night...well, 2 hours of lying awake ago...about what to do next. obviously it took place in barcelona, but i was interviewing for this entry level job with the french postal service in paris. indeed, glamour, fame, prestige; seek these shall not the jedi knight. what he did fall for was the 9-4 monday to friday work week with a 2 hour lunch.

c/o the subconscious part of me still drooling blissfully in the land of lotus-eater-san, they even promised to pay extra for my being a native speaker of english.

Ausfahrt!
Posted on December 20, 2001 # 
off to deutschland tomorrow. tell helga to wait up with that schnitzel.

mystery solved.
Posted on December 20, 2001 # 
ah, too easy. just your run-of-the-mill gay bathhouse. hell, it's even posted on time-out's english page.

maybe this place ain't so interesting after all...

no. take that back. you should see the radon bath.

creamy morico
Posted on December 19, 2001 # 
god this would be a long story.

briefly, one of the young secretaries in the office, ms. morioka, became "morico" some time ago, and today "creamy morico." as this is bantered from one section to another while i dutifully input senseless blather into a half-ass database, the general reaction, creamy herself included, is that this is entirely ok.

now i'm crying over my (new!) notebook here at the foot of the middle island of desks, and people are glancing at me like i'm slightly off my rocker, and a lot foreign.

they're right, you know. creamy morico, honey, buska, and all the rest of them. when are you going to get the hell over here and see for yourself?

striving for that easy chair
Posted on December 18, 2001 # 
ever feel that urge to just push it? see how far it can go without changing what needs to stay as it is?

any idea where we're headed with this?

driven. workedplayedranlaughedjumpedfoughtdenieddiditall with intensity. and feel good and full for it. feel ready to crik, twist, crack at the same time.

looking forward to a vacation, to people who mean a lot--every one of y'all.

mid-week. transitions? a mystery or two solved, a few larger ones looming and soon to be narrated with considerable ambiguity and hesitation.

Jin-ya 2
Posted on December 17, 2001 # 
saturday morning, on the way back to the station, the curiosity is simply too much.

"koichi wait a second"
and i slowly walk in. still no word on the shoes; canft see what type, even what gender.

"irrashaimase"
welcome. to whatever this place is, by a pair of 30- or 40-year-old hands inside the front desk. inside, as itfs no more than a square-meter sized hole in the right wall, with a simple curtain covering everything from the wrist back of the man behind the desk.

i remain in the entrance, silent. looking at the ticket machine just to the right of the hands, there are rates for rooms, somewhere upwards of \10,000 each. different sizes, different styles, and available for rent for 24 hours each. the words that strike me as the oddest are those above the ticket buttons letting us know that "large size gowns are also available."

there's an additional sign flashing gvacanth in wide, red digital kanji, under the sign for "large, private rooms."

that's it; we're back outside. i still don't know what is going on here...but i think i've figured it out. any ideas?

maybe we'll give it a go next week sometime...or not. yeah, dollars to donuts that's another no.

Jin-ya
Posted on December 16, 2001 # 
working scooby-style on a new mystery these days:

walk down tokiwa-dori, past the taiwanese joint and the kung fu dojo on your way west of ikebukuro station, and you’ll see a couple signs that read:

Jin-ya
since 1973

with an arrow leading you in the right direction. there’s no further explanation of what Jin-ya is, nor what hours it's open, how much it costs; not even a picture or a map or a goofy character. some signs even show up on the tiny backstreets weaving through the residential blocks, and when you get there, all it looks like is a regular, three-story apartment block, with maybe 20 rooms in all.

look at it point blank, and there’s this three-meter neon sign that offers, again, the name “Jin-ya,” this time written vertically on the left side of the second floor. the only entrance is hidden by a rounded wall. this is done in the same, subtle style as your bog standard love hotel, only completely lacking the ubiquitous placard explaining prices, hours, etc. the only notice you see of any kind is again the store’s name in small print, and, to the point of being obnoxiously repetitive, “Jin-ya Since 1973” on the façade by the miniature garden, just inside the wall.

so what service does this place provide? such puzzles are my daily bread, the burning question in recent conversations over pancakes and cheap penne. being ikebukuro, and even more suspiciously being an highly recognizable yet unqualified place of business, there are a more than a handful of plausible answers, but only a few that i'm willing to give high probability. to be fair, i couldn’t rule out even a combination anime club and opium den, but realistically i’m thinking no.

18 years in business with no advertisement? risking cultural insensitivity, the locals here aren’t, in my humble opinion, likely to brazenly cruise in out of dire curiosity and give it your proverbial whirl.

is this bothering you? good. it's driving me mad. what would you do? ask? hm. really?

of course! are you kidding?!

as it just so happens, as koichi and I are passing by around 3 this morning, after that last round of karaoke, a young fella walks out. early thirties, normal dress, normal appearance, even a normal bag. not dressed up like a salaryman, nor down like an athlete, or freak, or a pimp...in all regards, entirely the norm.

“excuse me”
he withdraws, eyes flitting
“sumimasen, chotto...”
averts his eyes
“chotto kiite mo ii desuka?”
rights himself, and with a friendly, questioning look and a simple
“hai”
he lets me go ahead and ask,
“what is jin-ya? what kind of place is it?”
eyes drop, chin slides toward his far shoulder slightly, glances back up, mouth opens slightly..
no answer.
i look back and repeat myself, wordlessly, by opening my eyes a little wider
two steps back—he’s nearly out of reach now at the tone we're using—and his eyes retreat again as he takes out his key;
he turns his back, and unlocks his bike.
no answer today.

i look at koichi, who’s a little taken aback by this awkward reaction, and then i risk a peek inside the glass doors. they slide open automatically, and there are still no words, no signs, no people. just soothing muzak and a wall-length shoe rack with, like the front door, tinted glass.

nother day in the rife
Posted on December 15, 2001 # 
sales meeting yesterday. lots of booming about being the manager of this, the falling numbers, the insufficient work being done. lots of giggling in the back. cap it with sneaking off to an evening bonenkai (forget-the-year-party) with the former manager to the exclusion of various members of the office.

miserable people politics aside, it was a good time. you should see me do eminem in karaoke. (under duress. really.)

evening wears down, we're hammered and there aren't any trains left. two of us back to my house to warm up and chill, two into a taxi, and one none-too-subtly off to a hostess bar (or greater?).

woke up to asamakku (mcdonalds in the am) and bummed the k-truck from the stock company. ever seen a k-truck? getting behind the flat, waist-level wheel is like becoming a bus driver for the differently abled of dorothy's oz.

took the munchkins off to get the cd player fixed and set the reservation for shirokiya tonight. mm.. for that matter, gotta shower & be at hachiko in 45.

electraglide 2001
Posted on December 11, 2001 # 
sloow at home. 2 new cds--brand new heavies and tom waits--and just easing into this Tuesday.

last day off was november 18th. got another one on saturday. and official permission to fuck off to europe. odd how they can do that. so sweet that it doesn't matter. definitely going to have to learn how to glide through office politics better, get on mgment's good side.

what would make you respect and enjoy one of your employees?

suppose i ought to be a manager to find out.

such a nice, nice day. busy season ain't done, but it's downshifted to 4th. that should have been the only season that stays in 5th the whole way. and never should have to again.

decompression. yum. granola and miscellaneous tv. videos and the old bamboo.

your email was a delight, you know. laughed loud, not just out loud. phone rings about 30 seconds after as a few of us had got to this humongous convention center, and were about to turn the corner to watch fatboy slim start up his set. almost called, but figured you'd be able to hear me better without the phone.

following him was aphex twin on the second stage, didn't see mouse on mars, but darren emerson (underworld) was ooon. up in front with the late crowd and coincidental friends, while everyone i came with dropped by 4, and so glad to know people in tokyo.

observations?

the 12am dj ain't the main attraction, no matter who. @
tokyo is still small, and when the right folks come together, the pulse picks up. earthquakes are the other lifeblood. something about being one, so foreign to actively pursue.

4:30 says a lot about why you're in a club.

letting their hair down.
Posted on December 11, 2001 # 
snapshots of the end of the show. a purposeful finale with multiple encores, and moshing. fans ablaze, torpedo-like chopsticks firing from hair weaves, and two 15 year old guys violently ramming a heap of pubescent girls.

scored a couple of guitar picks. gave em away. didn't lean in to grab that periwinkle towel, though. milled about at the end, watching fans exchange meishi. 5 postcards for 1500 yen. posters, t shirts, cds. no autographs.

our crew decides we have to wait for them to come out, and when they do, hair brushed down and rapunzelline, they look absolutely ridiculous. if it weren't for their promoters and producers, these dudes would be in for some serious ignoring.

on the way back, we are even tailed into the coffee shop, where memory lane is gridlocked with another 9 car pile up. all the togetherness and eager innocence is sugar sweet, and by the time the surreality has faded and the absurdity is chillingly normal, it's just like it's always been, another tuesday in kanagawa.

wear black.
Posted on November 22, 2001 # 
it's a mixed crowd, really. only 5 to 10 percent are doing the goth-loli bit, another 10 percent are in yukata (simple summer kimonos). the rest are in uniform, since after all, a good 98 percent of them are joshi kosei (high school girls).

cook-thief-wife-lover this is not, however. yes, i do i hear y'all groaning in protest, "what could be better?!?" but bear in mind that the band is a collection of five boys in their early twenties wearing girls' yukata and white face paint with glam-goth makeup. serious, lee, this was earnestly low-brow, and low-brow in earnest.

the diminutive bassist could have almost pulled off some reckoning of cute with his look, but i am assured by Cat, our resident aussie in the know, that he is a shameless ripoff of the bassist from (oh squeal shiver) dorlen grey. ah, we nod, emoting casually.

the lead vocalist managed sporadic eye contact with some fans, and did successfully lead the hormonal mob in a para-para festival of fans. one of the guitarists--we never did establish who was lead; i actually think both were second--had a good haircut.

mm.... more later on the great and glam fab kagrra; off to dinner. it is thanksgiving, you know.

visual kei
Posted on November 18, 2001 # 
ikebukuro to harajuku with the only professional costume play artist in sweden, her little sister carolina, and the soft-spoken pia. in brand new jet black gowns and white lace, with faces thickly caked in white paint, these three are in absolute awe of the world they have finally come to see.

stream through the gates in "harayuku" and a sweet gasp of surprise escapes from pia's rich lips. everywhere she looks are mock-up heroes, from bands they have been longing to see for nearly eight years. their first time here, i can hardly walk slowly enough to stay with them as they gasp and coo at the beautifully lacy dresses, and quite simple the real deal all the way around.

pictures are taken, back and forth, and they know everyone by sight. "oh! it's yuki! yuki and...oh, but if i'm wrong," paulina dips her knees and gestures earthward with a lacy left hand, "if i say something and i'm wrong, shame. shaaaame."

"i'm so afraid of doing something that offensive" she continues, through occasional errors and in magnificent childlike earnest. "i..oh!"

sentences dangle as dorlin grey is spotted by the entrance to meiji shrine, and i am simultaneously approached by a korean exchange student for a photo of the girls.

"everyone is a star!" continues paulina, in her unstoppable flow of joy and self-doubt. and though not even one of the human parade floats around us is the star they appear to be, they are everything these three imagined, and so much more, in flesh and war paint.

look around us and tell me that these three do not present one of the rarest sights on the corner today. by no means the most elaborate, but take a minute with what it took to get here, and this is no lark, no sunday morning with nothing fun to do, even compared to the hundred upon hundreds of other gothic debutantes.

try to tell them that though, and you'll find that they are so deep into this fantasy that they'll never see themselves as one of the most blatant missing links in the chain link family around them.

how often do fans come to japan for this scene? after eight years of puppy love, racks of hand-stitched imitation, and e-bay cd binges? i'd say very, very few.

izam's show last night was apparently god-like. kagura will play in yokohama on tuesday, and i have been invited. never one to say no just because i don't know what to wear (but really, what do you wear?), i may just see you then.

densha
Posted on October 26, 2001 # 
shibuya station, ginza line. salaryman, under 30, lying fetal, full work suit, keitai cradled against hand, ear and mouth, asleep. hundreds stream by at a near jog.

back on the train at shinjuku station. hordes ooze out and scores mash back in. i feel my own voice, silent as always, screaming for everyone to just get off and stay off. you'd never know it, though; my face remains placid and pleasant as ever, and i can feel the tingle of thousands of other voices yelling the same, through a sea of vapid expressions and vacant eyes.

no zangyo day
Posted on October 23, 2001 # 
there used to be this little printout in my old office that read:

NO Žc‹Ć@DAY!

It was one of those fruity left-hand complement type of mandates from above stating that on Wednesdays no one was allowed to work overtime. here i am now, tuesday, the last guy in the office at twenty to ten, actually glad that doesn't apply to me today, thinking that oh no, i just have so much to do!

to add insult to being taken advantage of, guess what i was directed to turn in today?

"well, if you're to be in the office all day [and not out visiting people who might buy stuff], you'll have to be on the phone constantly, you know. and i want a report of all the calls and emails you've made."

riiiight. it's the professional respect as well as the deeply meaningful service that i provide on a daily basis that'll keep me coming back for more, you know.

good night, all. more jazz chants and cold visits on the morrow, and until then, a big f... night sleep. ;)


the epitome of ignorance
Posted on October 11, 2001 # 
is exactly how the sticker on the rear window reads, as the officer strides boldly out of the police 'box,' waves the car to the side, and writes out a ticket for being stunningly stupid.

all the marketing that's fit to print
Posted on October 08, 2001 # 
wake up today to the lovely scene of the bombing of the middle east. colorful maps behind expressionless reporters make plain the affected areas, and tickers across the bottom of the screen summarize international sentiment.

suddenly, and with barely a reportive 'hai' to segue, japanese soccer mom is erupting in a gleefully emotive seizure over the cleaning power of fujitsu's neon-colored vaccuum cleaner. at twice the volume of a cruise missle, i admit one does take notice, despite any incongruity.

flip to 6, 10, 12 and find most of the same, ads as well as programs. sprinkle the occasional armchair analysis, and--oops, there's a game show, too, and things are more or less the same across the board.

one report has a cnn feed in the background, for a speech by the big hairy (as opposed to the big bushy). i catch a ticker running details about strike targets and troop manouvers, and nations that are lining up in support. curious, i tune into armed forces radio--remember tweedle dee and tweedle dum from good morning vietnam? the bomb in the baby carriage that never happened?

"afghan-americans are overjoyed that the taleban is finally under attack, and their nation will be freed;"
"the international community is in full support of the U.S. assault on terrorism; only Saddam Hussein condemns it as being contrary to (ironic tone) international law."

i do not condemn this assault; the reality of it just comes through so filtered and prepackaged that i myself feel a foreigner, to all sides. japanese reporters in the afghani hills are telling farmers of these attacks for the first time, and receiving vehement assertions of jihad--to the last man!

why do so many hate us so fervently? beyond religious fear and the exaggerating effects of the powerful on the masses, when did we become the infamous el guapo?

here's hoping the good and the innocent prevail, and that we know who is who before the whole story is retold.

tuning back in
Posted on September 25, 2001 # 
It's all painful and scary, but it's still just not real. Talking and reading and writing helps, but there's not much in the way of direct exposure. Like looking out the backseat window as everyone blurs by. How many of you feel the same?


jung as ever
Posted on September 24, 2001 # 
five a.m. in club yellow. of all places for a consciousness-raising conversation. i hesitate to contradict myself and admit that important topics of international identity and national policy come up even in the most casual environments, but, well, they do. even among us kids.

boiled down to the heart, america's a child. child prodigy? maybe...no, she really is gifted. a bully? sometimes, for sure. as for a friend who's an awful lot of work? no doubt.

she tells me in no-nonsense japanese that "america is a child." i've thought that; younger even than shinjuku. 'yes, of course, but what does america need?' i wonder out loud, and get this immediate "for everyone." not working for yourself, but working for everyone, all the time.

ok. "sure, but sometimes i'm not sure what's right for everyone, what the right thing is. what then?" "empathy."

these quick, unhesitating answers are startling, and rather than attacking and debating, i ask for more. praise follows, america being great and thick with potential, but a brat who pokes around where she doesn't belong, pushing too hard and talking too much. parallels are drawn between young americans being responsible for bringing about this change, and young japanese for breaking out of tired traditions with creativity and drive. feeling like two people passing through o'hare and locking eyes for longer than the norm, i can slide the conversation forward gracefully, but my mind is blinking back the wind. the backdrop reverberates with deep mushroom jazz grooves, and i laugh at myself for the unbidden image of I-95 crossing the shinkansen tracks.

these are lessons i know, and have known, and this is the same impatience i feel when i bitch about americans. my shock comes from having yet to accept the responsibility for it, which i suppose is now just a matter of guiding it into practice everyday.

omatsuri
Posted on September 23, 2001 # 
there are festivals all over west ikebukuro today, and it's nearly impossible to get in and out of the station. no mean feat, considering the 42 different entrances.

it's incredible to see people lingering outside who aren't actively involved (well, at the moment, that is) in mahjong or in the, ah, 'water trade.' everything and more is out there, from south african missionaries on stilts and in clown get-ups begging money to Nicholas Pettis, the most famous foreign-born competitor in kyokushin karate. there are okinawan taiko drummers playing on one stage, while a hair and fashion show goes down on the second stage. in the span of an hour, i saw over 20 mikoshi (portable shrines taken out once a year for festivals) being carted through the streets by grunting, chanting, sake-chugging men, and there's even a moon bounce.

japanese language
Posted on September 23, 2001 # 
lighthearted interruption.

this was passed on by the ubiquitous mitchell-dono, and is recommended reading for anyone who has thought of studying this language.

Link: So you want to learn Japanese...

retroperspective
Posted on September 23, 2001 # 
there is a spell still over tokyo. for all its fragmentation and insulation from itself, the "tero" runs swiftly through the irrefutable undercurrent.

among friends, we talk. we share recent stories of checking in and trying to keep aware, sharing that tokyo loneliness in our back row efforts to follow the plot. expats reach out to each other, all members of an undeniable group regulated by face and feature. unsure of how or what to speak, sharing little more than a sneech-like star on our bellies, we dance around it, dipping in and out, trying to get to know each other in time to actually converse.

the news is still a window, updating every hour and with every show. headlines feature japanese companies and individuals, usually the continuing stories that we've heard from the start. one young student from west of here went down in one of the planes while looking into a dream journey to study in the U.S.

the biggest story continues to be the economy. cold as that sounds, japan increasingly looks to america for stability and guidance--almost ironically so in the former--and the most poignant pain felt in all of this is a deepened desperation for a community of hope. the disaster isn't real enough for us all to band together, to cry and share and open up over dinner; to do so, would paralyze us all tomorrow. the safety of face and of the emotional reserve shields us from rash reactions and quick tempers, but here has proven world tragedy to be too much for a mere acquaintance.

who do we call? to whom do we talk, share, and reveal right now? that must say as much as anything about what this means to us. has it affected our faith in government? how many of us have called elected officials? in tokyo?

our friends out here, our business colleagues--have they heard more than a concerned inquiry, or a calm condemnation of deliberate hatred?

ourselves? how many in the city sit with the radio, with a letter, or up on email, for reasons beyond tatemai (face)?

i don't know, and won't profess to see beyond the lashes and beards. i feel that we have all learned again what our parents knew before us, but are at the same time not safe enough, nor threatened close enough to home, to express it honestly.

the simple things
Posted on September 17, 2001 # 
it's my birthday. thanks for thinking of me. the simple thoughts--little cake with 5 candles and a kahlua coffee at quitting time, the calls, the emails, the dinner. thanks.

thankful
Posted on September 15, 2001 # 
thank god it's all over the news, and on everyone's lips. i couldn't face the unreality alone out here. my best wishes, deepest condolences and proud defiance go out to all.

very funny.
Posted on September 15, 2001 # 
sitting in the airport today for the second flight of the weekend, a middle-aged local is playing with his grandson. he's trying to catch the kid, who jumps out of reach, so with a soft voice and a little trickery, he's got him. 'hijack!' he laughs, with a proud smile. sitting next to him, what do you say?

sapporo
Posted on September 13, 2001 # 
in the interest of moving on, i'll move on here as well. it's not easy; with perspective, particularly of such a mortal nature, everything becomes less important, and less noteworthy in a sense. still, without the daily trials, tribulations and laughs, it wouldn't be worth weathering the storms. right?

the typhoon has passed, and we're now in sapporo, capital of hokkaido, and home of the beer.

rock bottom.
Posted on September 12, 2001 # 
along with innumerable others, the japanese stock market crashes. a 17 year low.

let alone those back home.

it's totally unreal from out here. no phone lines, no internet--all overloaded. only the japanese version of what happened, and constant reports on japanese business people who worked in those buildings.

past tense.

stories of 11 different planes being hijacked continue, and numbers appear on screen by 2:30am japanese time: 10,000 dead. totally unsubstantiated by u.s. military radio or word from back home. how can it be real?

people here are reacting much as i'd expect anywhere, with shock, fixation, and silence. what could you even say?

the panicked screaming of one young female reporter stands out. "nigete! nigete! ni-ge-te!!" she shrills at her cameraman, shoving her hand into the camera, forcing it down, commanding him to flee from the spreading cloud.

good friends call, each with a new bit of information as soon as they heard. nothing much to say; lots to say. i am at the office till after midnight, trying in vain to get through with the phone or onto the net.

thanks, dave; you were the first i talked to back home. thanks koichi; you were first to tell me what was going on. ken, consistent with information. miki, simple concern. mom, dad, charmaine, nikki, kristina; all of you who emailed/called/listened, thanks.

unreal.

S&M training
Posted on September 04, 2001 # 
"welcome, kobayashi-sensei, and thank you for coming toda...oh! sorry. no, no, by all means, please proceed at your own pace.
"ah, thank you! what a lovely english handout. it will..ah. yes. right. do excuse me."

...a long period of listening without understanding follows. not the golden child of comprehension today.

lunch break. quick introduction to kobayashi-sensei.

"ah, no sir, about 50%. yes. but no, a language problem, sir. please, don't give it a secon....ah, yes, excuse me."

hurry out to the bank and post office. 40 minutes to mail a simple money order, and dash back with tomato and potato salad sliming its way out of a cheap doutor bagel, just in time for more--you guessed it--listening.

the monday morning translators on all sides smell blood in the water as i flounder for comprehension. others reassure me with shell-shocked glances and self-effacing smiles, but i'm left unguarded at the end of the row. CS is explained as client support, amended to customer service, lengthy apologies follow. at least i have an excuse for missing that part.

hands and knees, crawling through a final break, and lead the group through a last project that actually could have been much worse. saving us all from further abuse, i quietly slip out of presenting to the class at the last minute, leaving only our illustrious sensei's 20 minute farewell soliloquy to be weathered in quiet desperation.

"if you would just be so kind with this questionnaire..."

back to the country
Posted on September 04, 2001 # 
roll back into japan, jet-lagged to the fifth, and head straight for the young hills of yamanashi. tokyo is still my lover, just maybe not my best girl anymore. and sometimes you just need space.

sit back, on a strong four-legged chair, pester the fire till it roars, quick nod for a beer and a cup of junmae, and listen in on the trails of conversation all around.

master is deep into the beauty of the forest, and the moss on the stones in particular; graf points out the stalk of bamboo above us, sliced in half and working fine as an old-time rain gutter (except it's only half as long as the roof); kagetora, at an increasingly mobile one year, reverberates from one young, single woman to another, as they seamlessly trade cute story for giggle amidst continuous comings and goings of a good 8 different personalities; tamaki bursts into monologue, her gentle teasing, unlikely tales and self-deprecating jokes drag you loudly in--or push you away to a considerable physical distance...the old wooden house stands firm through all 14 of us, despite a reservation for 8, and thin, flammable doors and tatami mats all around. azam's kebabs and curry hold out till nearly two, and the fire holds on well through breakfast.

not much to tell; just a day away from the city, with all the friends and food and drink that make everyday life in the city what it is. the blaze in kabukicho that ends the lives of 44 gamblers, dealers, whores, pimps and johns doesn't reach us except through a trickle of rural rumor, and by the time we get back and have to ask what happened, there's a real feeling that we've been away, out of the loop for just long enough to come back.

day in the life
Posted on September 04, 2001 # 
woke up today, 6:57 to be exact, to an odd buzzing sound that dragged me out of bed, puzzled. i closed the kitchen window, checked the toilet, then the doorbell, till i realized that it really was a fire alarm. clapped my hands, called to lisa, threw on jeans and a shirt, stole the extra second to grab wallet, keys and emergency water bottle, and fled down the fire escape to yamate dori.

smoke and high pitched screams. tokyo folk in regular morning gear: t-shirts, sweats, jimbe, shorts, whatever. morning eyes, summer tans. old men, young punks, teenage girls; we're all staring at the fifth floor as it smokes and crashes with the sound of too many people trying to get out, and not getting very far.

wasting no time, fire trucks arrive. five of them, if i remember right, along with police cars and a few ambulances, too. firemen troop up the stairs and come down promptly with three crying children and three very disheveled women, one wailing and unable to stand. their burned feet disperse somehow at the bottom of the escape, and people cry.

one little boy runs off alone and no one's there with him. lisa reaches to help calm him down; he's crying for mom. no one else comes over. he cries. i tell him he'll be all right. he doubles over and cries more.

smoke is pouring out of the back of the apartment now, and shreds of paper and ash shoot out now and again. two nervous and scattered women have rounded up a couple of cats that seem to belong to the family in 503, and wait with them anxiously. they eventually find they can't send them to the hospital, and hold them tighter.

the yakuza show up, languidly strutting in, as normal and morninged as the rest of us. i remember meeting the middle-aged guy in the track suit at a festival in shinjuku last month; he's the head of the local chapter that appears to control the bulk of ikebukuro's sex trade. he delivers a few short sentences into the cell, and waits with some younger guys. they make longer calls.

although hide nor hair were seen of him since the outbreak, the man of the apartment, which is still raging, turns up shortly. in his pjs, walking unevenly, he looks upwards of 40, and tired. he's missing a pinky joint, and as his sleeves ride up, wide tattoos appear on both arms.

track suit checks on the formerly hysterical woman in the ambulance; she seems under control. he consults pjs, who looks down and nods acceptingly.

cops pool together on one side; firefighters scurry around everywhere; the mafia mills about the intersection of the alley and the highway. we, the residents, droop a little as yellow tape is stretched across the base of our home, and group together in pockets and start to talk.

water damage is discussed, the family is watched as it piles into ambulances, two or three on respirators. everyone was conscious coming out, but at least one ends up on a stretcher. the cars linger for at least an hour until the group of less injured are taken away first; i bow solemnly to that little boy through the window. he makes eye contact, tightens his lip, and delivers a resolute bow in return.

after more milling, calling and a whole lot of water comes back down the stairs, the last two young women are carted into a second ambulance. they disappear down the street, and lisa and i head off to breakfast to wait.

it's now 5:30, and i wonder if the power's on yet.