A short poem about gross bodily functions

You are so full of... talent that it makes my bowels want to vomit vowels and choke on consonants and, consequently, consonance. Mentally constipated, I constantly gag, trying to spit out the perfect words to say what's deep inside my throat: I love the piss out of you and I can't wait to come home.

Year of the Space Cowboy

Yep. Normally this would be about the time to evaluate this entire year and decide at all once if it was a successful one or not. Judging by all I have learned this year, I would say it has been a pretty good year. The fact that I can now say it in Japanese that this year has been a good one (今年はいいですね！) proves it.

When I moved here in February, it was after a year of soul searching. After failing to get the only spot available in the M.A. Directing program at the University of Texas, I wasn't sure where to go next. I was told, very politely, that my biggest downfall was my age (23 at the time) and that they sincerely hope, after I gain a little more worldly experience, that I would try again. I took the worldly experience thing to heart. Here I sit in Hamamatsu planning the next phase:

Tokyo 2010.

A big factor in my decision to come to Japan was to study, or at least observe, Kabuki, No, and Bunraku theatre. After seeing a kabuki version of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, directed by preeminent Japanese director Ninagawa Yukio, I knew I made a wise decision. It's been a few months since I've seen a show (the last was Sarah Kane's Blasted, performed by a Japanese company with a French director). That's the territory that comes with dating someone a few hours away. The days become counters for the next encounter. Until the clock stops cold. And you're standing there wondering what the hell to do with these batteries.

So, I've been redirecting that energy back where it belongs: travel and theatre. And there's no better way to celebrate the homecoming of my he(art) than to come home. During my two weeks, I will see the people who have kept me strong through the loneliness that comes with not being able to speak to even your neighbors because of the language barrier. And I will visit my Mecca for my very first pilgrimage. I will visit NYC for NYE.

I am truly amazed at how this year has unfolded. I've seen things I never imagined and I constantly make plans that once seemed impossible. I feel powerful and impotent at the same time.

Maybe it's a Gemini thing.

This weekend, I am staying in-bed to do some much needed reading. The Kite Runner, perhaps. Maybe some Shakespeare. He never fails to equally humble and inspire.

Oyasumi. Today will be a good day for you.
I am living in the future after all.

Best thing I've heard in an interview on television

Every time Rachel Maddow books a guest who clearly disagrees with her, and vice versa, it always makes for good television. What really fascinates me is how she readily uses her guest's past statements against them. She really does her research, and while I know she has staffers, I have read accounts that she works harder than anyone on her team. Yay perfectionism! That's how she became a Rhodes Scholar.

Anyway, I saw this tonight and I laughed so hard at her candidness I watched it three times in succession.

Rachel Maddow: "The idea that divorce makes you gay for example seems insane to me-"

Richard Cohen: "No no no no-"

Rachel: "You described it as a factor of homosexuality."

Richard: "You're taking it out of context, Rachel."

Rachel: "No. I'm reading from your book, dude."

Hahahahahaha. Dude!

The Once Wonderful Wizard

The Once Wonderful Wizard

Weary from their westward walking, our wanderers reach the Wizard
The Wonderful Wizard
The one who made the town emerald and the eyes green
The Wonderful Wizard
Who is larger than life
Whose compassion knows no bounds
The Wonderful Wizard
With several tongues
Wearing the story of life on his skin.

Weary from their walk, they wrestle with the Wizard.
The Wonderful Wizard
Who projects himself as strong and all-knowing
Who turns out to be a mere mortal after all.
The wall has fallen and the Wizard looks beyond
Wondering if he should seek his own rainbow.

Our wayward travelers continue west.

Weary from their walk, our wanderers realize
They never really needed the Wizard after all.
They'd walked so far on the saffron road together
Wondering how this would all come to end.

The straw woman wizened on her journey
She now knows she cannot stay in Oz.
The last we heard, she let the wind take her west.

The maple colored leo was searching for the antidote
The one to cure his pussycat ways.
This lion, once thought to be a coward,
Was right to turn tail and flee in the rain.

The metallic automaton was on a journey to find emotion.
The thing to make him fully human.
The Wizard chided him, called him scrap.
Told him to oil his own joints.
The tin woodsman cried back:

I am indeed a
clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk.
And one day I'll take off this tin armour streaked with rust
And follow the gilded road home.
On that day you'll realize that I do have a heart and you
Wizard
have no magic.

And that girl
The infectiously chipper girl,
(And her little dog too)
was disappointed most of all.
But at the end of this journey, the long westward walk
She learned that what she was seeking
Was with her the whole time

She learned though she's not in Kansas
or Kansai
anymore, she is home.
So she stayed. And they smiled,
The girl and her armoured companion.

What about the Wizard
The once Wonderful Wizard
The once Wonderful Wizard is searching for blue birds.
And he, like our wayward wanderers, needs to follow this road through.
And we hope to see the Wizard soon.
And we hope the Wizard can tell us his stories.
And we hope the Wizard finds his magic too.

But he will never be the Wonderful Wizard again.

あのう、こちらは私の一番手紙です。

私は毎朝10時に起きます。朝ごはんは時々くだものと水です。ジオスではたらきます。あるいて会社行きます。会社は1時から10時までです。10時15分にうちへ帰ります。10時はんに晩ごはんを食べます。それからえいがを見ます。よる3時に寝ます。日曜日と月曜日ははたらきません。日曜日はどこにも行きません。休みます。月曜日は本を読んだりＤＳをしたりします。それから日本語を勉強します。

じゃまたね！javascript:void(0)

ベトナム （Vietnam)

Hisashiburi, blog.

It took an entire week to fully recover from our adventures in Thailand and Vietnam, but I am recharged and ready to recount. I have poured through tons of pictures to refresh my memory and now that I have a can of Asahi Super Dry by my side I am ready write.

Ho Chi Minh City was the first stop during my week-long vacation away from Japan. Along with brave friend Thomas (brave for considering spending an entire week with me and my Geminian mood swings), I settled in for a six hour flight to Saigon International Airport from Tokyo exactly two weeks ago. For some strange reason, perhaps the two warm beers I had on the plane, I was not feeling all that great coming off the plane. I have only dealt with jet-lag once in my life, but I know this feeling was not the same. It wasn’t lethargy, but as if I had an irritable stomach before even attempting to try Vietnamese or Thai food. Perhaps I could blame it on the airplane food.

Nevertheless, after we settled into our hotel, among several other Japanese tourists, we did a little exploring. Our first mission: find some coffee for Thomas. Thomas has an ongoing love affair with Starbucks, but unfortunately he committed a minor infidelity by patronizing Highlands Coffee (not to be confused with the wonderful coffee shop on LSU’s North Gates).


After enjoying quite possibly the smallest cup of coffee known to man, we continued on our pursuit of Vietnamese nightlife. We literally walked in circles, allowing our radius from the hotel to lengthen ever so slightly so as not to get completely lost. And consequently, our walk made it much easier the next day when we actually developed a game plan.

That night, while I soaked in the tub, Thomas found some great places for lunch and dinner. I mentioned that I wanted to go to the Reunification Palace and the Vietnam War Museum. With that basic plan, we went to sleep. The next morning however, the plan started slightly drifting off-course, in a good way. We stumbled upon a really cool post office, which happened to be across from the Notre Dame of HCMC, a decent copy of Paris’ famous tourist destination. We walked up and down one street in particular looking for our lunch spot before realizing it was closed. Not being able to read the Vietnamese sign, we decided to go next door, to a Bún restaurant. Bún is rice vermicelli, which are very thin, white noodles. Lunch was amazing and the café was quite picturesque, drawing inspiration from nature and the greenery that thrives in Southeast Asia.






We took quite a few handsome shots that really incorporated the ambiance before moving on to the Reunification Palace.


There’s not much to say about this building, except it is well-preserved, as if the 70s never ended. After we left, we headed immediately to the Vietnam War Museum (well, after getting more coffee for Thomas). Inside, we were expectedly bombarded with pictures of war atrocities. Of course the coalition against North Vietnamese Communists was terrible. But the museum does not take a unbiased tone, it goes a little too far in sensationalizing the event to draw sympathy from those of us who are limited in our capacity to understand the era. That may sound either complex or emotionless, but my parents were barely alive during the Vietnam War. It is somewhat an alien concept to me and I cannot force myself develop strong feelings about it. I can honestly say if I were alive then I would be a part of the protests, but I can also say that if I were alive then I would not nearly have the broad circle of international friends that I do now. Looking at these pictures started to make me cry at first. There are some quite brutal and graphic images. But, as if someone used a plunger on my head, my capacity to care drained like a leaky pipe. I went from mortified and embarrassed to be from America, to remembering that the Vietnam War was not started by Americans, nor was America the only country involved. I never thought I would get defensive about American involvement in the war, but it was hard to see how the museum did not seem to emphasize that the war was fought by two halves of one country. Then again, Communist countries are known for their propaganda, and why should this museum in this country be any different. And it was not just me and my American arrogance, but Thomas, who is Japanese, started to feel overwhelmed as well. It was a full-out assault with a deadly weapon- ambiguous truth.


And, well, since we only had two days to spend in Vietnam, that- as they say- is that. I did enjoy the trip, and the food was amazing, but to say I never planned on going to Vietnam and had no expectations is an understatement. However, not knowing what to expect and giving the country a chance was a wise decision because I got to witness something so different from Japan and America, something real and yet equally ethereal. Especially when someone is coming at you on a motorcycle and you are rightfully standing on the sidewalk. It was a good trip, and if I go back I hope to meet up with someone who can actually show me things off the tourist grid. That’s the kind of thing I felt missing from our trip.

And that’s Vietnam. Next time I will give you the stats on Bangkok and Phuket. Till then…

Peace out.xx



Oh yeah! Here is the link to all of the pictures we took in both Vietnam and Phuket. Enjoy.

Latex can save your life

Yesterday, I told one of my students that I got tested for STIs last week.
He laughed.

Soon realizing that I was not in on the joke he stopped immediately, asking "sexual diseases, ne [right]?" Yes, I intoned, almost challenging him to ask why. We were previously talking about his recent health checkup so contextually I shared my recent visit to a clinic. He commented that I look healthy, which I told him is a major reason why people unwittingly spread diseases- the assumption of being able to spot someone with a sexually transmitted infection. Someone who isn't "clean," as they have unfairly been called. And while I thank him for the compliment, I owe being healthy to being aware that every sexual experience I have is one more possibility for contracting an infection, or the worst disease of all- pregnancy.

Now that I can take advantage of Japan's socialized health care, I immediately began with a battery of tests. After two bus transfers, I made my way back to the public health clinic, Hamamatsu Hokenjo, to get the results of the blood tests I took last week. Silently, I prayed that the needles are more sterile than the building they are housed in. This building has all the charm of Earl K. Long Hospital in Baton Rouge, but none of the inefficiency. Within minutes of arriving, my number was called and I was led into the same room where I previously answered a few questions like:

"Do you have a reason to believe you have recently contracted HIV/AIDS?" (No)
"Have you ever been treated for Syphilis or Chlamydia before?" (No)
"Do you routinely share needles with other people" (Um... well, not since 'Nam)

In Japan, if you take an anonymous blood test it is not customary for the result to be handed to you on paper or given over the phone. You have to come in-person and give your initials. "Ohaiyo gozaimasu" I greeted the nurse and told her immediately that I cannot speak Japanese. She said "Daijoubu [it's okay], I speak little English" before continuing in Japanese. Like the statement "guilty until proven innocent," I apparently understood Japanese until I pulled a strange face. She spoke, and I listened carefully for her intonation. If something sounded serious or if she asked a question that I didn't understand, I raised an eyebrow. She then translated the last word of her sentence, "Blah blah blah... paper." But she was very kind and patient, so I do not intend to make light of her effort to help me understand the results. All I needed to hear anyway was negative.

Finally, after searching for my results, she pointed to negative for all four tests and instantly became my new best friend (well, my new best Japanese friend... not that there's much competition). She continued to talk and I continued to say "Hai" until she made small talk. She asked me the typical question: "When do you come to Japan" (which, as an English teacher, I usually correct but this was not the time) and, in Japanese, asked me if I either eat or like Japanese food. I don't know which one but the answer is yes for both, so I said so. I thanked her and made my way back home to sit in my STI-free skin and thank all those in my life who champion safety.

My student is a good representative of many people I know, in America and abroad: people who believe testing for STIs is relegated for sex workers and homosexuals (and, you know, bisexuals). It is unfortunate that this ignorance spreads, like, well...legs. Everyone who is sexually active should be aware of their status regarding STIs and it should be regarded as routine as an annual physical. I honestly went into the office confident that I would once again receive favorable results (I almost typed positive results, but that would be assuredly antithetical) but leaving always produces a little healthy anxiety.

The best part about waiting a week for your results is reevaluating the sexual transgressions of the past. But getting tested isn't about regrets and the fear of sex. The absolute best part of getting those results is looking forward to the sexual adventures of the future and knowing that you have more time to play the game.

So play on.