d v.0.1

isn't life a series of images that change as they repeat themselves?

- warhol

we photograph things in order to drive them out of our minds.

- kafka

shut your eyes and you'll burst into flames.

- log lady

see the rest of the series here

Blogged 21x

"Nothing ever goes according to plan" - Emit Remmus - Red Hot Chili Peppers{The pics are exhibit A, B, and C in order from left to right, but following in an up and down motion...kinda like a sine/cosine wave. Also, the sign in exhibit C is far off in the distance left of the hut...course the formatting's all messed now...again, please refer to the RHCP}

14:00

Right before writing this, a certain phenomenon was being {and probably will concurrently be throughout the handwritten portion of this entry} observed with a child's eye. Nothing spectacular, just neat. The child is me, and the phenomenon is merely the simple reflection of sunshine radiating over my right shoulder, hitting the chrome tip of the pen, and reflecting a cosmic universe of light and what appears similar to a universe unto the page {Exhibit A + B if you will}. Whoopee doo dah, but what's special to me though is that this could not have occurred had I not been sitting @ this precise angle with my head forming a shadow of about an inch onto the page. This allowed the necessary space for the light to be cast in its circular/spiralling manner. Once either I [as a whole], my pen, my head, the page, and later the sun changed position; numerous re-positionings would be required to produce the desired effect again. In fact, even afer about the time it took to jot this down, some variation of the angles was indeed necessary!

The time now's about 14:40. In the past 40 mins, I've spoken to my buddy Carl and we've done some planning for our trip to Egypt. There's a lot of excitment about what we'll do there, but we also naturally have to take care of such mundane things as booking hotels, trains, acquiring visas, and getting travel insurance. The latter’s needed because Egypt might not be the safest place and incidents with tourists in the past can cause a bit of worry. Thus the reason I haven’t really mentioned to my family of this excursion in the desert. I figure to tell them before going, but in the meantime why cause them excess stress.

Speaking of which, as a side note, I must mention something that is troubling my mind: NOVA…yeah, guess that’s all I have to say about that. I’m going to call my buddy who’s an AT and hasn’t been paid yet. I’d like to know the situation to find out if NOva’s going to go bust. The events of this day could decide whether I stay in Japan. I want to, but am unsure of this job’s security. It sucks monkey arses because it feels so foreign and ‘grown-up’ {precisely what I was/am trying to avoid by coming here and simply working a relatively straightforward job}. I want time, I want mind space. What for??? To be able to create!!! I want to write, and I feel I got to get on it soon. Nothing’s stopping me but my own accord, volition, and willingness to forget about that which I cannot change; and to do as I truly wish. To be independent; to be enlightened; to be. This touches upon this day itself.

My plans were [and still possibly are]: to sleep early the night before, wake up early {round 4:00 or 5:00} to run/train, then go back to shower/eat, fire off some emails, go climbing in Yokohama, come back home and record some guitar tracks, eat, fuck off and go write something substantial for ‘Unplugged’ in the donut shop, come back, chill out with the housemate, have a smoke, snack, get ready for bed, jot more notes for this, sleep {early work day tomorrow so no drunk-ass antics…or maybe???} Now, as circumstance will show now, I’m actually a little down and out of for a couple of reasons...though right in this moment I’m chilling listening to the mystical band ‘Kula Shaker’.

So here’s the situation: Nova shit stress and uncertainty. I just messaged the NOva buddy to find out if he got paid. Also, I’m a little sick [not just mentally heheheh], but my throat’s infected. It could possibly be the weather and pressure changes, screaming @ karaoke on Sunday, and drinking and smoking too much lately. It’s most likely a combo of them all along with the aforementioned NOva bullshit. And yeah, it’s also saddening that some folk have or are leaving NOva and Japan.

As Gav pointed out, it’s shitteh meeting cool people and having them in and out of your life so quickly. But c’est la vie, Ob-La-Di. I guess it also makes it interesting what with all the changes and different seasons of either weather, mindsets, or moods themselves. Anyhows, back to so-called everyday life events. As the pen light show demonstrated, everyday life can hold such oddities that they seem so surreal.

As a side-note, I laugh @ myself cuz of the memory of a ‘Family Guy’ episode where Peter’s looking/videoing the bag flying through the air {which is a spoof on ‘American Beauty’} and the god character’s all annoyed and like: “Do you know how complex your nervous system is???” The show’s point is true, yet I don’t think many of us realize this. I mean you can take it as “hahaha, what a dumbass staring @ stupidity”; or the flipside’s “Whoa that’s trippy. That’s life, that’s a pattern of existence. Awesome!!!” {And for those who have seen the world through foggy eyes, you know what I mean}

In this weird story, I find a greatness of life. That all things can be analyzed with the seriousness of a murder case, and can concurrently be laughed @ and along with the laughter of an insane jester. Speaking of which, I just found out my friend didn’t get paid. FUCK!!! Not til Tuesday they tell him. What does that mean??? Not sure. Need to walk, my bottom’s numb from sitting on the sand too long.

Walking back to my spot on the beach [which is fairly desolate cuz it’s a weekday]. I just saw a random green ball rolling across the beach being blown by {I likes alliteration} the wind. It had some good momentum, and I looked @ its trajectory and whether it was going to hit anyone. No one really in sight, coast is literally clear. Then I saw a sign {again literally, please refer to exhibit C}, and wondered if it would hit it. Whaddaya know, it did!!! Bang, target acquired and smacked yea eya!!!!!!

Well back to the divergence of post-original Sept 21st plans. I came back yesterday after climbing [which was a surprisingly decent session despite being really tired, having a headache and sore throat, and generally just feeling like shit]. But yeah, came back about quarter to midnight. Spoke with the roomie bout NOva, had a smoke and a beer, threw some laundry in the machine, put the kettle on. Somewhere between the start of the 21st and 2:00am (Japan time), I ate the soup, hung the laundry, and watched a documentary...well a lecture by Michael Tsarion.

Interesting fellow he is indeed. Actually since it’s over 3 hours long, I was technically finishing it. He discusses much of what’s wrong with the world on a psychological level, and how things in space and within our minds are changing. It’s cynical @ times and quite a bummer, but overall carries with it an optimistic message. He gives hope for better days, however, it’s not a message of hocus pocus, and thankfully not some dogmatic dialectic diatribe either. Instead, it contains guidance and mental preparation to further arm oneself with the proper tools to adjust to the future.

As another side-note I’ll mention a couple of other enlightening characters. Interest in this topic has spawned from a girl who taught me to think differently. Oddly enough, although we think very similar thoughts, they seem almost completely out of phase. For example, imagine a sine wave and a cosine wave. They are the same pattern and frequency, just out of phase. Oh well, such is life. We make and come to our own conclusions.

Regardless, she changed me, and so did the band TOOL {and to a lesser extent ‘Incubus’}. From there, these other teachers to name the recent few have also influenced me with their whacked out minds: Ayn Rand – Atlas Shrugged, Dan Brown – Angels and Demons, Stephen King – Dark Tower series, J.D. Salinger – The Catcher in the Rye, Drunvalo Melchizedek – Sacred Geometry, Gregg Braden – Zero Point, Michael Tsarion – 2012 The Future of Mankind {the latter can be viewed for free on google video [.ca, not sure if .com has them]}. Also, check out ‘Zeitgeist’, which is also a free third eye opener available on the net. But as Tsarion says, “Open up your third ear and listen to the aspects of your true self too”.

Of course these concepts owe a lot to psychoanalytic psychologists such as Freud and Jung. And though I don’t believe in everything they propose, their knowledge combined with cognitive and behavioural theories [Maslow, Skinner, etc.] can lead to better understandings of ourselves and the world {though I’m by no means an example of this…wakaranai???}

Phoned my NOva buddy, offered to strike…we’ll see what happens. Anyhows, slept, woke up @ 6 to 9 (8:54), not 4:20. Got ready, ate a kiwi, found out I couldn’t get the shot because of my sore throat. Luckily they didn’t charge. Went to get food [had a craving for bacon and eggs]. Got home, ate, and watched more about Tsarion. This time it was an interview about symbology {which is a real word despite what Willem Dafoe’s character said in ‘Boondock Saints’, though I think he was referring to the incorrect contextual usage}. Tsarion mentioned a lot of what Dan Brown mentions in his works, though probably 10 years before Brown. He was also most likely ignored as a quack. I dozed off, packed up, went to the beach.

Dozed off some more and began writing. Now up to this pt.

Days away, later, I can remember only fragments of what happened. After the beach, spoke with the roomie some more bout the shitteh situation of NOva. We started drinking, played some euchre, got Mexican food, chilled and learnt a secret recipe from a hottie part time chef from the restaurant. The owner, a cool surf dude was drunk, fell asleep on my roomate @ the restaurant. We then left, and saw him and the hottie chef driving home drunk assed on bicycles. I have nothing more to rant about at this moment in time about the 21st. It was an interesting and fun/funny day (omoshiroi {I like this Japanese word}). Thanks to Gav and all those who organized this creatively excellent event. Adios.

Fourth Thing

My mental and physical space

Japan

On September 21st I…
woke-up, felt like shit, put my futon away, shitted, pissed, washed my hands, made toast, drank juice, talked to my friends, had a shower, packed my bag, walked to the station, went to Yokohama, bade farewell to my friends, went home, procrastinated, used the internet, listened to music, daydreamed, took a nap, threw some rubbish in the bin, played guitar, listened to children playing in the street, looked at the weeds in my garden, ate some food, took a shower, talked to my grandfather on the phone, put on a suit I don’t like, walked to the station, went to work, started work, looked at girls, fantasized, taught some students, studied japanese, drew a picture, ate some food, taught students again, finished work, took a crowded train home pressed up against some salary men, went to a 100 yen store, bought some shit, meandered home, cooked some food, searched the internet, read some e-mails, contributed to a forum, masturbated, washed my hand, drank some water, took a shower, dried myself, took out my futon, laid down, fell asleep.

I had fun on September 21st.


Carl Leitch

Australia

Friday the 21st of September was a big day. Last day of work before 2 weeks of holidays. I was in such a hurry that I forgot to take my camera to work to document anything. I finished at 2.30pm so I came home quickly. My football team(AFL) was playing for the right to contest the grandfinal. My team is Geelong and we had to play a tenacious Collingwood.

The pictures:

1)My bathroom before going to the bottleshop

2)My loungeroom

3-5)My walk to the bottleshop

6)Some badges of my favorite players. The guy on the left was banned from our team for the first 6 weeks of the season for boozing and running amuck. He returned after a sabbatical and is a star player. The guy on the right is less talented but tries hard and embodies team spirit. I hope they can both fire tonight. Andrew B.

Australia

sept 21

12:29 a.m. on September 21st

September 21st really begins by ending. After an evening of wine and spending time with friends, I realize the night has blurred to an end. It’s time for me to sleep and begin again tomorrow, or is it today?

Roller Derby!!!

Roller Derby Friends…

Some old and some new, each one with something unique to contribute. I love the expressions on their faces!


The pandemonium that is roller derby!

Life is War(Part 3)

I was feeling a bit tired, so I went into a convenience store to buy a coffee. I check out a Stussy catalog. They have some fresh clothes. I picked up a coffee off the shelf. While in line, I saw that NOVA was on the front page of a newspaper, so I bought that too. I walked down the hill, turned left, and then entered a building. I took the elevator to the 8th floor, where my Japanese school is.
I've been coming here for about 2 1/2 years every week with the same teacher. Her name is Natsuko. She's lived in England and Thailand. She's really cool. Today's lesson was about The Guiness Book of World Records. I told her about my friend Zane who could shoot milk out his eye, according to the article we read this guy in India can shoot it 15ft. It was a good lesson. When I walked out the door, I looked at Tokyo from about 8 stories high, buildings as far as the eyes could see. I went down the escalator and headed towards the cafe' where I could get some food and write.
I ordered a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel sandwich and chai tea. I sat down. My table is like a ship in the ocean, unstable, rocking back and forth so easily. Also it was positioned awkwardly, directly at another table where two girls were chatting. I felt uncomfortable staring into their conversation, but a little patience and all is alright. They were playing some god awful American Pop music, Britney, Nelly, Nerd....This was a little more difficult to take than other things.
I pulled out the latest Metropolis, an english magazine in Japan, which is complete shit, but the only one out there, so I read it. Its useful for classifieds and concert listings, but the articles are pretty useless. Then I read the newspaper I bought earlier. I didn't read any articles, I just glanced at the headlines. Afterwards I got up and returned my tray and walked to the station. I'm feeling tired, and slow moving.
It's 3:03 and I'm on the train. An older man counts his change, another reads a newspaper, 2 ladies chat. A man takes off his tie. Trains are moving past, the a/c is buzzing. Gotanda is the next stop. I hear a laugh. The guy near the door has a huge bag of books. He picks one out to read. I see this young guy looking blankly out the window. Another guy sits across from me, hands neatly folded, and head hanging down. The sun shines bright out the windows, shadows flicker across my writing page. The next stop is Shinagawa. Time to change trains.
On the platform a young man with a backpack leans against a post reading R-25, which is a well designed Japanese free magazine which reviews just about anything. A train comes, he disappears. At the post, now, a man in a gray suit talks on his phone, he uses a book to cover his face, so he can hear better. Down the platform a young woman stands in line for the next train. She holds a small folded pink towel over the bottom half of her face.
I get on the train and fight for a seat. The woman next to me ends a call. She takes a mint from her brown leather woven bag. She lowers her head and tries to get some sleep. The women with the pink towel sits across from me, her eyes closed, still with the pink towel over her face. The woman next to her sleeps on the end seat with her hand awkwardly holding her head. A woman holding a tea bottle, jacket, and bag, stands next to the doors staring out the window. 2 school girls gossip. They are the only voices I hear, but I don't understand them. A poster at the end of the train car says "100% honest". Its a poster for Suit Company. The posters are all over the inside of the train. Companies often buy out all the ad space on a train. A capitalist gallery. The woman next to me, talks on the phone about skin care soap. She must be a salesperson. The man near the door has slicked back hair and glasses. He's wearing a blue striped short sleeve shirt and brown pants. He holds a small book in his hands. I look up from the page I write as a train thunderously passes by. It paints the windows with orange and green stripes. At Kamata, many passengers get on. I see two young school boys, both with the same exact uniform looking like little Nazi children with their military general caps and jackets. A man across from me reads a book, legs crossed, one shoe taken off to feel more comfortable. We race towards Kawasaki, my stop. I have about an hour and a half to kill. I think about what I should do. We pass over the Tama river. Its truly a beautiful sunny day. The sky is clear with a few clouds floating by.

The 21st

At 8:00 A.M. I woke up. I got an email from Aya at the same time as my alarm. After that I took a shower. I was thinking about "Paprika", the movie we watched last night. Its only two hours long, but we couldn't finish it, even after the second time we tried to watch it.

At 9:15 I was at the station. I had to go to my job at the cafe'. It takes 10 minutes from the station on foot. I was holding my camera turned on because last week I saw a man who flashed me. So, I was hoping to get his picture.

I had to work until 11 pm. At 10 o' clock a couple came to the cafe'. They are getting married in December. We talked until 11:30, standing up . The man was an editor of a TV drama that I like. This drama is about a form of Japanese comedy called "Rakugo" . Rakugo is when a person sits on a stage and tells a funny story. He told me that a long time ago people used to watch it live for only 100 yen, whereas now it might be about 2000 yen. Many young people today are interested in Rakugo because of this man's TV show. Another kind of live performance is a paper cutting show and at the same time they sing a song. Its called "Kamikirimeijin" . The cutouts look realistic and they don't use a drawing, just scissors and paper. I really want to see this show. Some people cry when they see it.

At 12 I finally went home. I called my boyfriend. He is teaching a kid's class at my cafe'. We were talking about it. Then I went to sleep.

Life Will Smile For You

On the 21st of September, I was eating some fried chicken with my best mate from high school. We were on a bullet train, on the way out of Tokyo because neither of us wanted to stay at home. Two days before that day, I broke up with my ex and also my mate left her ex; it was a strange coincidence but we knew exactly where we stood at that time. What we talked about was not the people we went out with, but about the emptiness of our minds; there were huge holes somewhere in our bodies, and it was physically hurting. It was a dull ache which makes you feel kind of lost. However, we had to get through it, because it’s a kind of thing you get after finishing a relationship with someone normally. We are both grown up enough as ladies to understand that, unfortunately. The window of the bullet train was covered by a curtain. We didn’t pay much attention to the scenery anyway. Before getting on the train, I bought some lunch for us. I had no appetite at all that day, so I bought fried chicken because I liked the painted chicken outside of the box. I assumed it was him, because it wore a bow tie, he flapped his wings and looked very arrogant, a kind of arrogance that comes from the chicken just being himself. It appealed to me at that time, I thought, I wish I had his confidence and indifference. Me and my mate were talking about the chicken, not like slagging off, but more objectively. It was pointless to blame the chicken for his arrogance, because he is a chicken.

“Imagine; you were on the train with this chicken.” I said.

“Yeah?” she said.

“The view from the window was all dark, nothing, because the train was in the tunnel.”

I said.

“OK.”

“And, it’s the endless darkness- you can’t see a thing from the window. It feels like forever.” I said.

“That’s depressing.” She said.

“Exactly, being in the dysfunctional relationship is like getting on the train with the chicken.” I said.

“You always say things that sound truthful, but really aren’t.” She said.

She knows me well. All of a sudden, I felt too much. Tears came out from my eyes and I was crying, because I just realized that I am no longer capable of staying a kid anymore. I had a bite of fried chicken and it tasted awful, then the next moment everything looked awful as the aftertaste in my mouth. My mate talked to me with her eyes saying, “Hey, you ok?” but instead of saying the words, he held my right hand. Here’s two grown ups in seats next each other, looking very lost. Just like our high school days. I drunk some coke with my empty hand and tried to forget everything.

Now, 16 days later from 21^st of September, I am madly in love with a person whom I didn’t even know 16 days ago. You really don’t know what’s around the corner, I mean it.

For the first time in my life, I truly believe that life is beautiful.

Third Thing

In the midst of grasping the moments of my fleeting morning, the battery on my digital camera died. I hadn't taken but a few pics in weeks, and my angst about putting off what I enjoy most could not have been more clear... I'm a photographer, and i rarely take pictures. I pulled out the battery and stuck it to the charger. I pulled out the flash card and stuck it to the computer. I wasn't fazed out at all... I grabbed my cell phone and began to document the remnants of my compounded life, yesterdays dirties.

Recently my laundry, both dirty and clean , have become a form by which I outwardly construct my lack of desire to maintain my own personal and mental comfort. When my cloths aren't fashioning my body they're decorating my floor, and as much as I like to tell myself to clean up, fold cloths, and become tidy, I just can't seem to do so. Some part of me really enjoys dredging through yesterdays unfinished business, procrastinating, or just generally letting shit slide. My laundry is a simple object that I'm using to represent the slipping aspect of my daily life. Mentally, I wanted something to be different about September 21st, and I wanted to see the results immediately. I desperately needed a change for the positive on this day. I wanted to carry a new effort into the future, so I began by taking a critical look at my internal personal spaces, and bu making small changes that would ripple into my future.

My September 21st

I saw the sky and trees in Yuune’s eye.
I cannot control what he sees.
He sees whatever happens in front of his eyes.
Nature, friends, love, hesitance, war, religion, murder, heroes, movies.
I want him to have a brain that can interpret and think on its own for what he sees.


I am grateful for having a place to live.

I am grateful for being able to eat whatever I want to eat.

I am grateful for having a chance to enjoy my life.

I am grateful for spending my life as I want.


I am satisfied.

I love Rob and Yuune.

I spend my life happily.

I pray for world’s peace.


Recently I often think about what the love is.
I used to answer to Rob,
“I don’t know what the love is, the only thing I know is I want to be with you now.”
But now I think about family love.
Does it last forever?
Will I be able to love Rob as a family or as a father of Yuune forever?
How do I love Rob now?

Love to Yuune is completely different from anything else.
I cannot even compare.
Or can I still call this feeling love?
I cannot live without him anymore.


My Two Treasures

Life is War (Part 2)

I cook breakfast. I have a very strict process. I put some butter in the pan, turn on the gas, and some butter on some bread inside the toaster. I slice a tomato into 4 pieces. I have a song in my head. I can't figure out what it is. I don't even know if I have it. I can never concentrate on just cooking. I check my Japanese homework. The pan is ready. I crack the egg on the side. The yolk goes running, Damn! Oh well, I put the tomatoes in. "SSSSSSSZZZZZZ" I open up the toaster and spread the butter on the toast. Once the toast is done, I cut it into four pieces, for dunking into the yolks, but today my yolk is all fucked, but I do it anyway, I don't know. So I take the mishap of an egg and put it on the plate, and then the tomatoes. It was all still pretty good. I love breakfast, it is the king of meals. No matter alone, hungover, not hungry, starving, with friends, it always seems to give some kind of gratification. One of my favorite memories, is living at the compound. I remember Gabe eating breakfast like 2 or 3 times a day. I finally realize that song that was in my head, was the strokes. Then my roommate sean comes in, his real name is ehtesham. I ask him if anything happend at work. My company right now is having major problems. The titled instructors haven't gotten paid yet. I've been a little stressed lately because I might not get paid next month or the month after. And the management of the company has kept everyone in the dark. I have a new job, but not until November, which means I won't get paid until December.
And I just spent my savings to rent an apartment. But this is life. Its all part of
the experience. What are you made of? Is money all that important?

So I take a shower. While I was in there I was having visions of not getting paid. I was visualizing myself going to the head office and trying to get paid. But they didn't give a damn because I chose to work for a different company. "Traitor!"

Then I got dressed. I gathered my things. I put on my shoes with a shoe horn. "fag", and went out the door. When I got outside my building a man wearing black pants, gucci belt and a white shirt was passing by. I instantly felt the heat. Its September and its still pretty hot. I walked to the station and noticed the train was about to arrive. I hustled up the stairs to the platform. The train came, I got on, and 2 stops later got off and transfered to another train. While I was on the train, I sent an email to Rob, about all the people I saw on the train. It was the usual crowd of people glued to their cellphone screens and looking well dressed. About 8 stops later I got off at Daikanyama.

sixty-eight footsteps

My day begins much like it ends; peacefully asleep.

i awake at 2:30am to the sound of my son Yuune’s voice; a gentle-half sleeping cry. Aya and i change his diaper, Aya nurses him, and the three of us drift back off to sleep.

5:30am; Yuune’s gentle cry returns. Recently he always wakes up at this time, we call it his “prime-time.” i change his diaper. He thanks me with a smile and a giggle. i sit and marvel at his face, his hands, his feet, his tummy, his smile, his voice. The sun begins to rise; the sky a beautiful arrangement of dark blues and subtle yellows. He smiles at me, laughs and giggles more, we play together; i kiss his tummy and tickle him. His laughter makes me feel like crying, like I am being ambushed with love and joy. He starts to cry and Aya wakes up to nurse Yuune again. The three of us lay in bed and drift off to sleep, again.

I wake up again around 7:30am to Yuune crying. Aya and my mother are already up. I awaken. Stand up. My feet take a step from the futon of my previous slumber to the tatami mats of our bedroom, and my day continues...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/14191784@N02/sets/72157602174320955/show/

(Follow this link to view a slide show of the rest of my day. All of the slides should have comments, but if you don't see any, click the options link and check the 'always show titles and descriptions' box.)

By the way, Cheers to Life!!

Second Thing

Morning Meditation

I am an abstraction of my-self-thought
Natural and awkward
Uncaring, and critical
A contradiction

Caring, caring, caring, caring
carrying, carrying, carrying, carrying
Not caring,
Not carrying

I cannot be
A state of constancy?
Motion in change of holding back, or that which
isn't letting go

Everyday...
The held in Bit
Instructions:

Move with thought,
Act for that,
Realign,
Muse without motion,
Steady,
and Breath

Breath

Breath

Breath?

Breath?
But form is only suitable for...
So long,
I'm out of Breath

Distant thoughts warm my belly
Yesterday, the Beatles
Tomorrow Tomorrow, Elliot Smith
Twenty minutes from now?
They don't stop coming
Sometimes I push
Other times I pull

Older, and Possible Wiser

September 21st, 2007, 3.15pm: Sitting at the same highly polished table, in front of the same broken, ink-stained whiteboard, in the exact same musty classroom I found myself a year and a half prior, you'd be forgiven for thinking that, like some old relic, I hadn't moved in all this time.

And it doesn't actually feel like I've changed at all as I sit here, trousers valiantly sticking to my legs and the imitation leather chair beneath my frame, sweating in a classroom still with heat.

A gust of cool air from a fan slicing through thick humidity tears me from these thoughts, and with my tongue I casually prod the newly acquired third molars jutting from the upper region of my mouth. That's a change: they hadn't yet made their presence known the last time I was here. I still recall the last visit to my dentist, Mr. Myers, who sagely informed me that although my upper thirds had emerged triumphantly, the lower two had found their way beneath my seconds, and were stuck; embedded in bone as hard as rock.

The adaptability of the mouth is actually something that impresses me: any change, regardless of how significant, is hastily acknowledged and accepted by our brain, and we come to feel as though nothing has ever been any different. It is the same place, but with a new element: something gained or something lacking.

On the journey to my current location, standing on a crowded bus bound for Yokohama, a frail old dear of about 5 feet in stature relentlessly punched me in my back, as I was obstructing her in her effort to de-board. Upon my arrival in Yokohama, I decided to try my bank card: unused for a year and a half and for an account containing 3 yen (3 cents, 1 1/2 pence), to see if, by some small chance, it still worked. To my astonishment, my account has indeed been kept open, as if they knew that I would end up back here.

As I sit in this muggy classroom awaiting a group of old ladies not so very different from my earlier assailant, I wish I was somewhere else. Drinking with my mates in the beautiful British sunshine, listening to some new Lewis Parker, Jehst or Task Force ruggedness, like I was 3 weeks before. Or with my girlfriend, chatting shit and arguing over who's more of an arsehole. Or cotching with my brothers, watching TV and chatting over who's more of an arsehole. In any event I'm here for the afternoon, and after a year and a half break from it back in the UK, I'm starting to wonder which set of third molars provides a better analogy for my life in Japan.

comrades, it's nice to drop a line or 223

Naetron, Denver CO 9/21/07 12:36 am_ The last of the previous day’s caffeine burns out of my system after capping a paper on “Multimedia Team Management”. My brain is making up its own language as I doze off: stuff like, “prizmaticulnatriusnict saft frampen dislascious….”, remarkable mostly because the dialog has never been more perceivable, and sounds like my voice, at least the one I imagine I have before it plays back on tape. 6:30 am_ Alarm goes off. Back to sleep. I dream those half-awake sequences where your conscious mind is interfering with the signal. The most lucid part was being up and about in my apartment and deciding to trim my houseplants by eating the leaves (I could taste ‘em too!), 7:41 am I wake up for real, and make an espresso noticing the plants. They trigger the memory of the dream. 8:11 am Walk to class because my bike needs the crank bolt tightened, and feel a lot of space. I think the city is shrinking. The ipod plays out the end of some old-school break tune (like Herbie Hancock old-school), and starts up with a DJ Dan exerpt. I smile as thoughts of this writing project and memories of our dancing days come back to mind. Passing the bike trail on Speer is like “Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure” where everybody’s having such a wonderful time on their bikes. I figure these things happen for reasons beyond my control, forcing me to slow down and enjoy the waning of summer. 8:37 am A bit late for a class in advanced multimedia, and someone brought some excellent bagels. Emmelyn and Christopher give a presentation on web usability- worth mentioning because Emmelyn is smart, attractive, artsy : probably my next batch of trouble. A majority of my classmates including la professora are dressed in black, although my friend Candice is wearing hot pink (which is basically black too right?) Emmelyn is in green, and just to be fair Chris is wearing some god awful product of his mid college crisis. 9:22 am Class is over, still too shy to make the first move with Emmelyn, although it’s probably best being that I’m twenty-eight now and she’s like twenty or something. Walking everywhere reminds me to get my bus/light-rail sticker renewed. I take the light-rail south to work. 10:05 am Grooving to this jazz fusion arrangement of “What the world needs now, is love, sweet love…” with melodies that remind me of the tunes my parents used to do together. Mom’s voice comes to mind as it usually does a few times a day. For those of you outside the “Nate bubble,” we lost her to breast cancer a couple years ago. Eventually I’ll get over the sad desire to call her. 10:20 I get to work where the adjoining office is doing a live-link camera interview (for the talking heads you see on the news) of this well-dressed gentleman from a gold company who is being interrupted by someone at the Bloomberg stock report. Del bumps through the headphones. I’ve had trouble enjoying him lately, something about his rhythms and inflections only work with skate/snowboarding. 10:30 am By now the computers are warmed up and I’m chopping and flopping images for this “Salon d’ Arts” client we build web pages for. They’re organizing a show of 20-30 artists, so I’m posting bios with submissions to the show/sale. There’s some good work, some bad- I just know I’m in need of music. I dig itunes radio, especially ABF, a pretty good French house/techno stream. I hear that Underworld song from Trainspotting- those beats still rock! 10:34 am Ok. Sick of techno already. It’s definitely to be taken with a similar moderation as the drugs techno music reminds me of. Switch streams to Magnatune, classical music and more classical music for my nerdy ass. The uplink camera guy Kurt is chatting with an unidentified gray-haired gentleman in the adjoining room at a table (probably about old guy stuff). Kurt drives a yellow trans-am once in a while, otherwise it’s a 4Runner. Magnatune starts into a choral work quickly getting replaced with the Beatles’ “Ain’t She Sweet” from my ipod. 12:24 pm All the artists have their works optimized for web, and I’m starting on the bios when the computer bugs out in MSWord, presenting a good time to eat and get this bike problem taken care of. 12:45 pm Taking the light-rail north back into downtown, I noticed a stencil tag of the famous self-igniting Buddhist protester still hasn’t been buffed after months. Soon I’m on the 16th Street Mall headed to the bank for some lunch money. Late lunchers are lined up for pizza and Taco Bell. I’ve been so broke lately I forget what supa-fat tastes like. A hand drummer is keeping a nice “boodoo-doodacka-dacka” as people in dark glasses mill around on those smooth tiles surely thinking about MacDonald’s. 12:57 pm I’m a few minutes away from the great monolith super structure of Republic Plaza where my bank is, and more drumming becomes audible as I approach Civic Center Park. I notice an arrangement of black and white marble blocks, supposed to be functional art or something. Five seconds later I pass a foxy business lady composed of the same color scheme sitting on a concrete half wall. 1:12 pm The sick bike is retrieved and taken to Salvagetti’s Bike Shop down the street. A blond-haired punk rocker-like dude works on my bike as a couple bearded and slender bike messenger types dig on a catalog. Bike shops always have a weird vibe. I often feel like this dumb-ass yuppie scum in my computer geek button-up with the way mechanics eye me down, but I’m not falling into this new hipster culture of riding around on track bikes in mid-day traffic in nothing but a retro-vintage bike cap just to fit in. The punk rocker dude has me rolling ten minutes and a $2 tip later. 1:25pm Since the Great Expiration of my debit card, I’ve discovered how expensive it actually is to fuel my body every day. With my $6 budget I score a filet of rockfish (which is really cod I think) two liters of soymilk, and a block of mozzarella. 1:35pm My rockfish ends up getting basted, and I discover it is definitely cod. Somehow this goes well with a second run on the morning espresso beans. 1:52pm Back at work after a nice little sprint on the freshly-tightened crank, and I’m in the mood for more techno. ABF is bumpin’ some nice acid house, and I’m quickly set pointing and clicking again. 2:15pm Techno gets irritating again. Back to classical where they’re playing the Prelude of Suite no.5 for Cello by Bach, it’s like a spiritual sermon for musicians, I get chills from it. Right after that they play Ave Maria by Josquin Deprez, the last lines before the “Amen” of this choral work never cease to move me to tears, something very connective and emotional in the harmonic structure. A couple tunes later, this Schumann piano piece once played by a love interest comes on and I decide music school made me into a pussy. 3:30pm Deep into pointing and clicking, now to the jams on the ipod, I’m thinking about this Emmelyn girl again. I attribute my condition to hours of working alone at a computer, in an empty office, to music that’s most often about all that love crap. 4 something pm I need a diversion, more coffee, and sex. Two of these are immediately manageable, guess which ones the monkey figured out. 5 something pm Still formatting HTML pages of artists, this shit requires patience as the final product rarely has any rewarding or remotely visceral qualities. By this point the music starts distracting me from my task, and I’m reduced to babbling to myself while I copy and paste lines of code around. Fortunately the content is somewhat inspirational. 6 something pm I wanna go home, but I also need money, dammit. The speedbike of freedom is calling to me, must….focus….. 7:30 pm Debugging and systems check complete, initializing system shutdown protocol, 364-035 niner blahhhp…bleep.. 7:33pm It’s pretty dim out, riding through the Baker district feels like those movie neighborhoods in the Midwest. It feels good to sprint. I speed through a couple red lights before one’s actually covering a car (yeah that’s Denver for you). It feels pretty sweet to skid out from 25mph to .3mph in few seconds too. 7:41pm Back at the Batcave, we find our hero with disabled communication, modest rations, and a bottle of wine with no corkscrew (this could be a metaphor for my life). Peanut butter and honey with soymilk is far more delicious than captivity, and soon the spirit to create returns. 8:11pm I’ve moved from one computer to another in a matter of minutes, this happens all week every week it seems like. I write into this piece a bit, and begin to wonder what happens in the meadow at dusk. 9 something pm The rocket bike convinces me to knock off a bit and solve this wine bottle problem. I allocate $1.50 or so in change and roll to the liquor store . When was the last time you heard the theme to the Pink Panther? It was playing there fool, I ain’t playin’ or foolin’! 9 something and .32.05 seconds My perception of this timeframe becomes blurred from within the torments of a body of matter traveling at extreme speed. 9:30pm I considered drinking all my cooking wine myself, but think, “Why not see if my friends would like some shitty wine too?” Back on the Bat bike and nearly simultaneously I’m ringing up Darren’s callbox with no success. 9:33pm As somewhat illustrated above, I am without plans, cellphone, money, friends or lover. I realize I must have traveled so fast on this rocket bike I penetrated the fabric of time and space and returned to the third grade, where riding bikes around the neighborhood was about all there was to do aside from finding a kid with a tramp or Nintendo NES or something. 9:45 pm Cruising south of I-25 on Broadway, on a bike is dangerous. Streets can be rated with IQ’s. As soon I feel the IQ drop below 62, I change direction or get off and walk. 9:55 pm Trying out the fresh concrete south of Washington Park and I’m approaching the DU area. I must quickly develop a plan to avoid this seasonal haven for physically-fit, well-educated, rich white and Asian girls. 10:47 pm After getting mixed up in a little traffic, riding to the corners of downtown in search of familiar bikes, and taking a short visit to Denver’s own wanna-be Starfleet Academy Bridge-building Theme Park, I realize women don’t throw themselves at cyclists (you have to crash into them). 11:35 pm I’m at the computer, finishing this thing and surely enjoying it more than being inebriated and surrounded by people I don’t know or necessarily like. I miss Denver being a mystery. I miss life being an adventure. I must get to NYC or I’ll become a fat suburbanite with a computer job. You are all remarkable and talented people and I’m very proud you’re all out there doing “it”. Shouts to Gavin the robot for the concept, and best of luck to Joel, Gabe and his family, and anyone "under the radar" with their coming challenges. -nathan

gaffgallery.com

i just updated my website cheg it oot.
www.gaffgallery.com

I can never understand Annie but she just keeps talking

“. . . . . . . And with a face like a saggy pair of tits. . . .”

,and then he said: “Just go to the Catholic Minister and say: “Fuckin’ look, I have to get the FUCK home!” Statements overheard are usually more interesting than the discussions absentmindedly distracted from. I mentioned this to Ashley and she concurred. She said that she is so entertained by eavesdropping that sometimes she actually transcribes these conversations, say, on the bus for example.
Not that our conversation was not interesting, quite to the contrary. I had earlier that evening brought up the possibility of Ash marrying me in order to cut the migratory red tape. She immediately said that she would, of coarse, do whatever she could to help keep me in Canada and by her loving side. It would, however, have to be kept a secret from her parents, whom are a trifle traditional. Okay, that gives it a little devious excitement, why not. This was a great relief to me. I’d been very hesitant to ask, and how to ask without buggering things up between us if she said no. But she said yes. So I hugged her and squeezed her bum and told her I wanted a pre-nup.
This was all very light hearted. Now, in the smoking room of The Railway Club at 2a.m. on Sept. 21st, she started to say things like: ‘well, if I’m going to do this we need to set goals’
‘Of coarse’ I said, ‘What do you have in mind?’
‘I dunno’.
‘How bout’ if we stop having sex or get board with each other we look into things like auto-erotic asphyxiation or pony play?’
‘Whats autoerotic asphyxiation?’
‘Its when we strangle each other during sex. I think that’s what its called anyway’.
‘Is that what you want? I mean, are you into that?’
‘I dunno. I’ve never tried it. But I have hyperventilated myself while masturbating, it gives you a great tingly feeling all over, like when you white out’.
‘hmm’.
We finished our beers and went down to the street and got in a cab.
I knew the cabby. He’d given me a ride home every time I’ve been to the Railway.
He’s like the club goers groupie. He always has a cd of whichever band was playing that night playing on his stereo. He’s in his late forties, overweight and completely bald.
‘Hey, I get a ride with you every time I come here, whats your name?’
‘Constantine’.
‘Oh yeah! Your fiftieth birthday is coming up!’
(There was a poster at the bar for his birthday party but I hadn’t recognized his photo)
‘That’s right! Where can I take you?’
I told him and we traversed the Georgia Viaduct listening to The Pack whom we had just seen. They are good friends of Ash and mine. They played their first show in my parking lot last year, up top is a picture.
They’re a great blues rock band. Becky Black and Maya Miller (cool names eh?) Becky can whale on the guitar and sing like a goddamn nightingale engulfed in hell fire. She’s priceless. Maya is damn cool too.
Anyway, Ash and me get home and go right at it. Drunk, hard, sex. We’ve been going for a while when she puts her hands around my neck and squeezes. Hard. It hurt and I could feel my face and eyes bulging, turning red and purple.
‘Should I stop?’
‘No.. its okay’ I sort of pushed out of my mouth and tried to get some kind of pleasure out of it, but it doesn’t feel good. It hurts and she can tell, she lets go and laughs.
Some people get of on the damnedest things. I have a decent bruise on my neck.
We passed out and slept in.
Got Breakfast.
I went to the gallery and made those prints at the top of the page while watching
Several episodes of ‘24’ on my computer.
I don’t know why I did that.

first thing

After getting out of bed and checking my email I took a picture of myself and formed a couple of questions for the day... what are my days about, how do I become more aware of what these moments represent, and how can I share my findings with others?... I decided to clean my house.

Life is War

Today is Friday, September 21st, 2007. I woke up at 10 AM, after having 5 or 6 times hit the snooze button on the alarm on my cellphone. There are 9 unread messages, all of them are spam mail. This happens everyday, yet I'm too lazy to do anything about. Some of the titles are "Exquisite Replica", "Frank Muller Watches", and "Sevelira". I feel tired this morning, a little numb to the world. Last night Eriko and I went to the Izakaya, which is the place to drink and eat. We got home and watched part of "Paprika". This morning she left early. I remember her on top of me kissing me goodbye so comfortably. The alarm on my watch rings like it does everyday at 10:30. I can here the sound of the A/C. My room is in slight disarray. I'm moving next week, to the next station over. Outside a helicopter is passing overhead. Rob just texted me, "Happy 21st". I'm hungry.

Friday 21 September, 2007

1-ish am:

Patiently waiting to receive the first of 3 Carmen Electra’s DVD’s (ie. The Lapdance, Aerobic Striptease and Fit to Strip) on my computer beside the bed, I settle in on my bed to get my fill of spirituality - Eckhart Tolle’s ‘The Simple Truth’ is one I haven’t seen yet. I watch this DVD, in awe of this man, this messenger, who speaks so eloquently about finding truth and peace in one’s existence. He is one of few spiritual leaders (Prem Rawat is another) whose teachings resonate to the core of my being and again I am reminded to be conscious each day, each moment of being present; to not be caught up with the mental noise and stream of thinking that is always concerned with the past and future.

That’s how most of us exist every day, dragged along thought after thought! He speaks of a dimension in all of us that is deeper than what one normally identifies as their self. The recognition of that dimension comes when you make room inside yourself for the present moment and that inner alignment with now is really living! Ugh! My interpretation of his teachings do not do it justice. Do yourselves and your confusions about life and existence a favour and watch/read/listen to some of Eckhart Tolle or Prem Rawat. They’re modern day messiahs!



2-ish am:

Great! Carmen Electra’s Lapdance is ready to watch! Oh ya! I can emulate those moves no problem. I thought it would be cool to be able to do that ie. surprise my lover with a raunchy dance to a sexy song (from start to finish) – skillful, graceful with no clumsy, ‘out-of-synch’ moves. What a turn on that might be huh? If not, then definitely a laugh!

Well…I can’t say I’m always heedful of Eckhart’s advice. Recently, I’ve been pre-occupied with thoughts of spending a week in December, in Thailand with the man I’m in love with. Let’s call him TT. He moved to Sydney last March. Almost 3 months to go before I see him, pending his and my being able to have the time off, and my work situation stabilizing! If we do meet, it will’ve been over a year since we’d seen each other. And I have so got to get this body into shape!

It’s been almost 3 weeks since I’ve been to the gym. I went a handful of times back then and before that, I hadn’t exercised regularly for years. I’ll just HAVE to get up early tomorrow and go! My goal is to lose about 3 kilograms and tighten my body. I want to look hotter in the nude than with clothes on. Thailand in December is mercurial and the only way of getting about is with next to nothing on. Ah, the things we do for love…’human’ love (as opposed to ‘real’ love, the ‘all encompassing’ kind of love one has for nature, the universe and mankind), I need to remind myself, is tenuous and often delusory. TT and I have a very special history however, which I will try to briefly tell you about if you’d indulge me. My connection with him has been a somewhat quantum experience. I want to impress him!


3:30 am

I set my alarm for 10:30am. I have a 1:20pm start at work today so this’ll give me enough time to go to the gym before work. I turn in for the night!


10:30am

My alarm goes off, I turn it off, I turn off the second alarm and decide I’m too tired to go to the gym and will lift some weights at home instead. I doze off for over an hour longer.

11:50am

I get out of bed, have a glass of water, take a leak and haul my dumbbell out to the living room. I’ve got 4 2.5kg weights attached ie. 2 to each side and that with the bar makes it almost 12 kgs. This morning it feels like 15kgs!

(....a blog in progress....more later...)

i love jesus

I woke up 5:30am, drunk Milk, smoked cigarettes, made tea, ate bread, washed clothes, washed my face, shaved, brushed teeth, took clothes, set my hair, hung wet clothes out, picked trashes and bag, and went out for work.

That was not normal morning for me. Usually I wake up 6:30, don't have breakfast and wash clothes in the morning. I don't know why I could wake up early.

Then, I walked to the station, took train, had a little nap and arrived at my office, maybe it was around 8:30.

Recently I'm working on the Pharmaceutical Affairs Law thing because taking charge of importing the perfume stuff. I'm not the specialist of Phama... thing, but I have to learn basic thing. It's kind of tough one.
And, I did miming of a co-worker to another co-worker. Kind of abusing. I know it's mean behavior, but it was fun. We call a co-worker Katsuichi Honda, Japanese famous documentary writer because he prosecutes our company a lot in a monthly report and has good style of writing.
And, I loafed a lot, by seaching internet, checked SNS, e-mail from friend, poseted my blog, changed the music on MySpace, checked the sale skate shoes and deck and read the interview of Scott Bourne and Kevin 'Spanky' Long.

After work, I arrived Ogikubo (wehre I live. My office is located on Kayabacho) around 8:30.
I felt like going skateboarding, so after having dinner (Salad and Macaroni Gratin), I went out with deck.

I skated about one hour. I practiced ollie,180 and pop shuv-it. I tried kickflip but couldn't still do that. I hope I can do kickflip till I die.

After coming back to my room again, I took bath, drunk beer, listen to Smiths and watched some scene from Waiting for Guffman (that has great music!) and skate footage Planet Moustache (Great one. From Basel, Switzerland)

And slept. Thank you god, I am living alone.


Photos are the brigde I always pass, wall of the graveyard and the spot I often skate.

Mobile Disco

Our mobile disco is going on R20 under Tokyo Metropolitan Expressway.