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Prove Yourself Worthy
To my Air France stewardess friend, who is coming over tomorrow: Nothing says friend like a bottle of Chateau Margaux. May I suggest the 1961? But why am I telling you this? I’ll stick to what I, as an American, know best. Crackers and cheese whiz are totally on me.
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Kuroneko
Kuroneko Yamato no Takkyubin – The OG Japanese delivery service
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I, Enki
Dude. This is my greatest accomplishment in years. I inadvertently stumbled onto two Neal Stephenson short stories YOU NEVER EVEN KNEW EXISTED. Spew is on the WIRED site, but I guess I just never found it until now. I am posting the entirety of the Great Simoleon Caper in the extended entry of this post for posterity, because I can’t find it on a server I trust to keep it up forever.
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Nitsuj Adihsoy
Well, that’s the first time I’ve spelled my name backwards for a long, long time. The last time was in 5th or 6th grade when my best friend Ben Stebbing insisted we call each other by our own names backwards. He moved to England the next year and the last time I Googled him I determined he was either dead or in a Liverpool mental hospital. (Ben, if you are alive and have access to the net, speak up my friend.) What spurred this memory today? It ties into the best news I’ve heard all week: In my past life I was known as J.U.S.T.I.N., the Jaded and Unbelievably Socratic…
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Where’s me brolly?
Well, it looks like Typhoon #2 (Japanese don’t follow the western convention for typhoon naming – on one hand, I suppose it’s kinda nice not having to admit that your cities got “battered by Alice” or “ravaged by Gertrude”) – is coming straight for my island tonight. Last time a typhoon came by I had to drive over the bridge between here and Kobe, and it was like the movie Twister in that I just had to crack my window to see just how strong the wind was blowing. In an instant, every loose toll receipt, shopping bag, hamburger wrapper, etc., whipped out the window as if we were at…
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Maguro no Magure
To me, this picture is more ironic than funny, but let’s try you first: This is a reheatable foil pouch containing a single seving of Tuna Curry. There. Get it? I’m a loser who spends time taking pictures of every strange package in the supermarket on weekends instead of being productive. Funny, right? Yeah, go fuck a duck, pal. (Inside my head, the taunting voice recedes.) Well actually, this photo is a memento of sorts. You see, Nam and I are trying to eat more fish, which I am morally against since I am a strict vegetarian when it comes to most fish… Well, it’s not that bad. We eat…
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The Italian Job
The Italian joint inside the hotel had an all-you-can-eat deal for 1600 yen. On the expensive side for lunch, but there was a good looking spread as viewed from the cash register where we Please Waited for a Hostess to Seat Us. Now, I should have been dismayed at the fact that the first three entrees in the buffet line were markedly un-Italian (chow mein, fried rice, egg rolls), but I have been in Japan too long for shit like that to faze me. I piled up heaps of “Me Chinese” food next to pasta, salads, and sea bass cause I had built up an appetite making fun of posters…
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Sidestepper
Taken at BUTTU BAR, Osaka, in hallway to restrooms. Damn, do I have a toilet fixation or what?
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Guavas
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Rows of Tamanegi
