It looks as if Bagdad is under US/UK control now. And I will not disagree with the idea that a change of leaders seems to make the average Iraqi very happy. From all accounts, Hussein was a rotten sonuvabitch who relied on intimidation, torture and murder to control Iraq. His removal was probably a very good thing for the average guy.

But should it have been done by outside forces without a mandate from the people? Should it have been done without international approval? Perhaps the most troubling question to me is one of motive. Should it have been done by people whose primary goal doesn't seem to have been freedom or liberty, but control of a deep water port and a damn lot of oil?

The only clear message from the White House concerning the reconstruction of Iraq is that is it's something they prefer to leave to the Iraqi leaders who've been exiled since the 70's and the big oil companies, most of which were last able to make big money from Iraqi oil in the 70's.

Oh, there's a shock. Someone connected with Big Oil stands to make assloads of money. You'd almost think that the people who wanted to go to war most had some reason to be connection with the Oil industry. Next you'll tell me that the defense contractors who are going to get huge contracts to replace the thousands of missles and bombs used also have direct financial connections with the White House.

No, wait, you don't have to tell me. The damnned White House has said openly that this will mean enormous profits for the company that Cheney used to work for.

You lie to people when you worry that they can take action against you if they find out. What's it mean when you can brazenly say exactly what you're doing? If nothing else, the message is finally clear: "Bend over. Try not to think about it: there's gonna be some deep drilling, and if you struggle it's just gonna hurt more."

How do you think Iran and North Korea feel right about now?

In Japan, today is Monday, August 7, 2003. A day that is significant for a couple of reasons.

Today is the first day of the school year. It is also the first day of the business or fiscal year. (Maybe it makes more sense to start things like education and business when the world itself seems to be in a state of rebirth and bloom, rather than in September's final days of warmth or October's cold. But I digress.)

It's also the day that Astro Boy was supposed to be activated. Do you remember Astro Boy? A cartoon about a robot boy with rocket feet and a jet-age, futuristic hairstyle? First written in the 50's by Osamu Tezuka, Astro Boy was a story about human nature and the possibilities of technology. In a world threatened by evil run amok, Astro Boy was a mechanized force for justice, kindness and innocence. And this story was so widely embraced by Japan that Astro Boy's "birthday" is being commemorated all month with parties, sales, stamps, toys, television specials about comics, robotics and technology, and of course, a new Astro Boy cartoon.

The only comparisons I could think of from America were August 4, 1997, the day that Skynet (the computer that would create Arnold Schwartzenneger's "Terminator") was supposed to come on-line, and January 12, 1992, the day that HAL 9000 (of Clarke and Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey") was supposed to have been activated.

While I'm not sad to have missed the devastation of mankind by a berserk computer, I do have to ask a few questions:

Why does Japan still seem to believe that technology can be used to save humanity, while America seems to be ready to (ideologically) abandon the future for the pastoral embrace of the "The Lord of The Rings?" There's no end of stories here about people using their wits and their machines to fight for justice. But from Tolkien to "Minority Report," heroes seem to have to abandon his tech and rely on his wits, muscles or innate humanity to fight the systems of machines, cruelty and evil.

Do you believe in technology's potential to improve human life? Do you believe in technology at all? I mean, in the way some people believe in horoscopes, UFOs or god? Do you have faith that it works?

And this is 2003, where the hell are all the flying cars, space age fashions and wise-cracking robots? I feel severely let down that the best we can do is that stupid Aibo robot dog.

Dammit, where's all the Fem-Bots?

Anyway, happy birthday, Astro Boy.

Do you know what's happening in Iraq right now? I'm sure you can watch CNN, Fox News, or some other channel and get the latest reports on troop locations, the difficulties of securing enough MREs for the refugees or the Pentagon PR updates. But were you aware that NBC shitcanned a reporter for voicing his personal opinions on the progress of the war? Think about that. A person whose job is to observe events and summarize them was fired for observing and summarizing in a way that didn't glorify America.

Peter Arnett, a New Zealand-born reporter with experience in Vietnam, where he won a Pulitzer, as well as the earlier Gulf War, has been observing the events in Iraq for NBC. He was asked his opinion of the status of an offensive by reporters from Iraqi TV. Arnette's view was that the first offensive was not completely successful in removing Hussein from power due to Iraqi resistance, and that the offensive strategists were "trying to write another plan."

His opinion ran contrary to the claims of the Pentagon and he was subsequently fired for "granting an interview to state-controlled Iraqi television,especially at a time of war" and because "it was wrong for him to discuss personal observations and opinions in that interview." An individual voiced an opinion counter to the official line, and was fired. He said something that the US government didn't want anyone to think about, that they might not be all powerful, and he was removed from the capacity in which he reached people.

Could Arnett have been totally incorrect in his estimation of the situation? Yes. Is it possible that the US government is counting on solidarity from the news media to reinforce the idea that they are an overwhelming force that cannot possibly be stopped? Of course. In terms of numbers, resources, and technology, that is probably true. Is it possible that Arnette's non-Arab face saying America wasn't all-powerful could have served to encourage Iraqi troops? Sure. Is it reasonable for a reporter to be silenced for telling what he thought was the truth? Is it?

Has it sunk in yet? You're not getting the whole story. You don't get to see everything. You don't get to see any more than they want you to know. None of us do.

It's paranoia if you think there are powers aligned against you. But what do you call it when those powers are aligned against everyone who isn't one of them?

It's been a while since I could post

You know how life is: You work late so you miss a train, which means you can't go shopping, you have to walk all over the place to find an all night noodle shop so you can eat eat dinner, and you're so tired that almost trip over the girl trying to lure customers into the Yakuza-owned massage parlor and get a good threatening stare from a five-foot-five guy wearing a $2000 suit and a $40 color and perm job. Same old story, I guess.

Anyway, that yellow template sucked, so I'm gonna pretend that it never happened.

And as far as the Iraq thing goes, that's a whole 'nother rant. Keep your heads down, it's not going to end cleanly or quietly.

I had a student the other day, she was a Japanese woman about 28 years old. She was feminine in the way Japanese women seem to be expected to be: she was petite, quiet, a little shy, and all of her habits, mannerisms and actions were executed with the maximum possible cuteness. Even her voice was wispy, delicate, and so high pitched that I thought it was she was joking at first.

Because my primary job there is to make small talk, we chatted about her job, her family, and her pet. And each time there was something moderately amusing, she responded with a set routine of giggling, daintily covering part of her mouth with two fingers, and returning to her initial pose. Everything about her seemed soaked in cuteness and about two inches deep. But then something interesting happened.

I found out that her hobby is ballet. Not only watching ballet, or reading about ballet, but actually practicing ballet. Like, for the last six years. She studies dance routines, breaks down the mechanics of different dancers' moves, and does weight training to strengthen her leg muscles. She could probably leg press as much I can. Her favorite part of ballet is the jumping. She actually studied how NBA players strengthen their legs and adapted some of those techniques to her workout. And this is only her hobby. She started about fifteen years too late to even think about being a professional.

When she was talking about dance, her body language began to change. She stopped tucking her elbows into her lap and keeping her hands on her knees, she began looking directly forward instead of tipping her chin down and looking up. Even the giggling became less frequent; she actually laughed about things. Even though her voice was still more easily heard by dogs, she spoke with more assertive forms and fewer qualifiers and modifying phrases. And she mentioned casually, but with all seriousness, that she would like to have been born a man because they get the bigger, more dramatic leaps. But there was no real regret in her voice, just an idea about how she could have enjoyed ballet more.


Sometimes humanity leaks out of places where you don't expect it.

At the moment, the economy here is not strong. Businesses continue to struggle to hold even, exports are down, individual investment in the stock market is somewhere south of 5%, unemployment is rising and the banks are drowning in a sea of bad loans that they are not being forced to eliminate. In fact, they continue to be allowed to make them. Wages are down, confidence is non-existent, and prices are rising. There is a surplus of factory space as manufacturing jobs move east to China, Taiwan and Southeast Asia. And there is a surplus of office space as companies are continuing to cut back on hiring and increase layoffs.

Yet for some reason, Tokyo is in the midst of a construction boom. There has been a surge in the construction of new high rise office and apartment tower complexes. Real estate companies can not fill existing office space, yet newer and more luxurious and expensive properties are continuing to be completed on what seems to be a daily basis.

How the hell is this possible? What could compel a bank officer to make a loan to a man who seemingly could not raise the funds to repay?. Everyone who has an opinion on this seems to agree that banks need to stop making bad loans, eliminate their unrecoverable investments, and start down a road of Spartan reforms if they ever hope to recover their stability and strength. But all these new projects feel like they were approved in a time warp to 1987.

This goes beyond the organizational culture of glacial resistance to change, and it seems too big and too widespread to be a pork barrel blessing to the construction industry. It's like some sick addiction to physical reconstruction. Barring designated historical landmarks, temples, and parks, I have never seen a area of Japan that was not within a three year window for construction. Any neighborhood, district, zone or region is either scheduled for, in the midst of, or proud to have finished building something within three years. Is the physical reconstruction of the 1950's and 60's so heavily stamped on the national psyche? Is the perceived connection between rebuilding and impending prosperity that strong?

Why the hell are they doing this?

Geez. Over two weeks since the last entry. I'd like to say it was because I had such a great Valentine's day that it took this long to recover from, but I'm not quite ready to start lying to you. Short update: Day job is still the same (See previous entry). I'll start moonlighting this week (for new job details, see previous entry). And with any luck, once I start getting paid regularly, I'll be able to get back to what I really enjoy doing (that is: eating five times a day and drinking too much beer on satuday night)

Next time, a decent entry and a new name.

You know something funny?

That was a rhetorical question. I'm sure you do, in fact, know something funny. That was a conversational gambit intended to allow me to tell you something I think is funny.

In the states, I used to have a great deal of trouble making small talk. That harmless, meaningless, pointless low level banter you're supposed to do with people you've just met was something I could not figure out how to do. If there was no point in the conversation, why should I bother?

Thanks to my last two jobs, I found a reason to make small talk.

Money, honey.

I get paid to make small talk with people who just want to practice speaking English. And as stupid as that sounds, someone else is getting paid even more for finding a way to schlep people like me over here to let other people talk to them. Making small talk for eight hours a day is what puts money in my pocket and beer in my belly.

Life is funny.

No Job, No Apartment.
Day 11

Tokyo or Bust. By Bus. Again.

Sunday, February 2 was my last day with no job. The week before I went to Tokyo (by night bus) again to sign a contract for a job with a clever young English Conversation School of the Ekimae variety.

Once again I'll be rejoining the ranks of the working. Just two weeks shy of my first chance to collect unemployment, dammit. Not that I really wanted to go on the welfare/dole just yet, but then my former employer would have had to pay for it. And that would have been nice.

So I repacked all my remaining stuff, waited for the shipping company for twice as long as they said I'd have to, and said my last goodbyes to Fukui. As it was snowing, it was all very dramatic and moody. Because I don't have a hatbox, I wound up having to wear my fedora, which made it even more cinematic-looking.

All things considered, it was a pretty decent finish to my time in Fukui. I had a couple of goodbye parties. I ate good food to the end. I was sorry, and not desperate and angry, to go. And there were actually a couple of females who were sort of sad to see me leave.

Yep, this was much better than the way I left LA.

Then I came down with a virus or something on the night bus, and spent the night sneezing, nauseous, feverish and unable to sleep. Which was convenient, since the bus arrived in Tokyo at 6:00 AM, and I had to get into my suit to start training at 9:00. And I know I wouldn't want to be groggy from sleeping too much on my first day on the job.

So I'm living in the suburbs of Tokyo now. Which means this page needs a new name. My heart may have stayed in Fukui, but I'm gonna be fouling things up somewhere else for a while.

Any suggestions?

No Job, No Apartment.
Day 6:

-OR-

"Gee, I wish I had been wearing pants."

Yesterday I went to Tokyo for a job interview and to look at apartments. The interview went tolerably well. I think I have a fifty-fifty shot at getting a real job in a real school, not at just another conversation mill like the one I just left. Only downside is that the job, if I get it, would start in April. So that's something to put on the back burner.

You know, once I get a stove. And a kitchen. Which brings us to apartment hunting.

Thanks to some really bad phone directions, I spent most of the afternoon hiking all over the neighborhood of Ogikubo. Carrying a 40 pound pack. (One suit, a pair of shoes, all my interview and apartment hunting notebooks and the greatest winter coat ever.) After meeting the realtor and looking at some really underwhelming rooms (a 7' by 10' box with one window and a shared bathroom. The room was upstairs. The bathroom was downstairs. And to get to it you had to go through the kitchen.) I met my cousin for dinner and prepared to take the night bus back to Fukui.

But I was feeling funky.

And not the good James-Brown-George-Clinton-get-on-the-good-foot kind of funky. The been-nervous-and-carrying-heavy-bags-and-haven't-had-a-shower-yet kind of funky. And the prospect of getting on the bus and trying to sleep in a too-small space in a cloud of my own BO was not a pleasant one.

So I went to a public spa.

Maybe you're not familiar with the Japanese bath, and the rituals that surrounds it. You don't just bathe to soak off the crud that's built up around your unmentionable bits, you bathe to soothe your soul and cleanse your spirit. But it's definitely not a private-time-with-aroma-candles-and-Dave-Matthews affair. These are public baths. You and all your naked neighbors. Scrubbing and soaking themselves and talking to each other.

Buck naked.

Unless, of course, you are a gaijin.

Then it's just you and all your naked neighbors. Who are scrubbing and soaking themselves and talking to each other and pretending not to see you.

Buck naked.

Yeah, all right. So it's like the first day of PE class. But instead of your classmates, it's a bunch of middle-aged Japanese men, some of whom may never have seen a real, live gaijin in person. Much less in the nude.

But I figured it wouldn't be a big deal if I just took off my glasses, handled my business and left. If I can't see them, it's no problem, right?

So I got a locker, stripped down, got my towel, and headed off to clean up.

The bathing room was generally unremarkable . There were two big tubs in the room for soaking in, a door leading to the sauna, and a series of little washing stations around the wall for you to scrub yourself clean at before you get in the big tub. All pretty normal except for two things:

The two fully dressed young women working at the massage tables on the far side of the room.

My first thought was that I had paid to go to a massage parlor. But the no-nonsense uniforms and decidedly non-erotic nature of the massages led me to believe that it wasn't anything more than a sauna that happened to offer massages.

In the same room as the baths.

By women.

Where I had just walked in wearing a tea towel, my glasses and not even a smile.


They say the best way to deal with odd or uncomfortable situations is to try and act like the natives. You know, "When in Rome..." Since no one else seemed to care about walking around naked in front of those girls, I figured I shouldn't either. So I walked to the washing station that was farthest from the next dude, took off my glasses, and got cleaned up.

I lathered, rinsed, repeated, and was generally feeling pretty good about my situation when I put my glasses back on. Not only were the middle aged men staring at me, but the girls who had previously been so businesslike were staring too.

You ever want an awkward moment, take off all your clothes and then make eye contact with a fully clothed total stranger of the opposite sex, who had been, until she noticed you, completely engaged in the act of vigorously pummeling the back of some other naked stranger. Who is also staring at you. Along with everyone else in the room.

I'm proud to say I was able to meet their stares, then turn around and walk out. But at no point in my life did I expect to have to stare down a room full of naked people. Much less without the benefit of pants myself.

I've said this before, and I'll no doubt say it again, but my life has really become vastly different in the last year.