disjointed reportage
last night i finally saw 'fahrenheit 9/11' with several of my housemates in a sold-out theatre full of japanese people and a handful of expats. i had an idea what to expect, but not that i would be crying through half the film. added to the fact that i don't watch TV and was living in asia when 9/11 happened, the effect of some of the footage knocked the air out of me. things i hadn't heard or seen before. i wondered what the japanese audience thought. but one of the most shocking parts of it, for me, was the scene where some of the enlisted kids (skinny teenagers) were talking about how awesome it was that they could put their CDs into the tank they were driving and have the music piped into their helmets or headsets or whatever, and how that got them all pumped to blow things up, as if it were a game with a soundtrack.
i'm still getting lost in shinjuku station. there are many levels to the station itself (four, five, maybe six), which also has a multi-story department store on top of it. the southern exits have proven impossible for me to find without getting to the street first and then orienting myself that way. otherwise i just get stuck at turnstiles and entrances to subway lines i don't want to board. i feel like i'm inside a video game where i haven't found the secret trapdoor or drunk the bottle that says 'drink me.' however, i'm moving on to the next neighborhood—level 2, beep boop boop—tomorrow and hope to have a little break from highrises and giganto-malls. new subway lines and train stations to get lost in, banzai!
for lunch today i had a sushi special that included a roll with fish that came out of a tube, just like the much-savored swedish kind,* except surprisingly not tasty... in fact, so surprisingly untasty that i couldn't eat it. on the upside, i am almost daily treating myself to kusamochi, a sticky rice blob with a type of mugwort kneaded into it, and stuffed with or rolled in sweet azuki bean paste. one of my favorite snacks when i was little.
tokyoite umbrella patterns. if you are a guy, especially a serious businessman in a dark suit, you carry a clear plastic one. if you are a woman, an old man, or a child, then you carry an umbrella decorated with some kind of pattern—pastel stripes, retro print, flowers, cartoon characters—and if you are a real frou-frou kinda lady, your umbrella has scalloped edges bordered with lace.
the other day, i saw a woman standing in front of a fancy restaurant, who in my peripheral vision looked like little bo peep. when i did the double-take, i realized she was decked out in full victorian regalia: a pale-blue frock with a bustle, a parasol, powdered wig, white makeup, white gloves. she didn't appear to work there, but was standing in front of the door, blasé, casually scanning the passerby as though waiting for a lunch date. hardly anyone striding by batted an eye.
* link include bonus ABBA trivia!
i'm still getting lost in shinjuku station. there are many levels to the station itself (four, five, maybe six), which also has a multi-story department store on top of it. the southern exits have proven impossible for me to find without getting to the street first and then orienting myself that way. otherwise i just get stuck at turnstiles and entrances to subway lines i don't want to board. i feel like i'm inside a video game where i haven't found the secret trapdoor or drunk the bottle that says 'drink me.' however, i'm moving on to the next neighborhood—level 2, beep boop boop—tomorrow and hope to have a little break from highrises and giganto-malls. new subway lines and train stations to get lost in, banzai!
for lunch today i had a sushi special that included a roll with fish that came out of a tube, just like the much-savored swedish kind,* except surprisingly not tasty... in fact, so surprisingly untasty that i couldn't eat it. on the upside, i am almost daily treating myself to kusamochi, a sticky rice blob with a type of mugwort kneaded into it, and stuffed with or rolled in sweet azuki bean paste. one of my favorite snacks when i was little.
tokyoite umbrella patterns. if you are a guy, especially a serious businessman in a dark suit, you carry a clear plastic one. if you are a woman, an old man, or a child, then you carry an umbrella decorated with some kind of pattern—pastel stripes, retro print, flowers, cartoon characters—and if you are a real frou-frou kinda lady, your umbrella has scalloped edges bordered with lace.
the other day, i saw a woman standing in front of a fancy restaurant, who in my peripheral vision looked like little bo peep. when i did the double-take, i realized she was decked out in full victorian regalia: a pale-blue frock with a bustle, a parasol, powdered wig, white makeup, white gloves. she didn't appear to work there, but was standing in front of the door, blasé, casually scanning the passerby as though waiting for a lunch date. hardly anyone striding by batted an eye.
* link include bonus ABBA trivia!
posted by a wandering eye at 11:09 AM
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