Last Saturday I went down to Tokyo and went bread shopping.
In general, in Japan, bread comes in three varieties: plain white, processed wheat, or bakery style (white with nuts or berries or butter or corn thrown inside).
Like many Americans, I grew up with an abundance and variety I did not appreciate until I did not have it any more. I would carelessly squander the crusts and crumbs of my dark rye bread sandwiches thinking, perhaps carelessly, that there would always be more.
I wasted entire halves of bagels, discarded various fruit breads, snubbed lesser breads like sourdough and pumpernickel.
Then I came to Japan. I have searched the length and breadth of the islands in search of a decent deli. I have found nothing. I have looked for sandwich shops, Russian bakeries, little old German women selling bread out of their kitchens, and still, I have found nothing.
A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine moved from our sleepy, middle of nowhere town, to the big city. I received an e-mail a few days ago: "They have a real German bakery! It's good!" I bought a train ticket the next day, and, well, last Saturday, I went bread shopping.
I bought three loaves of German rye bread, made by real Germans in a small bakery near Ogikubo in greater Tokyo. It is good bread. Soft inside, with a hard crust, and oats and flour. And with an actual flavor severely lacking in the Japanese processed breads.
It may seem a small thing, but it has made me very happy this New Year's. I hope yours is equally happy.
What's the best photo you took this year? Show and tell!
My current favorite, from yesterday, in Akihabara:
What's the best gift you received this year?
My wife gave me the Japanese edition of the above for Christmas. The book is very well done, with each photo getting its own page and a description on the facing page. The photos themselves are incredible and worth a look for anyone who has an interest in photography and / or art.
"It's four in the morning, the end of December. I'm writing you now to see if you're better."
All of the above is true, or closer enough. Four in the morning, in December and I am so goddamn drunk I can not focus on the fucking keys. One more soldier is gone, one more friend moved on and I am not so much crying as that my eyes seem unable to remain clear of water.
The One Man has called it quits. He has decided to pack it in and head for home. And while I know this is a good move for him, I am so fucking pissed off it hurts. We spent the night drinking and singing and reminiscing and I already miss my friend.
There are few people in life with whom we become simpatico - understood on every level and capable of understanding in kind, regardless of faults or foibles, shortcomings and mis-begotten virtues, yet for every one that comes into our lives, this pathetic shell of an existence is enriched beyond measure, beyond words.
Goddammit.
I don't really believe in the father figure archetype. I don't think there is some guy in the sky watching and judging our every move. I do believe in the ineffable spirit that inhabits us all and makes us compassionate, caring, understanding. So when he/she/it gives us compatible souls it is up to us to take and give and share as much as we can for as long as we can for whatever we can.
So I'd like to thank the One Man for years of friendship, partnership, companionship, and just, you know, being-there-when-I-needed-someone-to-talk-to-ship. It is a fucked up little world and we lead fucked up little lives, so I thank you for helping me to unfuck mine as much as you did.
As I said: Here's to good booze and cheap women, good women and cheap friends, good friends and cheap laughs, here's to the One Man. Safe journey.
The ponderation of the mo' is all about websites. Particularly, the building and maintaining of. I have been contemplating (re) building a personal site with all the bells and whistles. I have no real motivation for doing so other than wanting to a) have a place online with my own domain (which is already registered against the day I need it) and links to all the various things I muckle about with on teh interwebs, and b) something to play with and keep (my very few and sub-par) coding skills fresh.
The thing is, I don't want to pay for it.
I have had blogs on various free agencies, most notably Wordpress and Blogger and they each have their advantages. I have had hosted blogs, although not for many, many years, and they too, had their advantages.
There are three projects I have in mind for the next year or so, all of which may or may not happen. The first is a series of essays that I would like to post in a timely manner, but of a longer length than the usual blog postings and with more controlled navigation needed. The second is a podcast and I'll post more about that later. The third, and least likely to happen in the short term, is a comic I have been working on.
All three are easy enough to post up on their own, but I'm left wondering if having a single repository for all projects, aspirations, mumblings, musings, scribblings, rants, and perverse desires is worth the (possible) hosting fees or limited functionality of a "name" site.
Any thoughts?
What work of art (film, book, record, whatever) changed your life?
Submitted by bodhibound.
* when I was in Jr. High School and it profoundly changed the way I thought (and continue to think) about life and the ways in which we live it. The book contains several life lessons presented in a gentle, friendly manner that is lets anyone identify with them and take what they need for their own life.It remains one of my go-to books when I need answers or am struggling with things.
The second book, Einstein's Dreams
*, found me when I had first come to Japan and was dealing with issues of homesickness, alienation, and purpose. Like Illusions, it has since become one of my go-to books. The stories within can be read in almost any sequence and contain answers one may not have known one was looking for, which is almost the definition of a life-changing work.*Text Links are Amazon Affiliate Links
What are your irrational fears?
Submitted by Dan Culhane.
For some weird reason I am irrationally freaked out by alien abduction stories. Movies like "Fire in the Sky" or the recent mini-series "Taken" leave me awake for days. I don't really know why as other horror sub-genres do nothing to me or for me. Just those frickin' little grey men stories. Weirds me out.
One thing I realized this year, and it was a real D'oh! moment, was that it is much easier to whittle than to inflate. I wrote from a single POV with the intention to hit 50K words from which to carve a 35K - 40K novella.
I think that is much more doable than my previous winning entry which is 60K and needs another 20K added to it, at a minimum. (Which is probably why I have never gone back to it. Too much work.)
Next year, I may aim for a kids' novel. (They usually run between 30K to 40K.)
In the meantime, there's ScriptFrenzy again in June. And hey, I think this post means I made it through NaNoBloMo as well. Although that remains to be verified. Maybe later.
Show us a musical instrument.
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