The Wait

It has been brought to my attention that a great deal of my posts start with the word "so".

In order to justify the fact that this post is tagged with "toilet cleaner, F1, exhibitionisms", I shall proceed to proclaim the following: I went to baseball. On a Wednesday.

For you see, it is not every day that the World Champion Boston Red Sox - and yes, that little bit of extra arrogance still bothers me, despite it probably being true - face off with the Oakland Athletics (which, by the way, is the far superior name for a baseball franchise). Ok, maybe it actually is every day, I don't know. But apparently the A's are moving to some place called Fremont, prompting affluent white young Bay Area Volvo-owning Americans to protest.

But that's not the point. Either. The point is that it was all on in Tokyo dome, filled with 55296 random people, and three guys I know from work. Upon arrival, half an hour before the opening toss, you'd be forgiven for thinking you'd walked in on NHK filming a special... I don't know, I honestly have no idea why you'd fill the entire infield with people doing their very best to convince the world they live and die by Bushido.

In the words of the entire internet, formal attire ftw wtf!

But all was not lost, or won, for that matter. There was still the little matter of watching the game. You'd think paying a quintuple digit amount of any actually existing currency for a seat would pretty much guarantee interest enough to pay attention, but no. It just guarantees that you have enough cash to buy the ticket so that you can proceed to watch the game. On your phone.

Sorry 'bout the flash there, buddy

I can understand how when - watch me name-drop corners from the Suzuka Circuit - sitting in the Spoon curve you might want to keep appraised of lap times and leader boards by, say, bringing along a tv and a frikkin' satellite dish. But at a baseball game? Where the action's always right in front of you and the scoreboard is right there? You might think it was for the color commentary, but the guy's not even bothered to produce his ridiculously tiny headphones. And no, that screen is so small that it sure ain't to watch the close-ups.

Sanctioned usage of television at sporting event

Now, though, there is but one thing left to do. And that is to say I went to Ikebukuro prior to the game. Once upon a time, I was there quite often, having to do with me living a mere hour and seventeen minute bike-ride away. Lately, though, living not-there has changed my Ikebukuro habits to the extent that I only ever go there to catch the night bus. Which, lemme tell ya, ain't that often, see? But this time, it was not for the bus. Nor for the sushi. Although that was good too. Hell, it wasn't even for the Bic Camera, despite the very convenient bathrooms. No siree, it was for Café Pause.

Which is a great name for a Café. Given the chance to get side-tracked, I'll jump at it with the strength of ten men and the sleepiness of a koala bear. For you see, it is not only in Sweden that hair dressers have "funny" or "funny" names:

I'm not sure this is a good thing

Anyway, back to Café Pause - and watch as I stick to just one subject all the way down to the rest of the post! There is currently an exhibition there. It's actually running for another week, so you still have time to make the money for the ticket, pay the fare, and go. Kinda. If you like ok latte and pretty pictures, it's definitely worth the trip. I went for the pictures, but I ended up staying for, well, for the pictures. It was really uplifting to see something genuinely beautiful, and genuinely depressing to come to the understanding that some people just see things in this world that I don't. And genuinely uplifting that those people are nice enough to show it to me. And I'll stop now.


Beverage of the Week #6
Name: Pocket Juicer Stand White Natadekoko
Catchphrase: "As if you don't have enough crap in your pockets already"
Price/volume: 120 yen for 300ml
Place/time of purchase: Heiwa Park /14:59
Particular Point of Interest: The first in a series of two exclusive PJS-tests
Taste: The first comment upon drinking this was, and I quote "why did they mix these white cubes of coconut with toilet cleaner? And why did I then proceed to purchase it?!"

Overall score (not an average): 7/F-

The Addiction

There's no way this can be healthy.

For the second time in what mere mortals refer to as a week, I have returned to the internets! But the last post was kinda different, so lets not count that one, and just get on with it. The reason for the getting on with it is that I've got a job!

Ok, before you go all nit-picky and try claiming that that's been true for all of the mighty fourteen months since I left the cradled world of university life, let me expand by introducing a modifier. I've got a new job! For those of you noble enough to have read the comments on the last post, I hinted at this opportunity there, and it has since come to fruition. In what's probably the fastest turn of events ever, I applied on Monday, got the call to come to an interview on Wednesday, had the interview on Thursday, and got the news I'd passed on Friday. In retrospect, Tuesday was quite uneventful.

So now that we've taken care of the important things, let's get down to what really matters, which in this case would be me detailing how wonderfully strange life in Japan is, and how small the world the world can be sometimes.

Exhibit A) In many cities, especially the ultra-urbanized city-centers, the issue of graffiti is one that has caused many a mayor sleepless nights. Whatever the basis or rationale for it, it is a fact of life in many cities. This is the part where I tell you about how ridiculously clean and efficient Japan is, because they've... abolished spray paint? Sadly however, this is not the case. I present you with the following evidence that in their heart of hearts, Japanese kids also just ache to take to the streets, chanting "Vi vill ha en lokal". (And yes, you are certainly entitled to ask what's the point of this thing being in English if I insist on making Swedish in-jokes all the time)

Ok, it's a crappy hard-to-read shot, but look close enough and I hope you'll agree Japanese graffiti lacks the punch of its American or even Swedish counterparts

Exhibit B) The other day, on one of my travels, I came across the following, which basically informs people that at this particular Pachinko establishment, patrons are not allowed to automize the process of losing all their money by fixing the handle in place.

Lots of Japanese squiggles, and a big STOP, basically

Update! Upon consulting my knee-deep-in-Pachinko mafia connections, it turns out that if you manage to fix the handle in the exact right place, you can just keep feeding the machine quarters or balls or squirrels (or whatever it is you feed it) and keep winning, well quarters or balls or squirrels, basically. Serves me right for only having played once (borrowing 500 yen and turning it into 5000 in five minutes is still my prime - and, sadly only - gambling achievement).

Exhibit C) Bet you were expecting me to change it up with a humorous "Exhibit 3" instead, huh? No dice, continuity cops! Instead, before the Beverage of the Week makes its celebrated return, I shall offer you this: It's the first ever - surely! - Japanese sighting of what nine million people know and cherish as Lösgodis, something which is best - though certainly not most accurately - translated as "loose candy" with a definite promiscuous air about it. The sighting took place in Roppongi (where else, really?), and upon reading the fine print, you'll see that getting 200g of the stuff (normally the prescribed amount for going to a non-romantic movie) will set you back 630 yen. Which is more than six $US. Which back in 1961 would have netted you 2437 yen. Which today... Yeah, I kinda lost me too.

(Not) Only in Japan, kids

So yeah, there you have it! And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for: A tirade about Copenhagen Airport. No, not the actual facility itself, but the album it's spawned. Normally, I'd think it was funny enough to have come across a find such as this at my local Tsutaya (think Blockbuster if your American, Patriks Video if you're not), but it doesn't end there, oh no! For you see, upon consulting the track list, one notices that there are several tracks there by a band called Physics. Which is all very well and fine, until - dadadaduuuum - you realize that that's the same Physics that my first Swedish Japanese teacher (hah!) played in. And probably still does, for all I know. So this means one of two things:

1) Either they've really made it big, are already famous from Tirana to Tashkent, and I'm just late to join the party (surely impossible!). OR

2) The world is really, really small. Which is kinda the point I'd like to make, so bear with me. First of all, the series of events that conspired to me living in Tokyokohama in the first place are kind of what the 80's kidz would call "whack". No less "whack" are those that conspired to have me walk in to Tsutaya with enough time on my hands to check not only movies, but also music. Not to mention those that had me find a two year-old album partly by a band my old teacher belongs/ed to, named after the airport that almost always takes me home and back. That's just freaky.

And now, your international moment of Beverage:


Beverage of the Week #5
Name: Hukkokudo Cream Cider
Catchphrase: "Add vanilla to your carbonated cream"
Price/volume: 120 yen for 300ml
Place/time of purchase: Heiwa Park /14:58
Particular Point of Interest: Something must have made me try it?
Taste: Carbonated cream is the next New Coke

Overall score (not an average): 7/D

The Fissel

So yeah, it finally happened. It was bound to, really, sooner or later.

Just a word of warning, this may very well turn out to be one of those (very, very few) posts which aren't so much fun for you to read as they are for me to write. It's all about catharsis, or something. It doesn't even have a Beverage of the timeperiod-since-the-last-post! Or pictures! Go on, treat yourself to something fun instead. I know this great little place called YouTube.

On Thursday, it's Vernal Equinox Day here in Japan. "But of course, they don't call it that, they call it" uhm, 春分の日, which just looks plain weird, wouldn't you say? For average Joa Tanaka (name changed to protect the actual identity of the caller), this is a day to revel in the arrival of Spring, and that his language is far more succinct than English with reagrds to Equinoxes, be they Vernal or Autumnal! And no, I did not just look that up.

It's also a day of mourning. For all the people who miss the winter here, with its let's-see-if-we-can-make-it-colder-inside-than-it-is-outside approach to global warming. I am not one of them. I can't be sure anymore, but I imagine I liked Swedish winter marginally better than the Japanese one, mainly on account of insulation being present in the buildings. But if my Swedish self heard me say that, he'd probably be all like "Yeah, you love the slush and rain, don't you, slush-and-rain-lover!". Apparently, my Swedish self is about seven years old.

Now, as I have previsouly detailed elsewhere, spring is a time of new beginnings, especially here in the land of 2 000 000 vending machines. The school year starts, the cherry blossoms do their thing, and everybody starts going to the park on Sunday because nobody else will probably have thought to do that yet (Yes, they will also be terribly wrong). And so, given that it feels kinda silly to go around in jacket made of actual winter (or should that be made of actual summer?) when it's 15 degrees out, our young hero dons his spring ditto, and heads out into the world.

The first thing you need to in spring is renew something. It's just the spirit of the thing. So instead of renewing things like my apartment (which would cost money) or my pledge to join a gym (which in an of itself wouldn't cost anything, but were it ever to be honored would cost heavily in percentage of body fat), I decide to go look for a job. At the company where I work.

Allow me some build-up-to-the-fall backgroundish reveling. I have never failed to get a job I've applied for. I leave it up to the all mighty Intranet to decide if this is indicative of me only applying for jobs anybody can get, or actually being infused from birth with magic, job-getting powers. I have, on occasion, been offered two jobs at the same time, and - not being ambitious enough to work 80 hours a week at one job, much less two - been forced to cherry-pick. It's all quite stressful. But as it turns out, monkeys apparently do fall from trees (much more colorful than "the sun has its spots", yeah? Joe Tanaka 2, Rest-of-world 0). Not all the time, though, that would just be silly. Also, it would eventually make them stop trying to climb the damn things in the first place, one would hope.

The most annoying thing about - queue overly drammatic Danny Elfman tune - faililng? I have nothing to complain about! The rationale behind the decision is solid, the way the news was delivered was considerate, and as far as I know, the guy deciding is - shock, horror - nice! How am I supposed to work around that, I ask you?

So esentially, for all intents and purposes, this has been a very roundabout way of saying excuse me while I go wallow in chocolate. And then head to the park. It'd be a shame not to, really, on a day like today.