tonari no kyaku wa yoku kaki kuu kyaku da.

or, the customer next to me is eating a lot of persimmons

we are in japan. it is the land of sliding wooden doors and flip-book advertisements on subway tunnel walls. it forms the perfect synthesis of provincial and providential. the toilet seats are heated and they shoot jet streams of water at your butt on demand. the people speak to you as if you fully understand every word because they feel ashamed not to. and they are absolutely obsessed with coffee shops.


i will post pictures as soon as i can.



This post is un recit personnel.

it's 4150 miles from Montevideo to Cape Town
.. and other sordid crap you didn't (care to) know

Christmastime is here but no one really has the spirit flowing. that could be because it's 55 degrees one day and 22 the next. but i think it's more because we don't have a big huge vacation to sit at home like we used to when we were kids and just let the season happen. it happens while we are sitting in our offices, saving vacation days for trips that may never happen, doing little but biding time until the inevitable northeastern traffic pipeline grows thick with crappy drivers and impending snowstorms, and only then are we permitted to enter the fray, so that we arrive ruined and impatient, and the season discolored and tarnished. but it's when we're sitting with our loved ones, bitching about how difficult it was to arrive, that we suddenly realize we're there with people who actually cared enough about us to put us through that whole traumatizing experience. it's tough love. and that, i guess as far as Biblical stuff goes, is what God puts Christ through, and Christ is born on Christmas, so it's a fitting metaphor.

but really, to us Italians, Christmas is about two things: love, and fish. lots of fish. 7 different kinds of them! fish and love are one in the same, aren't they?

i love Christmas.

This post is philosophical and introspective-y.

hello blog, i missed you.

tis been a long time. i have been out and about across the country. from san francisco to philadelphia to new york back to washington.
things were swanky in san fran, as you can see (they gave me a bathrobe. i love getting bathrobes.) but i was uber concerned about the social lines drawn in that city. true, they exist everywhere in our new society, but in my experience nowhere are they more visible than in san francisco. the line is clearly drawn. above that line are extravagant estates with swirling spiral staircases, and below that line are slums full of freebasing homeless people. in the middle is union square, a yuppy mecca of designer shops (and some legitimately cool independent shops selling crazy japanese stationery and vintage french tin tin comics). there is a sort of tension between have and have nots that creates an anxiety of impending class warfare. it is a beautiful city, though, and there was a healthy supply of young italians to keep it fun and interesting.

i'm moving to brooklyn. and building a darkroom. but more on that later.

at the urging of a friend i have been delving head first into uncharted cultural territory. i have a love/hate relationship with technology but since this blog began i have become fascinated with how it interweaves into the social fabric. we have a truly democratic encyclopedia (www.wikipedia.org). crazy folks are now integrating this with semacode technology (www.semapedia.org). information travels faster now than ever before. the iPod is both a bane and a blessing. it can completely impede any social interaction as it does on the NYC subway and in the streets of manhattan. or it can be used as a populist communicative tool through podcasts created for specific communities.

speaking of podcasts, you absolutley have to check out the Musical Genome Project:

www.pandora.com

by inserting the name of a song or artist, pandora creates a unique streaming radio station based upon your musical preferences. it breaks music down into components and scours the web for music you would like based upon your selection. the music keeps coming. it's free and, of course, hyperlinks to iTunes and Amazon.com if you like what you hear. you can continually add more selections to streamline your station and you can share it with all your friends. yay. check it out, you will not regret it. it's down right now and i am stark raving mad like an addict in search of his fix.

some random pictures.

have no fear, super paisano is here!

some dude in sausalito with his amazingly still dog wearing matching sunglasses.

This post is philosophical and introspective-y.





Cette poste, mais, c'est un récit personnel

i despise pat robertson. despise. D-E-S-P-I-S-E. people need to keep their narrow minds the hell out of our public schools. don't monopolize God, you asshole.

i propose creating an elaborate and perpetual hoax in order to thwart evangelicals. we have the technology. just round em all up and pretend like it's armageddon. give em white robes stained with lamb's blood and everything. then march them out to some deserted island someplace and say, chosen ones, welcome to paradise. see you in a thousand years. they'll be happy. we'll be happy. and the world will be a whole lot better off.

on the other hand, it's Armistice Day, also known as "Veteran's Day" in the U.S.A. except here in the U.S. it appears to be a holiday marked not by veneration, but by politicizing.

mr. bush, why do you use a day marking the end of a 'great' war to do some more warmongering?

i think about this poem every Armistice Day so i thought i would share it.
Because back home in Tennessee
I was a champeen shot,
They made a sniper outa me
An' ninety krouts I got:
I wish to Christ I'd not!

Athinkin' o' them blasted lives
It's kindo' blue I be;
Them lads no doubt had kids an' wives
An' happy home like me:
Them stiffs I still can see.

Aye, ninety men or more my hand
Has hustled down to hell;
They've loaded me with medals and
They tell me I done well:
A hero for a spell.

But Heaven help me to forget
Them fellow men I've slain,
The bubbling flow of blood I've let . . .
I'll never kill again:
To swat flies gives me pain.

Just let me dream when we will see
And end of soldierin';
When flags of famous victory
Will be amoulderin':
An' lethal steel an' battle blast
Be nightmares of the past.

Robert William Service (1874-1958)



This post is a bitch du jour.



This post is a political tirade.

one for the (personal) record books

i am in pain, but it is a holy pain.

my official new york marathon completion time: 4 hours, 19 minutes.

works truly cannot describe the feeling. so here goes.




Cette poste, c'est un récit personnel.

i don't like oatmeal.

yesterday, at a diner in burlington county, i saw a lumberjack eating oatmeal. he looked very sad so i asked if i could sit with him. he nodded, so i sat down and ate my hotcakes. we looked at each other and we connected. we didn't really talk that much, but we connected. well, actually, he talked a lot, but i didn't understand him. it was probably because he only spoke russian.

i think he expected me to pay for his oatmeal. man, russians are cheap.



lumberjacks eat oatmeal without any sugar or syrup. it's really gross.







This post is inane absurdist nonsense.

dealing..

..with a transportation-impaired city and a massive decaffeinated headache.

thanks to septa it took an hour to cross the bridge this morning. and then i had to sit and listen to 2 grown men cry about how they can't afford to pay their taxes. but while i was supposed to be listening i came up with an interesting image.

perhaps democracy is not suitable to be implemented in every cultural context, much to the neocon's chagrin. it's like taking plato and putting him inside a chinese opium den and saying, hey plato, philosophize, baby.


this is me in traffic. look how unhappy i am!










This post is philosophical and introspective-y.


This post is a bitch du jour.

why am i doing this?:

i have always been diametrically opposed to all these voyeuristic internet 'peepholes.' every time i got email from kaushik or andrew saying, "hello, do you want to be kaushik's friend?" i would say, "no, thank you." i figured i kind of liked the anonymity of not being found in this place.

so what made me change my mind?

well, i guess everybody likes being heard. and i figured if anybody should have a "blog" telling stories about crazy shit that happens, it should be somebody who is in constant motion. i mean, who wants to read about somebody stuck in one place like going to law school or something? how lame is that? just kidding.

anyway, it's so people who really care can see what is on my mind, and where the hell i am, when i feel like being found.



This post is philosophical and introspective-y.

it's so cold i don't remember what warm feels like.

ugh, this is so lame. connecticut sucks.





This post is a bitch du jour.