Kyklops

Waiting for the Bus at Shin-Yokohama Station

2009-11-24T15:00:00.001+09:00

Shinkansen at Shizuoka Station

2009-11-24T06:00:00.000+09:00

Outside Shinagawa Station

2009-11-24T00:18:00.004+09:00

Presentation

2009-11-22T22:54:00.000+09:00

Tomorrow morning we give our presentation. This is a pretty big conference as far as these things go, although we have a pretty crappy slot--second-to last slot on the last day of the conference, on a national holiday. We have to check out of our hotel and take our luggage with us to the venue, give our presentation, and then jump on a train and head to the airport. It's a rock gig, man!

In a way I wish it could be a bit more like a rock gig. It's a lot easier to bullshit my way through a tune onstage than it is to "wing it" through a spoken presentation. In fact just today I saw a very painful example of someone who wasn't properly prepared attempting to explain... Well, I'm not sure what he was trying to explain. TEFL may not be a "science," but (for the most part) it's not (or shouldn't be) abstract art either.

It may be a personal idiosyncrasy of mine, but when people are explaining things I'd like to understand them. I prefer explanations that don't waste words in the process of making themselves clear. I'm talking about "explaining" in a very restricted, academic sense. I could probably do an interpretation of Vygotsky's ideas on the interrelation between language and thought on the drums, and it might even be pretty good to listen to, but if you really want to know anything about Vygotsky, it would probably be a lot easier to check out his Wikipedia page. I only mention Vygotsky because today I had one of his ideas explained to me with such a clear example that I'll never forget it. Whether or not I eventually reject the idea is irrelevant. The only relevant point is that I understand the idea.

[Oh, the idea? Language mediates cognition. The example was a letter to Ann Landers which didn't need a reply because the writer solved the problem herself merely by writing about it. If you don't sometimes talk to yourself, maybe you should. Or start a blog...]

So anyway, we give our presentation tomorrow. I need to practice a bit more...

Why...?

2009-11-22T20:44:00.002+09:00

Why does it always seem to be cloudy whenever I'm anywhere in the vicinity of Fuji (and therefore unable to get a good look at it)?

[I guess if I weren't such a lazy fuck I could work in some metaphor related to Japan and the inscrutable nature of "The Orient", or something. But then, I'd rather be a lazy fuck than a shitty writer.]

What would you do...?

2009-11-22T20:38:00.004+09:00

... If you felt a shoelace beginning to come untied when you were only a hundred meters from your destination (where you'll take off your shoes anyway)? Where would you rank this on a list of slightly annoying things?

Conference

2009-11-22T00:46:00.000+09:00

In Shizuoka for a work-related conference. Wandering around, clusters of gaijin, each doing their dutiful best to ignore the other.

When you register for one of these things they always give you a bag. Kind of like soccer players getting a cap for their international matches. I've been "bagged" several times, but I don't know if this one counts because it's in Japan. The bag usually contains a bunch of promo crap from text book companies and such. I give the pens, notepads, and other useful stuff to my daughter. She seems to like collecting my name tags, as well. (Recently I found one of my conference tags in which she'd crossed out my name and wrote her own above it. This little girl is worth more to me than the entire world.)

I guess I should be careful what I say. Not everyone is as carefree and irreverent about the theoretical underpinnings of their profession as I am. I'm a skeptic, and I'd be a piss-poor one if I didn't put what I do under the same scrutiny as I'd apply to right-wingnuttery, religion, UFO's, ghosts, and my own beliefs about anything, your beliefs about anything, and generally anything at all (well, except the primacy of the Stones).

Some ideas are better than others, but there are a shitload of bad ideas out there.

You might think that someone whose job lets him support his family and drink beer in so many cool places should probably whine about it a lot less. You'd probably be right.

I'm struggling to reconcile the notion of a restaurant/bar with hundreds of beers from around the world with Pinnochio playing on the wide screen. And Tokyo Ska Paradise playing through the speakers.

I once met a guy in a bar who happened also to be an "English teacher." He'd recently got his PhD in EFL or something. It was amusing to hear him tell me how I was "enculturing" my daughter by speaking to her in English (i.e. the idea being that language=culture; I can't honestly imagine a more ridiculous piece of shit masquerading as "theory"). I'd been telling him how I was teaching my daughter to use chopsticks...

Vending Machines, No. 85

2009-11-21T08:00:00.001+09:00

Thank You for Smoking

2009-11-21T00:34:00.000+09:00

In Shinjuku, tomorrow Shizuoka. This shitty laptop is on its dying legs. Went to Dubliners for a couple of pints. Didn't know anybody and nobody knew me. I wasn't surprised by this. It's always a bit disappointing, though-- going to a bar and not seeing anybody you know. Of course my buddy and co-worker Mike came later, after raiding the music shops for their prog and Norwegian jazz albums.

After Singapore/Malaysia, etc. Shinjuku just seems like a crowded Miyazaki, with a lot more shops, bars, restaurants, and bigger buildings and generally a lot more going on. Er, whatever... It might be fun if I were 20 or 30 years younger. I've got a nice 35th-floor view from my hotel, but no camera good enough to capture it.

A sure sign that I've passed some sort of landmark in my life (although I'll be damned if I know exactly what that landmark is): this is what I'm thinking about:

Had a very nice dinner at a Turkish restaurant this evening. It was a first for me. There was an amusing moment when I asked if it was OK to smoke...

Antenna

2009-11-19T08:37:00.000+09:00

Some Crap on the Beach (2)

2009-11-18T15:00:00.000+09:00

Water and Rocks

2009-11-18T06:00:00.000+09:00

Autumn Clouds

2009-11-17T20:55:00.000+09:00

Denki

2009-11-17T06:00:00.000+09:00

Some Crap on the Beach (1)

2009-11-16T21:55:00.000+09:00

Tachibana

2009-11-16T16:02:00.000+09:00

This Evening...

2009-11-15T20:22:00.000+09:00

Vending Machines, No. 84

2009-11-14T08:00:00.000+09:00

Dum Dum Boys

2009-11-14T00:27:00.000+09:00

The first time I saw
The dum dum boys
I was fascinated
They just stood in front
Of the old drug store
I was most impressed
No one else was impressed
Not at all
--Iggy Pop, "Dum Dum Boys"

It was not long after Jimmy had quit school that he started hanging around outside The Maritimer restaurant with some other guys, all more or less the same age, all more or less out of school. When they had money they'd go inside and drink coffee and smoke cigarettes. If nobody had any money, they'd hang around until someone came along that did. Mike, the owner of the restaurant, was originally from Syria. Jimmy and his friends thought that maybe he was a Christian, but they were never able to find out for sure. Mike was always coming out and telling them to get the fuck off his steps or he'd call the cops. Mike never did call the cops, not even the time Jimmy got totally wasted and puked all over the steps leading into the restaurant-- just before lunch. Sometimes Mike would give them something to eat for helping him move stuff and other odd jobs.

Jimmy and his buddies occasionally got into this or that or some other kind of shit, but it was all pretty low-key and definitely small-time. They would never have called themselves a "gang". No, they were generally quite content to hang out in front of the restaurant, smoke cigarettes, do some small deals, and get drunk on the weekends.

Sometimes things got weird. One Friday night Jimmy was hanging outside the restaurant with a couple of his buddies--his best friend Fulo, and an older guy, a glue-head named Jerry, who actually lived upstairs. It was a bit late and pretty quiet on the street when they noticed a guy coming towards them. He was walking like he was drunk or stoned, and at first they didn't pay much attention to him. As he got closer, Jimmy realized that he knew the guy. He was one of the Christers from Jimmy's old neighborhood. These were people from the countryside who, for some reason, had built a small fire and brimstone church smack in the middle of a small town neighborhood. Jimmy had always figured that the kids were alright, but their parents were a bit wacky. This guy's name was Freddy.

When Freddy got close enough to get a good look at him, he didn't look so hot. He was white as a sheet and clutching his arm. Jimmy hailed him, but he didn't respond. Instead, he took his hand off the arm he was holding onto, letting loose a stream of blood that must have shot out at least three or four feet. Jimmy, Fulo, and Jerry let out a round of shits, damns, and fucks before coming to their senses. Freddy had been cut pretty bad in some kind of scrape somewhere. Jimmy and Fulo looked at Jerry, who would sometimes rent a car and, in fact, happened to have one parked across the street on that very night. Jerry, like anyone else in a similar situation, spent a couple of seconds fretting about the blood. Jimmy and Fulo reminded him that the car was only a rental. Soon Freddy was in Jerry's rental car and on his way to the hospital.

Jimmy's buddies were generally OK guys. With one exception. Robby. If you'd asked Jimmy back then if Robby was a friend, Jimmy would surely have said yes. Jimmy feared Robby. In fact, any sane person would have feared Robby, because he was a borderline psychopath. One night at a party, Robby thought it would be fun to throw darts at Jimmy. Another time Robby decided to use Jimmy as a punching bag. He smacked Jimmy about 5 or 6 good ones right in the face. What Robby didn't know was that a punch in the face was at the bottom of the list of things Jimmy was afraid of. And really, unless you get it right in the nose, it doesn't even hurt. One time Robby, for no apparent reason, ripped all the buttons off Jimmy's shirt. When Jimmy complained about losing the buttons on his shirt, Robby got a weird look on his face and said, "You want buttons? Have buttons," and swept his arm through the air. This really creeped Jimmy out. That night he learned the word "megalomania" from the dictionary.

For all the times he hung out and got drunk and high with Robby, Jimmy didn't really know much about him (aside from his being a crazy ass motherfucker). Robby didn't talk much about himself except to brag about how big his dick was, how many chicks he'd laid, how many guys he'd beat up, that kind of stuff. Like anyone afraid of having the shit beat out of them for saying the wrong thing, Jimmy would nod and smile at his friend's tales of his exploits. Jimmy actually hated Robby, and would sometimes fantasize about ridding the earth of a worthless scumbag piece of shit...

One night Jimmy and Robby were inside The Maritimer having a coffee. Robby could be generous with people he considered friends, and tonight he was buying the coffee. They were discussing music--a common interest; Robby knew his tunes, and so did Jimmy. Somewhere in the middle of a discussion about the latest Dylan album Jimmy looked outside, saw who was there, and muttered a small "shit."

-----

The first day that Jimmy had started high school he'd managed to get himself suspended for a week--on the first day! Jimmy would tell you that it was completely undeserved. Jimmy, in fact, had done nothing to warrant anyone even noticing him on the first day of high school. Someone, however, had claimed that he saw Jimmy letting off stink bombs in a stairwell at school. That someone was Calvin Smith. Jimmy swore revenge...

Several months later, Jimmy's hanging out with the boys in front of The Maritimer, and Calvin approaches them, asking if they know where he can score something. Jimmy gets his revenge. He arranges a small deal where he takes Calvin's money, and then laughs in his face as he walks away. Calvin is outnumbered, and helpless. He's lost his 25 bucks...

-----

Calvin, somewhat brazenly, comes into the restaurant and delivers an ultimatum: give back the 25 bucks or get the shit kicked out of you. He's got his big brother and some other guy outside. Robby raises an eyebrow. Jimmy's not afraid. Yet.

Jimmy and Robby go outside and Calvin's big brother approaches. He opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't get the chance. Robby whips out a knife from his jacket and, leaping at the guy, takes a big swipe at him. Jimmy almost faints on the spot. This is not what he expected. He spends the next two minutes trying to prevent Robby from killing Calvin's big brother. The panic, the irony, the absurdity, none of this is lost on Jimmy...

Walking in the Clouds

2009-11-10T10:50:00.003+09:00

Walking Home

2009-11-09T09:36:00.001+09:00

Vending Machines, No. 83

2009-11-07T08:00:00.001+09:00

Latin Asscape

2009-11-06T22:28:00.000+09:00

If you don't like this, what the hell is wrong with you?

Brownout-Latin AsscapeAlt. Link

Seriously, get the hell out of here.

An Inquiring Mind

2009-11-06T16:18:00.001+09:00

Last night as my daughter was getting into her bed, I noticed her slip something under her pillow. When I asked her what she was doing, she pulled her hand out from under the pillow and showed me a tooth.

Mildly surprised, I asked "did you lose a tooth today?".

"No," she replied. "I found it."

"Where?"

"With mommy's stuff." (My wife keeps her [haha! my daughter's! Fixed 11:00 PM] lost teeth in a small box. It's supposed to be secret because usually the Tooth Fairy takes her teeth and leaves her a coin.)

"Well," I said, "if you didn't lose that tooth today, why are you putting it under your pillow?"

She shrugged and said, "it's just a test."

It's difficult to properly express how amused, tickled, and impressed I was at that moment.

Birdman

2009-11-06T08:18:00.002+09:00