This article at Slate caught my eye today: One Giant Lift for Mankind: The race for the 1,000-pound bench press. When I trained for football and wrestling in high school, I was happy to be able to bench 200. But ten times that? Half a ton? Even with the super redneck denim shirts or whatever, I fear these guys will only learn their limits when something gives out with a sickening snap. I know what too much weight on the bar feels like. It feels like your elbows might pop out. If you’re positioned poorly on the bench, you know it right away. Sometimes, the veins stand out on your…

6. Life is flowing like water through my fingers. Time running out… Must adopt harried writing style. Also sentence fragments. And abrvi8… No wait that’s 13375p34K. So immature. Maybe I’ll just clean up my act and post only about politics. 6a. Nah, fuck that. 7. Why is it still so hard to surf true-believer political blogs and not feel slightly depressed afterward? (I bring this up because I suspect it only gets worse with age.) 7a. And why do politicians giving speeches on TV still look so much better when Hollywood does it? Can’t we get someone who sounds smarter than an actor on the fucking stage and in charge…

1. Beer is still best served ice cold (amazingly, I had anticipated this one). 2. Your older friends weren’t just joking the whole time, they really are happy you’ve joined their middle-aged ranks. 3. Guitar solos still sound better when you’re wasted. 3a. People still call it Teenage Wasteland. 4. You still hate it when the pitifully drunk basket case comes to relate their newest tragedies. 4a. “…cause no one else cares” 4b. It’s still too fucked up to reply, “Either do I” 4c. But it’s still fun to fantasize about. 5. People still come to see what you’re doing on the computer (in a bar for chrissake!) and because…

As I spend the last hours of my youth at sea, on a ferry to Osaka to be precise, I can’t help but think with much pride that I’M STILL IN MY TWENTIES!!!!!!!

Well, last night there was a duststorm which pretty much ruined my attempts at photography. Today it’s raining. This bad boy is the reason for the foul weather. My island (Awajishima) is located right under the eye of the storm shown in the last frame of the animation. I’ll attempt to take more photos tonight, but I’m afraid they won’t turn out as well as I had hoped. UPDATE: We got totally rained out. Life sucks. Lileks, stand down.

Tonight and tomorrow I will be taking photos of the Awa Dance here in Sumoto. If you are a Minnesotan named James Lileks who once wrote about the Awa Dance on your kick-ass site (The Bleat) quite fondly, or even if you aren’t, please check out the photos someday. I’ll try to make it worth your time, even if I’m not nearly worthy. Some keyword obscuria, because history repeats itself: Japanese dance hands above

On Monday, after saying farewell to Adam, Merin, Matt, and Kuniko in downtown Fukuoka, I jumped in a taxi and headed to the airport. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the cabbie was a woman. This was a first for me, so I took full advantage of it and we had a long conversation all the way to the airport. She told me that she’d been a cabbie for twelve years, and the conversation kind of blossomed from there; she was one of those old pros that have interesting stories to tell, and drive a cab because it’s their calling in life. That wasn’t the only nice thing about…

Busy three day weekend. Had to go clear out remaining stuff at my little sister’s apartment in Sakai on Saturday (the stalker incident left her shaken and we didn’t let her be there by herself after that), but there was too much to move with my car in a single trip, so I enlisted Taro and his van to help out. Friday, after work, I rode the hydrofoil to the airport and from there took a couple trains to his house in Horyuji. Inevitably, drinking ensued. Some memorable moments include picking up my new theramin at Taro’s new incense shop, snapping a shot of a girl in a pink yukata…