Happy New Year!

This, I believe, will be the first of several posts in the next couple days. They're gonna be good, so brace yourselves.
We are back in Omuta after a stay in Nagasaki (post to come later),before our trip to Tokyo on Saturday, and are participating in some Japanese New Year traditions. The New Year marks the most important of Japanese holidays, so we are attempting to understand exactly what that means. Unfortunately, we did not participate in the traditional house cleaning that was supposed to take place this morning, though the apartment sure could've used it. Anyway, at midnight, we will listen to the 108 gongs of the bells at the Buddhist temples. Tomorrow, we will eat ozoni (mochi soup), and currently, we are watching the singing battle on NHK, the national TV station (I guess it's Japan's answer to Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve). Please enjoy the following New Year's Eve videos of Japanese TV. We think they're wonderful.

Our Xmas Tree

As you can tell from my elation in the above photo, I made a Christmas tree on our wall, with yarn and tacks. I also made some popcorn garlands and strung 'em up last night. Today, Keiko came over for our weekly language exchange, and it was only after she left that it occurred to me how odd it must look to have popcorn strung up on one's living room wall...

In other "Xmas" matters, I had an absolutely wonderful moment of ESL teaching yesterday: A very bright (and bold) male/wannabe rock star student asked me why we sometimes write Christmas as "X-mas." I gave quite a long answer about Christmas originally being only a Christian holiday, but that it was much more cultural now, and that Christ was the basis of Christmas (strictly speaking about the root of the word, not the religiosity of it). Next, the true brilliance: I whipped out my chalk and wrote the word "X-MAS" on the blackboard. Then, I drew a cross and explained that this was the symbol of Christ. I then used my powers of gesturing and tilted the cross 45 degrees. 40 heads followed my motion in unison. I drew the cross as an X with one long end, pointed many times at the cross, then the "X" in "X-MAS," and proceeded to beam in the oohs and aahs of a roomful of 15-year-olds. If anyone can lend any credibility to this explanation, I would be grateful. I mean, I don't really know why we call it "Xmas."

Love,
Xtal

Kentucky Christmas

Japanese Christmas is even weirder than expected. Here in Japan, Christmas is widely seen as a "romantic" holiday: people go on dates, and listen to romantic Christmas songs, like "Last Christmas" by eighties pop sensation "Wham!."

Another special Christmas tradition: it is extremely popular to order KFC (which is called simply "Kentucky") on Christmas. Really: check it out. I still have a hard time believing this, despite KFC Xmas fliers being dropped off at our apartment.

They eat "Christmas Cake," and have been shocked when I said I didn't know what it was.

So, dates+synthesizer novelty holiday music+fried chicken+cake= Japanese Christmas.

Kyoto of several weeks past

I know this is long and probably dull for you, but there is so much to say!

We forgot to write about our trip to Kyoto. Well, we didn't forget, exactly, but we originally waited until we had the photos uploaded, but by then were tired of talking about Kyoto. Here's what we did:
4:30 Got off work early, out of sheer luck, on a Friday. Boarded the train from Omuta to Hakata (Fukuoka).
6:30 Took the Shinkansen (bullet train, "We are now traveling at 300 km/hour!") from Hakata to Kyoto. Made stops in such famed cities as Hiroshima, Osaka, and Kobe (beef!)
9:20 Arrived in Kyoto and walked to our hotel, The Tour Club. It was a backpacker's place, but we had our own room and toilet, so all was well. We dropped off our stuff, met a nice young Japanese man who spoke perfect English (he lived in the US when he was a kid), and went out walking. It was cold. We found a few busy streets as well as a picturesque garden/shrine/temple complex which was quiet and empty in the night.

Saturday:

Our first stop was breakfast. We followed the Lonely Planet walking tour and found a coffee shop on the way. It was delicious: Chrystal had an "omelet sandwich," with too much mayonnaise (of course!), and Ben had pastrami for breakfast. That's how we roll in Japan. We get our meals all mixed up. Next, we followed the swarming crowds to our first--and possibly best--temple visit. Kiyomitsudera Temple was incredible. We even saw some maiko up there (they are like less-professional geisha as I understand it, not as studied in dancing, singing, etc.). Arguably the coolest thing was something we had no intention of doing: We stood in a line, paid 100 yen each, and were warned to "hold onto the rail with your left hand. It's dark." Shrugging this warning off as another tale of Japanese caution (like "make sure you have many blankets," when it's 60 degrees out), we descended the stairs. Within seconds, it was pitch-black, silent, and a little spooky. We shuffled along, holding the prayer-bead shaped handrail, with hesitation. We wound around on an uneven floor as we descended even deeper beneath the temple until we came to a stone illuminated from above. Still, absolute darkness except for this stone. It had some prayer written on it, and I have to say it was quite moving. I felt spiritually awakened somehow, invigorated, and we climbed the stairs back into the light. Here is the temple:

We walked around for a long, long, time. We came to an enormous wooden temple called Chion-ni. It has the biggest gate in Kyoto, and a sort of incense-gazebo out front. I loved it. Ascending the steep steps to the temple, the wood felt very smooth from years of stockinged feet on it, and there were monks inside, chanting. We sat on the tatami mats for a while, listening and smelling that smell that only old wood buildings have, mixed with warm candles and incense. Again, I felt this place to be quite spiritual. For a moment, I thought, "I'm going to be Buddhist."

We walked some more. Saw many more beautiful, large temples, and incredible autumn colors. We walked uphill to a cemetery where no one else was, and beyond that some shrines with springwater-fed handwashing stations (as is customary for shrines). It was getting dark, we had some coffee to warm up, and we went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. It was good and cozy on a chilly evening.

Sunday:

First stop, the Golden Pavilion, which is really covered in gold leaf. To get there, we took a crowded bus (really crowded, with short older people elbowing me in the butt the whole time--they're pushy!), and continued to follow the crowds through the course of the pavilion's grounds. The story is that an angry monk burnt the pavilion down in the 1950s because he thought the gold represented bad stuff (duh), but they rebuilt an exact replica shortly thereafter. Again, with gold. Here's a pretty picture of it:

After, we walked to a famous temple/zen garden called Ryoanji. If you don't know, zen gardens are raked rock gardens with some moss mixed in. Like those funny ones you used to be able to buy as gifts, and they come with rakes, to calm you down in the office on a rough day? Generally, I'm not too in to zen gardens (they are perhaps too simple for me, and I can't quite consider them "gardens"), but it was interesting to see such an acclaimed one. There are 15 rocks in the garden, but one can only see 14 from any particular vantage point. Why? Well, I think you'll have to contemplate that... The grounds beyond the garden were outstanding: a great pond, stone bridges, maples.

Next, we hit the craziest spot of all: Arashiyama. I don't even remember everything here, but it was CROWDED. Just getting off the train station made my brain hemorrhage. The streets were closed off, and they were packed with people, shoulder to shoulder at a turtle's pace. We got in one of the long lines for lunch. Luckily, a couple English-speakers kept us company in line, a man from Peru and a woman from China, on a day trip from their work at the Sheraton in Kobe. They were nice, we got some business cards from them, and the offer to dine at the Kobe Sheraton if ever we made it there. We saw shrines, temples, and another beautiful garden. We walked through a Crouching Tiger-esque bamboo grove at dusk (gorgeous), had green-tea and vanilla ice cream, and then headed back to our neck of the woods for dinner.

Dinner was in Gion, the neighborhood famous for geisha. We ended up having Korean barbecue (awesome) in a cozy 10-seater diner with the bbq pits in the middle. So perfect for a cold night. We walked around picturesque Gion at night (again), and went back to the hotel.

Monday:

Woke up, ate French pastries for breakfast, and headed to the strange orange gates of Inari. We walked for a couple hours through these orange gates, which were incredible. It was cold and rainy, and therefore a good day to leave the other tourists in the dust. Typically, you pass under a gate like this upon entering a shrine, but the wonderful folks at Inari decided to hedge their bets (or something), and put hundreds (thousands?) of these gates on paths throughout the southeast hills of Kyoto. I mean, we really climbed, got sweaty, hiking around this shrine mecca (mixing religions there), littered with prayers and statues of foxes (who hold the key to the granary). Ben liked the foxes, his "spirit animal."

Next, we took a rainy trip to the castle, because what trip with Ben would be complete without a castle. Nijo-jo was pretty cool. There were lots of schoolgirls there, too, and it was so cold and rainy. We went through it quickly so as to warm up and to make sure we got back in time to make our train home. The interior of the castle was really cool. The architects designed what they called "the nightingale floor," named so because it squeaked, gently and prettily, if anyone walked on it. It was a safety measure, so that no one could sneak in. The wall paintings were quite beautiful, the woodwork delicate, and the shogun quarters fun to see. I loved imagining the powerful men sleeping on the tatami mats and drinking sake brought to them by maids dressed beautifully. A rich history that wasn't really so long ago.

We headed home, on the Shinkansen (this time in the smoking car because that was all that was available--bleah), and home. It was a good trip. If only we lived in Kyoto...

I want to ride my bicycle

One of my teachers, Hasuo-sensei, is a woman with a lot of energy and a great sense of humor. She is always laughing in the staff room, and in the classroom she is not afraid to look foolish. (I say I like Italian food, and she pinches her fingers and kisses the air loudly, like Italians do in old movies).

Anyhow, one of the most surreal parts of teaching English has been singing random old English language songs in front of silent, sometimes surly 15 year old students. It's hard to describe how weird this is. Of course, Hasuo-sensei is fearless, and, it turns out, a big Queen fan. She saw them in Fukuoka City when she was a teenager.

So, the inevitable: One morning I get to sing "Bicycle Race" with her. It was awesome, even if my singing was horrible and mumbly.

Afterwards, she demonstrated for the students some of Freddie Mercury's moves. I was in the presence of greatness.

We made Thanksgiving dinner

That's right. With most of the trimmings, and chicken breasts instead of a turkey. You can't buy turkey here, unless it's for Christmas dinner, I'm told, a tradition that I am positive comes from America. Anyway, we had the Stovetop Stuffing: Savory Herbs flavor (thanks Mom/Cathy!), mashed potatoes, gravy (homemade on the stovetop with chicken wings and bouillon cubes), green beans, sweet potatoes (which we can't fairly say were the same as they were white and required a lot of ginger, butter and sugar to be palatable all mashed up), and apple pie! That's right: apple pie, made 1) on the stovetop to cook the bottom, and 2) in the fish broiler to cook the top. To cap it all off, we had Coolish brand ice cream, which comes in a little squeeze tube so that it mimics soft-serve swirls. It was pretty tasty.

We know this isn't very culturally adventurous of us, no "sushi-for-Thanksgiving," etc., etc., but it was fantastic. To act even more American, we did some Christmas shopping the day after. That was weird.

In other, old, news, a month ago we asked our friend Yamaguchi the art teacher if we would be able to buy turkey in Japan. He laughed at us, and then answered: "Well, you can buy Wild Turkey."

KLB

Props to Kerry Bliss for the Mexican vaquero-themed care package. We will be feasting on the goods tomorrow night, I think. Also, we are selling the newspaper to make travel money. Thanks. (Just kidding!)

Appalachia

"One foot in the grave, and the other on a banana peel." What a great turn of phrase! This is an interesting little piece on Obama and Appalachia--

http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200811u/appalachia-obama

Interesting Kyushu Connection...

NY Times Photo

Hey folks from afar,

In reading the headlines on that liberal newsrag known as The NY Times, we found this article about the Japanese mafia, or yakuza. If you have the chance to read it, please pay attention to the politeness of the mob, in the ways they greet their neighbors on the street, don't park haphazardly, and sort their trash (a chore which we have not yet got the hang of, to be honest--are we worse than the mob for this?). Also, the story takes place in a city called Kurume, maybe 30 kilometers north of Omuta, and in our same prefecture. I have to wonder, would I even recognize the mob boss if I saw him on my street? Probably not.

Mexican Restaurant and 16 Candles

Ok, so, we met many people the other weekend at a Halloween party, one of whom is a lovely and adorable woman named Miho. It was her first-ever Halloween celebration, and she had this super-cute costume as a pumpkin, with an orange cape, skirt, and little pumpkin-stem hat. We arrived on the same bus, so she stuck to our sides at first. She conveyed her nervousness to me, not knowing how to act at an "American-style" party. I told her to get in line for a drink and just start talking to people, that it was very casual, that she shouldn't be worried. By the end of the night, Miho was in her element, and I think she must have made about 30 new friends.

Well, Miho has a restaurant in a city not so far from us. We haven't been yet, but we certainly plan on going. It's called Oldies, and Miho is said to cook up some mean comida Mexicana. This cuisine is very hard to come by in these parts, and I miss it so. I recently ordered "taco rice" at a charming restaurant in Omuta called Ari Cafe, but it was just chili with cheese on rice. With mayonnaise drizzled on top. (Have we mentioned the Japanese obsession with mayonnaise? I don't even like mayo that much! And, as a side note, the owner/waiter/chef of this cafe was awesome. He wore vans, played Bob Dylan, and is into photography. Cool Japanese people are hidden in these sorts of places.) Anyhow, we found this wonderful video taken at Miho's restaurant. After watching it, you will understand more about our daily lives here. If they were singing The Carpenters, you might understand the Japanese lifestyle even more.

PS We're still obsessed with Obama news, but in a less nervous-sort-of-way.

Election thoughts

The night before election day, Chrystal and I watched a few of Obama’s speeches for celebration. For a year I have been obsessively following the campaign, so it’s a good thing the election finally came, because my undying fixation was driving Chrystal nuts.

It was a funny thing, to sit in our darkened little Leopalace21 living room and watch the speeches on a laptop screen. Then, to leaven it and soothe our nerves, we watched a bunch of recent Daily Show coverage. We were an intense little island of Americanness. Both Chrystal and I have tried to convey our excitement about the race to some of the teachers we work with, and they have seemed pretty ambivalent about it all. Whatever. My internal frenzy has been plenty large enough to make up for my unresponsive surroundings.

I was elated when Obama won. Despite the time zone difference, I was able to see his victory speech in real time. That night, I went to bed with a light feeling in my head—something had been stripped away or torn off, and some part of me was peaceful that hadn’t been before.

The next day, I saw a headline about what John Stewart called the “Satirical-Industrial Complex,” and how, now that the Bush years are coming to a close, satirists may have a harder time. There was such a wealth of absurdity in the Bush administration, satire has been maybe almost too easy. When I began working at Powell’s at the beginning of 2004, the shelves I stocked were already overflowing with outdated and remaindered anti-Bush books, some of them written before he even became president. It had already seemed like an eternity of misrule.

It’s a shock now, after such a long stream of bad news, to have something so good happen, and to read about widespread joy, of all things.

As a kid, I remember sitting at the dinner table at my grandparents’ house in Grafton, WI, while my uncles badgered dad about Reagan and the liberals. Dad would talk back, and mom would find something else to do in another room. I think I remember seeing Oliver North on TV, and I remember my folks steaming about him. I was shocked, almost 20 years later, to find out the guy now had his on own TV Show on FOX News—wasn’t he a war criminal or something? Didn’t everyone despise him?

I remember George Bush and Desert Storm and the missiles going down chimneys. I got in a heated argument with Blake Cleveland on the school bus in 5th grade over how many people had been killed, and what a bad idea the whole thing was. I don’t think anyone else was on my side.

I remember waking up the morning after the 1994 “Republican Revolution,” and witnessing deep gloom on mom and dad’s faces. In a few years Clinton turned gray and droopy with scandal. It seemed incredibly boring to me, and in my head that long spectacle is a companion piece to the OJ trial.

In Seattle in 1999 Chrystal and I saw the WTO protests turn ugly. I had a vague idea that there was something fishy with how the WTO worked, and, like any good college freshmen, I didn’t like sweatshops. But as I followed the mass of protesters around downtown Seattle, I was mostly just confused. I didn’t understand what the topless lesbian protesters had to do with the environmental protestors dressed as sea turtles, or what either had to do, in a concrete way, with the WTO. And then there were the anarchists… It seemed to me that the only thing that held these people together was the fact that they were all getting tear gassed and beaten by the riot police. Also, I felt guilty for lacking their individual passions. But passion was definitely not there for me.

In 2000 I voted for Ralph Nader- which I will now admit was probably a mistake. And then came the past eight years... there have been so many bad things, which will no doubt haunt the country for a long time to come. Images that will stain the next century's textbooks.

Initially I liked Obama because of a relatively simple aura he had about him, a kind of newness. He did not seem like the others. Clinton promised to be the inevitable candidate, which seemed terribly arrogant, and undemocratic to boot.

When I look back on the Obama campaign, I think his most impressive, and moving, moment was his speech on race. The speech is honest, empathetic, and full of unabashed intelligence. Watching it the first time, my jaw dropped. There is a tremendous amount of bravery in the speech, particularly in his effort to describe, and defend, the nuance and subtlety of deeply flawed people. That is a difficult thing to do, particularly when no one else is speaking in similarly complex terms.

The remarkable thing is that the speech apparently worked. The campaign worked. He won. The temptation seems to be to say that he won despite his race, background, temperament, intellectual proclivity, and name. The happy truth may be that he won, in part, because of all that. He is something new. I am very proud, and I’m hopeful.

OBAMA WINS!

Can you spot our 44th president?

Omuta Culture Day

[Omuta is the shaded region]

Today was Culture Day in Japan, a national holiday. We were guided through our funky coal mining town by a wonderful man named Saku, a semi-retired schoolteacher and hobby-philosopher. He took us to the coal mine museum, a tiny ferry terminal that would not cater to tourists today, "the only beach in Omuta (even though the city is located on the Ariake Sea)," and an old Tudor-style country club mansion. At said mansion, Saku bought us a multi-course lunch culminating with tea and dessert, very English. Takuma Dan, a famous Omutan, frequented this place. After the Meiji Restoration, Dan, at the time a promising young man, was picked by the government to study coal mine engineering at MIT. As such, he brought many Western ideas back to Omuta, and became a very prosperous man. He represented the changing times in Japan, and was eventually assassinated by a group of "lesser-samurai" who did not want Japan to modernize.

Afterwards, I knitted, we sent a fax, Ben did some writing, and now I'm getting ready to make some yummy squash and pasta. Oh, I also caught some kendo on TV, which was so cool at first, but got boring pretty quickly. Remember to check out some of our photos from the links to the right! ---->

International Relations / That's right: Brazilian-Japanese

Japan has been in the American media a lot lately. Sometimes when I get bored I visit some of the websites from places I used to live, and one of those is The Stranger (Seattle). They've had a series of articles about Japanese food lately, describing many of the delicacies I am just starting to discover here, some which are really quite disgusting to my Western palate.

Similarly, I read the NY Times almost every day. Correction: I read the headlines...but anyway...I read this whole article on the Brazilian-Japanese communities and immigration in Japan. I had heard a lot about it, and am fully aware of the difficulties that foreigners can face here, so this article was quite informative. I really liked this paragraph:

In the beginning, the Japanese did not understand why the Japanese-Brazilians played loud music, failed to sort their trash perfectly and did not seem bothered about arriving late to appointments. For the Japanese-Brazilians, their grandparents’ or parents’ often rose-tinted image of Japan seemed outdated at best, and they felt unwelcome.

On a similar note, I was walking home from school the other day (my school that's on the mountain and is always 5-10 degrees cooler than where we live), on this windy country road, when this crappy old Nissan truck approached. It caught my eye because a) someone had hand-painted it; b) on further inspection, I realized that the red and green paint spelled out Hasta la vista; c) the steering wheel was on the left side of the car (not the way they do it in Japan); and d) there was music. Most cars here are drab colors, with the occasional cute, sporty, VW Beetle or Mini Cooper, and never, never with a touch of hand-painted art. So what do I think it was? A figment of my imagination due to my withdrawal from Mexican food? A Mexican transplant sent to put a smile on my face? or, maybe, a Brazilian-Japanese who had his precious car shipped all the way here, for posterity's sake...

OK, off to bed soon. We had a late Halloween party night yesterday and need to catch up on sleep. Plus, we have a date with a retired teacher at 9 tomorrow morning. A history buff, he will be educating us about the coal mine history of Omuta, where, incidentally, there was also a POW camp during WWII.

Last weekend, Chrystal and I went with a friend of ours, Yamaguchi-sensei, to Aso-Kuju National Park in the middle of Kyushu. Yamaguchi is the art teacher at one of my schools, and an enthusiatic guide. He chose this weekend for our hike because the fall colors are peaking on Mt. Kuju.

So, Mt Aso is actually an area-- the remains of an enormous ancient volcano. The edge of the park is ringed by the upper rim of the world's largest caldera. If you've seen Kurosawa's Ran, it was partially filmed here. In the very beginning, where the samurais are all on horseback on a big field at the lip of a steep incline--that's the caldera rim. It's awesome.

The colors were really great, too. Many people were out on the trail. Many, many people, actually, even including several groups of schoolchildren in matching hiking outfits. Tough little kids. I got a photo or two of them. Check the pictures out- there's a link on the side.

I don't get it...

All the kids have pencil cases here. Marijuana leaves are a particularly popular design (remember these are 13 year olds, and yes, marijuana is very, very illegal here). I don't really think anyone knows what the leaves represent.

Marijuana leaf air fresheners-for cars- are really popular and teachers cruise up to school with them dangling from their rearview mirrors.

So, I saw one particularly surprising pencil case yesterday. I believe it read:

Smoke Dope and Addicts!
Is Rearry Bud For Me?

Oh, good lord, and in English class, too...
Another good one I saw today reads "One Love," and has a picture like trucker's mudflaps in the US. Also, one with the title "She Lost Her Way" with the silhouette of a large bosomed girl dressed in something lacey.

I just found an image of the Addict pencil case. Awesome.

Ben rambles, and you cannot help but be fascinated

So, as all 3 of you are aware, we visited the ancient Tenmangu shrine in Dazaifu a few weeks ago. It’s home to the Shinto god of knowledge, Tenjin, who, before he died (and was subsequently deified), was a famous poet-scholar-politician. I read a sign in a park in Fukuoka City that described him as “one of Japan’s few true geniuses,” which seemed awfully self-deprecatory to me. Certainly there have been many Japanese geniuses…

Shinto has many, many deities, and different shrines are often visited for different reasons. For example, in Kagoshima, there was a shrine dedicated to a beautiful woman who had been deified. Women visit and pray at this shrine in the hopes of improving their looks. It’s totally unclear to me how seriously people take this aspect of Shinto- I suspect not extremely seriously, but it’s hard to tell.

Anyhow, Tenmangu is visited by gazillions of students who leave prayers for success in their exams. (The exams here are a big, awful deal, by the way). In the first 3 days of the New Year, a million people visit the shrine- before the big exams. The shrine and its grounds are not that big (nor is the town of Dazaifu). People smoosh in and apparently it gets so crowded that you can barely move. So your prayer to Tenjin must count for something.

The approach to the main shrine entails three bridges, one symbolizing the past, one the present, and one the future. It’s important, if I remember correctly, not to look back while on the past bridge, not to pause on the present bridge, and not to stumble on the future bridge. The concept is apparently borrowed from Buddhist architecture. Once you cross all the bridges, you go through the final torii (Shinto gate) and get to the shrine.

Of course it’s important, spiritually and aesthetically, not to go backwards over the bridges. So when you’re done with your prayers and fortune telling at the shrine, you leave via a different pathway. When we were there, we were pretty much the only folks going that way- everyone was going back across the symbolic bridges.

We asked our friends what that meant, and they laughed and said it was Bad.

Pictures, explained ( a little)

I put captions on our Kagoshima pictures for those thirsty for explanation/witty commentary/withering critiques of stuff/lucid insight/cogent insight/scintillating insight/a discerning eye/a discriminating palate/a finicky what-have-you/ thoughtful diagnoses/ arbitrary judgement/ questionable technique/ improvisatory lecturing/ meaningful conversation/ long walks by the ocean/ candlelit dinners/ wild boar, sliced thin/ a penchant for digression/ a unique (and telling) talent with concision.

I rode a Ferris Wheel for my birthday

It was on top of a big mall/bullet train station. It was awesome, like a Blade Runner ferris wheel... There was lots of neon and a superexpress shinkansen train lurking right below. It made me freakishly happy.

Adventures in Dazaifu

The Shinto Shrine at Dazaifu Yesterday

As some of you know, we have been trying to visit our friend Yumiko in her hometown of Dazaifu for several weeks now. Well, we finally went yesterday, and had a wonderful time seeing a touristy place with the help from an insider. The city is famous for its shrine and temples, as well as being a major political seat and one of the original sites of Japanese Buddhism. Yumiko calls the shrine and temple grounds her "backyard," and she really is just a 3-5 minute walk away. Amazing! The food famous to Dazaifu is called umegae-mochi, a rice flour "pastry" filled with sweet black bean paste, and decorated with a plum blossom design. There is much to say about all this, but I don't want to bore you with the history lesson right now (or maybe I'm tired and it's not boring...). You can read this, though.


[This picture was taken at the site where Japanese Buddhists went through schooling to become priests. There were only three such places in all of Japan, and this one was significant because of its proximity to China (where the Japanese acquired Buddhism to begin with). Becoming a priest created a kind of passport for travel between the countries, which was otherwise quite difficult.]

Yumiko's friend, Junko (we called her "June") recently became an English tour guide and practiced on us, too. This was all great, and we wish we lived amongst the beautiful mountains and shrines like Yumiko in Dazaifu.

[Yumiko and a bunch of fortune "wishes" being tied up. Ben and I both got the "happiest" fortunes! Yumiko got the "least happy," and June got "medium happy." Luck was on our side, I guess. We decided to keep our happiest fortunes instead of tying them up, which I guess doesn't make the fortune any less possible...]

After Dazaifu, we rushed by train to an Italian restaurant in Omuta where the art teacher from one of Ben's schools was meeting us. We ordered many courses and drank much wine, and learned some funny things about Japan. Did you know Kirin beer is made near us, and mega-brand Kirin also owns flower nurseries among other things? Apparently, this teacher also has many mysterious connections with high-profile elected officials which we don't understand. It's really great to talk to local people here and learn more about where we are living. It's exhausting, but good.

French Consomme?

Pringles. Ben and I pride ourselves on trying the bizarre Pringles flavors in other countries. Our first try was "Paprika" in Spain, which was really just barbecue. Why are Pringles sold everywhere? We never even eat them in America! Anyway, this flavor is truly unique and tastes like, well, consomme.

Adventures in Fukuoka

Last weekend, we had quite the adventure.

We went to see our friend Futoshi's rock band play a show in the big city. Futoshi works for our company; he's one of the many Japanese liasons between us gaijin (foreigners) and the school districts we work for. He's in charge of all our schedules, or at least he will be for about three more weeks, when he quits because the job is boring. For a Japanese rocker who speaks decent English, I can only imagine how boring sending faxes all day must really be.

Anyway, Futoshi described his band as kind of indie rock. We met him our first night in Japan, actually, hit it off immediately, and have been trying to get invited to a show ever since. He lived in Minneapolis for three years (what else--studying music), and has heard of several of our favorite American bands, like Yo La Tengo, Pavement, and, of course, Sonic Youth. He's even seen Yo La Tengo in concert! Weird. We got to Fukuoka City in the early afternoon, walked around A BUNCH and eventually found our way to the odd, quiet neighborhood where the show was to be held. We were early and needed dinner. The gods looked down on us and found us a Thai restaurant (I've been missing it so), in which we proceeded to consume salad rolls, Tom Yum soup, and a sort of curry-ish stir-fry chicken thing that was amazing. We lucked out in not purchasing any nasty meats, too.

We met Futoshi and his friend Nobu (who was dressed to the nines in nerd rock regalia) on the street. Together, we walked to an am pm (as popular as 7-11's here, which means they're even more common than back at home) to buy beer for the show, as it was to be held in a practice studio, and so, in the immortal words of Futoshi, "you can, like, bring beer cans inside."

To the show, up to the fifth floor and through a door, into...the tiniest concert venue I've ever seen, literally, a practice studio, which held, at most, 40 people, like sardines. It was awesome, but by the end of the night our eyes stung from the many smoking cigarettes in such an unventilated space. There were five bands total, mostly in the punk-rock varietal. Really, really loud punk rock. Nobu hated it, and I can't say I liked it much more. Ben and Nobu stood in the back of the studio for a good hour exchanging written notes (cute!) about rock bands, authors, and their shared passion for writing! It was really cool for Ben to meet a burgeoning Japanese writer, a really bright guy who I look forward to hanging out with again.

The city after we missed the train...vacant.

Futoshi's band was last, and indeed, indie rock. They were by far the best set of the evening, but we had a midnight train to make back to Omuta, so we said thank you and sprinted out of there to the subway. We ran to our train, then ran to our transfer train, then ran to the above-ground shinkansen train, which we missed by 5 minutes. The next one departed at 5:16am, so we found ourselves a business hotel, the kind of place where drunk businessmen stay after a night of heavy drinking with the dudes from the office. This is extremely common, actually. Japan is a drinking culture, which means it's okay to be a well-paid, respected business person barfing on the sidewalk at two in the morning, and no one will talk about it on Monday. Just don't have a beer at lunch.



Look how happy we are at the train station bathrooms after missing our train!






We spent the next morning meandering around the city before heading back to Omuta, which was so quiet, and smelled of burning coal.



A terraced skyscraper in Fukuoka, and O, Omuta, our fair smokestack.

Point/Counterpoint

This is a gem. A mean gem.

We Can Vote!

Our absentee ballots arrived today, which means we really can vote. We've been keeping up on all the crazy news back in the States, and now we can have a say! [Go Obama/Biden!]

iTunes sadness and Red crabs

Dearests,

We have been keeping ourselves occupied in our sleepy town by downloading movies from iTunes. Sadly, this went awry recently. We are unable to get The Shining, for example, and some funny Scorcese flick. It all happened after we saw the crabs. It went something like this:

Chrystal: Omigod! Did you see that?
Ben: Yeah! What was it?
Chrystal: A tarantula. Did you see the way it moved, and its size?
Ben: No it wasn't. I didn't sign up to live with tarantulas. Tarantulas are only in South America.
Chrystal: It looked exactly like a tarantula. We're in the sub-tropics. They have big spiders here.
(a spreading rustle in the undergrowth...)
Chrystal: They're all over! There's another one.
Ben: What?!?
Chrystal: This is cool.
Ben: Wait. Is that a crab? Look.
Chrystal: Jesus! What are crabs doing on the sidewalk? There's no water here!
Ben: They must be land-crabs.
Chrystal: Or wetland crabs.

We have seen the crabs twice since. They come out around dusk and scatter across the brick path. They are black with a bright red marking, some of them as big as tarantulas...

Takoyaki

an octopus with 9 tentacles!



Hello friends. Some of you know that we have been introducing ourselves to hundreds of children over the past few weeks, letting them know what America is like, and what we are like. The younger, more adorable kids usually ask us questions after the presentation. These usually consist of:

"What color do you like?" (Green)
"Do you like animals?" (Yes, remember I told you I have two cats!)
"How tall are you?" (About 1.7 meters, I think. WOW!)

And, finally, "What Japanese food you don't like?"

To this last question, I say that I like most Japanese food, but I don't like to eat octopus. 35 astonished faces gasp at me as the teacher translates. Octopus is "tako" in Japanese. Usually, they follow up by asking if I like squid, which I do, especially when fried to a crisp Greek-style.

So today, we are at the mall, YouMe Town, which is the coolest hangout spot for English teachers and adolescents alike, and we need a snack. There is this food stand that fries up some really yummy looking morsels, and people are always in line to buy it. To be safe, we watched the staff make a batch. In the batter we saw corn, carrots, and some other chopped veggies; they looked and smelled like hush puppies. Yum!


So we bought some. We took them home and I bit into one. It was okay, until I looked at what was hanging out the side of the uneaten half: a bright purple tentacle, suction cups baked into a delicious doughy ball and frozen in time like this. Where the arm had touched the dough, a bright pink color so unnatural, and the arm itself looking like it was straight out of a Jacques Cousteau picture book. I put the takoyaki down and said, "I can't eat another bite."

The octopus is like a monkey to me, something I haven't seen in its natural habitat, and therefore more like a pet or a photograph. I see them at aquariums and zoos, or on TV. They grow really big. I can't eat them.

Typhoon!

We are being warned by teachers that a typhoon will hit Omuta on Friday. They are concerned for us because we do not have shutters on our windows. However, when we search for information about this storm, nothing pops up. We've been to numerous weather websites and even the national news network, but cannot find a mention about this freaking typhoon. Please let us know if you hear anything... for now, the next few days call for light rain, partly sunny skies, and possible thunderstorms.

UPDATE: There really is a typhoon heading "in our direction," but mostly this just means some really wet weather. I guess if we're in any "imminent danger," our company will be contacting us and making sure we stay safe (at least that's what they said). Could be exciting, but not truly unsafe where we are.

Kirin's Brewing Technology Elaborates the "Nodogoshi"

Friends and family: what is the "Nodogoshi"?

I have been pondering this for many days, approximately the number of days since I started going to the grocery store and buying Kirin beer. However, I haven't felt like asking people at school, or on the street What is the Nodogoshi?. I finally googled "the Nodogoshi," and my findings were perhaps a little underwhelming. And therefor, I intuit, false. Also, unsurprisingly, they made for poor English. So I have come upon the answer: It is the name of my new gang. We are The Nodogoshi.

Respect for the Aged, or Old Person's, Day

Today is a Monday but we didn't have to work. This because it is a national holiday, "Old Person's Day." On this day, we are told that people generally go shopping and sleep in, so it sounds a lot like what most of America thinks of holidays like Veteran's Day, President's Day, or Labor Day. We slept in a bit, did laundry, mosied around the apartment, then mosied around the city. We took a bus to the school I'll be working at tomorrow so I don't get lost on my way there, and we discovered a "Green Co-op," which is a gigantic step up from the grocery store we have been frequenting. Consider the difference between Winco and a small New Seasons, and you would come to understand what I mean.

So I've been thinking I need a project, either in some sort of art/craft or anthropological study, to keep me occupied in Japan. You see, our jobs are really easy, and don't take up much mental space, so I need something a bit more challenging and interesting. I'm thinking about trying to make a pizza tonight in our fish broiler (think upside-down grilled pizza), and in my search for some semblance of a recipe to do this, I came across this blog: http://www.giantjeansparlor.net/archives/candy_friday/ By absolute chance, this food blogger from LA lived in Japan for two years teaching English, and wrote a weekly entry about Japanese candies. Especially disgusting is the squid-roll-up, which oozes some sort of squid-y juice. I need a theme like this. Let me know if you have any ideas/curiosities, and I'll keep you posted.

On a side note, these pictures of the walk we took on Saturday, into this huge forest above our town. The mosquitoes were...vibrant.

Donuts in Japan

Hmmm. Ben loves donuts, and here there is a chain called "Mister Donut." We were told it's the best place around to buy coffee because they offer free refills. We have been to Mr. D, and it's pretty good, especially the Old Fashioneds, says Ben. At said donut shop, we have sampled: 1) donuts filled and frosted with a sort of confectionary green tea, dyed green, of course; 2) a little smoky sausage hidden inside a muffin; 3) chocolate-glazed, where the glaze doesn't seem to be sweetened, so is not very good; and 4) regular things, like Old Fashioneds, which Ben likes. Chrystal also tried a chestnut-cream filled one, which was yummy.

Mister Donut's sister company, Mosburger, does not make us happy. The burgers suck.

Chrystal is whining because we turned the A/C off and she doesn't like sweating after showering. It's 10:00pm, and definitely still hot enough for sweating. Today, however, was a pretty good one as far as weather goes. A light sprinkle here and there, slightly cooler, and good bike-riding conditions.

We took a great ride into the hills to our East (for the first time!), and discovered a really cool forest. Blue bamboo! (sort of) Mosquitoes! (lots) Shrines! (also lots) A Big Slide! (literally) An Environmental Protection Forest! (with a sign in English!). We will certainly be heading back there for hikes going up long, steep hills, when the weather and bugs cool down. We liked our city much more after our long bike ride today.

Okay, Ben says, "Publish Post."

We are Here

Ben and I have been in Fukuoka Prefecture, the Isle of Kyushu, for 3 weeks and 6 days now. While there is much to share, we would like to leave you with this photo to ponder, taken our first full day in Japan in 95 degree weather with 90% humidity. Please note the attire of those photographed.

Nihon

Ben and I have been like the tortoise preparing for our move. Slowly but surely, we have cleaned up the bountiful goods we acquired during our time in Portland, in preparation of living in tight quarters in Omuta, Fukuoka, Japan. It feels good to give clothes away, throw 10-year-old sneakers to the curb, and sort through the mess of papers we don't need, but I just can't get over the hours and hours it has taken me. How could I have done all this if I had been working this summer? Yikes.

So here is a diagram of the apartment we will probably have in Japan. I need to give the OK to Ayaka soon. Let me know if you see any glaring problems. Fortunately, it's furnished. And we won't have to buy a bed.

We were going to have a band called The Soft Helmets, and these would have been our band pictures.

This is the Carmela Soprano picture.

Vacating the Premises

The First 18 Things I Will Miss about the Northwest (in random order):

1. cool, green, beautiful summers
2. family
3. abundance of fantastic restaurant food
4. farmer's markets
5. dogs on every block
6. very, very, very laid-back atmosphere
7. super casual business attire
8. art
9. my bicycle
10. Pele and Mikka
11. friends
12. porches
13. space
14. big beds
15. friendly people and neighbors
16. the mountains and the coast
17. walks
18. trees

Isle of Reversible Destiny

Ben and Chrystal are moving to Japan!

Above is a drawing of the city of Fukuoka, which we will be living near. It is on the southwestern island of Kyushu, a stone's throw from the tip of South Korea. We will be teaching English there, in the public schools, and look forward to taking our shoes off indoors and eating ramen.

This is what happens when you type in "Funny Pictures" on Google

No more pencils,
No more books,
No more teachers' dirty looks.

School's out for summer.
Almost.
Yee-haw.


Alternately:

No more pencils, no more books,
No more teacher's dirty looks.
Kick the table, kick the chairs
Kick the teacher down the stairs!

(Source: circa 1950's - 60's Canada)

Tell your mama to vote for Obama

We just got back from the massive Obama rally on the waterfront. It was quite a turnout and my first time seeing him in person. He brought the whole family out at the beginning for some crowd ooh-ing and ah-ing (what a cute first family they will make!), and then Barack proceeded with his speech, covering most of his policies and focusing quite a bit on anti-Bush rhetoric and bringing the Democrats together, etc., etc.

Upon our return, famished, heat exhausted, and tired, we ordered a pizza, gorged, and now we are here, on the back porch in the shade. Aaaaahhhhhh.

Slackers and Pranks

It's true. We have slacked on the blogging of late. But can you really blame us? Where's YOUR blog?

Anyway, today is April Fool's day, a wondrous day dedicated to the pulling of pranks and reveling in the discomfort of others, and as these pranks were pulled and laughter caused incompetence in the classroom, I asked my students, "Where did this tradition come from?"

"That's why they made Google," they answered.

Now, my dictionaries are out of the recycling bin and the desks in Mr. M.'s classroom have been re-flipped. Ms. V. returned Mr. M.'s dry-erase markers, and the poor kid Mr. Math sent to the principal's office (all for a laugh) is home safe, and probably has stopped blushing by now. When I was in high school, I painted the toilet seats in the girls' restrooms with white paint, just the color that it would go unnoticed. I heard shrieks from the girls who sat on those seats. That was a good one. I think I spent all of art class mixing that paint and wandering the halls, ducking away when a teacher walked by.

I looked up the origins on Google, which led me to Wikipedia. My favorite explanation of the day is "to embarass the gullible." Apparently, it's a relic of the vernal equinox celebrations, and has roots in Chaucer's work. The Dutch are especially fond of All Fool's Day, so I guess it only makes sense that I would be, too.

See the Wiki history for yourself: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/April_Fools'_Day

Arrival of the Baconators

The other day at work I was ambushed by two gutbomb volleys: in the morning my wife's boss brought us all Croissanwichs from Burger King, a delicacy I haven't sampled in in many moons. How could I say no? Ufta...

Then the plumber announced right before lunch that he was buying everyone lunch. It was the first time in two weeks that I hadn't made my own. Serendipidity! (It's saying I spelled that wrong, but I'm not sure).

So the plumber comes back with a bunch of bags from Wendy's and announces loudly "Baconators for everyone!"

This was my first meeting with the Baconator. I hope we don't cross paths again. It's just too much, dude. Not too much of a good thing, either, just too much. But of course I didn't turn it down.

The U.S. at War with Food

A student showed this to us today at school. Be prepared for terror and exploding salad rolls:
Go to "Food Fight."

Hobos

There's a good article in this month's Harper's about a guy who floats part way down the Mississippi with his anarchist friend. The anarchist built their raft out of stolen/ scavenged stuff- it sounded kinda cool/kinda like something I would have made in 8th grade. Their mission started off with the anarchist forgetting that he couldn't put straight gasoline into the motor, and nearly burning the thing out. This is what happens with anarchists. They just can't keep their shit together.

Fire caulking

Lately at work I have been introduced to a fiendish new caulk: fire caulking. Perhaps, dedicated reader, you have a job that doesn't involve caulking. Lucky you! Fire caulking is red, has weird sparkly bits of metal in it, and apparently expands when subjected to high temperatures, thereby reducing air flow. I hate this stuff! It's too thickly gooey if you know what I mean. It's nothing like white lightning, a nice brand of silicon caulking. Blech.

The Fair North

We made a trek to the pleasant city of Seattle this past weekend, to celebrate the birth of an adorable one-year-old named Quinn, and also to visit great friends and family (of which Quinn is also, of course, included). The weather was Seattle-y in the best of ways: breezy, damp, sunny, and threatening all at once. Every time we go there, I miss the landscape which is so unique. To be simultaneously surrounded by water, mountains, and a big sky is quite the feeling. Oh, Seattle, this is my ode to you.

Michael Dirda on love

One of my favorite critics, Michael Dirda of the Washington Post, has a nice review of a new compilation of love stories, edited by Jeffrey Eugenides. Dirda at his best writes essays that seesaw between a certain bookish melancholy and a contagious, almost euphoric, enthusiasm.

Jewish-Alaskan Noir

The Coen brothers will be directing a film version of The Yiddish Policeman's Union. Awesome! I hope John Turturro is involved. This could be deeply cool.

Millionaires

This is a funny book review. The book in question celebrates "the middle class millionaire," ie the nouveau riche, and his/her/their special capacity for innovation, or something. The book is, as Janet Maslin writes, "woefully ill-timed," as it has just come out, but was written, without any foresight, before the subprime crisis hit. Something about that makes me happy-perhaps just the ring of "woefully ill-timed."

Goodbye Volvo, Hello Hawaii Chair!

This morning we said goodbye to the beloved Volvo. It served us well for a long time, and at 25 years and who-knows-how-many miles, it needed to retire to its next job as an organ donor.

I'm thinking of spending the money I save on car insurance on this:
Hawaii Chair

A Successful Bee Move

My dad has been from the foothills of Mt. Hood to the valley of central California transporting bees over the long weekend, and giving me a couple updates along the way. The first voicemail described the window-high snow in southern Oregon. The second one, sent a few hours ago, was also in southern Oregon, in the daytime, with much different conditions. All in all, the bee move went smoothly. It was a success, though I haven't heard how many times he got stung yet...

Strange comments

I was just reading some of the comments posted on a NYT article. The entry concerned the lack of major policy disputes between the Democratic campaigns, and how that could mean a unified party behind the eventual nominee. I don't normally read people's comments on articles like that, because they're often so full of bile. And there are many better things to do.

Well, though the comments were somewhat mixed-there were even-headed ones in there- there was a strong vein of anti-Obama venom. This surprised me, as mostly what one sees or hears is the old anti-Clinton saw. But, behold, everyone is open for hatred! Obama was accused in the comments of being a reverse-racist, a misogynist, and, by a couple of posters, as a sinister candidate of empty promises, a la GWB and his compassionate conservatism. There was also mention of voters "young and stupid."

Several posters said if Obama won the nomination, they would vote for McCain, as he has more character, which they valued more highly than his policy. These were Democrats. On the other hand, several Republicans said they would vote for Obama over McCain.

I found the whole thing a bit spooky-backlit as it was by the charges of racism and misogyny. I wonder who these people are, and how many of them are politically employed to post weird messages.

Cult of Personality

In several New York Times articles-both editorial and op-ed- there's been mention of a fear that Obama's supporters are caught up in what may amount to a "cult of personality." I suppose what the writers are insinuating is that his followers are not self-critical: they see a warm, faultless ideal instead of a politician. While somewhere there may be some truth to this--I think a lot of people have what amounts to a crush on Obama-- I can't help but feel that more than anything it's the whine of people who wish their candidate was more charismatic.

It's strange coming, as it is, from supporters of a politician's politician- a leader with all the brutal tools of campaigning, with no reserve when it comes to triangulation (see her support of a constitutional ban on flag burning), etc, etc. She is so deft with everything, but she isn't charismatic. This doesn't mean she wouldn't serve well as a leader, but for all their talk of the real world and being able to stand up to Republicans, her supporters sure give short shrift to charisma. They didn't back when Bill was running.

Of course, Bill blew it. And continues to. But wouldn't it be nice to keep him around?

Notes on the Perfect Crime

As some of you may know, the concept of the perfect crime is often on my mind. Perhaps you share this fixation, if so, next time we meet you can give me the secret handshake. This is the first in what may be a series of thoughts on the Perfect Crime. Later entries will be:

The Perfect Crime: Is it Truly Possible?

and

The Perfect Crime: The Perfect Caper, The Perfect Heist

as well as

The Perfect Crime: The Creation of Economic Systems: A Perfect Crime?


Today, however, I will embark on the subject in all its broadness, and general vagueness. First of all, when people think about a Perfect Crime, often they think of a crime of specifics, involving perhaps a complicated bank or casino robbery from which the perpetrators escape unscathed and fabulously wealthy. This conception of the Perfect Crime is, I feel, unduly narrow, but is of course quite exciting. These sorts of crimes will be covered later, in The Perfect Crime: The Perfect Caper, The Perfect Heist.

Let's talk about Perfect Crime strategies. At their most basic, there are only two:

1. The way of the mastermind

2. The way of the artful improviser

The mastermind has a perfect plan; he is the watchmaker of crime, a great prognosticator, a lover of finely tuned intricacy. He requires, however, a static situation with few variables. The flux of life is his nemesis.

The artful improviser has a plan, but this plan serves a more humble role: it is a catalyst for a situation which cannot be completely foreseen. The improviser expects variables and entropy, he hopes to use them in his favor. This means that he must sometimes change his goal mid-crime, i.e. steal the painting instead of the diamonds. It takes panache and suavity, after the act, to artfully explain that the painting was what you were after all along, despite earlier statements.

An example: Say an artful improviser introduces, via certain channels, an idea that may in the future provide him with a chance for great wealth. Let's say he sets out to make people less physically flexible. Who knows what will come of that situation? A lot of pulled muscles, no doubt, but what else? An opportunity which, invisible at the beginning, he will now pounce upon! For he has been doing his stretches all along, and now that the rest of the world is less flexible, he can outrun them. He can unleash his bobcats on them. Or he can sell them his special muscle cream at an obscene mark-up. Perhaps the muscle cream has other properties, such as mind control.

But such a complex situation requires the skills of both a mastermind and an improviser. One must be doubly talented to pull off the perfect crime.

Stretching: A good idea?

Apparently not. According to several reports stretching, particularly for periods of 4 or more minutes, makes you have wobbly joints when you get old. And get this: over stretching the abdominal region, which doesn't take much, results in baggy heart muscles. Which are obviously a very bad thing. Doctors are saying that yoga might lead to nonspiritual heart murmurs and loosey-goosey guts. It's all on the Mayo Clinic website.

Signed Over

By renaming this blog, "Chrystal's Shrimp Louie Wisconsin House of Variety," Ben unbeknowingly deeded it to me. I am kind enough to allow "Jr. Sailor-Frond" (ahem!) to post as well. I promise to post often about cats, as I am crazy and have few outlets in my life. Peace be with you.

If you'd like to learn how deeds work, please check this out.

Stretching

Recently I was standing in line at the grocery store, flipping through a running magazine, and I came across an article about stretching. Apparently, they've been testing the effectiveness of stretching-quads, hamstrings, everything-and it turns out that over time, it may be detrimental to muscle and tendon health. I didn't really believe it. Then, a few weeks later, I was watching a news show on PBS, and a different study was presented, also anti-stretching. Nearly every every kind of stretch is bad in the long term. Be careful.

All God's Dangers

I've started reading All God's Dangers, an autobiographical account of a sharecropper who lived in east central Alabama- sort of near Auburn. The guy, Nate Shaw, dictated his life story to a writer over the course of a few years, and it's really pretty good. But one thing I've been thinking about was in the preface:

"Nate Shaw belongs to the tradition of farmer-storytellers. These people appear in all civilizations and are only beginning to disappear in the most advanced ones. Their survival is bound up with the fate of communities of small farmers. When these communities disperse and farms become larger, fewer in number, and owned more and more by absentee investors, the sources of story material and audiences dry up.
But the decline of storytelling is more complicated than this. It has to do with the passing of craft activities, like basketmaking, which generate the rhythms at which stories flow..."

The book was published in 1973 so no doubt the farmer-storyteller is an even rarer character nowadays. What stuck in my head was the bit about basketmaking, and how we really have gotten away from tasks like that, rhythmic manual tasks. We need more whittlers, more knife sharpeners, more dough-kneaders...

Fortunately, there are still plenty of beer drinkers, which may be the best storytelling activity of all, aside from wine drinking, and possibly-if you're gonna bring up the south- whiskey drinking.

Jamming

I have time to jam... Right now! It's time to jam.

Chrystal's idea

This was Chrystal's idea, so I wouldn't email her anymore with ranty emails about Gloria Steinem. Good luck, Chrystal! And pleased to meet you, internet. My name is Ben's Shrimp Louie Wisconsin House of Variety! and my goal is to bore the pants off everyone who visits me, which adds up to me, and Chrystal once every two weeks. Enjoy!