With the flooding of the rice paddies comes the croaking of the frogs. I guess it's that season, if such a season exists. I think it's probably much like sakura season, minus the boxed wine and the piles of trash and everything else except the word Season. I like it -- croaking frogs provide for good runnin' background music. Not that I am really runnin' a whole lot lately . . . too much Tokyo in my veins. But I'm trying.

p.s. Happy Graduation to my cousin Sarah!

p.p.s. Happy Broadway to my brother, who once started a blog and filled it with youthful idealism and then abandoned it and went on to other things like Broadway. Not that I really care . . . I mean, nobody really likes Broadway anyway. Something especially despicable and broadway related is that song On Broadway by The Drifters . . . as if anyone actually catches a Greyhound bus for home, they all say. I hope that Barry Manilow has done of a cover of On Broadway at some point in his career. If not, maybe he'll do one upon reading this post after googling his name + broadway (which he probably does most nights. You too can try it: "Barry Manilow" + Broadway!). Woah, my blog is nowhere to be found . . . but there is a reference to "Give My Regards To Broadway," so I guess Barry has already tapped into the Broadway-as-song-feature market. Anyway, did I mention that my brother is now employed on Broadway? Well, he is. Whatever.