Just got back home from Ueno, where I spent the evening sitting at a grimy stall, barely sheltered from the rain by a leaking roof, eating the most revolting food imaginable. . . over beer. I finally had a taste of horse (smoked like ham, though deep red, almost purple even), and it was quite good. At least in comparison to what should best be known as rotten, dried fish (called kusayahoshimono or くさや干物). It smells almost like that rotten tofu the Taiwanese adore. But it's fish, and it's revolting. It smells like sh*t (all the other customers tried to shuffle away as far as possible when they brought out the dish), and as you chew it up in your mouth, it in fact feels, tastes, smells, like you have a mouth full of it. Worst 400 yen I've ever spent. I tried to get the taste out of my mouth with the stewed organ meats that we also ordered. The two tastes rather complemented, to my chagrin.
That sh*t better not make me sick.
Monday, May 30, 2005
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Sky-high in Shibuya
Zooming out of a mid-day DJ event near Yoyogi Park. No wires, and no post-production.
Surgery in Japan
A few days ago, I went into the hospital here for a pre-surgery meeting with the anaesthesia department. There were about 15 of us, in a posh lounge/waiting area outside of the doctor's office. They told us to wait until 9:30am, whereupon someone dimmed the lights and started the powerpoint presentation. It was on anaesthesia and what to expect surgery to be like in their hospital (rather like the explanatory video in Battle Royale). Far too much information. I suppose the purpose is to generate a sense of participation, of being in control, for the patient. But I also felt a weird stress and sense of responsibility, lest I get some of the details wrong.
I mean, I don't even remember which of the white and blue cannisters is the oxygen, and which is the general anaesthetic. . . and then somehow, sometime they're supposed to administer a general anaesthetic via intravenous drip. I just don't remember how all that's going to take place, but I feel as if I should.
I mean, I don't even remember which of the white and blue cannisters is the oxygen, and which is the general anaesthetic. . . and then somehow, sometime they're supposed to administer a general anaesthetic via intravenous drip. I just don't remember how all that's going to take place, but I feel as if I should.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
My trip, in five points
1. Aggression (J train) and Zen (A train) on the NY subway
a. New York is a strange place, and nowhere is it stranger than in the subway where bizarre extremes coexist in the dank smelly tunnels. One day I was witness to a screaminng confrontation in front of the ticket booth of the J train East Broadway station. A Chinese guy was screaming "come out! motherf****r!" To which the ticket attendant, wielding a metal pole, would go sQUaWKsqUAWkSquAWk! from inside the booth. Since the thin spectacled hispanic ticket attendant wouldn't leave the booth, they remained at a high-pitched impasse. Even as I passed through the turnstile, I could hear them echoing down to the platform. (come to think of it, I saw many many fights/arguments when I was in NYC)
b. With all my bags, on my way to JFK on the A train, a middle-aged white guy plops down next to me; he immediately begins talking to me about Japan, how he's 48 years old, how his adopted father was a 'teacher' at the University of Tokyo, and about how he was taught to respect peace and his elders. He mutters on and on about how he learned martial arts early on because his father was a monk (is there a direct link between these two matters?), and about how much mental discipline he has. Next he relates how he stopped a thug from harassing a Japanese woman on the subway once. Leaving the train, he tells me to think of him if I visit the 'temple of the cat', raising his left hand in cat-like paw. I suppose he means maneki neko, but I'm not sure exactly what temple he's talking about since most restaurants feature such a cat. There's plenty about his story that sounds dubious, especially since he didn't actually say anything about Japan, or Zen that was not common knowledge ('what is the sound of one hand clapping'), and his weird confusion over the naming of the Japanese isles. Then there's the deeper question of whether one really needs to tell someone about their inner peace. What is there to tell, if your soul is completely tranquil? Is there any more need to assert your ego, or rather, is there not instead just enduring silence?
2. Little Boy at Japan Society
Murakami Takashi has 'curated' (more like assembled) an exhibition at the Japan Society entitled 'Little Boy - the exploding arts of Japan's subculture' (featuring a floating image of a Ikari Shinji on the cover of the exhibition catalogue). I find the production of the exhibition interesting, because its contents are for the most part things that are commonplace elements of daily life in Japan, and not per se art. But when you pull together 60 or so local government mascots and line them all up, it's hard not to consider them a social phenomenon. The same goes for the hello kitty display. And the room-sized Zaku head that greets you when you enter.
Another thing about the exhibition is Murakami's deliberately political take on Japanese subculture, at once as infantile, as dominated by American cultural/political/economic imperialism, as subversive, as a response to capitalism. One section of the exhibition featured a wall-sized reproduction of Article 9 of the Japanese constitution, where Japan (is forced by the Americans??) to renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation. Next to it is a set of Godzilla dolls. . .
3. Mexican food shack
There was this old worn-down shack along Route 1 near my house when I was growing up. Apparently, they sold Mexican food in there, and my father would often, jokingly, say he wanted to eat there. Well, I finally went there, after learning that it's still open after these 20 something years. Inside, the floor is covered by worn orange carpeting. The seating area, nothing but several picnic tables and benches. The food arrives on styrofoam plates, but it wasn't bad at all . . .
4. Skullsplitter. . . in NYC!
Ah, I never thought I'd see this stuff stateside, but this was the thickest, murkiest beer I've ever had. Here is a link to the export label. Notice the placid demeanor of ol' Thorfinn the Mighty, AKA 'skullsplitter'. On the domestic (orkneys) label, Thorfinn is swinging his axe straight at your face, for even daring to open the bottle.
5. Smells of NYC
(my narrating ability is breaking down. this post is getting too long)
Sharp, but at times musty, as opposed to the heaviness of Tokyo air. Blue skies above NYC, bracing winds and clean air. But inside the deep brown buildings,scratched paint, creaking elevators and the dust of ages.
a. New York is a strange place, and nowhere is it stranger than in the subway where bizarre extremes coexist in the dank smelly tunnels. One day I was witness to a screaminng confrontation in front of the ticket booth of the J train East Broadway station. A Chinese guy was screaming "come out! motherf****r!" To which the ticket attendant, wielding a metal pole, would go sQUaWKsqUAWkSquAWk! from inside the booth. Since the thin spectacled hispanic ticket attendant wouldn't leave the booth, they remained at a high-pitched impasse. Even as I passed through the turnstile, I could hear them echoing down to the platform. (come to think of it, I saw many many fights/arguments when I was in NYC)
b. With all my bags, on my way to JFK on the A train, a middle-aged white guy plops down next to me; he immediately begins talking to me about Japan, how he's 48 years old, how his adopted father was a 'teacher' at the University of Tokyo, and about how he was taught to respect peace and his elders. He mutters on and on about how he learned martial arts early on because his father was a monk (is there a direct link between these two matters?), and about how much mental discipline he has. Next he relates how he stopped a thug from harassing a Japanese woman on the subway once. Leaving the train, he tells me to think of him if I visit the 'temple of the cat', raising his left hand in cat-like paw. I suppose he means maneki neko, but I'm not sure exactly what temple he's talking about since most restaurants feature such a cat. There's plenty about his story that sounds dubious, especially since he didn't actually say anything about Japan, or Zen that was not common knowledge ('what is the sound of one hand clapping'), and his weird confusion over the naming of the Japanese isles. Then there's the deeper question of whether one really needs to tell someone about their inner peace. What is there to tell, if your soul is completely tranquil? Is there any more need to assert your ego, or rather, is there not instead just enduring silence?
2. Little Boy at Japan Society
Murakami Takashi has 'curated' (more like assembled) an exhibition at the Japan Society entitled 'Little Boy - the exploding arts of Japan's subculture' (featuring a floating image of a Ikari Shinji on the cover of the exhibition catalogue). I find the production of the exhibition interesting, because its contents are for the most part things that are commonplace elements of daily life in Japan, and not per se art. But when you pull together 60 or so local government mascots and line them all up, it's hard not to consider them a social phenomenon. The same goes for the hello kitty display. And the room-sized Zaku head that greets you when you enter.
Another thing about the exhibition is Murakami's deliberately political take on Japanese subculture, at once as infantile, as dominated by American cultural/political/economic imperialism, as subversive, as a response to capitalism. One section of the exhibition featured a wall-sized reproduction of Article 9 of the Japanese constitution, where Japan (is forced by the Americans??) to renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation. Next to it is a set of Godzilla dolls. . .
3. Mexican food shack
There was this old worn-down shack along Route 1 near my house when I was growing up. Apparently, they sold Mexican food in there, and my father would often, jokingly, say he wanted to eat there. Well, I finally went there, after learning that it's still open after these 20 something years. Inside, the floor is covered by worn orange carpeting. The seating area, nothing but several picnic tables and benches. The food arrives on styrofoam plates, but it wasn't bad at all . . .
4. Skullsplitter. . . in NYC!
Ah, I never thought I'd see this stuff stateside, but this was the thickest, murkiest beer I've ever had. Here is a link to the export label. Notice the placid demeanor of ol' Thorfinn the Mighty, AKA 'skullsplitter'. On the domestic (orkneys) label, Thorfinn is swinging his axe straight at your face, for even daring to open the bottle.
5. Smells of NYC
(my narrating ability is breaking down. this post is getting too long)
Sharp, but at times musty, as opposed to the heaviness of Tokyo air. Blue skies above NYC, bracing winds and clean air. But inside the deep brown buildings,scratched paint, creaking elevators and the dust of ages.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
pensive jetlag
I can't help feeling a warm glow in my heart when I see a New York coffee stand advertising: "bagel with egg and cheese - $1.50". So tasty. So cheap.
But that's what jetlag does to you; it drags you out of bed early, throws you out into the street with the early dawn, and nourishes you with a moment of morning calm while the rest of the city struggles to revive itself. And it makes you pensive at a time of day when you normally have neither time nor energy for thinking.
Being back is wonderful.
But that's what jetlag does to you; it drags you out of bed early, throws you out into the street with the early dawn, and nourishes you with a moment of morning calm while the rest of the city struggles to revive itself. And it makes you pensive at a time of day when you normally have neither time nor energy for thinking.
Being back is wonderful.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
All is full of love
Or so I would like to think. Robots making love could teach us a thing or two.
But the truth is that I'm deeply troubled these days, and find my own thoughts obscuring the real world around me. It's like a thick veil between the world and my consciousness. I may have to change my research topic.
The past few weeks have been pretty traumatic for people caught in-between the China-Japan historical/diplomatic/macho battle. Watching both sides is enough to destroy my confidence that history or ethics can ever be rescued and respected again. Friends in China tell me how disgusted they are with the dogmatism there. I also feel ready to retch whenever I see the Japanese scandal sheets threatening military retribution against 'Japan-hating-countries' (from Japan's Weekly Playboy), to a rumor that the Chinese are circulating an 'assassination list' of Japanese politicians and citizens. This is pride, but only the blindly macho type.
[the truth is, the Japanese media is as much a 'national' institution as the Chinese state-run media. their give-and-take relationship with their audience may be different, but they each have a role in whipping up nationalist fury, and assuaging national pride. the media here made a big deal about the 'results' of a DNA test done on the 'remains' of a Japanese abducted by North Korea. they said that the remains came from several different people, none of whom were her. however, an article in the British nature magazine Nature cast doubt on the result claimed by the government. Read about it at a Korean site, because no Japanese media outlets are covering the story. they just shut up about the whole issue, and instead are focusing on China. There is a good, though lengthy writeup of the article by an Australian scholar here.]
But back to my project; at one point I wanted to look at the birth of a multi-ethnic identity in Yokohama, and its manifold possibilities as 'Chinese' and 'Japanese' refashioned a social network that was local as well as global. It seemed to me that the categories imposed on human interaction by nationalism were being undermined, and that flexible identities were emerging that would bridge people living in Japan and China by ironically, not engaging national institutions at all.
My counterpoint would be Yokohama in the 1920s-1940s, where national categories were enforced through police surveillance of 'enemy nationals', and the activities of Chinese government-sponsored associations. My idea was to sketch out the constraints imposed by these institutions on individuals in Yokohama at the time, and how they were be absorbed, inevitably, irrevocably into national bodies.
Well, the contrast just fell apart. The more I look into the historical documents, the closer the present seems to recapitulate the past. The same language 'han'nichi' (anti-Japanese) was used back in the 1930s to describe the textbooks and leaflets published by Chinese nationalists all over the world. The description today of the May 4th (1919) movement as simply 'anti-Japanese' is interesting as well because it seems to follow the same thinking that dominated Japan at the time. While to the Chinese, May 4th was a cultural and literary movement to reinvent the Chinese nation (the boycotts of Japanese goods began much earlier), to the Japanese it was merely resistance to their imperial designs.
Context. Does anyone even remember that May 4th was supposed to start on May 7th? That was the date on which Japan delivered the '21 demands' to China back in 1915. However, to avoid suppression by Chinese authorities, the students had to spring the movement a few days early. But today, the Japanese press just labels it an 'anti-Japanese' movement, without any explanation of its context. Similarly, Chinese nationalist activities in the 1930s were also labeled 'anti-Japanese' sentiment (and regarding Chinese in America, the added comment that they should have been helping their fellow Asians rather than criticizing them), without even an explanation that the Kwantung Army had just seized Manchuria. So little context, then or now.
Ok, but that's jumping ahead a little bit. Evaluating the situation, I'd have to say that we're not quite back in the 1930s yet, but more like the 1920s. So, I guess that means less than 20 more years before another major world war.
But the truth is that I'm deeply troubled these days, and find my own thoughts obscuring the real world around me. It's like a thick veil between the world and my consciousness. I may have to change my research topic.
The past few weeks have been pretty traumatic for people caught in-between the China-Japan historical/diplomatic/macho battle. Watching both sides is enough to destroy my confidence that history or ethics can ever be rescued and respected again. Friends in China tell me how disgusted they are with the dogmatism there. I also feel ready to retch whenever I see the Japanese scandal sheets threatening military retribution against 'Japan-hating-countries' (from Japan's Weekly Playboy), to a rumor that the Chinese are circulating an 'assassination list' of Japanese politicians and citizens. This is pride, but only the blindly macho type.
[the truth is, the Japanese media is as much a 'national' institution as the Chinese state-run media. their give-and-take relationship with their audience may be different, but they each have a role in whipping up nationalist fury, and assuaging national pride. the media here made a big deal about the 'results' of a DNA test done on the 'remains' of a Japanese abducted by North Korea. they said that the remains came from several different people, none of whom were her. however, an article in the British nature magazine Nature cast doubt on the result claimed by the government. Read about it at a Korean site, because no Japanese media outlets are covering the story. they just shut up about the whole issue, and instead are focusing on China. There is a good, though lengthy writeup of the article by an Australian scholar here.]
But back to my project; at one point I wanted to look at the birth of a multi-ethnic identity in Yokohama, and its manifold possibilities as 'Chinese' and 'Japanese' refashioned a social network that was local as well as global. It seemed to me that the categories imposed on human interaction by nationalism were being undermined, and that flexible identities were emerging that would bridge people living in Japan and China by ironically, not engaging national institutions at all.
My counterpoint would be Yokohama in the 1920s-1940s, where national categories were enforced through police surveillance of 'enemy nationals', and the activities of Chinese government-sponsored associations. My idea was to sketch out the constraints imposed by these institutions on individuals in Yokohama at the time, and how they were be absorbed, inevitably, irrevocably into national bodies.
Well, the contrast just fell apart. The more I look into the historical documents, the closer the present seems to recapitulate the past. The same language 'han'nichi' (anti-Japanese) was used back in the 1930s to describe the textbooks and leaflets published by Chinese nationalists all over the world. The description today of the May 4th (1919) movement as simply 'anti-Japanese' is interesting as well because it seems to follow the same thinking that dominated Japan at the time. While to the Chinese, May 4th was a cultural and literary movement to reinvent the Chinese nation (the boycotts of Japanese goods began much earlier), to the Japanese it was merely resistance to their imperial designs.
Context. Does anyone even remember that May 4th was supposed to start on May 7th? That was the date on which Japan delivered the '21 demands' to China back in 1915. However, to avoid suppression by Chinese authorities, the students had to spring the movement a few days early. But today, the Japanese press just labels it an 'anti-Japanese' movement, without any explanation of its context. Similarly, Chinese nationalist activities in the 1930s were also labeled 'anti-Japanese' sentiment (and regarding Chinese in America, the added comment that they should have been helping their fellow Asians rather than criticizing them), without even an explanation that the Kwantung Army had just seized Manchuria. So little context, then or now.
Ok, but that's jumping ahead a little bit. Evaluating the situation, I'd have to say that we're not quite back in the 1930s yet, but more like the 1920s. So, I guess that means less than 20 more years before another major world war.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
When you ASSUME
. . . you make an ass out of David Hume, who as we all know, thoroughly attacked the common-sense understanding of cause and effect. Ok, enough (pseudo)philosophy.
A few comments on life over the past few days.
1. Demonstrations in China: I still don't have a clear opinion on this, and the obvious reason is my ambiguous position here in Japan as an ethnic Chinese (who has been in China for less than a year total). But that statement's a deadend, because I don't claim to represent people in my position, or even know of any others like me. So, you'll have to take my opinion (and ambiguity) as the statement of an individual. Much as people absolutely hate to do that.
A proposition: the protests are emotionally and morally justified, but simultaneously a disturbing expression of conformity and narrow-minded thinking among the Chinese public.
What I'm getting at here is that I emotionally agree with the desire to give voice to anger over war and massacre, and the circumstances under which the Japanese Government has not had to take full responsbility for its actions. This is especially the case here, where the Cold War (I'm talking about you, America) has made it so difficult to bring any sense of closure, and where the Japanese (do I have to remind you, the aggressors) also bear a strong victim consciousness. Nevertheless, the mob thinking that prevails in these demonstrations is a disturbing indication of a certain failure to democratize the historical consciousness of the Chinese people, and an environment where a diversity of opinion is not accepted. Here, I am foremost concerned with the direction China's society seems to be taking.
Another proposition: should we not compare Chinese 'demonstrations' with the nearly constant (over the past few decades) loud-speaker activities of Japan's right-wing? A friend mentioned that they're parked out in front of Japanese government buildings nearly every day, blasting war marches and haranguing the public. Another friend mentioned that they also come by dormitories primarily occupied by visiting Chinese dignitaries and give speeches in (poorly pronounced) Chinese, criticizing Mao Zedong, etc. She and the other Chinese exchange students would gather to hear the right-wingers whenever they came by. Apparently, they found them quite amusing.
A few comments on life over the past few days.
1. Demonstrations in China: I still don't have a clear opinion on this, and the obvious reason is my ambiguous position here in Japan as an ethnic Chinese (who has been in China for less than a year total). But that statement's a deadend, because I don't claim to represent people in my position, or even know of any others like me. So, you'll have to take my opinion (and ambiguity) as the statement of an individual. Much as people absolutely hate to do that.
A proposition: the protests are emotionally and morally justified, but simultaneously a disturbing expression of conformity and narrow-minded thinking among the Chinese public.
What I'm getting at here is that I emotionally agree with the desire to give voice to anger over war and massacre, and the circumstances under which the Japanese Government has not had to take full responsbility for its actions. This is especially the case here, where the Cold War (I'm talking about you, America) has made it so difficult to bring any sense of closure, and where the Japanese (do I have to remind you, the aggressors) also bear a strong victim consciousness. Nevertheless, the mob thinking that prevails in these demonstrations is a disturbing indication of a certain failure to democratize the historical consciousness of the Chinese people, and an environment where a diversity of opinion is not accepted. Here, I am foremost concerned with the direction China's society seems to be taking.
Another proposition: should we not compare Chinese 'demonstrations' with the nearly constant (over the past few decades) loud-speaker activities of Japan's right-wing? A friend mentioned that they're parked out in front of Japanese government buildings nearly every day, blasting war marches and haranguing the public. Another friend mentioned that they also come by dormitories primarily occupied by visiting Chinese dignitaries and give speeches in (poorly pronounced) Chinese, criticizing Mao Zedong, etc. She and the other Chinese exchange students would gather to hear the right-wingers whenever they came by. Apparently, they found them quite amusing.
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