Biographers Wanted:

I keep a diary. I have for almost 6 years. So long, that I used to be a closet diary writer for fear of persecution from friends. I have not missed out one day in over 4 1/2 years. Some people say this might be excessive, the rest might call me a psycho. It seems to work out for me. There is always the balance of 'doing stuff' vs. 'writing about doing stuff'. Lately, it has been the latter. I'm seriously considering hiring a biographer, on a trial basis at first, naturally. It would save me so much time. This here is a list of things I did in just weekend from friday after school:

basketball practice.
going out on the town- as much as someone can go out in Tonami.
a school festival (not my school).
probably my last beach day this year. A quiet beach in the next prefecture. Swimming and stuff...
a relatively famous festival with semi-traditional dance competition.
going out on the town- as much as someone can go out in Tonami.
playing a basketball game at the opposite side of the prefecture. My 4th quater heriocs saved the game.
driving through the mountains and over frogs to a small mountain village.

It was still only Sunday night. The reason I went to this mountain village was noodles. More on that later. For the time being, we had a party to attend. Deep in the midle of nowhere, there lives a man called Kawasaki. From what I can tell, he is a full-part-time pro-bono party host. His house is a bar. It is decorated with retro posters, trinkets from around the world, delicious food, various musical instruments, and many interesting people. Two of them were semi-professional "shamisen" players. A shamisen is clumsily translated into English as a "Japanese Banjo". This is one more example why I hate translations. People, just take the time out of your lives to learn a new word! The Shamisen is a traditional Japanese stringed intrument, that, despite never being in tune, can make very beautiful music. And these two were incredibly good.

Three more guests were "Chindon", (clumsily: "Japanese street performers who don't really play on streets and usually have crossdressing tendancies"). We actually saw these guys play at the small snow festival, and I really mean it when I say that these guys were truly terrible. A lady on a sax, a guy on small electric guitar and a guy with a portable drum-kit made out of pots and pans and other noisy things. It was hilarious, especially since they were the butt of many jokes I had made since the snow festival. And now we wedre getting a private concert. But in a non-biased way, I honestly think they were very loud.

Kawasaki-san also joined in, busting out some funk on a Bass guitar, and going over to the piano for a very good Jerry Lee Lewis impersonation- assuming Jerry Lee Lewis was Japanese and deaf. I mean, he was very good, but I have never heard somebody hum that loudly. He also taught me some ukulele, and then we all picked up some drums and bongo'd. It was incredible fun. Suddenly the party was over, and we went to bed. A lot of us guests had to get up early to team up with "soba" (Japanese Spaghetti) Masters from all over Japan and make Japanese Spaghetti infront of a large audience and stern judges.

These sort of things, no matter how much free time I get, I could never write about them to do it justice...
But maybe an autobiographer could. Willing applicants will be willing to begin immediately.

The only wood to be found in a Japanese staffroom are pencils, and I never have one handy when I need it. Even so, I should have knocked on wood. With the statement on my last post "I was paying a lot of money to get a less powerful, slower, less cool car with a pathetic sound-system, but which is cheap to own and will not likely give me any more car problems". Within 8 hours of posting that, this is what happened...

I was driving to school, and then, without warning, the gas pedal had nothing behind it. I may as well have been stepping on the cup holder; I was going nowhere. The pope-mobile rolled to a stop on the side of the road, right opposite the giant tulip factory.

I had a feeling I knew what this was about. See, since I got a new car that is supposed to be efficient to drive, I naturally wanted to know just how efficient. That requires an empty tank of petrol to fill up, so for the past week, I was waiting for the 'low petrol' light to go on. It never did, and my car was now stuck on the side of the road. Never before have I hoped that something on my car was broken, as much as I did now. If you've ever seen a movie, or even part of a movie, you will probably be familiar with how a car runs out of petrol. You know, the spluttering, the coughing, a last thrust by the car to no avail as it stops in the middle of a desert.

It bugged me that my situation was nothing like those movies. My car just suddenly decided to not have any thrust, and I came to a stop opposite the tulip factory. And it was raining. Maybe my car was actually broken. The irony and coincidence of 11 months earlier did not escape me. When I bought Kelly, I began driving her on a Friday. The next Friday, the transmission screwed up. This day was also a Friday, exactly one week since I started driving. Furthermore, I was on the same road- mere seconds dive away from where Kelly stopped.

The petrol station was 1.4km walk, which wasn't so bad, and I could take some nice shortcuts though rice fields. I borrowed a can from a confused old mechanic, and bought 7 litres of petrol. (hint to others in the case of having to walk over 1km with a can of petrol: Only buy one or two litres. Trust me). It turns out I was only out of petrol. I guess there is no other way to find out that your 'low petrol' lamp is broken. It was actually the last day of "school holidays" meaning I technically had nothing to do at school anyway. Still, an hour of nothing is better than walking through rice fields in the rain and wind while rediscovering the weight of 7 kilos at the end of your arm.

Apart from that, I'm really starting to warm to my new car. It has air conditioning! The biting heat of summer has mostly gone, now it's just a licking heat. The giant drooling tongue of summer. I'm pretty used to it, but it does suck sweating while driving.. It's like wetting the bed: it's warm and comforting, and feels kindof pleasant but then you realise that you are a 22 year old man, and this cannot go on.

I also figured out I'm saving anywhere between 4 and 5 yen per kilometre I drive! Wow! Incredible. Never have I been so appealing to the opposite sex. On Monday, I saved possibly 300-500 yen. Every week, I teach an English conversation class to some guys from a high-technology medical equipment supply company. It is in Toyama City, which is about an hour by car. The lesson is so lucrative, it is well worth the drive, especially with my recent calculations. It is not technically allowed for ALTs to take other lessons, but it's a loophole that is too tempting for most. Let's just call my payment "travel reimbursement". It is very easy to plan for, and the guys are really cool. They pay me up front at the start of the month. This month, there are only 2 lessons due to public holidays.

Well, i showed up, and soon one of the guys ran inside. He was unusually excited and asked me about a festival. It is one of the top 3 festivals in Japan- I went to it last year and honestly, I did not enjoy it. There was a mass of thousands of old, hat-wearing ladies in a moshpit going up the hill, scuttling and jostling by. I felt violated and abused from the whole experience. Also, it began raining, and I was repeatedly poked in the face by umbrellas. He didn't understand or listen: he wanted to take me there tonight. It became a field trip with 3 of my high-tech medical supply company English conversation class students. One brought his "girlfriend". She seemed a lot more interested in me. She was hanging on every word I said, and laughed at anything amusing, touching me on the forearm or thigh. She was probably in her mid 30's, but obviously took good care of herself. Sure I like the attention- especially when I'm at work, but I didn't want to piss off my student- although I thought this guy was married... Maybe he meant "friend who is a girl". Still, I presumed that I was getting paid for this "lesson", so i tried to use as much English as possible.

It was much better than the year before. Being a Monday, and with the rain making a lot of people stay home, I was able to enjoy this famous festival. One of the guys kept saying, "why is this so famous?". He had a point. It was a nice quaint town- the type that is only worth going to this one weekend every year, and they have a special type of dancing- which is probably the physical manifestaion of a lullaby. Nice festival, but top 3? I explained it to him in terms of Paris Hilton: She can't sing, can't act, isn't even very pretty and yet she is famous only because she is famous. A viscious cycle that allows mediocrity to think itself as great.

The next morning I checked the contents of the envelope. 40,000 yen. This is the usual payment for 4 lessons, but this month I have only two. I was happy, but the implications are huge. Basically, I got paid US 200$ to go to a festival for an hour with an older woman who was very flirty. For one very special night, I was a medium-high class English escort. Speaking of mediocrity allowing itself to think of himself as great... Right now, I'm looking for a pencil. I'm not making this mistake again.