The Age

I guess it's just that time of the week again. Monday, that is.

I generally don't care much for them. Not only do they signify the start of the working week (at least they do for me), but they usually tend to be the days I work the longest hours. So good then, that I'd had the foresight to spend a weekend which - were I to be magically transported to the end of the 1980's - would be called "killer".

If you don't have the same passion as I do for games involving people batting at balls and then trying to run to bases, taking pictures of giant... things, and standing in line with about 80 000 Japanese people, this post might be a little hard to grasp. And I'm not joking about the 80 000, believe it or not.

It all started out on Friday, as weekends tend to do. This one, kicked off with a visit to an arena where baseball is played, and also watched, by for example me. Being there, watching, I got to see "my" team... hammer? Crush? Oh, why not just go out and say it, discombobulate the oppostition. And no, that last one doesn't mesh well with the other two, so sue me. Either way, a Grand Slam by Woods in the fourth ensured victory, which eventually would stretch to 9-1. If you can imagine a better PG13-rated start to a weekend, let me know.

This has nothing to do with baseball, although I guess you could play it on the lawn. If you watch out for the trees. Golf, maybe?

And so the World turned and Saturday came along. And it came to be that I ended up following all those 80 000 people to a place far far away. Well, I didn't follow all of them, it's not like I was last in line, or whatever. Never mind, that place? Makuhari, they call it, in the language of men and - let's be politically correct here - women. My reasons for going had less to do with the fact that it was there and more to do with the fact that they had the future on display in huge booths in even huger halls. I like the future, and got my fill of it during the day.

And thus, as Worlds do, it turned on me again. Yes, this week, too, had a Sunday, and this one was spent with my girlfriend out in Odaiba. Or maybe that should be "over in Odaiba", I don't know. Either way, The Official Kumadude List of Things You Can Do There includes - but is in no way limited to - the following:

1) Take pictures of random Gaijin trying to swipe a race-tuned Toyota Supra

2) Take pictures of random Japanese people trying to climb a giant phallus symbol.

3) Take pictures of random stars descending from across Tokyo Bay.

That's basically what you do in Odaiba. Ooh, and there was this Mexican festival going on too, meaning free tacos, fajitas, and Corona for everyone! If by free you mean "for the small sum of 500 yen".

So that's it. As the World turned yet again (damn it!) and decided it was about time for me to stop fooling around and get back to work, I was so ready to just, you know, not. Join me next week as I discuss... something or other. At great length.

The Sweet Spot

I was afraid I'd missed it. But apparently, I'm just a lucky bastard sometimes.

You see, there's this thing in Japan. They call it "weather". It's probably available where you live too, check your local department store for details. Anyway, this "weather" can be described using adjectives. Good, bad, warm, hot, hotter, hotter-than-hell-on... -on-a-day-when-it's-really-hot-ok? Of course, cold is also an option, but not so much right now. But the thing is, Japanese summer, vintage 2006, is coming to an end. As usual, I'd been looking forward to the Four Days when summer has ended and dark-and-grey autumn has yet to rear its ugly head. You know, the Four Days which come along but twice a year here, when you can go outside in a t-shirt, and not sweat to utter death, nor shiver like you got paid to do it. It's a good Four Days. I like them. A lot, actually. So imagine the horror when it started raining and generally being cold at the start of the week. Fearing I'd overslept my Four Days, I... couldn't really do a whole lot about it, but still.

But yeah, it stopped raining, and we're right in the middle of fantastically "Lagom" weather. If you think that random Swedish word destroys the whole point of this being in English, so be it. Look it up. Learn a language. Live a little, you know? Contrary to many other things my junior high teachers told me, learning can be fun. Trust me on the sunscreen, and all that.

So yeah, that's one Sweet Spot. Here's the story of another. Gotta love my segue/title-setting powers.


Next week, I will have see two of Japan's Prime Ministers in the flesh. The first one was of course Koizumi, but since he's stepping down on Wednesday, I figured I might as well go and see his successor, Abe Shinzo. You know, "collect the whole set", and that whole malarchey.

... which of course is complete and utter bullshit. I mean, I'm as politically interested as the next guy - possibly slightly more, even - but me finding out where a rally was being held for a person I can't even vote for, and then going to attend it is borderline absurd.

Rather, I was sitting in Starbucks at the good ol' scramble intersection in Shibuya, reading the latest issue of TIME (all capitals! Look, ma, I'm cultured!), which I had purchased because Abe was on the cover, and I knew nothing of him.

Having consumed my chocolate chunk cookie and orange juice, I leave, only to find myself surrounded by random people, and more random people being really loud about politics. So I ask this equally random guy if perchance Abe will be joining the show, and get the reply "Yeah, in 20 minutes". So I wait around, get to see him, hear him, and then go home. And eat pasta.

---

But enough politics. Other things have happened this week as well. They tend to do that, the damn things.

For example, I've been to see a movie. On Thursday, I think. And just by accident managed to squeeze myself on to the last train heading where I wanted to go, after said movie ended. It was quite full. I have no idea why all these people chose seven minutes past midnight as the time to go where I was going, but I wish them all the best in their future endeavours.


Yeah, it's derivative and repetitive and whatever, but I like taking pictures of lots of people in trains. Is that so wrong?

Also, I've seen a really cheap-ass building. I really thought Japan was better than this, I really did. But apparently shoddy construction has spread all the way to these shores. Since land is still ridiculously expensive, you wanna make the most of it, yeah? Build high. But then there's the risk of earthquakes, so you can't build too high, or it'll cost another ton of money to make it "earthquake proof". Solution? Build the top half of the building like a Potemkin facade (so what if I like Wikipedia! Sue me!) facing the all-important railway, just so people passing by will believe how rich you are/were. And yeah, it says Microsoft right there on top, too.


Tune in next week as... something happens. It always does, you know.

The New Grey

Like they used to say - or hum, rather - in the 80's: Everybody's working for the weekend.

The last Friday I've had the unmitigated pleasure of living through was a pretty good one. Mainly in a mind-numbingly boring, work-related way. Well, partly because it was payday, and partly because I got word that I'd passed the first interview for a job I think I might not suck at. Not that I really know what said job entails, really-really, but the deal is fair, the people seem nice, and it would enable me to sustain some sort of Tokyo (or, God forbid, Kobe!) lifestyle for an appropriate time. So here's hoping they don't stop liking me before the end of the second interview.

I'm sure there was a lot of other stuff going on as well, but I'll just not mention any of it. Why? Because just as surely as sunshine follows rain (or is that the opposite? I can never remember that), Saturday follows Friday.

Saturday, the word, actually originates from the latin Saturdae, for "sit your lazy ass down and watch a movie or something". Which of course means that I spend part of my Saturday "helping" - yes, those quotation marks are there for a reason - Micke move from a snazzy part of Tokyo to another snazzy part of Tokyo, across a great big road, and some smaller ones. It took quite the driving feat - signed Mr Tiki - to navigate through that warren of streets, but it was, as they say, all good. The following is a picture of a place which is not-there.


Yes, tall buildings and people crossing roads in front of them still impress me.

After lunch, we left Micke to sort through all of the belongings I hadn't managed to completely destroy (yet!), and headed back north to return the rented Suzuki Swift (which, in accordance with the laws of advertising, is anything but). Of course, this being Tokyo on a Saturday afternoon, things didn't really go according to plan. What resulted, however, was a fine drive through a fine city. We also got to see the great-big-gigant LOVE-sculpture-thing outside the office building where my girlfriend works on the 23rd floor. Hell, we were so taken with that sculpture that we got to see it twice, just to make sure, or something.


But yeah, it was a fine drive. However, it was about to be topped by a musical performance on Sunday. Sure, some people would place those two in different categories, but not I.

For you see, that evening, in a tiny club in Otsuka, just a stop or so away from that haven of... something which man calls Ikebukuro, a band called LAB4 (yes, the letters have meaning) were about to take the stage for the first time ever. In a complete contrast to last weekend's Riot, this was... nice. Last week was "nice" too, but in a drastically differnt sense of the word. This was nice in a more grown-up and sensual sort of way, if you'll allow it. The performance surpassed all expectations, the talkie-bits in between contained actual entertainment value, and no, I'm certainly not biased since I know one of the people in the band. Feel free to guess who. Wow, 25 years on this Earth and I've finally made it. I am now a groupie.

Also, in stark contrast to the Greatest Riot, this did not make my ears ring for six straight days, for which I am very thankful.

And you just have to love the sign which welcomes everybody back.

That's all, folks! Tune in next week to see if I get sued by Warner Bros for using their catch-phrase, and also... other things.

The Greatest Riot

And no, that's not just a title trying to be clever. Nonetheless, my ears are still ringing.

Did you ever feel like you were in the Truman Show? By this, I don't mean to ask if you've ever thought you were Jim Carrey, or indeed if you've thought of driving to an unfinished bridge and hitting tiny white balls with great big club-things. Never mind. Waking up this morning, I was entirely positive I was in the middle of an earthquake. Not The Big One, mind, but still. Do not take this lightly, I've been awoken by earthquakes before, and while I can't really think of anything that can get you out of bed and ready for a brand new day as quickly as an earthquake, it's not really something I'd recommend.

But yeah, it turns out that there was no earthquake. Or at least nobody's willing to admit that they felt it too. Not even the ever-lovin' INTERNET seems willing to admit that there's been one. It's a cover-up of near-epic proportions. Well, there's always the slight (slight, I tell you!) chance that I dreamt the whole thing up, on the back of the actual magnitude four quake we had about a week ago. Whatever.

So I'm pretty much planning to blame the lateness of this post on earthquakes, but in reality, it's more the fault of... something. Over the weekend, I undertook a drive (by which I mean "riding shotgun and messing with the satnav so we almost got lost") to Nagoya, a place where I used to live for most of last year. It's kinda strange going back to a place you used to live, as a tourist. But I'll leave that for now.

The reason for the trip was not to see Nagoya again, but rather Toyota. The city. Yes, they renamed it after, well, I think you can see where I'm going with this. What's in Toyota, aside from Priuses? A stadium. And what can you do if you have a spare stadium? You can gather some of the GREATEST BANDS OF ALL TIME, and make an event of it. And call it The Greatest Riot.

And it really was. Well, the riot part was carried out in traditional Japanese fashion. Upon arrival at the scene, Yasu and I were greeted with a 50-minute line. For merchandise. T-shirts, towels, that sort of thing.


Goodness, gracious me. The actual concerting took place from 12:30 p.m. (no, that's not a typo, the Japanese like to get an early start to their riots) to 8:30 p.m., when the last of the eight bands left the stage. They left after another traditionally Japanese riot... thing. See, people were starting to get a little rowdy in the front (we had tickets for section A5, which will put you close enough to the right-hand speakers to make your ears ring for, and I speak of experience here, four days. And counting), so the organizer goes up on stage and... Apologises for the bad planning which has led to this, asks us all to take care, and promises to plan better next year. In Sweden, they would have told us to possibly "Back. The fuck. Off". As a former classmate and current Nagoyan would say: Only in Japan, kids.

Before that however, the following band performed gorgeous music. Triple point score to anybody who can name the band (not to mention any of the actual band members). Three words, strung together just so, starting with "Yum", and followed with another "Yum". See how close that stage is? Consider the fact that my camera has the zoom qualities of tuna fish, and you realise... something.


But yeah, the concerts ROCKED, one might say, if one were so inclined. Incidentally, I cannot imagine a warmer place on God's Green Earth than bumping (welcome back to the 1950's!) around at the very front of an open arena while the Japanese sun (which kinda refuses to acknowledge that it's actually supposed to be autumn by now) tries - and succeeds! - to bake you. Over the course of the first two concerts, I consumed 1.5 liters of water. As if that were anywhere near sufficient.

After it all ended, I used my supreme train-navigation-skillz to get me back to Tokyo on the very last Shinkansen available that night. Ok, so maybe pay ten gazillion dollars for a one-way Shinkansen-trip isn't very punk rock, but you know, too much of a good thing and all that.


And no, the above has nothing to do with... well, anything, really. At least not anything mentioned here today. I intend to keep it that way. Tune in next week as our young hero will see if his ears will ever fully recover!