Snoring Myself Awake

Saturday 24th October 2009 

AM

Least: Pretty close to 10:00am, I sat on the train facing a professional looking young woman who appeared to be doing something important on her laptop. After a few minutes, I couldn't help noticing her horrible nervous habit. Every few seconds, she picked or bit at her crumbling cuticles and fingertips. With each bite, a tiny piece of skin would disappear into her mouth. Rather than being embarrassed by this habit, she seemed to revel in it one tasty morsel after another.

Most: At about 9:30am, I opened Nostromo to chip away at a few pages. Even though it is a dificult read, it is amazing that the novels location, Sulaco is completely fictional, with almost nothing historical about it. This is in stark contrast to Conrad's other novels which are steeped in his personal experience. Although, I have read Nostromo before, I don't think I gave it the time it deserves - which it a lot.

PM

Least: Sometime between 5:37pm and 6:30pm, I snored myself awake on the train home from Wakayama. I must've been asleep for about ten minutes, but I'd slipped into a deepish sleep. The last couple of weeks with the flu and the knock to the head have exhausted me and it didn't take much of the train rocking to send me into a blissful sleep. The sleep was not quite deep enough though, to insulate me from my own snoring. I shudder to think what the expert sleeping Japanese thought

Most: At nearly 7:00pm, I watched the back of my train disappear north as I stumbled up the Mikunigaoka steps in a sleepy daze. For the next ten or so minutes, I sat on the platform. This time, unlike the past five or six months, I was shivering with cold. The wind racing down the tracks had a distinct chill that reminded me of the weeks after I arrived in Osaka. The chewing gum chipper had moved underground into a sea of blackened gum.

Bunny and the Haircut

AM

Least: By 10:30am it was still raining. It had started last night and showed little sigh of letting up. When the weather service predicted 24mm of rain today, I thought it must be some kind of error. It seems there was no error and the day will be sodden and uncomfortable outdoors. At first the rain was a refreshing change, though after only a couple of hours, it just became dreary. At least I do not have to suffer the indignity of swimming to work.


Most: At close to 11:30am, I began reading Mr Cave's The Death of Bunny Munro. I had the feeling that readers and reviewers were holding their breath for this one, after the forest of wordy words in The Ass Saw the Angel. After having read the first few chapters, I was pleasantly surprised at the sparse writing and the fact the Cave's voice is still lurking in the characters. So far the book has mainly centred on Bunny's dirty thoughts and his philandering in Brighton. Both Brighton Rock and Kylie Minogue have been cleverly brought in as cultural reference points. I'll report back when the reading is done.

PM

Least: Just after 1:00pm, I boyishly went back to LABI in an attempt to gather G-Force (Gatchaman) figures from one of the hundred or so capsule machines on the top floor. My hopes for high for collecting 'Mark' as I dropped the coins into the first machine, but I was sorely disappointed as a character from a more obscure and hence less nostalgic cartoon rolled out. The same hopes were dashed after I lost 200 yen in the second machine. I now have two silly toys that I already have. Boring and stupid.

Most: At about 12:40pm, I walked into QB (Quick Beauty) House for a 1000 yen haircut. The flashing green light above the door indicated that I could be served immediately and I was. I was quickly sat down and interrogated in Japanese about what was to be done with my too-long hair. After some signs and some broken Japanese , the hairdresser, cut and shaved my hair quickly. When she had finished, an assistant came over to complete my cut. He trimmed the sides and used a mechanised cut-throat to remove hair from my ears and neck. It was the final part of the cut that made it a special experience. With a flick of a switch, the assistant began vacuuming my head, neck and shoulders. The result was a spectacular prickle-free head of freshly cut hair. Just a cut, but a thousand times better than Just Cuts at Melbourne Central. Gold,

No coffee, no eggs, no bread, no butter

Wednesday 30th September 2009
 

AM

Least: At close to 9:30am, I discovered that my breakfasting stocks were at an all time low. No coffee, no eggs, no bread, no butter. To alleviate the sheer awefulness of it all, I trotted up to the Family Mart for resupply. To my horror the only bread that they had was some inedible and sugary loaf with slices about three inches thick. I settled on pancake mix, however in my confused state, I forgot to buy butter to butter up my meal. Despondant, I sat down to pancakes with faux maple syrup sans-butter. After one cake, Rosie stumbled through the door with a tub of grease for my meal. Despite the drama of breakfast, it was a grindingly boring experience.

Most: Approaching 11:50am, I finally finished reading The Grapes of Wrath after picking away at it for a few weeks. The ending was a little on the brutal side and shattered my hopes of a better outcome for the itinerant workers. The book is a condemnation of capitalism but rather than idealising it's victims, allows the characters to be crushed by their appalling conditions. The same process that had giant companies engulfing smaller farms it probably still happening today, especially in the developing world. I'm slightly sad that the book is over, but it was an interesting journey.

PM

Least: At about 1:50pm, I stepped onto the tram for my commute to work in Yao. Because it was the first time that I had been to this suburban sprawl (see its seal right), it carried ore stress than a usual trip to work. One mistake, or missed train could mean lateness or it could mean ending up on the wrong side of town. To make matters worse, there was a steady fall of rain and the wind allowed the water to sneak under my umbrella. After a wrong turn outside, Kintetsu-Yao station, I finally realised that my map had failed to notice that the MUFJ bank had relocated across the town square. I was only slightly damp by the time I arrived.

Most: At nearly 9:30pm, Rosie and I walked down some Tennoji steps into a below-ground izakaya. We were told that the last food orders were about to be taken, to we cut a swathe through the menu. By the time we had finished ordering, It was dificult to remember what we had actually requested. Each dish that arrived was slightly more suprising than the last and included, chips, edemame, fried chicken gristle, sashimi, tofu salad, samma and beer. The highlight was the slightly seared sashimi of salmon and tuna and the ultra-friendly manager. We'll be back.

The Smell of Old Books and the Stink of Routine

AM

Least: By 11:40am, it was clear that once again I would not leave the house before midday. Outside it is raining, and it's slant looks as if it might foil even the broadest umbrella. The relaxing routine of stirring at eight, eggs at nine some reading at ten then a shower at eleven has really set in for the lang haul. I really need to force myself out for a walk to at least give me something interesting to write about.

Most: At about 10:00am, I picked up a book that had arrived in the mail from England yesterday. On a whim, I had fairly cheaply bought Ford Madox Hueffer's Hans Holbein the Younger. While I have absolutely no interest in Mr Holbein, the book as an obect itself left me very satisfied. The book was reissued in 1914 and for the most part looks new and has that special aroma that reminds me of my other books sitting in boxes in Drouin. The gilt is still shiny and the tissue covering the plates is immaculate after ninety-five years of living on someone's shelf. Who at Duckworth in 1914 would have suspected that their book would've ended up sitting on a shelf in a Tezuakayama flat? I just hope it survives the humidity to last another ninety-five years.

PM

Least: At approximately 5:35pm, I answered a phone at work. It told me that I was going to be working in Kyoto tomorrow. I will arrive and leave early and I predict that around 5:00pm tomorrow I will be once again lost at JR station in Umeda. Today, I noticed that a disturbing pattern is developing, with a terrifying phone call arriving to haunt me at the same time every Tuesday. The knowledge that I need to get up early in the morning fills each lost minute with sorrow, for soon enough, the next tick of the clock with be my alarm going off.


大きな地図で見る

Most: At around 11:00pm, I was busy trying to plot my journey to the Hokage Open Air festival at Tamagawa in Yamanashi. Pinpointing the town closest to the festival site involved decoding kanji, scrolling through maps and reviewing bullet train times. Hopefully, we will still be able to buy tickets for the train. Thankfully, Rosie spoke enough Japanese to ensure that we will sleep in a bungalow and not in some windswept tent. I still hope the rain stays away. It will be an interesting night.

Have You Seen Chiiku?

AM

Least: By about 11:55am, I was tangled up in a roll of de-linting paper. My pants had been covered in a woolly coat of lint courtesy of our appalling washing machine. The rolller is a very effective weapon in the lint war, however its frustrating tendency to stick to one's hands and become an enraging part of a person's morning. Japan seems to be a very linty country and the scourge can creep up at any moment and overwhelm the unwary visitor. The war continues.

Most: At close to 9:40am, I finally resuscitated my habit of walking around the local pond. The oldish men were there in a blue cloud of cigarette smoke and just cracking their first cans of beer. A women sat for 20 minutes chain smoking and staring into the middle distance - thinking about her crashing bore of a husband no doubt. Further around the park, a 45ish year old man fumbled with his tackle as he waited for the little bells on his four massive surf rods to jingle with fish. I thought he might be crazy and in a beach fishing fantasy or simply testing out his new gear. As far as I could tell, he didn't catch the Mandai Ike monster or any fish. A sad side-story of my walk was a poster for a missing parrot named Chiiku. He was white with red cheeks and 30cm long. According to his overly formal portrait, he had a penchant for gold buttons and jewellery. I hope he is ok.

PM

Least: At nearly 9:00pm, with little to do at work, my industrious Japanese colleague asked me to write on several slips of paper. The boring part was, it was in hiragana and kanji, the former I'm not much good at, the latter I've never written a scrap. After carefully copying the example given to me, my erstwhile workmate could find nothing in her register other than to say "You had trouble with the su"? then "Oh, I can read it." Crushingly boring - especially coming from a noted apple-shiner.

Most: At about 9:50pm, I squeaked open our mailbox to discover some junkmail, a card, a letter from Rosie's mum and a padded bag addressed to me. Inside the padded bag was a book I evidently bought online a number of months ago and had sent by surface mail from England. The book, which contains the Conrad novellas Typhoon, The Shadow Line and another unmentionable title, was a nice little Everyman edition from 1950 with a nicely worn dustwrapper. I cannot remember buying the book directly, but surmise that it must've been one of the several items I drunkenly purchased after a night of Premium Malts. What a nice surprise - I should use surface mail more often.

Waiting for Quakes

AM

Least: I woke at about 8:15am to find that the special kind of up-too-early boredem was upon me. Despite my glee at not being hungover, I found little entertainment in my eggs or the morning baseball-based anime. As a last resort I began skimming through this month's edition of London Review of Books. Not surprisingly, it was packed with incredibly pretentious writing about other pretentious writers and groanworthy poetry. I could write more about the contents of the magazine but would risk becoming a crashing bore.

Most: At about 10:30am, I was looking for information about today's matsuri festival when stumbled across the earthquakes section of the Sumiyoshi-ku website. The terrifying truth is that we are living on the Uemachi Fault system and it is predicted that within the next fifty years a massive subduction quake will smash the city and liquify its soils. The preparedness guide recommends hiding under a desk or pillow during the quake and highlights that fact that if you're on the toilet it's best to stay there as it's probably the safest part of the house. Thankfully, because we are on the fourth floor, we should be safe from the predicted tsunami when the quake strikes. I just hope I'm not in the shower  or suffering from a mid-shave goatee when our shakey friend arrives.

PM

Least: Sometime arounf 12:30pm, I rescued my bike from the station and spun up to the glossily advertised Tezukayama Matsuri. I groaned as the rag-tag group of stalls came into view. Out of date toys, worn clothes, shonky homemade games and very limited food greeted my eyes. Although it was clearly a community fundraising event, I felt misled by the high quality advertising that appeared in shop windows a couple of weeks ago. One rare highlight was the talent quest - we saw a four-ish year old girl in pink do a song n dance routine. The next best choice was Bikkuri Donkey.

Most: At about 1:35pm, Rosie and I left the largely boring Tezukayama festival and wheeled down the hill to Bikkuri Donkey. We thought we'd go for a laugh and a laugh is what we got. The crazed junk-yard style building and the bizarre interior only served to make the meal that we got even more interesting. I ordered a 300g hamburg (top of menu shown right) with exactly four chips and hot mayonnaised corn served on a bed of cooked onion and topped with a typically soggy ball of shredded daikon. The vast slab of minced New Zealand beef was only dwarfed by the imposing shuttered menu that looked down on us like a sentinel. I thought the meal was on the way to being repulsive, but with the use of corn kernals, it has to be considered an incredibly Japanese dish. It is amazing what people will pay to eat if it's served in cartoonish surroundings.