12 May 2004

An octopus escaping, an elaborate, surreal opera

I am listening to the new Pedro. Oooo-la-ooooo-la-li. It's sweeter than most every kind of candy. It's also about how Patriarchy has failed us. This is something that the dude is very interested in because Patriarchy has been failing him now for almost three months. Bazan's singing about running away and stuff. Yeah, man. Yeah.

So last week me and the Shiota kids were talking about the difference between pretty and ugly. I don't know how I feel about teaching kids about what is pretty and what is ugly as all that is pretty arbitrary and the source of a good deal of pain in someone's life, I'm sure. But anyway, here I have drawn what I consider "pretty." She looks sort of like this girl I know. I guess I'm a little surprised that my vision of what is pretty now. I like this picture a lot. I like that she's got a bow in her hair. I'm hoping that one night, she will come alive and I will wake up and she will be sitting at my desk. I will probably have to say hello in Japanese though, because I don't think she speaks English. Maybe we'd go for a walk.

The job search blows. I don't know if I'll get to stay in Fukuoka. Stay tuned.

I've been telling a story in Japanese about talking to some goats at Noko no Shima. I think this story is only funny to me and maybe the first people I told it to. But man, the goats speak ENGLISH. That's why it's so funny.

Also, I'm going to be on the radio at 10 on Sunday night. Expect most of the new Pedro record. And maybe Asian 20 Questions. Plus, my commentary on American Idol, the war in Iraq, and your mom.

Last night, DK and I and some people from the church went to the Fish Market at 3 in the morning. I went to sleep before we went so when I woke up, the whole thing felt like a dream. Fukuoka wasn't helping either as the streets were pretty empty and, well, it's Japan. The fish market was incredible. It was only for fish wholesalers, so we stood up in the gallery and just watched. A heap load of fish. If you looked out the windows of the gallery, the boats were coming in with the new fish. I spent about seven minutes staring at a woman smoking a cigarette and sorting bait. The whole thing — the light fog on the ocean, the Japanese of the auctioneer, an octopus escaping from his cooler — it was like an elaborate, surreal opera.