June 4, 2001 - Photos in a couple of days
Being at school on a Monday morning after two days of rugby is not what I would consider to be a good thing. Apart from the usual haze that clouds my noggin, I have the added delight of aches, pains and abrasions all over my body. Although I have to admit, I do feel pretty good, mostly because I managed to get rid of the hiccups that plagued me for the entire weekend. I've never been brought so close to a nervous breakdown before. There's nothing worse than falling victim to something you have no control over - especially when it is something that only brings joy and laughter to your friends, the bastards.
Phew - must have taken a harder knock to the head than I thought - I'm having difficulties maintaining any sense of continuity this morning. Could be that I'm finally realizing how much stuff I have to get done before I go is casuing some of this confusion. Looking at my calendar this morning and seeing free days filling up with all sorts of appointments and engagements is somewhat daunting at this juncture. I'm finding myself reluctant to accept invitations from all fronts simply for fear that I'm going to accidentally double or triple-book myself on any given day. I should probably start using the JET Diary/Planner that I've been carrying around in my bag since last August... but there's still that anti-organizational part of me that just keeps saying "whatever" whenever something comes up. I don't have the voices of Good and Bad whispering in my ears, I got stuck with Ambivalence and Distraction. Makes it kind of difficult to get anything done.In other news, the school trip to Kyoto and Osaka was great. I couldn't believe the authenticity with which they reproduced America at Universal Studios Japan - right down to the sewer grates and sidewalk concrete, for chrissakes. Apart from all the Japanese people there, I could've been in California. Unreal. The rides and attractions were the typical fare, though. I think my favourite part of the whole day was sitting outside on a patio with a beer in the 1920s New York area, watching a group of 5 costumed foreigners (I can't believe I'm phrasing it like this) fooling around with all the people walking down the street. Although dancing with Marilyn Monroe in front of a 1950s-style diner was kind of fun, too.
Spent the next day wandering around Kyoto checking out temples and such - rainy, but nice. Also got to see a live Ninja Show at Eigamura (lit. 'Movie Village' - Japan's own Univ. Studios, I suppose) as a teaser for a new flick coming out this summer called "Red Shadow". I hope I'm still in country long enough to see it. Felt very nostalgic for Saturday afternoon TV when I was a kid - all those poorly-dubbed kung-fu flicks and no-budget sci-fi films that helped make me what I am today. That's right - I credit the boob-tube with providing me the stimulus, indoctrination and education that played a major part helping me to define myself. I don't think anyone can disagree with me on that one, particularly if you take into account the fact that most of said definition is created on a subconscious level. Love that cathode ray tube - the greatest teacher of the 20th century. It's no wonder people say the generation gap is getting wider; kids have more channels to watch these days.Going to see Metropolis tonight - a Tezuka Osamu, Katsuhiro Otomo and Rintaro collaboration. I'm terribly excited about the whole affair. I'm hoping my Japanese is up to snuff this evening - I hate paying to see a film in Japanese and not understanding stuff that I know I should. Even worse when I'm with folks who ask me about it afterwards and chastise me for not paying close enough attention or tease me about it because they know how much Japanese I know. Hmm. I get laughed at in times of duress (hiccups) and teased about my abilities (Japanese) by my friends... might be time for some new friends.
June 6, 2001
Wow. Metropolis was absolutely fantastic. I never expected to be that blown away by it. Japanese comprehension hovered at about 60% but I think that was more due to some of the funny voices that the actors were using rather than lack of vocabulary. Granted, there were speeches that I had absolutely no idea what was being said, but having the visual aids more than made up for that. Metropolis has got to be the most visually stunning movie I've seen since The City of Lost Children. Breathtaking.  I seriously thought about going back to watch it again last night. I think I'm going to have to buy that one before I leave - even though I know it won't be the same as on the big screen.
I was wondering if I found the movie so good due to the fact that it is set in a landscape that I have dreamed of inhabiting since I was a child. I don't what it is, but the thought of living in a massive city divided into seperate zones and levels appeals to me - much more than the thought of living in a pristine wilderness does. Guess living in Hong Kong affected me more than one would have guessed. I think that's one of the main reasons I'm such a big fan of Terry Gilliam's Brazil, as well - the urban Utopia, 40s style. I need a Zoot suit.
I'd also like to shake the hand of whoever selected the music for the film. Great stuff - from Dixieland Jazz to Ragtime to Ray Charles and more. I'll never be able to listen to "I Can't Stop Loving You" again without thinking of a scene from the movie - but I don't want to spoil anything for anyone. One thing I will point out, however, is that in the background of one scene, a map of northwestern Lake Ontario is hanging on the wall. It includes places like Hamilton, Oakville, Misissauga and... Burlington. My home town. How's that for a strange coincidence? Takashi said he could hear my reaction when I realized what I�@was looking at - the sharp intake of breath, the jump in my seat, the wild looks around, and so forth. Honestly though, can you blame me? Still haven't managed to get my photos developed (wondering if I'm going to get a chance this week...), so I'm offering this as a stand-by. After seeing how well Takashi's Evil Eye turned out, I just couldn't resist getting one of my very own. It's been very useful so far - it makes a guest appearance in this year's Saga JET Yearbook and provided incentive for at least one student to try harder in class. I consider this to be my qualification for Saturday's Man of the Match Award, but I'm sure there are those who would disagree, suggesting that this should be my DISqualification, but I try not to listen to those sorts of people. Besides, it looks much worse in real life. Honest.Good news! Book one of the Apocamon is finished! We're talkin sheer genius here.
June 12, 2001
Ten-thirty in the AM and I'm already sweating. I'm not particularly looking forward to my elementary school visit this afternoon - today's forecast includes slimy handshakes, pungent B.O. and short tempers with periodic tantrums beginning in the early afternoon and carrying on right through until the end of the day. The question is, am I talking about this kids, or am I referring to myself? 
I'm a little displeased with how the photos of the school trip turned out this year - the ones I do have look just like the ones from last year; which shouldn't be altogether that surprising, I suppose. Might be time to pick up a flash and/or new lens for my camera - I've also been kicking around the idea of picking up some colour filters and shooting some B&W shots through them. Not that this is a revolutionary new concept or anything - it's just the "it's-too-hot-on-a-Tuesday-morning-and-I-have-nothing-to-say" babble again.
Later
Well, that went much better than anticipated. Sometimes I'm amazed that I get paid for this job. Just spent 2 hours with the first through third grade elementary school kids playing "Animal Sounds Friut Basket" - I haven't had that much wholesome fun since, oh, last week when I played dodge ball with the whole school. Today's added bonus: not a single kid burst into tears while shaking hands with the Giant Man fron Canada - I'm usually scary enough to terrify at least two kids per visit.
June 13, 2001
Went to see The Mummy Returns last night with Takashi... not bad - I guess you'd call it your typical action flick for the 21st century. I wish it was a little more Indiana Jones instead of being so Episode 1, though. Not to say that I don't enjoy computer graphics, blindingly fast fist/sword/axe/spear fights and supernatural creatures, but I prefer them in the proper context. The movie would have been whole lot better (IMHO) had they left out anything involving the jet-powered dirigible and it's whiny captain. Oh, and some sort of double for Rachel Weisz when she's playing Nefertiti - the girl just don't look Egyptian at all. Not even a bit.
I guess you might say I'm biased on some level - the Indiana Jones Trilogy were some (and still are) of my favourite films of all time. It's fairly easy to see that The Mummy Returns is trying to portray Brendan Frasier as the next Indy, but they're going about it all wrong. Frasier (hell, all the good guys - even the annoying little twerp) is too much of an Ubermensch for my tastes. The best thing about Indiana Jones was that he was basically just a guy - sure, he got into all sorts of adventures and harrowing scrapes and such, but he always has an "Ah, shit, what now?" air about him. How many other movies have you seen where the hero, after having escaped some diabolical scheme or defeated some Goliath, actually looks as sore and tired as you would expect them to? Granted, Harrison Ford has made a career out of it: Han Solo (basically Indy in space), Decker in Blade Runner, Dr. Kimble in The Fugitive and so on - but I think it's a character trait that most folks approve of. Humanity, that is.Anyway, this ain't no movie review page. Here's an interesting bit of news: got an email from Mandy pointing out that all of the dates (save the first one) read 'July' instead of 'June'. Now I know that this is my bad, but seeing as I've spoken to several people about things on this page recently, well... I like to think I'm not just mindless entertainment!Guess July has been on my mind lately - I don't want to get too far ahead of myself, though. The amount of time I have left here seems to be logarithmically inverse to the amount of things that I find myself wanting to do. Then of course there are all the things that I have to do, which eat up even more of my rapidly dwindling time. Just got my shipping crates delivered last Saturday and I have no idea how to begin filling them. Maybe I'll just stuff myself in there when they come to pick them up.
It's strange: still going about my daily life and doing the things I've been doing all along, suddenly finding myself with a whole bunch more to do as well as suddenly being unable to do some of the things I want to do. I realized the other day that there are already people that I'm probably not going to see again before I go. I know that it is a matter of making time to see the people that truly matter to me, but how does one make that differenciation? As my departure date approaches, I'm going to have to take that decision to even higher levels - I'm going to have to dump a bunch of YOU - friends in-country who I know read these ramblings because I don't see enough of you. Well not 'because' because, but you know what I mean.
Maybe I'm thinking about this too much - I have a tendency to do that, you know. I doubt anyone's going to be offended by this whole affair, and if they are, they proabably won't be once they find themselves in the same situation - Chris tried to warn me how quickly this year was going to go - I feel it's only fair of me to do the same.I should call this "Dr. J's page of Acute Introspection, Whining & Movie Reviews" or some such. Ugh.
June 14, 2001 
Colour me annoyed. My shithead cat brought home a family of fleas recently and they've decided to infest my home. Parasites - I hate 'em. I'm extra pleased about the whole situation, seeing as I have both ample time and resources to deal with my bloodsucking friends. Mentioned it to the Board of Education and they told me they would fumigate the house - after I move out.
So whilst I go home and wage war against the interlopers, check out David Gaddis' stuff (fair warning - rather heavy download...) and drop by Fuckertown to keep yourselves entertained 'til I get back.
June 18, 2001 - late
Sitting here listening to the cacophony that is Kyuragi - crickets (or some such insect) chirping, frogs croaking, a solitary owl hooting out behind the house and the periodic roar of young bosozoku racing to and from the dam. You'd think they'd give it a rest, what with the suddent (and somewhat violent) torrential downpours that have been occurring throughout the day - but no, they have to prove just how virile they are as they tear along on their crotch rockets. I know I'm impressed, not least because it's fast approaching one in the morning.
Although it must be said that the humidity is also playing a major role in this evening's bout of insomnia - I'm sweating bullets in nothing but a pair of boxers here... how very tropical (in the 40s/50s tiki/exotica definition of the term, of course) the whole scene is: a young white male living in an exotic country, dripping with sweat and smoking American cigarettes in the wee hours of the morning. I wonder if this is how Arthur C. Clarke wrote while he was living in Sri Lanka; or if this is how George Orwell felt while living in Burma? Or even (stepping away from the literary sphere) Nick Leeson, as he single-handedly toppled Baring's along with countless other financial giants from his office in Singapore? That could be the reason for me not writing as much as I'd like to over here - I'm too busy doing laundry. If I could choose one particular reason for not writing, I think that would be the one.
June 19, 2001
Huh. It would appear I am even more tangential and fragmented in my thought processes at home than when I am at school. From crotch rockets to tiki to George Orwell, all in the space of two paragraphs. I suppose I should explain the sudden ending to last night's (or rather, this morning's) episode: it involves a pee break and a centipede. There's really nothing else that needs be said.
I think what I was trying to get at before being so rudely interrupted was the fact that by having so much to do on a daily basis, I haven't been able to devote enough energy to writing. Which sounds suspisciously like crap to me this afternoon. I've noticed recently that I don't use my notebooks anywhere near as often as I used to - I just assume that I'll remember the salient points of the thought later on, which of course I don't. By the time I plop down in front of a keyboard, I've either got something else to say entirely or I sit there drawing blanks, so I just put down a bunch of babble. Using as many big words as I can. That's what writers do, isn't it?
To wit: Saturday the ninth, I was up near Kitakyushu at an experimental film festival with Joss and Kevin. I had several interesting things to say about that little excursion, yet the following week at school when I found myself staring at the screen with nothing to say, what comes out? Talk of photos and a half-assed movie review. Terrible. Ergo...FLASHBACK TO SATURDAY THE NINTH OF JUNE, 2001
After waking up at Josh's humble abode - this being the morning after the conference - and dragging my weary carcass out to Nakabaru for Aynsley's English Day (no offense, Anys, but I was real hung-dover...), I received a phone call from Joss with directions to a small town named Tagawa out by Kitakyushu. He was looking at a map and figured the best route for me to take would be along 321, which ran directly to Tagawa from where I was.I'd just like to insert a brief temporal jump into the dialogue here to state that the drive home on the expressway took just about an hour. Joss's route (through the mountains of Fukuoka-ken and was admittedly an interesting drive) took four hours. Four.So I hopped in my car and started driving. Beautiful day, but stinking hot - having played volleyball with some of the kids from the English Day, I was working on my second muck-sweat of the day and anyone with any olfactory capabilities didn't want to be within ten feet of me, if they knew what was good for them. The plan was to get closer in to Tagawa, find an onsen and try to make myself human again. That's when I hit the mountains.
Despite having road signs to assure me that I was indeed heading in the right direction, I couldn't help but wonder as I climbed higher and higher into the mountains, the road growing steadily narrower as I progressed. I thought of Barry and his adventures in Oita-ken: driving aimlessly along a miniscule road which rounded a bend and... stopped. Resolutely, I pressed onward and upward - entertaining pleasant daydreams of an all-female onsen right up ahead - eventually getting to the very apex of the mountain pass to see a single road sign stating 50 km per hour... with a Coca-Cola 'No Reason' poster bolted to it. This made me mad. An hour up into the mountains of Northern Kyushu and the only sign of civilization I find is brought to me by Coke?  What kind of corporation is it that can reach its tendrils so far around the globe and raise no eyebrows whatsoever? Think about this: there are vending machines all over this country - they're simply everywhere (sometimes 3-4 in a row, selling the same drinks) - you can by an ice-cold Coke 24/7 in buckwheat inaka ('countryside' - i.e.: middle-of-nowhere) if you want to. Doesn't a corporation that has that much power frighten or upset you just a little bit? It scares the hell out of me.
I wish I'd brought my camera to capture the irony of the whole scene: vast panoramic landscape, road sign, "Coca-Cola - No Reason" - how appropriate. Adbusters would've loved that one. However, having a destination to get to and an appointment to keep, I left my anarchistic anti-corporate thoughts by the roadside and drove on. A further half-hour of nothingness and then the next big surprise - rounding a corner, I suddenly found myself driving beside a baseball stadium... with a dome. Considering I'd seen nothing but trees and the occasional ancient-looking roadsign, I was somewhat taken aback; what possible justification could there be for building a domed baseball stadium all the way out there? I half-expected for it to be called the Coca-Cola Dome or for there to be some hidden city in the mountains, but there was nothing for another fifteen minutes down the road - and I do mean nothing. Strange goings-on in those parts. I siezed the opportunity provided by civilization to stop by the local police station for directions to the local bathhouse (raising quite a few eyebrows indeed) and then I was on my way again.Arriving at Hako (the aptly-named location of the festival: 'hako' means 'box' - a bar built in an abandoned bomb shelter), I was again taken aback at the sight of dozens of foreignes I'd never seen before. Guess I've been up my mountain for far too long - I'd have to say my reaction was very Japanese-bumpkin in nature - it would seem heading back to Canada might be a good idea after all. Met some people, hooked up with Joss and Kevin, watched some strange short films and generally had a decent time. Also ran into Rachel, a Saga-ken ALT whom I'd only ever seen at conferences and the like before, which made for an interesting twist to the evening.
However, the prize-winner for strange encounters definitely has to go to a woman named Mary, co-host for the event who is the second woman I've met in Japan who was born in the same hospital as I was. Yup. Two in two years - and they know each other. This world can be disturbingly small at times.
I'm going to have to bring the flashback to a close here - I've run out of time here at school and I'm beginning to wonder whether my house is flooded yet. This rain is unbelievable today.
One last quick word regarding the flea infestation, I think I might have fought the good fight - after fumigating the entire house, giving Quixote a flea bath and spending 4 hours at the laundromat washing all the textiles I own, I haven't seen any sign of fleas anywhere. Which is wonderful because I never want to have to bathe a cat again, especially not an ornery SOB like Don Quixote.
June 26, 2001
What a week. It's been raining lions and Great Danes (as opposed to just cats and dogs) lately and the humidity has risen to a near-unbearable level - can't hardly move without drenching my clothing in sweat. I've seriously entertained the notion of trucking around in just a loincloth and a smile, just to cut down on my laundry. I'd probably get deported for that, though - which might actually be a good thing, as someone else would then be responsible for shipping all my shit back across the Pacific.
Despite the weather, things have been progressing on a relatively smooth tack, with the occasional emotional squall or mind-numbing calm along the way. I was so deep in the doldrums the other day that I actually rented and watched Armageddon. Twice. That's five (5!) wasted hours that I should have spent packing, or cleaning, or just getting my head screwed on straight for July. Hard to believe it's only five days away.It's terrible having things on my mind that have been hashed & rehashed to death that I just can't seem to unload - these are the things that are trying their hardest to spill out through my fingers and fill up the empty spaces of this page. Things that I've said before, things that you've read before; I never intended for this endeavour to become some sort of cathartic - a venue to expunge all the vile ideas that afflict my mind from time to time.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not telling you I'm a chronically depressed individual; I'm quite happy with the way my life has turned out. I'm talking mostly about my tendency to dwell on things that have already happened, or things that I have no control over (to wit: certain blonde-haired blue-eyed Japanese girls I know) - things that for one reason or another keep cropping up time and time again. I suppose that's why I keep thinking about them - they're not the type of things that can be dealt with, save for waiting for them to resolve themselves. Come July.Later
Talking about the same things in an obscure fashion is still talking about the same things and therefore not the point of this endeavour. Why is that so hard to remember?Just got back from an elementary school visit, during which I got to talk about animals, sweat profusely and introduce a young girl from Virginia to the school (although not in that order). Yup - a family from Kyuragi made it over to the States a few years ago and they're back visiting the old stomping ground with their daughter, Sumire. Nice girl, a 6th grade elementary school student who spent her first year in school in Kyuragi - but what a contrast to all the other kids at the school. I got the chance to sit down and talk to her before the lesson began... and it would seem I don't remember how to talk to English-speaking kids anymore!
The principal sat us down and told us that I would be introducing her to the school, so I asked her what sort of things we should talk about. "Whatever," she says. Thankfully (although it seems strange to say so...) she transformed into a very shy, quiet individual when stood up in front of the school - yet still able to mutter a "I'm NOT doing that!" under her breath when I told the other kids that she did gymnastics at school. I laughed and told her I had no intention of asking her to; we got along much better after that. The rest of the lesson was the usual chaos - but hotter than hell in there. Now to spend the remainder of the day in an air-conditioned stupor. Praise Jesus.
June 29, 2001
I believe there are very few things in this world worse than waking up to the acrid stench of an overflowed sceptic tank... yes, it's happened again. This time, I'm of the opinion that somehow rainwater managed to make its way into the tank, as I refuse to believe that I filled the damn thing in a month - even though I have been eating meat lately. Aside from these two possibilities, I've also come up with a third (somewhat more misanthropic) hypothesis: the gentlemen who come to suck up my shit do a piss-poor job of it. Do they really empty the tank, or do they just siphon some off the top and chuckle to themselves about 'that poor sucker' on the way home? It's not like anybody's going to check - and I'm sure there have got to be some very bitter people working that job. I know I would be.
Think about what they're doing for a living: driving around all day in a big ol' tanker truck collecting human waste, breathing in that fetid odor all day (and more than likely going home smelling of it), and having to be polite to people about it (this being Japan, after all). Why not leave a few litres in the bottom? I'd like to know whether they draw a straight salary, get paid per truckload or get a percentage from each pick-up. If it's the lattermost, then there is no doubt in my mind there are some dirty birds doing the dirty work - you might say it's the perfect crime.Anyway, leaving the fecal follies behind, I have a definition quibble for you:LURID: adj. [L luridus pale yellow, sallow]
- a: wan and ghastly pale in appearance
b: of any of several light or medium grayish colours ranging in hue from yellow to orange - : shining with the red glow of fire seen through smoke or cloud
- a: causing horror or revulsion: GRUESOME
b: highly coloured: SENSATIONAL
First I must aver that this is not the only word with which I have a quibble with - the English language is chock-full of words that have antonymic definitions. It's no wonder people have trouble learning English - how do you explain to someone that one word means both 'wan and ghastly pale' and 'highly coloured' at the same time? Heck, you might say that I awoke to a lurid smell this morning - definition 3a, of course. Or to take it one step further: as the lurid (1b) light of early morning struck my lurid (1a) visage, I pulled my lurid (3b) sheets up over my nose and looked for the source of the lurid (3a) smell in my room. I know the first 'lurid' is stretching it a bit, but you get the idea. Try explaining that sentence to a non-English speaker and see how far you get.
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