My Weekend Break

Ah, yes. So it seems in Hampi one can find Indians who stare. Even though I was travelling with a tall, pretty, blonde, Russian lady - my friend, Miss Piggy - damn near all stares were directed at yours truly. 

Piggy

Now, I already anticipated the possibility that the stares were because people couldn't understand why a tall, pretty, blonde would possibly keep company with the likes of me. So I compared the frequency and kinds of stares I got exploring the Hampi ruins alone with those I got exploring the ruins with Miss Piggy. About the same. Absolutely fascinating.

Less maddening than the daggers directed my way by the well-to-do black women in the People's Republic of Cambridge (Mass.) when I'm with a non-black female acquaintance; but also less amusing than being regarded with envious eyes by ex-pats when I go out with Lunch-Meet.

I was also surprised by the ways I observed some Indian tourists treating the ruins. I saw people pulling at statues, and/or climbing on them, littering, and even relieving themselves. As if the attitude was that personal enjoyment is of paramount importance; that it mattered not what was left for other people to enjoy as long as they got theirs.

Just Because

Not usually a Country and Western man, but me likey this one.The music video doesn't do justice to the song. I suspect that's because at the time young miss Rimes lacked the experience necessary to look lonesome enough. Oh well. No matter.

Suitor #12

Her exasperated tone was quite a contrast to the smile she had on her face as she said: “I’m with a friend. Is that OK with you?” 

The thing about Shasti is that she attracts rather a lot of male attention. I swear, some dudes are straight falling on their knees with rings if she so much as flings a kind word in their general direction. 

So we’re chilling one weekend and she gets a phone call, seems some model from Kashmir is blowing up her phone on a regular basis. Shortly after finishing her call with him, and peeps I kid you not, dude’s brother calls to try and get a date. Shasti switches off her phone, turns to me with a sigh and á me dit: I don’t understand, all these men, I turn them down but they keep calling me! 

Just Because

I haven't done this in a while:

Omoide ni Dakarete by Tsubokura Yuiko. Plays during the closing titles of Bubblegum Crisis ep5, "Moonlight Rambler". Has the kind of old-school sound I like. Sway to it with empty arms, or with whomever you let slip through your fingers.

A Few Novelties

1. Being happy when the power cuts are shorter than an hour. 
2. The realisation that not catching the fragrance of raw sewage between waking up and going to bed means the day has been an extraordinary one. I've also realised I feel the same way about days spent in Shibuya. 
3. Carrying over 20kg of drinking water about 150 meters from the market to my apartment every two weeks or so. 
4. Handwashing again after a more than a decade. It's like riding a bike, you never forget.
5. Trying to come to terms with the fact that cocktails in Bangalore are roughly the same cost as cocktails in Boston. 
6. Cravings for the flesh of animals – Right now I want a beef steak with chimichurri, Wagyu, char siu pork, the fragrant beef belly ramen from the Chinese restaurant I frequented when I worked in Shiba, the pork belly ramen from the restaurant I frequented when I worked in Saitama, the amazing kara-age from a great bar in Hannou city, pig knuckles from a restaurant I visited in Hong Kong, my red-cooked pork belly with cabbage, mum’s pepe (pepper) soup...
7. Getting into Indian politics: Tea Partiers, if you want to see what an actual Socialist looks like, get thee to West Bengal. Or, y’know, there’s always that guy Bernie Sanders.

A Bleeding Heart May Result in Exsanguination

It's funny, some of the poverty I've see here has been gut wrenching - I thought I'd seen it all in Lagos, but narhp! However unlike my previous experiences giving what little I can spare to people I've seen in other cities, here in Bangalore I feel like a mark Every. Single. Time I even consider reaching into my wallet.

Perhaps it's the indifference with which I observe my local counterparts treat the poor. Beggars here get ignored worse than the people who hand out flyers and tissues in Tokyo. Slum dwellers it seems are like an annoying distraction; we love their cheap labour, but do they have to bring down the area with their presence?

Perhaps it's because the behaviour of most of the beggars I have encountered here has set off my bullshit detector in some way. People have motioned their hands to their mouths, but given me the side-eye if I actually buy them food. In another instance, a lady attempted to browbeat me into buying her two kilos of rice when I asked the shopkeeper for one.

Still I feel guilty every time I say "sorry, no", feel some kind of way every time a friend or colleague ignores someone, and cringe every time a beggar is shooed away. I think it's because I'm more concerned about the possibility that someone in real need is not being ministered to than the possibility that someone might receive aid they don't deserve. 

(Yet another reason why I'm a Dirty Fucking Hippy).

Good Eatin'

Real talk. I've tended to find Western vegan and vegetarian cuisine a little too easy on the palette (i.e bland). But I gotta tell thee, India's been good to me so far on the vegetarian front, and I'm finding it really easy to not require meat flavours in my meals. This isn't to say that I've gone vegetarian, just that things as they are have facilitated a significant reduction in my consumption of flesh.

I Am Nothing

Goodness me. I had particularly bad episode last night. As I tried to sleep this almost overwhelming sense of hurt and anger engulfed me, in response to what I perceive as the injustices and ill luck that are in large part the cause of hole in my heart.

I'm continuing to lose sleep over someone whose actions impact me in such a way as to make me wonder at times whether they even consider me a human being, and make me feel as though I'm being punished for having the temerity to be born into a certain socio-economic class.

I have to laugh at the absurdity of my emotional state.

Seitei Souther for the win!

The Streets

The perfume of incense, fragrant oils, herbs and spices. The air thick with half-burnt hydrocarbons, smouldering wood, cooking oil and hot tyres. Sometimes mixed with the sweet stench of rotting fruit and vegetables, and the musky putrefaction of cooked rice. Occasionally the dark odour of sewage. Evokes memories of Lagos.

The pavements, in the less nice places, a monjayaki of refuse from building sites, dumped rubbish, the shit of stray dogs, goats, sheep and cows. In other places, suddenly people/the powers that be know how to collect refuse and clean – memories of London, New York, Atlanta and Philadelphia. “Oh, this is high-life area, madam.”

Japan On My Mind

I was cleaning my room today in preparation for my departure to India and came across some old essays I'd written when I had passable Japanese, as well as postcards and photos from Japanese friends. The Sun newspaper used the headline "APOCALYPSE" to describe the aftermath of the earthquake and tsunami that hit Japan on the 11th. I resented the use of the word. It felt like someone was denigrating family. Yes, there is destruction on a massive scale, whole communities have disappeared, and the authorities are battling a meltdown at a nuclear power plant, but haven't the Japanese faced worse and pulled through? Why hint at the end of the world?

I think one of my crewmates was based in Sendai, one of the areas worst affected by the tsunami. I was looking at a picture of us together today. I haven't been able to get in contact with him. Last Friday I logged into Mixi, Japan's biggest social networking site, for the first time in about 9 months. I only have 4 connections, a fellow Brit who was working in Kansai through the JET programme, and three members of my old breaking crew. "Sure, I'll join Mixi. I want to keep connected." The words seem bereft of substance now after being out of contact for such a long time. I could write about how I dislike using Mixi, how in my depression since moving back to Londinium I've been loath to contact people, but it would do little to mitigate my feelings of guilt.

言ったはずだ。

Eamon Fingleton discusses "The myth of Japan's 'lost decades'" over at The Atlantic. Interesting piece - think the South Park episode where the Japanese claim they have small penises to deflect attention from their plans of world domination. I was talking about it with a friend and we didn't think it quite passed the smell test. Our conversation is after the jump.

"The Filth"

About two weeks ago, my cat Kenzo died. I'm not as crazy about pets as some of my fellow Brits, but I feel no shame in saying that I loved him, and he will be missed.

I can say with all honesty that from the moment Kenzo was born I knew he'd be my favourite. I called him by many names, including: Vincenzo, Kenneth Chen, Chen Jialuo, Kenzo-Ocean, Zocean, The Dogma, The O, and The Filth.

He and his brother ruled our old neighbourhood with an iron paw. The squirrels no longer stole bird-food, and feline intruders were shook like when the Dwarrowdelf of Moria started beef with the Flame of Udûn. That is how I shall remember him.

Just Because

A great anime series that kept me sane in those lonely days before grad school.

Discussions in Black History Month: Cornell West on the Late Late Show

Via

Clearly A Mossad Plot

... I found the clip below about two separate recordings of a UFO above the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem mildly interesting. 

Probably not Elohim, folks. If it were, I'd definitely be left wondering why it doesn't have better things to do than faff around over a temple. 

I give it three days before my brother-in-law comes in with a grin that says: explain this one away, insipiens!

退かぬ 媚びぬ 省みぬ

I found this article rather endearing, as I'm the sort of person who rolls their eyes at the ridiculous melodrama in scenes like the ones below, but still enjoys watching them. It reminded me of my man Loco's little series on what Japanese teens are thinking about.

The Trouble With Lagos

I haven't been to Nigeria in a very long time, but one thing that sticks in my memories of Lagos is the sheer awfulness of traffic. Which I suspect got worse in the decade or so since I was last there...

Assorted community members: Eh heeeh, so you can go to this Jah Pan and America, but you cannot take time to go to your country! What do you mean you are a British? You do not belong there!

Putain d'enculer chikusho! Ok, got that out of my system. Moving on.

Caught this story in the Guardian about a plans for new railway service, which could potentially save untold amounts of time, hassle, and money. A city with the population of Lagos current 10 million or so -and rapidly growing- needs a good, efficient mass transit system. A positive development, though I think it's too early to say whether it will have the desired impact.

The Night Terrors

I've been holding off writing this for a while, for the strange reason that I didn't want to look like an idiot. Which I realised was a completely idiotic position given some of the fumduckery I've splashed around on this very blog. In for a penny, in for a pound.

For My First Post of The New Year...

Some breakbeats by DJ RX78. I'm really feeling the Mechagodzilla breakbeat, and lawd ha' mercy! the G-Gundam mix is hot! (ETA: the stabbing horns the DJ puts together are hot, the tune as a whole got a little repetitive) Got me going through Youtube for the original tune. The horn that comes in at around 00:49 reminds me of The Fist of the North Star soundtrack, with all its bromance and melodrama.

I don't even really remember how I stumbled onto DJ RX78's music. I was probably doing something inappropriate...

Oh, My Goodness...

Young City Extraordinaire takes me back.

Fujimama's Boys' Brunches. Abso-fucking-lutely! Good food, beautiful people, great conversation. How I miss those weekend brunches after a night out in good old Tokes. Plum liqueur - made with honey and brown sugar- on the rocks. Pork and rice with chopped okra and kimchi. Yukke at the Korean restaurant in Shin Okubo. Braised taro at the Chinese restaurant in Shiba. Unice, with the great food but awful service. Baobab, great food, greater cocktails, and the one and only Ikuta; keep playing that funk, man.

It was a good time. Will such a thing be mine to experience again, I wonder.