To the right we have a common sight on Tokyo JR Escalators: the "no phoning up your fellow subways passengers' skirts" sign. It's funny in a disturbing way . . . maybe only funny because, frankly, the sign makes it seem so. Really, though, it's disgusting that there have been and are enough incidences of up-the-skirt camera action to validate such signs.

Springtime Fasting is DIFFICULT in Tokyo. Busy. Difficult. Crowded. Difficult. Busy. You might think it would be easy, but N-O, it is not easy to feel meditative when one's pores are unceasingly bombarded by smoky, greezy, pollutionated air.

Today I took a sentimental visit to Takao to go running with a buddy who lives there. The run was great, and the nature in Takao was really lovely. It's easy to forget that greenery exists in such abundance when one is surrounded solely by concrete and asphalt for weeks at a time. My increased perception may also have something to do with the new contacts I bought; until my recent trip to the eye doctor I'd been squinting at greenery and concrete alike -- now I can differentiate!

I have a secret job on the side at a cram school, run by an old couple who used to live in San Fran. Anyway, today they had me tutoring maths with a sassy ninth-grader. The other teachers (all Japanese) were amazed that he "listened" to me, claiming that he's usually something of a laze-pot. My only possible explanation is that there may be some sort of bizarre allure to learning the one discipline, math, via the other discipline, English. You think?