I.M.G.O.

Time vs. Me

Mon, 24 Aug 2009 03:48:55 +0900

I have come to the sad conclusion that everything, as you age begins to suck. Its not that I don’t try. I really do hope to make the best of each day. But recently, I went to the Yokoya Airforce Base open house and bought a ton of US branded shit only to find that, as I might have suspected... the years wear on the most nobel of things.
I bought some “Cracker Jacks.” When I was a kid the toy surprise inside was still... barely recognizable as a toy surprise. Long gone was my hope for the happy meal surprise gift. Now the sad contents of the cracker jack box are a whole lot of caramel corn, and if you are lucky one or two peanuts. I know peanuts are expensive compared to sugar and corn... probably the sugar came from corn. But as carbon efficient corn-fueled enviro-cars reign supreme, so we watch the slow death of the peanut laden snack I once knew as “Cracker Jack”.
My question is this... does everything begin to get lamer, and suck as you grow old? Because honestly, the shitty toy surprise in this box would have satiated me when I was 10... or would it? Now Im 32, and thinking about global agriculture. What happened? Did I lose my innocence, or did free toys start sucking?

Stop

Fri, 31 Jul 2009 21:47:54 +0900

On my way home the other day I was stopped at a corner. Waiting for the light to change. The dark-skinned man on a bicycle next to me was stopped by something that wields slightly more authority and respect, a police officer. I watched in fascination, mostly because the middle aged man of some sort of middle eastern descent was wearing a wig that was to be fair one of the most suspicious things I had seen all day. While I'm guessing he was indian, I couldn't quite place the origin of the furry mass atop his head. Yes, it could have been a squirrel pelt but it had more of the waxy sheen of a hamster. The police officers were doing their usual productive best with their day by harrying the poor man as he was off somewhere to get his fro dry cleaned. The police to their credit did not ask to see what was beneath the fur helmet. But were I an officer of the law, it would have been the first place I would look. I shot the poor fellow a sympathetic glare, and he gave me the "whadda-ya-gonna-do" shrug. The light changed and the police men were done humiliating a man who clearly has had more than his share of it. We both head across the zebra crossing and the man with the roadkill hat shoots back towards the officer some remark about racial profiling. The police officers immediately sang in chorus "No, its not because you are a Gaijin." It was too much for me.

I spun around and and told the officers, "That sir, is a Fuji sized pile of horseshit!" Or as best as one can do in keigo. I wanted to be snarky, not get dragged to a Koban. The officers both gesticulated and made noise to the effect of "Not at all." So I went over and showed them my gaijin card and said, I'd be happy to wait with you and do a quick statistical analysis of the number and shade of people you stop. They deny my helpful request and I was soon on my way again.

Over my 8 years here I’ve heard justifications, condemnations, exasperations and both sides of the argument have excellent irrationale for their positions. But it seems to me it comes down simply to one thing. As the late great american comedian Rodney Dangerfield put it. "Just a little respect."

For a moment in the eyes of one of the two officers I sensed he knew this, and actually felt bad about it. Once during a routine body search in Shinjuku the officer said in a hushed voice, almost secretively to me. "I know this is a real pain. But its my job." While I was tempted to argue the point, I just agreed and said "yeah, I know." And the two of us went about pantomiming our societal roles until he send me on my way with the simple words "Arigatou, ne?" At least at some level, I like that cop.

Im not expecting that profiling such as this is ever, or should necessarily end. But you can do it without being dick. Could we get some funding on "How not to be a dick lessons for the police." Because that poor middle aged man with the ferret fedora has clearly been dealt enough shitty hands in his life that the last thing he needs is a Dirty Haru, cop on a power trip to make you feel as small as you secretly fear you actually are.

Now a whole debate has blown up in the states regarding the Boston officer who arrested Gates, a black harvard professor, in his home. Its funny, though I realize I still am very much white I have a much greater amount of understanding as to how Gates must have been feeling when he shouted “Yo’ mama!” at the white officer. Clearly he was not at his most eloquent. Eight years in Japan doesn’t give me the cred to declare myself “oppressed by the man,” but in some small way at least, living here has given me a better understanding of the Gates/Police story than I would have had if not for having lived here.

It sucks. But... whadda-ya-gonna-do.

A Man’s Throne

Sat, 18 Jul 2009 01:25:23 +0900

If you are reading this blog then it’s likely you already know I moved recently. Moving was a huge pain in the ass, and it brought with it unexpected life adjustments I hadn’t really considered. But moving is after all probably one of the most disruptive things you can do. I once heard it was in the top five anxiety inducing things along with, first day of work, first day at school, first child and wedding day.
Moving to Japan from California was no different. Surprisingly I should say even less traumatic. After all it would seem the scale of the move being so much greater in distance and effort, but actually it was easier. I had less crap then. It was more like going on vacation than moving. The kind of moving Im talking about involves furniture, back aches and finding things you’d given up on ever finding again. I knew I left a bag of half eaten pistachios somewhere in my apartment, and two years later we were reunited. I was joyous... pistachios after all are a pricey nut.
The thing I’ve noticed about this most recent move is the issue of seating. In my previous apartments, all my seating was on the floor. Zabuton cushions on tatami mats and a desk about one foot off the ground. The previous 8 years of my life, I’ve been sitting like I live in a Tipi. But now, no more. I have proper furniture. Into my life have come a total of 7 new places I can sit. None of them putting my feet at ass level. I can not overstate the awesomeness of this. Im not ancient yet, but my back was not happy about the situation.
So now i have a proper sofa, a desk chair, dining table chairs, even a little bathroom stool pictured above. Actually this little plastic shower stool was the starting point of this random tangent you are now reading. If you’ve never enjoyed (Or at least been to) a public bath in Japan, then you may not have used one. But this little plastic kiddy chair is where you sit while you clean yourself with a hose, before entering the group bath. I have found that this chair, is perhaps the most humiliating place I can ever be at any point in my day, or perhaps my life. It’s just so ridiculously small that it makes the whole activity feel comical. Of course I don’t need a proper sized lawn chair, but half-squatting on this little plastic box for some reason makes me feel as though I’ve regressed to age 5. I find it hard to believe there is any man living who can sit on this thing and look cool. But that is just one of the many reasons I thank god, no one is ever going to see me on this thing.
Also, I should not point out. There is a hole in the top of the seat, for water to drain of course. But someday, I WILL make a fart whistle! This is my mission.

I get the question a lot from oversized foreigners if being too big is a problem in Japan. And I say usually, “ahhh you can order clothes on-line, just remember to duck when walking into and out of rooms.” But the truth is this country really was designed for a different body shape. Outside the home my knees are in a constant battle with mini wooden shelves under impossibly low noodle shop counters. I, as skinny as I am, have found myself sitting with half a cheek hanging off some little piece of hobbit furniture in a small karaoke bar built 50 years ago, when the average height was far different.
It was different. I’m not the only one complaining. The average height of a japanese guy around WW2 was 5’3 now its up around 5’7 and climbing. I regularly see young people my height (6 feet) or taller. Basically nutrition being much different today. So like Americans they are taller, and likely the biggest danger they face will soon not be whacking their knees like me, but heart disease and diabetes.
Also, quite shocking, apparently the government has reported that the average breast size of Japanese girls has gone up since WW2. Shocking, in that this is someone’s job to check these things. Someone’s serious government job. In my own informal study over the past 8 years I can concur with the government findings. Just thought I’d mention.
So the Gulliver vs The Lilliputian furniture issue is not simply one for gaijin. Its generational as well. As older noodle shops and business remodel overtime, they are refitted with newer bigger seats. But in some small way, I think I would miss it someday when all the too tiny tables and stools are gone. My knees will be happy, but there is something kind of cool about feeling gargantuan every now and then.

My Favorite Musician Died

Mon, 6 Jul 2009 02:14:19 +0900

I had at one point what I can now look back on as a horrible addiction. Unlike the heroin and meth-amphetamines I take daily to keep my self perky and on the go it came at a terrible cost. That addiction was music. Ok well, I’ve never actually used heroin or anything else, but that couldn’t possibly be as expensive as the insane amount of money I have laid down over the years on CD’s. It started when I was in my teens. I owned two cassette tapes. One by They Might Be Giants, and one by The Clancy brothers. That was the sum total of my music collection. Then, while my brother was stationed (in the military) abroad he left behind two huge collections of CD’s that were eclectic to say the least. He was at West Point, and they changed roommates, it seemed monthly, so my brother had built up a collection of the most random stuff ever. He had about 200 discs and after listening to most of them I found only one that really shook me to my core. It was a fairly recent album by John Lee Hooker titled “Boom Boom.” I FUCKING loved it. I hadn’t realized music could be this awesome. Everybody has an album, and a moment like this Im sure. If not, you aren’t doing a very good job blending into our society alien spy.
I went out and pretty much bought up the entire catalogue of John Lee Hooker, which trust me, is no small monetary feat. From then I read liner notes and began to see a sort of musical family tree that exists within the blues and simply had to have all of them. It soon became more about collecting them rather than even listening to them, and it is I would say the only brush with otaku behavior I’ve had. Some of the albums I bought simply to have that person in my collection despite not even really liking their music very much.
By university I had somewhere around 400 or more blues albums. In that time I discovered R.L. Burnisde and Junior Kimbrough. (Both of whom passed away while I was i Japan) I hate to admit they have now pushed J.L.H down to number 3 on my all time list. They prompted me to purchase any and every album put out by their then unknown label Fat Possum. I was just finishing university and the label, Fat Possum records had moved me to such an extent that I actually considered moving to north mississippi just to be in that environment. I’ve made a few touristy sojourns there to see final resting places of barely known blues makers, crossroads and juke joints that were the home of such music. Visiting was more than enough I decided.
At the time I was playing saxophone for a ska-punk band and had earned to some degree musician status myself. But our albums were... well. Well they were published anyway. That’s something. As a result my music catalogue diversified some, and now its really all over the place. But mainly it was always blues.
A week before I was to leave Japan I heard John Lee Hooker was playing in San Jose. I drove up watched the show. But he was in such poor health he only played about 4 or 5 songs. I got drunk. Slept in my car and drove back down to LA the next morning. From LA I drove out east to stop by my parents place before the big move. Somewhere around Texas I heard on the radio he had died, so I detoured a bit and stopped in Tupelo his hometown. Elvis was also from there. The place looked like a place that would make the kind of music JLH played. The waitress didn’t know who John Lee Hooker was, and then told me, “No, Honey we don’t sell alcohol on Sundays in Mississippi.” So in my sobriety I wandered around the town and thought how could you get through a whole day in this place without alcohol?
Then, I got on a plane came to Japan and never bought another CD. I’m not sure why, but some how moving here my love of blues got pushed waaaaaaay back on the list. Also, perhaps it was something that happened when JLH died. Or I suppose there was so much to occupy my time and money I just stopped buying CDs. And in my case I’d have to buy, because nobody was putting the stuff I like on the internet. Even compared to typical blues fans my tastes are esoteric. I basically dislike any Chicago produced blues, and I also dislike the really shitty old school recordings that masturbatory blues fans tend to wax poetic about but actually sucks. This is sacrilege to say for most blues fans but, sorry I don’t dig it. B.B. King gets a pass only because I’ve seen him live a number of times and he’s one of the best Live shows I’ve ever seen. Buddy Guy has like two tracks I think are Ok.
So that brings me to today. I wandered into Tower Records in Ikebukuro and spent a moment in disbelief that shops that sell CD’s still exist. Then suddenly it was back. I could feel it as I thumbed through the titles. I ended up dropping about 150 bucks in about 20 minutes. Obviously it was not for the latest Ayumi Utada album or Hikaru Hamasaki or whomever the fuck they are. Thats not to say I dislike japanese musicians. But I have seen far better performers playing on a spot of concrete in front of the station then on any of the Avex big-music-company-shit-factories that dominate Japanese media.
I bought an album called “Shell-Shocked” by David Kimbrough Jr, son of the now deceased legend Junior Kimbrough, another album by Duwayne Burnside son of R.L. Burnside. It was 2,400 yen for the Burnside album. WTF!!! But worth it. The Kimbrough offering, not so much. But buying them kind of got me thinking, though my faves are all dead and gone there is no reason to give up on my old addiction. Oh thats right... Im poor. I also picked up two albums by Kat McDowell a Kiwi-Japanese singer who despite my general dislike of female musicians is quite good (She’s on youtube as well). It also helps that she is now by far the most attractive looking musician in an Itunes collection with an average age of 72 - dead.
I really need to go see more live shows. And maybe, just maybe I need to give J-pop a second chance. But most of all I need find a record shop cheaper than Tower Records.

Oh... yeah. And Michael Jackson died,

If I had to, my favorite 6 albums of all time. I couldn’t cut it down to five, but hell its not like this post isn’t already long enough. Not necessarily in this order.

John Lee Hooker - “That’s Where It’s At”
John Lee Hooker - “Boogie Chillun”
R.L. Burnside- “A Ass Pocket Full of Whiskey”
Junior Kimbrough “Most Things Haven’t Worked Out”
The Black Keys - “Chulahoma”
Mississippi Fred McDowell - “Live at The Mayfair Hotel”

And if you did get this far, yes... I am back to posting again. I’ve finally got the work situation under control.

Where is TC?

Sun, 7 Jun 2009 23:28:52 +0900

So this blog which I was doing in my spare time, when not doing YouTube videos in my spare time has been postless for a long while. The reason for this is that since november I’ve been working for a website called jibtv.com. The website has pretty much the same mission statement as all the pro-bono vlogging/blogging I’ve been doing. Namely, provide information about Japan to those out there interested.

As a result I am now running the blog section of their website. I’ve recruited some awesome people, Danny Choo, Claytonian and Anna Kunnecke to write blogs for the site. And other than looking over their shoulder and being very pleased by what I see, I am writing the blog for the website’s mascot: Jib-kun. Follow his adventures at the blog, along with the other fantastic writers at blog.jibtv.com

The main focus of the website is streaming television shows about Japan on the internet. The shows are made mostly by NHK or jibtv. I occasionally appear on one show called “Tokyo Eye” which broadcasts on wednesdays. Unfortunately the video stream can not currently be viewed inside Japan due to some legal issues, but once they are cleared up it will be viewable everywhere and to everyone completely free of charge.

Many changes are in store for this website. We really are just in the very initial phases, and its exciting to be a part of a new and growing enterprise. If my schedule allows, I may add my own page to the website and begin blogging again for Jibtv. But until then please read up on Jib-kun my alter ego and the other great posts by my comrades!

Thanks so much! And please send feed back to the website and let us know what you think! We want to hear from you.

Gaijin Pilgrim

Fri, 28 Nov 2008 00:45:00 +0900

So it was the calendar date that marks Thanksgiving in Japan today, but it certainly wasn’t Thanksgiving in Japan. Life here goes about as it normally would on any other thursday. I found myself pretty wiped out from a very stressful week of work, hungry and a little bit homesick earlier today. I left the house made it to the corner from where I can see the convenience store. My stomach turned in a knot thinking about another reheated ham and cheese burrito eaten in front of my computer for “dinner.” And I thought... oh “For fucks sake its Thanksgiving, Im not eating a microwaveable burrito by myself in my apartment.” I think a quote worthy of being in a Capra film.
The chinese restaurant I frequent was closed, and the soba shop was open, but some how that seemed wrong too. I remembered a small shop down the road I’d been to for lunch once before. A small mom and pop place. I wandered over, walked into to the empty shop. It probably seats about 16 people at most and is well worn from the years Mom and Pop have been running it. The hot towel came and it actually stank a little. The towel like everything in the place had a kind of worn, frayed look about it, not so much tired but more like the kind of worn out slippers get once they really start being comfortable.
I ordered the “A set.” of the day. Mostly because I couldn't completely read the roughly etched chalk kanji that explained what set B is. In a few minutes a plate of rice, cabbage salad, a bowl of pickled cabbage with bonito flakes, stir fry pork with eggplant and some fried chicken nubs with a slathering of some kind of hollandaise on top arrived. An adorable little cup of pudding was soon to follow with a little miniature spoon that wouldn't even qualify for baby feeding, but rather a tea party spread for dolls. The old woman instructed me to pour some soy sauce over the pickled cabbage before eating, then disappeared into the back. I gave a sigh. The kind you do on purpose to let other people know you are being gloomy. But nobody else was there to let me be publicly gloomy. If they were I probably would have thought something like... “that guy doesn’t even realize I’m supposed to be eating turkey and stuffing with my friends and family gathered round, possibly singing raising our glasses and cheering toasts of good health and fortune.” Ok my family doesn’t do that really, but you get my point.
The chef, a little old man in a puffy jacket with apron on over it came out of the back. It was cold in Tokyo today so I figured they are trying to save on heating costs in the back. It supposed to get down to 0 C tonight.

“Where are you from?” Ahhh shit, I thought Im going to have to put up with the stupid gaijin questions game while I eat too. But to be honest, after one or two questions in english we segued into Japanese and the wife came out to join us. The three of us sat. And they quizzed me about my life. I think in about 10 minutes they knew everything about me. The CIA should use them as interrogators. They were just so damned sweet and adorably nice I found myself chatting really comfortably with them. Then the photos came out. I got a excited finger pointing mini slide presentation introduction to the whole family. I talked about my family. We talked about politics, the neighborhood, food about everything. I spent about an hour and a half with them. The father asked me to write my phone number and address so we could “hang out in Otsuka” where they live sometime. I wrote my number and cell phone e-mail. And when I exchanged papers, I realized he had written his actual home address. Maybe we are slightly different generations when it comes to swapping info. I paid about $6.50 for dinner. The mama-san appeared from the kitchen with a rice ball she made for me and said. I just made it, so it will keep your hands warm on your way home.

I think I could have cried a little bit at that point. I didn’t really tell them how much their small kindness meant to me, but I will have to in someway at some point. It also struck me as funny they are the same age as my own parents. Hmmm.

I always hear ridiculous stories or comments of how racist and xenophobic the Japanese are on internet chat rooms and youtube video comments. I’ve experienced many moments like this one in my time to teach me what garbage that all is. People are people. And there are a lot of good people in this world. It kind of makes me think about what the Europeans must have heard before landing up and down the east coast about the natives. Though I can’t separate historical fact from fiction, something tells me that basically the native population probably greeted the newcomers similarly. There is too much in this analogy for me to unpack it all in this blog posting, but I think if there is any thing for me to reflect on in the Thanksgiving legend this year it is that people on the whole have a lot of room in their hearts to welcome outsiders. And outsiders are often the ones overly fearful of whether the natives come carrying knives for killing, or knives for cutlery. Because a welcome party maybe starting. One we still celebrate all these years later.

Ahhhhhhhhh.... Splat.

Wed, 8 Oct 2008 12:21:17 +0900

So it appears the world economy is in not so free, total free-fall. Stock brokers are plummeting even faster than stock prices though their descent is measured in floors not percentage points. I suppose all of this is far more frightening to those who have money to loose. For me an investment means putting 5,000 yen on my Suica IC train card. Granted I don't get much return on it, but it does make me feel like a Jedi knight when I magically make train gates open with the wave of a hand or purchase a tall boy chu-hi at the family mart.

Of course we are all connected in this economy. I suppose the loss of oh so many banker wankers will have some ripple effect on me. But likely it only means happy hour at the Hub will be a little more crowded as formerly employed head hunters take refuge in 230 yen gin and tonic and resign themselves to their new careers in giving rather than hunting head. But for someone who has always marveled from the sidelines at the ostentatious wealth of east Asia's capital I have only one real thing to say to all those burdened by their crashing portfolios... welcome to my world.

You will soon know the joys of the 100 yen shop life so many of us have lived here on the sidelines. The only time I get phone calls from keigo speaking office workers is when they are telling me my electricity is about to be cut off. I've never felt at ease walking through the fendi toting gilded masses in Omotesando. I've always felt slightly more at home in Ueno. I think its the stink of fish... that some how fits

Jack And Jiro went up to Roppongi hills to fetch a bucket of water... sparkling water, probably from some artesian well in france. And guess what... there was no more fucking water.

Just Another PM in Japan

Sat, 13 Sep 2008 00:41:36 +0900

Mr. Yasuo Fukuda has left the building. Yes, Japans grade A prime minister, the head nihonjin in charge, the hardest workin salaryman in TokyYO- business and Japans #1 Kermit the frog impersonator has stepped off his political platform and into the oncoming train of obscurity. His name will be etcha-sketched into the history books as “one of those guys that was prime minister after Fukuda and before Japan became a colony of China.”

Japans prime ministers have now officially become like the string of bad relationships that follows being dumped by a true love. And ohhh!!! Koizumi, not only did you reform the postal service through a series of brilliant deregulation, you reformed our hearts. You meet that special someone share a few years in electoral union and from then on its just jumping from middle-aged grey suited politician to the next one. Shinzo Abe, Yasuo Fukuda, who knows what Aso they are going to pick next? How I long for the days of the strong handed, silver haired Koizumi, the man who put the R in Election. But now he’s gone and so we settled for a good Fukudaing. But that didn’t keep us satisfied for long.

Japan needs a Shogun. Without that, nothing does, will or ever has been changed, reformed or improved. The reality is without a single strong leader, a man like Koizumi nothing gets done in this country. If you’ve ever tried to special order a pizza at an Izakaya with everything but the squid you’ll know, it doesn’t matter how many waiters you ask nobody has the authority to make those kinds of radical changes.

Maybe someday another Koizumi will come along. But until that day Im guessing the only changes are the names and faces of the endless string of mediocre politicians who will try on the skin of prime minister for a year or so.

Fireworks

Wed, 23 Jul 2008 02:04:53 +0900

Every summer the Hanabi season comes... fireworks. Though Japanese claim 4 seasons there are far more. To list a few: Summer, Winter, Fall, Spring, Festival Season, Cherry Blossom Season, Job Hunting Season, Graduation Season, Sweaty Outside Air Conditioned inside Season, Hot Soba Season, Cold Soba Season, Mikan Eating Season, House Moving Season, Rainy Season, Bonnenkai Season... trust me even if you didn’t notice it there are probably about 1,000 possible seasons going on at any given calendar date. Please feel free to comment with any I forgot.
Of all of these however my least favorite is the aforementioned fireworks season. I just don’t see the point or the enjoyment. For me going to sit on muddy riverbank in insect infested weeds to be feasted upon (Japanese river fleas crave gaijin blood) while we watch a two hour fireworks display is inane.
Now, already I have lost many of you. You think I’m mad and I can hear it. Fireworks are great. Fireworks are fun and exciting. Yes, they are... for about 10 minutes. Then it really wears thin for me. Its like 100,000 people sitting together to watch a 2 hour long screen saver display. There is no story. Its all the same. Its just monotonous booming and banging... which is fine were I discussing porn, but its rather more like watching the opening start screen of an early Nintendo spaceship side scrolling video game screen for an eternity. Im thinking specifically of Gradius for those who remember 1985 (Honorable mention to Arkanoid).
Now if they let me shoot them personally I might feel better about it. But I don’t get to. I just sit there and drink beer and scratch my increasingly nibbled legs. I do remember my one moment of excitement walking into a convenience store in Tokyo and seeing fireworks on sale and thought... “Wow, fireworks are on sale in convenience stores. Tokyo rocks!” Until I purchased them and found out that they SUCK. They make the sparklers I had in elementary school seem like heavy military munitions. In fact, the match used to light these things puts off more BTUs than the deadliest of these wussified flickerworks.
Anyway back to the riverside, I am surrounded by “Ohhing and Ahhing” morons who then begin to take pictures of these things with their cellphone cameras. And that same moron is going to be showing people that picture on there stamp sized cell phone screen at work the next day (Pictured Above). Saying “Isn’t it beautiful?” No! Its not! Its a black screen with a few barely glowing pixels. But of course nothing can happen in Tokyo without some moron taking a cellphone picture of it. This includes train suicides. And the guy who jumped probably did so because it was the only way he could get his legs to stop itching from the mosquito bites he got at the river.
Now the main argument people make against all this nastiness Im spewing is, “but you are drinking and eating with friends and beautiful women in yukata and yadda yadda.” That part is great! I love that part. So lets do that in a bar like civilized people. With a big screen TV and when we get bored of what we are watching we change the channel. We can order food from the waiter, which will come fresh. Not some cold soggy chicken tidbits someone’s friend Keiko cooked 5 hours ago at home to prove she can cook (and therefore find a husband). We can get beer that is cold, and in a glass even! That is why we have civilization. How a city that witnessed endless arial bombardments and burned to the ground numerous times can get such joy from going out of their homes to the river bank to watch explosions I’ll never know. And with that... let your disagreement with me begin.

If This Planets A Rocking...

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 12:51:32 +0900

I’m totally fine with the earth moving if you mean how it revolves around the sun. Because a little further along its oblate trip, summer will end and with it I will stop sweating like a steamed gyoza. That is the kind of movement of the earth I can support. Because my cool biz fashion goes beyond a short sleeve shirt sans neck tie to include a jockstrap filled with crushed ice.
But recently the earth has been doing some tectonic jiggling which I am not on board with. Earthquakes, I’m not a fan. You see beneath us here in Japan the Filipino, American and pacific tectonic plates are squeezing up against each other. The result is kind of like if the apartment below you had a Filipino, American and pacific islander squeezing up against each other. It produces, friction, noise and even wall shacking.
My apartment is made, I believe out of flubber re-enforced balsa wood. It appears to have been designed by the laziest of the three little pigs. It has the structural fortitude of a house made of chopsticks and silly putty put together by a special needs kindergarten student for a school project. In the event of an earthquake my apartment shakes like a Mexican space shuttle on lift off, and the only sound louder than the ratting windows and walls is me wailing, “Please god no, I’m almost too young to die.”
I am very much prepared for the big one I have stockpiled a weeks supply of chocolate pocky and 10 liters of pocari sweat. Also, I have made note of where in my neighborhood I need to go incase of an emergency to loot high value items.
My Japanese friends have made no such preparations. I blame this on Math, and Godzilla. They seem to view earthquakes like an attack from Godzilla. Every now and then, Godzilla just comes and crushes some buildings. And there is pretty much nothing you can do to stop him. He’s not evil. He’s not an enemy. Its just… fate. Mathematically speaking, in the worst earthquake in recent time, The Kobe tremblor of 95. The odds of being killed were .004 You have better odds of being killed crossing the street. After all. Who knows when our end will come and how? The next attack on Akihabara might be Mothra… he does like electric lights. So maybe there are some things we just can’t prepare for.