Asking why Crown Princess Masako had a nervous breakdown is like asking why they kept Emperor Showa on life support for so goddamn long. Subjugated people in general, but especially the Japanese, demand their leaders show a little frailty. Otherwise they’d never be on fucking TV.
Ah, fun with anagrams! Dick soiree (a phonetic interpretation) makes just about as much sense as Terios Kid spelled forwards.
Japanese method of counting in units of five.
Sadly, the papayas did not make it.
Unsurprisingly, a lot of the photos I took in Thailand were of food. This was a spicy salad with sliced onions, cashews, peanuts, fried chilis, green mango, tamarind, fresh lemongrass, mint leaves and other assorted greens, topped with deep fried catfish. The roadside diner it was served at offered a spectacular view of the Chao Phraya river, and the broken platter only added to the authenticity of the food. It was so well done, the flavors of the salad would come in separate waves of sweet, sour, and spicy.
I don’t know about you, but I’m salivating, and it’s times like this when miso soup and a bowl of rice seem really, really boring.
I have decided that buddha photos are my amulet to protect against the CB haters. Took this one in Thailand last year.
I have two brick planters out in front of my house (approx. 1 ft. x 5 feet total planting space) where the future of Yoshida Papayas, Ltd., lies. Last summer, on a whim, Nam threw some papaya pits on the soil we’ve seen trying to enrich for the past few years (it was rock-hard dirt when we moved in), and much to my surprise, sprouts appeared after a couple weeks. By fall, they had grown into 3 foot saplings and sprouted very healthy and broad tropical leaves. I became quite fond of them because they looked so out of place in my old neighborhood; vibrant green in a sea of brown and aging wooden houses. I began referring to them as my “papaya forest,” and cleared away all the other plants we had out there.
When the first frost came with winter, they perished in a very ugly fashion – eveything turned black and mushy, and I didn’t even have to clear their corpses as they melted into the earth. I was sad. However, I have had similar experiences with jasmine and other warm-loving, beautiful, wimpy plants in the past, so I knew it was just a matter of trying again this year.
Since we already have learned to transfer the jasmine into pots and bring them in for the winter, I figure it should work just as well for the papaya trees, although they are a bit deeper rooted.
I asked my brother to transfer the papayas today, but I’m secretly hoping he forgets. I miss the feeling of dirt under my fingernails and the moist earth drying on my palms.
Just out of curiousity, how much of the 1000MB have you used?
(thanks to Osaka bill and Tom for my accounts; if there is possibly anybody left in the free world who still needs an invite, let me know)
Somebody on a mailing list I subscribe to just sent me an e-mail asking if I feel bad “for using the Buddah’s (sic) name in vain” on my website.
I am at a loss for words, loser. Therefore:
Getting angry over heated mailing list postings is understandable to a certain extent, but grow the fuck up already, you little crybaby bitch. Or go weep into your pillow instead of biting it for a change.