If I get famous, I'm rolling with THIS DUDE.

John Oates' mustache will be voiced by Dave Attell

More proof that my horrific version of reality is far cooler than most of yours.

On the Akihabara tragedy

This post has been copied from my company blog at tokyogetter.livejournal.com.

"I came to this place to kill people."

What happened today in Akihabara is beyond heartbreaking, and is probably still beyond the realm of reason and subtle examination. I would like to express how I feel about the situation in a succinct and short manner, but I think it would be unfair to the victims and to all of you who are as confused and perhaps as upset as I am. That said, I apologize for the length of this.

I`m torn about presenting my philosophic/anthropological views because they contrast so strongly with my presence as a relatively silent but always-supportive member of the Akihabara community. I have worked there, I shop there, I have had great adventures with some of my best friends there... I`ve even been on TV leading groups of grad students around the place. I may not be immersed in the outward aspects of nerd culture, seeing as I`ve traded the university-era "Blue Hair"(tm) and blood-stained tshirts for suits and ties, but I view it as a very fun and relaxing place where I can freely and nonchalantly engage with a lot of my societal, business, and personal interests.

I can rattle off the various economic and socio-economic effects that will arise from this, seeing as it happened a block from ground zero of a 20 billion dollar industry and right in the left ventricle of one of Japan`s strongest export centers with ties to mass communication, printing, intellectual rights merchandising, licenses, etc. But really, that is all obvious to most of you who would bother to care and I`m sure I`ll be called to expound upon that at a later time.

The real question is: why am I seeing big piles of blood-soaked bandages in the middle of the street while EMT teams massage the hearts of people who have been smashed by trucks or stabbed with a survival knife on a cloudy Sunday?

A man rented a truck in Shizuoka, which is a far stretch away from Tokyo and Akihabara, and used it as a vehicular homicide ramrod before backtracking on foot and hacking, slashing, and debilitating people with a piece of cold steel. Why? Because he was apparently tired of life.

Think about that... tired of life.

At the risk of sounding completely nihilistic: Who isn`t? Really? When you think about it, you have to acknowledge the fact that it is disturbingly hard to express feelings like that without attendant insinuations of deep and melancholic self-involved depression that functions almost like a comedic punchline in global society today. We`re all tired. We`re all upset. We`re all, at least, somewhere in our hearts, a little sad or distressed.

We just suck at expressing it.

We spend a lot of time alone.

We forget what`s important.

Or we substitute for it.

Shorthand becomes longhand. Right becomes left. Up becomes down. A wind tunnel of noise noise noise replaces the smiles of friends and the quiet conversations you have with the people you care about as a need to fill those sad little voids we create because of our being so busy.

We lose something these days.

Now, don`t misunderstand me. I don`t pine for lost periods as an end-all escape hatch dream state. The idea of the past as a `halcyon period of glory and happiness` is, to throw away all semantic trickery, total bullshit. You think leprosy, gangrene, cholera, the crusades, and polio were fun? No, they probably were not. But people lived in periods like that and thus become defined in waves encompassing generations, where the dizzying highs and the tedious, tear-inducing lows became carved into steel that was thrown deep into our collective subconscious vaults. Your first kiss. Your grandmother dying. Hearing about the shuttle explode. Remembering the event of watching a movie that made you cry. It all meant something so much that no matter if it was good or bad, you knew you were alive. And you paid a price for it, either way. It hard to take. When it gets too hard you become tired of life.

We`re all tired. We just have to find something to do with it. And we have to admit it. Don`t be afraid. Don`t mean harm. Be honest about it. Do the right thing and remember what`s important to you is NOT JUST YOU but the world as a living, breathing, interconnected organism.

The people that died today were, genetically, 98% the same as the person that killed them. Somewhere, something happened... cultural, sociological, medical, psychological... SOMETHING happened where the A. lead to a B. and then finally a Z. that included wholesale slaughter as a solution to whatever problems and nagging worries he had droning around in his brain. So now I`m translating the news and feeling like I should cry but tears can`t come.

I don`t know, but maybe this is just another moment that only rings important to people who are, for lack of a better term "like me." I wouldn`t be here if it weren`t for things like comic books, movies, baseball, horribly noisy music, or funny electronic toys and computers. But I have to remember that it takes a lot of responsibility not to completely lose myself in it. It`s easy to get lost. Next thing you know the weariness creeps in. Then the sadness you can`t express. Then the tiredness. You either sleep it off or you do something else, but it can swallow you. And it happens.

God bless their souls.

God bless the tired.

(For more info please see Patrick Macias` blog entry or Japanator.com`s entry.)

"Fuck you Kyushu, and your fucking ridiculously limited weed intake!"

I had another 30 minutes at the internet cafe.

Just felt like saying that.

Anyway, I should sit down and write the articles for the various websites that are up on me to do me and say more for them. Seeing as how I`m a `z list` celebrity to some...

By the way, you know how many hits happened from that Albini/Gallo thing? Enough for me to think that some of you guys need to start doing more pushups and getting out the crib more often.

(This is coming from a guy running an internet-based business, btw.)

Anyway, nerd links...

Intermixi.com, the only pop culture Japan travel company goodly enough to sort-of employ me. Isaac is gearing up for the September tour. Stop by and see Japan.

Akibanana.com, run by my former wife(!) and a crack team of specialists, this site provides updated info on happenings in and around Akihabara in Tokyo. It`s like Akibablog, but with less Engrish. Or more, depending.






























(!) = Just kidding. I am married to UCC coffee and distance running. I seriously wanted to see if anybody googled this and proceeded to defecate upon themselves.

Me and my blasphemy

I don`t neccesarily know why I am into this Japanese song `Game` by Perfume, but here you are...



Warning! This son of a bitch contains enough goddamned autotuned vocalizing that it makes Britney Spears sound like Mahalia Jackson.

Perhaps it is the `form as function` theory, or some extremist take on basic Warholism, but I guess this is as valid an example of machines making music as Kraftwerk envisioned it as one can find.

Or maybe I`m just tired from running around a little mercury-infested town by the sea of Kyushu known as `Minamata.`

"Come on in, the water`s FUCKED!"

Vincent Gallo vs. Steve Albini: AKA, THE SHIT IS OFFICIAL!

Edit: this post has been updated for accuracy.

This centers over a fight about a regular poster (and member of the EXCELLENT "low intensity" band Rifle Sport, and not Flour as previously posted) selling a guitar to Vincent Gallo. The whole of the thread is located at this URL.

Basically, Albini made fun of Gallo after a guitar was sold to him by a forum regular. Gallo logged onto Albini`s awesome and very fun electrical audio forum and retorted:

From Vincent Gallo,
No offence Mr. Steve Albini but I have been into Veleno and Travis Bean guitars since my early teens, long before your interest in them. I worked at a guitar shop that was a dealer of both along with Veillette Citron, Alembic, S.D. Curlee and others. Since the 80’s I have had several of my guitars featured on the back page of Guitar Player Magazine as part of the Encore feature that Tom Wheeler edited. (Full-page photo of a rare vintage guitar) In 1978-1980 I played a Wedge in the No Wave band GRAY that include member Jean Michel Basquiat. In 1981 I purchased a Veleno for $475 from a dude named Jimmy who worked in the art department on the film All That Jazz. Since my interest in older rare things started long before the Internet my searches were done in a different way than yours. For example, I put together the largest collection of sound gear made by Western Electric. I did so on a dishwasher salary and long before the web. I was a member of underground mailing lists and networked the USA and Japan like a maniac. To collect with little money I had to buy and sell a ton of guitars microphones and hifi gear. Over the years I have earned a lot about sound and sound recording and have written some well-known essays on the subject. My point of view has always been way more radical than any of your practices. I take offence to your slight, as you clearly do not know anything about me. I was never interested in your Bean or Veleno guitars (which I knew you had), because you hack up your instruments. I prefer things left the way they were made. Your guitars are all modified for reasons I could never understand. In any case, these days I make it clear on the web that I will pay higher than high for any Travis Bean or Veleno guitar as I am luckily very rich. vincentgallo@vincentgallo.com

The Albini reply followed:
Mr Gallo,

Thank you for submitting your resume, but unfortunately the position of self-obsessed douchebag has been filled. We'll keep your details on file and if anything opens up, we'll stuff a note in the vagina of a woman with low self-esteem.

Congratulations on becoming rich and owning things.

-mgmt

Now, I hate to say I really enjoy this kind of gawker-type bullshit, but it IS funny, and one of the guys involved in this fracas made Songs About Fucking. I think we`re all allowed one every now and then, and seeing as how Killdozer made records in homedude`s basement...

Dear rock and roll...

Remember when you were fun? You know, fun? FUN? Not just a fucking disco biscuits factory or the realm of KIDS SKINNIER THAN ME and 'bringing it' could be done with humor and heart and power?

Yeah, well, go jack off to a White Stripes album or some shit before your illustrator work is done, BECAUSE THE TAD DVD IS NOW ONLINE AND WATCHABLE.

That noisy stuff you be hearin' is called 'distortion.' It often ends up resulting in blow jobs, cheap beer, and laughter. Get on it.

Today I taught a guy who makes 5000 dollars a day how to teach.

How many karma points will I be getting for that?

Regardless, I have realized that I miss writing. I'm going to start doing more posting here.

Also, this site needs some pictures and whatnot as a nice aside from descriptions of the kind of horrible job interviews I've had with people like ear-cancer purveyor Donna Burke or whatever group of no-funsters who write me on a Tuesday seeing if I can whitey up and stop by their office so they can be mad at me for being the palest black guy ever.

Que sera.

Here you go:



Also, I loved this record in the fall. Kaela Kimura's song "Yellow."



Bonus:

Video from my Bangkok trip:

Holy screaming mother of God covered in ketchup, blood, and love YES YES YES THANK YOU!!!

SIX FINGER SATELLITE RE-UNITES.