slice of pi

i just finished life of pi by yann martel.

it's about an indian boy, a bengal tiger and the pacific ocean. he talks about fishes and turtles and water and animals and god. it reminded me of the old man and the sea crossed with some long forgot adventure books i read when i was young. canada is not the promised land.

i really liked the ending, with the 2 japanese guys (very quixotic and panzaque) and i'd also like someone to explain how it all relates to hinduism, islam and christianity.

reading gangs of new york now. it contains endless lists of name and addresses. and: fact fans: bill the butcher was not killed in a knife fight during the draft riots by a man named amsterdam. he was shot in a bar by someone else and didn't die until a few days later.

the man with no name accuses me of not existing

here is that survey that is doing the rounds:


1. What is the total amount of music files on your computer?

i don't own a computer.

2. The last CD you bought is:

more best of leonard cohen. it was a fiver in the hmv sale. gotta love those jewish singer songwriters. best song on it: closing time.

3. What is the song you last listened to before reading this:

trespass by patti smith. it's off her trampling album. it's a bad sequel to horses.

4. Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you.

don't think twice (it's all right) - bob dylan
positively 4th street - bob dylan
tangled up in blue - bob dylan
every grain of sand - bob dylan
blood in my eyes - bob dylan

lester bangs allegedly said: "listen to blonde on blonde with a lighted candle and you will see your whole future."

5. Who are you going to stick it to next and why?

i'd like tim, kev, joe and mei to do it next. just answer the question in italics.


don know what to do next

finished don quixote at last. i only have 2 words for it: quixotic and panzaques.

(it's a magnificent book. it makes new york trilogy by paul auster better. i'm not sure why, but they are somehow linked. if i had more time, i'd find out. i know they talk about don quixote in city of glass, but the link is more subtle. it is there in my brain, but i can't grab hold of it. something about storytelling, or storytellers... but i don't quite know... i also can't believe it was written in the 17th century. it's so lively and read, modern in the first part, post modern in the second part; it preempts homer simpson and mash by 400 years. and it is funny. it is, as the saying goes, laugh out loud funny. think about shakespeare, who was writing at the same time. does his comedies make you laugh? cervantes made me laugh aloud in public. it's witty and clever and endearing and touching and true and lasting and just fucking amazing. it makes planet earth a more pleasant place to live.)


i started life of pi. it makes me wish i paid more attention during my RE classes.

election free of freedom

bush reminds me of a man i once knew. he was a man with deep conflicted interests. he never liked where he was going, and he always wanted to go back to what it was before. he was afraid to show any weakness in practical things, but he wore his emotional defects like a shield. if you asked him a question, he would always have an answer: some kind of answer, and never back down even if you showed him all the evidence. he would scream that black was white until he was red in the face. he once advised his flatmate how to cook gyoza (you fry it in a pan for a few minutes, then put in half a cup of water to steam the rest). this guy told him to put them into a pot of cold water and boil it. the flatmate was an amicable fellow, so had no reason to doubt him. 30 minutes later they were left with a brown sludge with grey bits floating inside it. the flatmate threw it away and went hungry. this guy said afterward that he had no idea what he was doing, but it seemed like the right thing to do. he had already eaten anyhow.


wooden boats

i saw a photo of a boy. he wanted to build a ship out of matchsticks. he dreamed of a galleon with three tall masts. he saved his money and spent every penny on matches. he worked for the local green grocers every saturday; waking at 5 in the morning and working until 7 in the evening, while all his friends played football in the park. he would watch them among the orange carrots and bronze onions; sweating as he lifted the thick dusty sacks. visions of the ship burned in his mind. sunday was his favorite day as that was the day he was paid and he spent all his money on matchsticks. he was going to build the biggest matchstick ship in all the world and it would sail for a thousand voyages. for one year he worked as his friends laughed in the yellow sun and the green grass. for one year he held muddy potatoes and threw out soft tomatoes. in the winter it was so cold it bit him and in the summer it was so hot he would come to work with the mind to quit. but the ship anchored in his imagination and he held firm. finally, after working for one year, he had saved enough to buy 56,400 matchsticks. tiny boxes filled his bedroom. for one year he worked to buy them and they towered over him as he drew a deep breath.


death bangs

did lester bangs really say those things about rock music becoming an industry of cool? if he didn't then is it ok to put words into a mouth of a dead guy? i'm talking about almost famous.

quake

there was another earthquake in nagoya. this time though i was surrounded in several cubic tons of concrete sunk several metres into the ground, waiting for a train to take me home. it was about the same size as the one last time: around 4 on the richter scale; but because of were i was it felt completely different. it felt like a large lorry driving past you for about 5 seconds; instead of a wobble growing to a shake and reducing to a tremor it was a short sharp violent shake; then nothing. if you ever have a premonition about an earthquake occurring, head into the subway system.

also a short note about the indian tsunami disaster: first thanks to ben for links to all those articles about the british reaction to it. it was interesting to read. it's easy to lose perspective in a different country. i like to believe it was christmas spirit: good will to all men.


movie list

i have watched many movies i haven't told you about (all described in two words):

zatoichi: blood, cliched.
thin red line: voiceovers, long.
freddy vs jason: puerile, fun.
africa queen: bogart, colour.
casshern: japanese animae.
infernal affairs: tense, still.
almost famous: parts, bloated.
any given sunday: visceral sport.


travel

i want to travel around the world. it is a mammoth task and will take me about 6 months to a year. if you have any tips on how i should go about it please tell me. thanks.

xmas

a trifle late merry christmas and happy new year to all you lot out there. you'll have to forgive my tardiness. i blame the fact i had to work on christmas eve and christmas day and boxing day. and thankyou for all the cards, letters, presents, emails and comments. they are all warmly received.


homestay

i spent the days follow christmas with someone else's family. they invited me to stay and i couldn't refuse. i literately couldn't refuse because they can't speak english well and i don't know how to say no politely in japanese, so i ended up saying yes politely.

they are the mori family. they live in the suburbs of nagoya; an area called kariya. there is a grandfather, father, mother and 3 children. a 9 (i think) year old son, a 6 year old daughter and a 2 year old daughter. there house is very big in comparison to my apartment: the seating area of the living room is bigger than my whole shoebox flat. it was nice to have some walking space and not have to worry about kicking the fridge when i went to bed.

i was welcomed in and took off my shoes as i entered. i then had to put my shoes back on again as we left to go to the hospital. grandpa had a pain in his chest and they wanted to have it checked out. they apologised. i said it was ok. the pain turned out to be nothing. we drove back home. the driver watched the road as the passengers watched tv on the GPS screen. they were cooking fish.

it was the afternoon so father was still at work and the children at play school. we went to pick up the 2 daughters. as i walked into the class, the mother announced to every kid that i spoke no japanese and that i was an english teacher. about 20 six year old kids surround me and start questioning me in japanese. i stood and grinned and said things like "the medical care system in japan seem exemplary in my experience" and "what are the perceived negative effects of a declining birth rate on an aging society?"

back at home, i realised i couldn't understand what the 6 year old girl was saying to me, and could only just understand what the 2 year old was saying. i found my communicative level.

i stayed for dinner, but had to go back to my apartment. they invited me back again tomorrow. again i couldn't say no.

father mori picked me up outside a supermarket near my place. by train, kariya was about 30 minutes away. by car, it was an hour. as we zoomed along the raised freeways and lowered highways, i marveled at the concrete pillars holding all the roads in all the right places.

in a combination of my broken japanese and their broken english they told me we were going to an annual fish market at 3.30am. i said ok. they have this special market to get ready for new year celebrations. i went to bed at 10pm and woke at 3am. it was cold. the market was again about an hours drive. floodlights lit an industrial estate; open warehouses and stalls loaded with chunks of red tuna, orange octopus and cases of snow crab from canada. it was packed and it was freezing. we wondered around, through hoards of people, bright lights and dark shadows. the ice did not melt. the atmosphere reminded me of glastonbury at 4am but a lot colder and without music or drugs.

we got back at 7am and i went straight to bed again, to be awoken at 10am. i got dressed and had no idea where we were going. we were going to a barbecue. some friends were making mochi (a foodstuff consisting of pounded rice eaten at new year). to my surprise everyone was drinking beer. they asked if i wanted a beer. again, i couldn't say no. at 10am we drank beer and roasted crab on the open fire. toward the back of the garden was a kind of klin where they were cooking rice to make into mochi. the mochi making equipment was basically a massive mortar and pestle. the pestle was shaped like an oversized polo mallet. the mortar was heavy grey stone and large enough to fit a human head. the rice is placed in the mortar and pounded repeatedly, until it reaches the right consistency. it was hard work after the first 50 swings. smashing duty was rotated. when one batch was ready some of it would be prepared and eaten immediately or else stored in plastic containers. the kiln was constantly fed with water, rice and firewood.

we ate and made mochi until the sunset, until the last grain was pounded. everyone spoke to me in broken english or fast japanese and constantly made sure that my glass and plate were never empty. soon the red glow turned to white ash and it was over.

we got home at 7pm and i fell asleep again and woke at 9. i talked to the family with the aid of my japanese dictionary. i hope they understood what i wanted to say.

the next morning, on the 31st dec, i wished them all a happy new year as they drove me to the train station.

macrumsfeld

everyone is talking about the comments by rumsfeld. he says the army has to do with what it has, not what he wants. what do you people want from him? eh? how dare you doubt him? how dare you peons question don? do you think his job is easy? everyday he has to send thousands of americans to certain death with a stroke of his hand or a few whispered words. a whole nation is under his protection, every bullet his from his soul and every missile is signed and sealed with love and mercy. and you guys running around in the sandbox. it isn't a damn picnic you know. i got to work here too. armed humvees cost 180,000 dollars each. i can't go giving them away. if i give one to you, i'd have to give one to everyone wouldn't i? all the armor in the world won't protect you from the desert heat or the bullets that pierce your ears and boil your blood. people who wear seatbelts also die in car crashes. if i tried to protect you, then you wouldn't be able to do your job. you're be in an air conditioned concrete bunker thousands of miles away. what goddamn use are you back there?

and all you that criticize me? don't you know that brave soldiers are giving their lives so you don't have to? you are besmirching their memory and mocking democracy, damaging morale and pissing all over the american flag. in fact, you are squatting over the flag right now, with your pants around your ankles and laying a fat anti america feces all over the stars and stripes. is that anyway to act? i'm not the enemy here, the terrorist may strike at anytime. they may take the lives of hundred or thousands of people. many innocent lives will be lost in the name of tyranny. anyway, who cares? stop bugging me. we need to paint the desert red.


top 5 of 2004

i don't have enough to write about top 5 movies, music or books; so here are my top 5 fears; either realised, dismissed or pending.

5) oil. living several thousand miles from home suddenly makes you realise that you need oil to go home again; that if crude oil stays about 50 dollars a barrel, then prices with also spiral up, making it difficult to return.

4) natural disasters. this year in japan: earthquakes and typhoos have killed more than a hundred people. natural disasters are inescapable. once caught, all you have are prays, hopes and tight nutsacks.

3) anti japan/china feeling. the japanese prime minister junichiro koizumi keeps visiting the yasukuni shrine: where class a war criminals are buried; a chinese submarine was found in japanese waters; the disputed islands near okinawa; the asia cup final with fanatic chinese fans and their racist slogans; japan granting the taiwanese president a visa. they are like 2 brothers that know how to push eachothers buttons.

2) wasting my time. everything i am doing, someone else could do; much better, faster and more efficiently. i need to touch the monolith.

1) writing crap on my blog. (actually, i love writing crap. big steaming piles of stinking brown sticky shit.)


christmas in england

can someone send me a christmas pudding, some mint matchsticks and a copy of the queen's speech please?

the written word and the moving picture

i went to kyoto a few weeks ago. it was beautiful; the maple leaves had just started to change to gold and red. a thousand wide eyed tourist cooed and stared at the ancient temples and ephemeral colours.


somewhere in translation

lost in translation has just come out on dvd. i expect most of you know it: bill murray and scarlet johansson meet over sushi in tokyo. sophia coppola directs and gives us a rollicking old soundtrack. someone came over from england over a year ago and they said they saw it then. i wonder if it would be different if i saw it before i came over here. i could understand some of what the doctor and whisky director were saying. the flashing neon no long hypnotise me, nor the food seem strange. fish out of water movie which are set in japan may never again have the desired effect on me. i've been recommended mr baseball with tom selleck. johansson is unbelievably beautiful as she drifts around; she is waiting to be loved, as is murray with his awkward body and manner. some people, who must be the same people who say that video games promote violence, say that it is racist. i will let you decide.


somewhere here

i read somewhere south of here by william kowalski. it's the sequel to eddie's bastard which i read last year. it isn't very good. i've never read a sequel to a book before, and it still seems like a bad idea. the problem is that it spends the first 100 pages destroying the final pages of the previous book to make way for the new character and then 20 pages later goes back to try and rebuild it all again. the characters are cliched (vietnam vet, who's mad; rich kid who wants a motorbike) without invention. the style is lazy. 2 letters are printed in full and 2 full chapters he changes the point of view to the girlfriend for no reason. the dialogue is like a spanish soap opera. people don't react or change, even when they get shot in the leg or their mother dies. it's a bad sequel in that it makes the original worse.


somewhere's gotta give

i saw that jack nicolson and diane keaton movie: somthing's gotta give. someone in hollywood should concentrate on writing scripts especially for keaton, for she is amazing, even outshining the ever sparkling jack. her and jack make me want to grow old and rich; that despite a lifetime of living, you still don't know shit about yourself or her. damn the cheesy ending though.


somewhere in middle earth

i saw return of the king at last, the final lord of the rings movie. i could only think of 2 things as i watched. iris chang, the author of the rape of nanking, died last month, and i only found out a few days ago. i read her book and in it it details the beheading competition that some of the soldiers inflicted on the civilians of nanking, the game being the first to get to 100. i thought of it as the scottish dwarf and elf are rushing into battle, counting the fallen orks. the other thing i thought of was the holy grail, that monty python movie. more specifically i was thinking about eric idle's speech about not having voted for the ruler. who says that aragorn should rule? i didn't see any ballot boxes. i also must add that elijah wood looks tired for the whole 9 hours or so that makes up the 3 movies. in every scene he looks tired. that is his role. mr wood, for this scene just look tired. no no, not sleepy, i said tired. tired. that's it. action.


somewhere out of date

if found stupid white men by michael moore in a secondhand book store for 500 yen (2 pound fifty). i bought it and read it. it was ok. i didn't know clinton was such a scumbag. how did he ever come up smelling of roses?


somewhere in the paper

i read that 100,000 iraqi civilians have died since the invasion. civilians, not soldiers, insurgents or terrorists. civilians. who are civilians? they are librarians, post men, plumbers, doctors, teachers, shopkeepers and taxi drivers. they are the people that didn't want to get involved. 100,000 doesn't include those that die from lack of fresh water, food and shelter. 100,000 people. the town i grew up in had 20,000 people. the nou camp in barcelona holds 60,000. can you even imagine 100,000 people? 100,000 people burning in the desert sun.


somewhere on the net

rodger ebert likes once upon a time in america. he knows nothing.