I'M BACK...

...and how better to do so than with a post about a phallus. As my very humble contribution to the debate re: theories about skyscrapers and their phallic symbolism, I submit an artistic representation of the soon-to-be-opened "Cocoon Tower" in Tokyo.

Well might one argue that the graphic depiction of the design is simply innocent, and that I am decidedly perverse, but I think the following photo of a poster I saw on the train this morning advertising said phallus (and adjacent gonad) highlights my point - the graphic designers clearly have a wicked sense of humour.


I mean, seriously, why else would you advertise the opening of a new building by presenting its image horizontally if you were not trying to be a smartarse?

It gets marginally better, though. As I was trying to send this image from my Japanese mobile phone (with which I took the offending photograph) to my computer in order to upload it onto the blog, I was prompted with two menu options/messages. The first screen (on the left), provides the option of attaching the photo to an email (to then be sent to my computer). The second poorly translated screen message (on the right), though, points out in a double entendre-esque way that my photo of the phallic building might not be sent because the "other phone may not play as the size is large".


















Needless to say, this kept me amused most of the day... clearly, I have no life.

Starbucks - Act 2

[Scene] I'm at Starbucks, standing in line behind a gaggle of giggling schoolgirls with no concept of volume, waiting to order. Having finished ordering, they exit stage left, and I step up to the register.

[Starbucks Dude] Hi. Welcome to Starbucks.
[Me] Hi. Can I have a cappuccino, please.
[Starbucks Dude] Certainly. Is that to have here or to take away?
[Me] To have here, please.
[Starbucks Dude] I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you can't - all the seats and tables are taken.
[Me, teeth firmly gritted] Well, then, I guess I'll have to have it to take away, won't I.
[Starbucks Dude] Are you sure?

In the darker recesses of my mind, I proceeded to commit horrible, unspeakable violence against Starbucks Dude...

The Starbucks Spasm

I was fortunate enough to be a witness today to a new dance that I have appropriately named the "Starbucks Spasm".

I'll explain the moves, so that you too can bust a move the next time you're off to get a hit of caffeine.

The man sitting on the couch next to mine took off his shoes - I'm not sure if it's important for the effective performance of the dance, but if at all possible, you should also probably try to mismatch the colour of the socks as best you can... the man who performed the dance today had a clever and attractive mix of neon pink and navy blue... each a different styles of sock too, of course.

Step two apparently involved throwing each foot up onto each armrest of the chair opposite the one you're sitting in, much like a woman would place her feet in stirrups before giving birth. I assume step three involves gyrating your hips and rotating your neck in clockwise and counterclockwise directions respectively, because the guy started what seemed to be a mid air yoga routine... or at least that's what I thought it was until I realised that his impressive 50 year old contortions matched the timing of the moderate-tempo Spanish music that was playing over the sound system. At this point, I concluded that it was either a clever new dance or an impressively elaborate epileptic fit.

I doubt it'll be a dance crazy that'll take the world by storm, but then I was wrong about the Macarena too...

A Considered Reflection
on a Considerable Period of Time

This post is a manifestation of a confluence of events - the end of 2007, my 1000th day in Japan, and my not having anything better to do. It seems to me to be an apt time to reflect on my time in Japan in general, and on 2007 specifically.

One of the more notable events of the year, I think, was that on March 20, I was living in a concrete box with a double-glazed window that could generously (and reluctantly) be described as a dormitory room; and on March 21, I was not. My move to an apartment on the other side of Tokyo was not simply a geographic relocation, it was a fundamental improvement in my standard of living.

Whereas before, when I was living in my concrete box, I would be awoken from my slumber by the melodious sounds of metal grinding against metal when the 6:02 morning train rumbled past my window; now, the only sound, if any, is the squeaking of rust wheels of the walkers used by the grandmas in my 'hood' to perambulate impatiently back and forth in front of the store on the 1st floor of my apartment building, waiting for it to open.

Whereas before, when I was living in my concrete box, I had to remind myself to close the curtains before getting out of the shower so as not to give the students in the high school directly opposite my window (on the other side of the train tracks) an unexpected biology lesson in gaijin genitalia; in my new apartment, I found myself one day looking out the window at the old lady in the building opposite mine looking back at my recently showered, wet and naked body, and it occurred to me that I should probably buy some curtains and then keep them closed.

Life is a learning curve, I have since discovered, and the occasional accidental expose of naked flesh makes it all the more interesting.

Something else I learnt (sans the exposure of naked flesh) was always to measure the width of the hallway into the living room before ordering a 2 seater couch. This lesson derived from my realisation that I am, in fact, utterly incapable of manipulating the fabric of time and space in order to bend the corporeal world (namely my narrow hallway) by the sheer force of my will. My creative mind lurched into action, and I conjured up the fantastical solution of energetically hurling the couch out the window of the building opposite mine and through the curtainless window of mine. However, after considered reflection, I arrived at the rather sensible conclusion that rocking up at the house of the old lady I had exposed myself to not a few days earlier, only to then ask her to if I could eject a couch out of her window, would be a considerably big ask...

Part 2 to follow tomorrow.

I know, I know...

I know - I haven't updated this blog in ages, and it doesn't look like I will until next week at the earliest. In the mean time, I have finally managed to obtain photographic evidence of the Curious Cuff Links that I posted about O so many moons ago (early September). I was accused of fabricating the story - not so!

I hereby submit the following as Exhibit A.


In order to take the photo, I had to fool the sales assistant into thinking that I was actually keen on buying it on behalf of a friend who, for whatever reason, couldn't make it to the shop and would not buy it without seeing it for himself/herself. He reluctantly obliged. Fool.

In case you're wondering, they cost about AU$100... and no, I didn't buy any.

It still makes me laugh...

I posted this before - in fact, it was one of my first ever posts, but that was in the pre-YouTube era. I'm posting it again for no other reason than it still makes me laugh.

Curious Cuff Links

I was at a upmarket clothes store the other day, buying a shirt, and I went over to the display case to look at their cuff links. They had three pairs, each with a picture and a title to go with each picture.

The first set had a picture of a muffler and a beaver.
It said "Muff" and "Beaver".

The second set had a picture of a donkey and a little boy. It said "Donkey" and "Dick".

The third set had a picture of a puppy and a lady model. It said "Doggy" and "Style".

The sales assistant couldn't work out why I broke out into a fit of laughter...