So I just got back from China and realized my last post was absolutely nonsensical. And yes, Dad [EDIT 2 Oct '05-- this time 'twas not Dad but Mom in the role of savvy linguistic detective. Sorry Mom. I'll never mistake you for Dad's Watson ever again . . . ], I am aware that the plural of Phoenix is definitely nothing near what I wrote. But to me, at the time, it seemed funny.

Anyway, China was amazing. Everyone should go. There are direct flights from Detroit, I'm sure you're all aware, which should be booked immediately. I recommend. The reverse version of these flights exist also, and I definitely tried to bribe the stewardesses into letting me stay on our Beijing -> Narita -> Detroit flight today to no avail. I miss you, America, you and your clean streets and citizens with monochromous fashion sense.

Jake (ex fellow NOVA teacher and travel companion) and I did some severe tourist watching in Shanghai and Beijing and concluded that a westerner's requisite touring uniform consists of monochrome apparrel to the tune of tank tops (black or white), sunglasses and capri pants for the women and polo shirts and khakis for the men. Both sexes are also allowed - nay, encouraged - to don nice smelling deodorants and perfumes. This observation may mean nothing to anybody, but just wait until you're crossing Tienenmen at 7 a.m., delirious with sleep deprivation. Then you'll understand just how interesting it is to go sightseeing for sightseers. Interesting and free!

Credit to Tokyo -- after leaving the lovable but nastily polluted streets of Beijing, Japan's cool breezes and blue skies made me feel like a resident of the land of milk and honey and nothing less. This was a suprising sentiment for me mostly because I really wasn't glad to be back. But apparently I was in more subtle ways, related to weather and sidewalk cleanliness and, of course, booze . . the latter exemplified in a small Tokyo homecoming adventure. Upon arrival downtown Jake and I decided to prolong our vacation at a favorite bar. While there we met the bar's owner who proceeded to pay for our tab, present us with free t-shirts, and take us to one of her other four restaurants for more free ipai drinks, cheezy live saxophone-and-piano entertainment and belly-stretching delicious food. The experience was fantastic but really taxing, actually, and contributed to my inevitable China v. Japan mental comparisons in strange ways . . . . it also made me thankful for my painfully slight but somewhat useful command of the Japanese language.

Credit also to John Irving -- for writing The World According To Garp and allowing me the opportunity to read it during the fifty-nine hours I spent on the many and varied trains of China's rail system. John Irving is brilliant, I've decided, as I've been consistently moved by his novels's seamless fluctuation betwixt the real and the superlative. If possible I recommend reading Garp and going to China at the same time. Afterward we can compare impressions.

The moral of this once-again-nonsensical post might be that I'm back but kind of missing the filth and forwardness and self-awareness of China and its 1.3billion peoples.

Happy 26th birthday to my brother!

Is exactly how my buddy Jake and I are taking China by storm. We can't read blogs over here (CENSORED?!) and everybody knows it's no fun to write an unpublished blog so I'll be keeping this brief. Anyway, we've kept ourselves sane with severe self-mockery which has turned out to work pretty well. China is beautiful, nothing is my favorite right now, I love it all, it has been the best break from NOVA of my life. Now, since it's almost noontime, I'm about to quaff some moonmist and check out the SQUARE again. Later.

My photos are all still on my camera so no pictures of last Thursday's sumo bonanza at Ryogoku. Without photographic proof please believe that it was enjoyable and that the number of exposed meters of flesh most definitely exceeded my expectations. Fantastic.

On to more important things. Somebody says "there's poo on my bag." I oblige you to choose the correct reaction by Japanese standards. I'll dissect this little activity upon my return from China. Good luck and godspeed. Let the multiple choice be your guide.

a) Super-duper kawai! Cute!
b) Uso?! There's poo on my bag, too!
c) Do you mean on your bag or in your bag?
d) yabai. Disgusting. Unhygenic. Wash that crap off.
e) Eh? That's strange, but not unheard of . . .

I am compromising but not really compromising my privacy by revealing 1/2 of my non-english address to the synthetic internet community. Check it; my Grandma wrote that! Those characters are much better than mine. That one one the right in the middle -- the sort of two-layered box with a cross through it -- that means east and it's the to of Tokyo. Yeah Grandma! You are an international woman of mystery!

Tomorrow is big election time in Nippon. Koizumi (Japan's prime minister, to your right, and to Richard Gere's left) dissolved congress's lower house after the upper house failed to approve his proposal for privatizing the postal system. And viola: lower house reelection!

It's been the talk of the town, really, and I feel that the buzz surrounding this election is suprising . . . I have yet to find a student who isn't psyched up about it. Then again I also have yet to find a student who knows who they're going to vote for. What does it all mean, this passionate undecidedness?

I could try to answer, but it would be halfhearted. You see, my attentions per this election are directed toward the eminent dissapearance of high decibal campiagn activity, and not toward what one might call "election content/pertinent information." Good lord, the campaigning is ridiculous. Imagine a gaggle of megaphone-draped political activists/campaigners overextending their voiceboxes in any and all dense urban areas. This quick-draw megaphone activity has been going on for the past month or so, and Hurrah! It's almost over! Put your megaphones back in ther plastic cases and go back to your day jobs, active campaigners! You hurt my ears! And everyone else's! You are infuriating! I don't understand why you have to be so loud! Thank you.

I can't say enough how much I like that CDBaby has corralled over 5,000 artists to siphon 100% of their sales into the Red Cross's fund for Katrina relief. It's a clever move in both promoting the artists and for aiding those directly affected by the hurricane. Unfortunately, unless you have a specific artist in mind, it's not the easiest to do a taste-based search, if you will, solely within this section of the site. So again I recommend Matt's cd. Regardless of artist choice, ordering a cd from CDBaby is a joy in itself. CD Baby coddles and nurtures its customers, making them feel smart, loved, wanted and jubilant. I highly recommend a purchase.

*Addition: Typhoon Nabi left us with clear weather and a stragely beautiful and ridiculously unusual (for Tokyo, mind you) sunset. Check it out, from the 7th floor of my apartment building, lookin' toward China:

Well, life continues in Japan at least, in the form of visiting the Zushi beach, finally seeing Kamakura's Giant Buddha, trying dog meat and getting to watch Shikoku-style dance at Koenji's awaodori festival.

Of the first experience, I'll say it was a little more than humbling to be in the presence of such an enormous statue that has somehow, in this earthquake-ridden land, managed to stand the test of time for nearly a thousand years. The day became stormy as we entered the grounds, so the air was still and grey and the buddah's presence was powerful.

Of the second, it was strange and a little morally confusing and somewhat unpalatable, but it was interesting to experience Korean culture in poorly-touted-Okubo, a part of Tokyo often condemned by some Japanese for its large population of "dangerous* foreigners, namely Koreans. I don't believe dog meat is legal in Japan, but we were told by our acquired Korean guide at Shin-Okubo station that it can be found at essentially any Korean restaurant in Okubo especially since it's a popular summer dish. She ordered the food for us, then, and we proceeded to ask myriad questions in Japanese to make sure we were getting what we thought we wanted, I guess. In an online editorial of sorts I found some extra information about the custom:

"Because dog meat is technically illegal in Korea, you'll never find it on a menu per se. Instead, you have to keep a keen eye out for what is called poshintang, or "tonic soup." Particularly popular in the summer, during the dog days of the Chinese calendar between July 19 and August 18, poshintang is alleged to make men more "vital." Even putting a drop of the soup on your foot is supposed to make you stronger. Dog soup tends to attract men of a certain age, the same ones lapping up Viagra the world over." - John Feffer, The Politics of Dog, 3 June 2002

So needless to say I've done it and don't feel any more or less vital, nor do I feel that it was an overly morally reprehensible act. Just strange, and likely never to be repeated.

Of the third, it was exhilirating; there was so much joy and facial expression to be seen . . I had a fantastic evening, except I didn't change the shutter speed on my camera, so this picture is stolen off another site. The dance style is quick and flashy, and the different parade groups were comprised of seemingly every dempgraphic. Wao.