| moshi moshi? |
[May. 31st, 2004|09:59 am] |
If ever one is poor, lost, and alone in Tokyo, let me give the followind advice: don't look for accomodations in the usual places. Tokyo is one of the most expensive hotel cities in the world, so that's out right off the bat. Now, you might be thinking that one of those coffin-sized capsule hotels would be a good idea, but be warned: they too charge exorbitant rates, taking advantage of the desperation of weary travelers.
If we move outside the proverbial box, there are a couple more options. First, you could chill in a club for the night, but you'll wish you hadn't in the morning. Too noisy and the cover charge will kill you. If you're feeling adventurous, you might try sleeping on the street. I have tried this and I pity the homeless in Tokyo (I suppose I pity the homeless everywhere, but you know what I mean). Tokyo has no park benches whatsoever. Actually, that's not strictly true. There are several hundred park benches in Tokyo, but they are all on the grounds of the Imperial Palace, where I can only imagine the emperor takes some perverse pleasure in knowing he has monopolized sitting down in the city. Seriously. So try to avoid sleeping on the street. High decibel j-pop at 3 am is not conducive to a restful experience.
If one had been smart, one might have booked a space at a youth hostel. Those are comfy and cheap. They also require reservations months in advance and if we were that organized we wouldn't be in this predicament, now would we? So what're you going to do? You, my friend, are going to stay at the "comic library."
A comic library is a place where one can rent a small cubicle and read. You pay by the hour, or by the block of hours. The cubicles are enclosed, so you can have some privacy. Inside, you have your own computer (with internet access), television, dvd player, playstation 2, desk, safe, lamp, and, most importantly, reclining chair with ottoman. Outside, there are movies, games and, of course, comics to choose from; as well as a bathroom, a shower, and a free drink bar. You can buy snacks from the front desk.
For the weary traveler, finding something like this is seriously like finding a slurpy machine in the desert. It's as good as a hotel; heck, it's better than a hotel. What kind of hotel gives you free drinks? Movies? !@#$!% video games!? There IS no hotel that does that.
So here's the plan. Hang out in the city until 1:30 or so in the morning. Go to a comic library and buy a five hour block. That'll set you back around $13; not too shabby. Get some shut eye, pay the bill and profusely thank whoever is working behind the counter. They have saved your life.
By that time, the trains should be running again. Buy a ticket for a buck and get on a loop line. Find a comfy corner and sleep there until you have the strength to move again.
Doing this, you can stay in Tokyo for less than $20 a night. If you're ever in the Shibuya district, stop by the "Manboo Comic Cafe" and give someone there a big, wet, sloppy kiss on behalf of all the poor lost gaijin out there.
Peace. |
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| whatever |
[Apr. 24th, 2004|09:57 am] |
So, yeah, it's been quite a while since I've tilled my little plot of internet soil. It's the time of the (school) year when things get crazy and my last few weeks have been just *brimming* with excitement. I've been forced to catch up on some things quite quickly, which is good, but painful to do. It's what I always seem to come to, though. I guess I just don't do well with soft deadlines. I need supervision, last minute panic, and the looming threat of dire consequences. Or at least it helps.
The purpose of all this masochism is, of course, a fairly arbitrary little piece of paper five years in the making. Heavens, is it really necessary? I don't exactly feel like doors are opening before me here. I guess the best thing is to go off to grad school or something; put off any real decisions for a few more years.
I don't know whether I worry too much or not nearly enough. |
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| la vie frustracion |
[Mar. 10th, 2004|02:15 pm] |
No, that's not real French. At least probably not.
I feel like I've managed to accomplish almost nothing lately. Lots of deadlines slipping past, lots of things piling up, lots of uncertainties. Unless I make, like, a conscious effort to stay calm, I'm gonna stress out.
The thing is, it's all mood. It's not like anything new is going on. There are folks in phenomenally worse situations than myself with infinitely better attitudes. I've been in much worse myself. That doesn't make things easier, though. In a sense, it makes it worse. Instead of being the noble loser or something, I just feel insignificant.
Whatever. This is all sounding much too serious. Just a mood.
I'm told that bad moods and depression and whatnot are caused by a lack of the chemical seratonin in the brain. It's a little odd for me to imagine emotions being controlled by chemicals. It shouldn't be that concrete. It shouldn't be that easy.
Physically defining emotions is a little too close to physically defining the soul. There are some things that shouldn't be understood. |
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| all the writing on the wall |
[Mar. 5th, 2004|10:57 am] |
The forecast this weekend is for snow. Snow. As in FROZEN water coming out of the sky. Today, it's supposed to reach about 65. Unbelievable.
I, for one, had really hoped that winter had already uttered its dying breath. I was willing to cope with weeks of uncomfortable sogginess if I could just avoid scraping the windshield in the morning.
Of course, it is pretty late. Hopefully this last flurry is a good-bye note, not the portent of a full-scale assault.
Not that any of this is new. We Americans seem to have a pretty short attention span when it comes to the weather. We are shocked, yes shocked, when winter prepares to launch the "storm of the century" at us. Perhaps we should be shocked, seeing as the storm of the century comes at least once a year. We balk similarly in the summer when "killer heat" descends upon the populace. Killer heat? It's a wonder any of us have survived this long.
Whatever. I suppose I'm contributing to the noise just by bringing it up.
Look out for Death Flurry 2004. If we stick together, we might just make it.
It was nice to see the grass again, just to know it's still there. |
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| yawn |
[Feb. 28th, 2004|10:38 am] |
Saturday mornings are meant to be slept through. Anything contrary to this golden standard is an affront to nature.
Working at eight in the morning on the weekend is wrong. Morally wrong. Unethical. I only have to be here for a few hours, but I'm in this state of sleep-deprived suspended animation that makes the time just crawl. Nothing happens. There is no reason to be here. Everyone should still be asleep.
I've been hard at work trying to make this wretched shift more bearable. Since getting more sleep the night before is clearly out of the question, sleeping on the job seems the best solution. If I wear a hooded sweatshirt and put a book in my lap, I can give the illusion of wakefulness. I just rest my chin on my chest, like I'm reading the book, and drift. If some poor soul happens by, I jerk my head up (from my "reading") and mumble some incoherent greeting.
I'm not sure how convincing this really looks, having never seen it objectively. I probably look a bit on the burnt side of toasted, squinting bleary-eyed at everyone who wanders past. I wonder if I can get away with wearing sunglasses indoors...
Remember, don't work harder, slack-off smarter. |
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| how to start a fight |
[Feb. 27th, 2004|07:29 pm] |
I really hate how serious everyone has gotten over Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ." I can't avoid its hype and its controversy. The smart thing, of course, would be to avoid putting my two cents in and wait for something else to snag public attention. The smart thing, but not the fun thing. So here goes:
First, because it's such an easy target, the notion of the film being anti-semitic. I've considered this a lot and I honestly believe that such an opinion can only be the product of ignorance. We've got two groups of people here, Jews and Romans. Some mean, nasty Jews want Jesus dead. Some mean, nasty Romans comply. Along the way, some members of both camps voice dissent.
Is the Sanhedrin portrayed as evil? Mostly. Is Pilate let off easy? Perhaps a bit. But the Roman soldiers are easily the most vile, depraved people in the film. Absolutely inhuman. If there were such a thing as "anti-Romanism," this film would have a whole new set of problems on its hands.
But what the film and the gospels make clear is that no one is taking Jesus' life, he's laying it down. He's not being dragged off kicking and screaming. Crucifixion was his reason for living. He has lived to die and he dies for a purpose.
What I think really offends people (or at least the media at large) is that the film is unapologetically Christian. It refuses to deviate from biblical accounts. Anti-semitism is really just a cheap shot at the faith of the man who made the picture.
Something with a more flexible theology attached would've made more people happy. But Mel Gibson has the same right to make a movie out of the biblical account of Jesus' death as a he does to make one out of the historical critical story. He can make a movie with Jesus on the moon if he wants to. In fact, it would probably be less controversial.
The real problem, methinks, is that this issue is just too close to too many people. Whenever religion is discussed in the media, the gloves come off. It would be nice if we could look at "Passion" as, first and foremost, a movie. Forget anti-semitism. Forget "the greatest evangelistic opportunity in 2000 years." What we have here is an utterly unique, perhaps brilliant little movie. A 90-minute death scene, subtitled. Something experimental. Disturbing. An art film that's been thrust under the public microscope and dissected. Personally, I don't think films this strange should be this big.
But it clearly is. And we're all going to yell about it until something new distracts us. In the meanwhile, we'll have more religious furor, more controversy. A new rash of stigmatic experiences, probably. A temporary Jesus fad, with books and magazine covers and TV specials. A boom in church attendance.
Fairly soon (certainly by election time), it will all fade away and everyone will be back where they were before. Till then, don't forget to get offended. |
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| (my name here) |
[Feb. 25th, 2004|09:09 pm] |
I suppose this is the obligatory first live-journal entry where I have to talk about starting a live-journal. It's a bit of a strange concept, if you think about it -- like writing in a diary with people staring over your shoulder. It seems like the internet has become the new measure of a person's secrecy. The unreality of it gives us the same feeling of security that good, old-fashioned privacy used to. I think very few people would write in a journal and leave it on the street, but people will pour their souls out on the internet.
I mean, good lord, have you seen what people DO on the web? It boggles the mind...
Regardless --
I sort of disagree with this whole concept, the imaginary community with a virtual public forum. I don't like what it's likely to become, what it's already become: a dumping ground for the world's perversions; an open-mic for very loud opinions; a gallery for shallow, angst-filled self-portraits.
Painfully intimate, yet clinically cold.
And here I am, a part of it.
I do have to cede the promising aspects of the internet. It's this century's undiscovered continent, vast and strange, full of both danger and possibility. Home-made Promised Land. Everyone stakes a claim and hopes that this time things will work out. New Jerusalem. New Babylon.
Three, two, one, happy new year. Disappointed yet?
Here's to the hope that if everything doesn't fall into place, we manage to keep it from falling apart. Disappointing, but not disastrous. Here's to aiming high, missing the target, but NOT shooting yourself in the foot.
Here's to preachy, self-important live-journal entries.
The revolution will not be televised, but you can download and burn it. |
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