And you and I
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Capsule Hotel
Alright.
Renound for largesse of hospitality and its Old World Spanish charm, the lovely and luxurious Siesta Hotel sits accessibly in a back alleyway just off the Yamanote line in Tokyo's exciting Ebisu district, complete with a lovely view of the back of Ebisu station.
Never one to skimp on comfort and convenience, the Siesta Hotel staff insists on providing only the highest quality service and accommodations. Here's you can see my spacious closet already stocked with fresh linens,
and here my evening wear,
my dancing shoes,
and the hallway, which leads to...
room number 423, the deluxe suite.
It's a perfect fit!
And it even has a T.V........in glorious technicolor!!
I awake refreshed after a marvelous night's sleep.
Boy, flipping through these pictures sure brings rest to a weary soul; it's like a gentle eye-massage.
Assuming you are still awake (a big assumption), let me just encourage you all to run to your nearest capsule hotel like right now (probably Tokyo, so maybe swim). It's worth it. Seriously, you have never experienced sleep like capsule hotel sleep--it's like spending the night in a really comfortable coffin. Sometimes when I am restless and can't seem to fall asleep, I simply stack my pillows tightly around me and relive that wonderful experience, and I find that I awake a new man. This can be kind of frightening at times, especially if that man is a Jew.
I kid! I kid!
Seriously, you guys need to quit being so sensitive.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Quietude
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Taxes and Apologies
I know, I haven't posted all week. I'm actually quite surprised that my overly-demanding sister hasn't yet replied with her standard "Dude, freakin' post" comment. I love those. Incidentally, Mer, loved the picture, but in cropping it the way you have, you've mislead your viewers. If you allowed them an unaltered view, they would see, sticking out of my coat, the hand of Razmig, the little Armenian dwarf child I was trying to smuggle in the country. They also can't see--though no fault of your crop-job--that I had 34 walnuts stuffed in my cheeks. Armenians can survive on a steady diet of walnuts and Funions.
Few people actually know that
But I digress.
I do apologize for my hiatus, but I've spent the past several days in hiding as it appears that my taxes were due over a week ago, and I understand the IRS now has the Great Eye in their employ. It's not that I'm protesting or anything--though I have every right and reason to--it's just that I haven't the slightest clue how to do them. This has got to be the single most baffling series of documents in the whole of human history. And I'm pissed that I have to do them at all, not so much because of abstract ideological conflicts, but for the fact that I simply don't make enough to pay taxes.
I need help. I've tried nothing, and I'm all out of ideas. My fake identity will only last so long as the IRS is sure to figure out that I'm neither Hispanic nor a 350 pound flower salesman. I seem to recall that my ex-girlfriend's--Ali's--father hasn't paid taxes since like 1982, so I'm thinking of looking into that. Granted he's a lawyer, but I work out a lot, and these big guns flex for freedom.
(That sounds like the title of a country song.)
Friday, October 14, 2005
My lovely sister
This is the best picture of Meredith I've ever seen. She looks really thin because I told her to suck in for the camera. "This picture is going to be seen by millions of people over the blogosphere," I told her, "so look your best." And she didn't disappoint.
We were out to dinner, and here she had just finished half a horse's rump. She has that glazed look over her because she is eyeing the other half. She got really mad at me for finishing it off, and her chin assaulted me. Her chin is the real reason I came to Japan.
She's got a bit of a nasty habit of correcting people's spelling and grammar. Sometimes it really frustrates me, but then I look at this picture and remember how gosh darn cute she is, and I forget why I was ever frustrated. How could anyone be angry at those gawking, glassy eyes and that protuberance between face and neck? I sure couldn't.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
3rd chapel speech
In today's world of blending peoples and pluralist societies, we have come to tolerate others' beliefs, others' ways of life. We have come to tolerate and perhaps even appreciate other truths. Is it possible then that we live in a world of complete relativism--a world of multiple destinations--where there is no one, real truth, and neither our actions nor the consequences have any meaning?
This seems as unlikely as it is terrifying; we all assume basic truths in our lives, truths that stretch across cultural and national boudaries--a basic sense of morality, the belief that our senses provide an relatively accurate reflection of our surroundings, perhaps even a notion of the Divine. Moreover, the definition of truth certainly requires some level of singularity. I think of truth as something more akin to a great tree, a tree that has been in existence since the beginning of all things. This tree has been carefully cultivated over the ages and has grown healthy and strong. Its roots run deep and wide, touching the four coners of this world. And at the cusp of these roots, we find a great host of nations, and a great diversity of peoples. This past weekend, this school celebrated its annual culture festival, Gakuinsai. But why do we celebrate culture? It seems irrational to commemorate the past acheivments of our ancestors; one way of life is like another. What gives its extolment such priority?
Culture is who we are; it's our identity as individuals and as a people. It is our root, our path to the One Truth. God painted this world with many colors and constructed it from many loams; our world is one of great variety, and God approves of it, just as he approves of the diversity of peoples, or he would not have planted the seeds of truth. We spend our lives in pursuit of God, in pursuit of truth, tracing our way back to this great tree, and we must each find our own path. Last weekend I caught a glimpse of you in your element. I heard the gentle pluck of the koto, saw the graceful strokes of the shogo brush, and watched the refined elegance of the tea ceremony. This is the Japanese way; it's ancient and it's beautiful--it's your path to truth. Take pride in your heritage, for God has blessed the Japanese people and culture; he has ordained your way of life. Do not forsake your identity, for you dishonor Him and all He has prescribed.
There is little in this world as frightening as not knowing who you are--it means separation from God, for we must know where we are before we can begin a journey. Our destination lies with the truth in our Lord God, and our starting point is our identity. Remember, to seek the Truth, you must first seek yourself, and may God be praised as you do. Amen.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
A sonnet
Truancy amidst the fall-colored lea
The yawning Erebus of brumal throes, though a dream...
Oh gentle blossom, pique of spring
Wherefore do we swill the pleasant hours of estival noontime tea?
Though forsaking the piquant tears of an unadulterated past;
Wandering amidst the opacity of a thousand tombs,
And the cliché-ridden caroms with stifling axioms.
By what Elysian streams do we wrestle free the impiety of the iconoclast?
But lo, the laminal veneer peels lazily away
Revealing the austere sheen of our ruddy pith (hear it beat!),
But for our rubato lament of pattering feet
The images all deliquesce into paludal gray.
And a rubescent hue gathers about my wind-whipped face
Oh, I am once more honored, I am once more pure, I am once more chaste.
