Egg-Shaped and Winged Japanese Children Sing, Hug a Bipedal Dog
Posted By:Casey is "Sonny Angel," Mayo Baby
Get this video and more at MySpace.com
I can't express just how happy this video always makes me.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
You American? Gary Cooper?
Posted By:Sonny Angel, Mayo Baby
Get this video and more at MySpace.com
This slightly inebriated man approached me outside of Sendai Station, pulled out his songbook, and began to sing. The video speaks for itself.
Let me know if you want more, because I've got a slightly longer video that has him doing a little shuffle and hand-motions.
Posted By:Sonny Angel, Mayo Baby
Get this video and more at MySpace.com
This slightly inebriated man approached me outside of Sendai Station, pulled out his songbook, and began to sing. The video speaks for itself.
Let me know if you want more, because I've got a slightly longer video that has him doing a little shuffle and hand-motions.
YahooBB
So I finally got my apartment plugged in to the internet, but I have a dillema. Whenever I try to log into my hotmail or yahoo e-mail accounts, I get a message saying that the server cannot be located. I'm not sure what to make of this and would appreciate any help you might be able to give!
Casey
So I finally got my apartment plugged in to the internet, but I have a dillema. Whenever I try to log into my hotmail or yahoo e-mail accounts, I get a message saying that the server cannot be located. I'm not sure what to make of this and would appreciate any help you might be able to give!
Casey
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Walking Marathon
Despite the two massive blisters that blossomed on my right pinky and left ring toe, respectively, the walking race was great. I got to talk with many students beyond the classroom barrier (amazed at how confident they were speaking English outside of class), and I shot three or four rolls of film in my Holga. I now feel like I truly know my way around Sendai, and if I ever got lost at midnight in Nagamachi Minami, I could probably wander home on foot just as easily as taking the bus. That is, if I didn't mind walking for six hours.
But the potato soup I mentioned? Yeah, well. It was tonjiru, or pork soup. Since when was pork soup an incentive for walking fifteen miles? Potato I can understand, but pork? And the last four kilometers the girls were all chanting ton-ji-ru, ton-ji-ru as if they were about to recieve manna from heaven.
Julianna and I went to see The Black Dhalia at The Mall, but I came out feeling a bit underwhelmed. It was nothing new, really. The same old noir. We did find out, however, that they will be playing Marie Antoinette sometime next month.
I'm off now to the Mediateque to meet up with a few students from the movie club here at school. I've been asked to head up the club when they graduate next year!
Despite the two massive blisters that blossomed on my right pinky and left ring toe, respectively, the walking race was great. I got to talk with many students beyond the classroom barrier (amazed at how confident they were speaking English outside of class), and I shot three or four rolls of film in my Holga. I now feel like I truly know my way around Sendai, and if I ever got lost at midnight in Nagamachi Minami, I could probably wander home on foot just as easily as taking the bus. That is, if I didn't mind walking for six hours.
But the potato soup I mentioned? Yeah, well. It was tonjiru, or pork soup. Since when was pork soup an incentive for walking fifteen miles? Potato I can understand, but pork? And the last four kilometers the girls were all chanting ton-ji-ru, ton-ji-ru as if they were about to recieve manna from heaven.
Julianna and I went to see The Black Dhalia at The Mall, but I came out feeling a bit underwhelmed. It was nothing new, really. The same old noir. We did find out, however, that they will be playing Marie Antoinette sometime next month.
I'm off now to the Mediateque to meet up with a few students from the movie club here at school. I've been asked to head up the club when they graduate next year!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
A letter to a former professor, currently on paid leave, regarding an unusual confusion in the naming of muppets.
In reference to your latest blog entry, the one concerning "green" in its many forms, I'll assume you know our froggy green friend is "Kermit," and that by referring to him as one who lives a hermetic life of solitude you were actually making an allusion to your current sabbatical.
Granted, Hermit the Frog would make a terrific addition to the foam and felt cast of Jim Henson regulars. I envision him holed up in a box or ratty tenement on the south side of Sesame Street, an Oscar-the-Grouch minus the stench and with the astringent piety that comes from deep religious conviction. Perhaps he could take Ernie's rubber ducky obsession one step further and keep bronze icons of lily pads and horseflies barb-wired around his thin-skinned chest, close to his small, slowly beating heart. Was he driven to this solitary life of sackcloth by his cold, moist, amphibian lust for Miss Piggy, that voluptuous and porky sometime paramour of his older, more charismatic and socially-mobile brother, Kermit? If this sexual rage did not drive him to live in rags and sleep on bags of coal (and I'm sure it did), his lonely lifestyle can only be explained by what I presume to be a humble reverence for, and servile obedience to, whatever watery gods inhabit the ponds and soggy bogs of frog-dom.
Sincerely,
Casey
In reference to your latest blog entry, the one concerning "green" in its many forms, I'll assume you know our froggy green friend is "Kermit," and that by referring to him as one who lives a hermetic life of solitude you were actually making an allusion to your current sabbatical.
Granted, Hermit the Frog would make a terrific addition to the foam and felt cast of Jim Henson regulars. I envision him holed up in a box or ratty tenement on the south side of Sesame Street, an Oscar-the-Grouch minus the stench and with the astringent piety that comes from deep religious conviction. Perhaps he could take Ernie's rubber ducky obsession one step further and keep bronze icons of lily pads and horseflies barb-wired around his thin-skinned chest, close to his small, slowly beating heart. Was he driven to this solitary life of sackcloth by his cold, moist, amphibian lust for Miss Piggy, that voluptuous and porky sometime paramour of his older, more charismatic and socially-mobile brother, Kermit? If this sexual rage did not drive him to live in rags and sleep on bags of coal (and I'm sure it did), his lonely lifestyle can only be explained by what I presume to be a humble reverence for, and servile obedience to, whatever watery gods inhabit the ponds and soggy bogs of frog-dom.
Sincerely,
Casey
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Marathon
There is a prefecture-wide walking marathon for high school students tomorrow, and I have decided, at the last minute, to participate. Granted, it's not a true marathon; at 24.8 kilometers it measures roughly 15 miles. Still, I'm sure I'll be winded enough. The course flits about a nearby mountain and through the outskirts of town, so I'll have two cameras in tow to document any oddities along the way. Oh, and the best part? We get free potato soup at the end.
I'll do anything for potato soup.
There is a prefecture-wide walking marathon for high school students tomorrow, and I have decided, at the last minute, to participate. Granted, it's not a true marathon; at 24.8 kilometers it measures roughly 15 miles. Still, I'm sure I'll be winded enough. The course flits about a nearby mountain and through the outskirts of town, so I'll have two cameras in tow to document any oddities along the way. Oh, and the best part? We get free potato soup at the end.
I'll do anything for potato soup.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Preparation, "H" for "Holgaroids"
Ever since buying my Holga, I've been on the hunt for the elusive "Holgaroid," a polaroid back for the Holga body. Last week, at Village Vanguard, a brilliant retailer of kitsch here in Sendai, I found it. Tucked into the corner of their toy camera display (I am amazed at how popular Lomo seems to be here) was a small sign with a picture of the Holgaroid back. I asked one of the clerks, in very tentative Japanese, if there were any in stock. She flitted off (I swear some of these girls have bumblebee wings) to the back room to check. When she returned, it was with empty hands and an "I'm sorry I just killed your dog" kind of face. I looked around for a few minutes, marveling at the Famicom pillowcases and severed rubber hands. It was like going to a thrift store where you didn't have to wade through junk and everything was new.
All of the sudden, the girl buzzed up behind me, tapped (stung) me on the shoulder, and presented me with my long-sought holy grail of instant gratification. Yes, yes, and yes.
The next day, following our writer's workshop, I promptly wasted two packs of film before I figured out how to load, shoot, and unload the film properly. At around $15 for 10 exposures, this was a relatively expensive learning curve. But oh the glory when the clouds parted and I shot that first successful frame of trains leaving the station. The burst colors, the soft focus, the tunnel-vision vignetting. I'm really going to have to start budgeting my film expenses.
I'll post some of the shots once I find a place to scan them. Oh, and I did a double exposure of Freddy Kreuger's face hovering over a statue of Colonel Sanders.
This weekend should be productive. Julianna and I want to visit Matsushima Bay, one of the "three most famous sights in all of Japan," and I might do some recording with Louise and go around to a few pubs distributing CDs and trying to line up shows. We played at a cultural festival two weeks ago, in Watari, and I still need to post a few pictures of us, along with the crazy guy who played Chinese violin whilst atonally singing.
Ever since buying my Holga, I've been on the hunt for the elusive "Holgaroid," a polaroid back for the Holga body. Last week, at Village Vanguard, a brilliant retailer of kitsch here in Sendai, I found it. Tucked into the corner of their toy camera display (I am amazed at how popular Lomo seems to be here) was a small sign with a picture of the Holgaroid back. I asked one of the clerks, in very tentative Japanese, if there were any in stock. She flitted off (I swear some of these girls have bumblebee wings) to the back room to check. When she returned, it was with empty hands and an "I'm sorry I just killed your dog" kind of face. I looked around for a few minutes, marveling at the Famicom pillowcases and severed rubber hands. It was like going to a thrift store where you didn't have to wade through junk and everything was new.
All of the sudden, the girl buzzed up behind me, tapped (stung) me on the shoulder, and presented me with my long-sought holy grail of instant gratification. Yes, yes, and yes.
The next day, following our writer's workshop, I promptly wasted two packs of film before I figured out how to load, shoot, and unload the film properly. At around $15 for 10 exposures, this was a relatively expensive learning curve. But oh the glory when the clouds parted and I shot that first successful frame of trains leaving the station. The burst colors, the soft focus, the tunnel-vision vignetting. I'm really going to have to start budgeting my film expenses.
I'll post some of the shots once I find a place to scan them. Oh, and I did a double exposure of Freddy Kreuger's face hovering over a statue of Colonel Sanders.
This weekend should be productive. Julianna and I want to visit Matsushima Bay, one of the "three most famous sights in all of Japan," and I might do some recording with Louise and go around to a few pubs distributing CDs and trying to line up shows. We played at a cultural festival two weeks ago, in Watari, and I still need to post a few pictures of us, along with the crazy guy who played Chinese violin whilst atonally singing.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
The Shower Nurse
At the hospital I noticed this woman walking around in shorts and a t-shirt. She was quite smiley and usually pushing this one older lady around in a wheel chair. For a week I thought she was a patient's daughter, and so I was very surprised when she showed up in my room with a wheel chair one evening. She made enthusiastic motions to get in it, and being unable to ask in Japanese where she was taking me, I clumsily obliged, assuming she wanted to take me to meet her mother. I thought this was really wierd, but failed to find another reason why she would want to wheel me around the hospital and figured this was another enigma of the Japanese culture. These days, in the spirit of living in a foreign country, my new mantra is to just roll with it.
However, I reached my breaking point when she wheeled me into a room with an 11 foot square bath tub and a shower nozzle. By this point I was desperately hoping she was a hospital employee (I wish I could attribute the fact that I still hadn't caught on yet to a cocktail of powerful pain medication that rendered me a faulknerian idiot- but I can't because the only thing they had me on was a very small dose of tylenol, yet another thing that made little sense) I had bathed myself just fine the days before, and generally the nurses would leave me to undress in privacy to do so. However this woman refused. She pantomined pulling off her shorts with great flourish and I responded by slowly taking off my glasses and robe hoping she would leave like the others by the time I finished. This only made her impatient. She started to pull up her shirt a la Girls Gone Wild before stopping midway, then tugging aggressively on mine while speaking in rapid Japanese. So I shyly took off my shirt and stood on my good leg. My back was to her and she seized the opportunity to yank down my pants, underwear and all. I was literally pantsed. I quickly hopped onto a plastic lawn chair and she proceeded to bathe me before a brisk and militant toweling off. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I could have really used her help the days following my surgery. But this was now 10 days later, and I was more than capable of washing myself.
I learned later she is what is called "a shower nurse."
[Note: An actual post by the lovely Julianna? Well bless my nippers. - Casey]
At the hospital I noticed this woman walking around in shorts and a t-shirt. She was quite smiley and usually pushing this one older lady around in a wheel chair. For a week I thought she was a patient's daughter, and so I was very surprised when she showed up in my room with a wheel chair one evening. She made enthusiastic motions to get in it, and being unable to ask in Japanese where she was taking me, I clumsily obliged, assuming she wanted to take me to meet her mother. I thought this was really wierd, but failed to find another reason why she would want to wheel me around the hospital and figured this was another enigma of the Japanese culture. These days, in the spirit of living in a foreign country, my new mantra is to just roll with it.
However, I reached my breaking point when she wheeled me into a room with an 11 foot square bath tub and a shower nozzle. By this point I was desperately hoping she was a hospital employee (I wish I could attribute the fact that I still hadn't caught on yet to a cocktail of powerful pain medication that rendered me a faulknerian idiot- but I can't because the only thing they had me on was a very small dose of tylenol, yet another thing that made little sense) I had bathed myself just fine the days before, and generally the nurses would leave me to undress in privacy to do so. However this woman refused. She pantomined pulling off her shorts with great flourish and I responded by slowly taking off my glasses and robe hoping she would leave like the others by the time I finished. This only made her impatient. She started to pull up her shirt a la Girls Gone Wild before stopping midway, then tugging aggressively on mine while speaking in rapid Japanese. So I shyly took off my shirt and stood on my good leg. My back was to her and she seized the opportunity to yank down my pants, underwear and all. I was literally pantsed. I quickly hopped onto a plastic lawn chair and she proceeded to bathe me before a brisk and militant toweling off. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I could have really used her help the days following my surgery. But this was now 10 days later, and I was more than capable of washing myself.
I learned later she is what is called "a shower nurse."
[Note: An actual post by the lovely Julianna? Well bless my nippers. - Casey]
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Seventeen Items Recently Found In or Near the Potomac
1. Dead muskrat
2. Kabuki mask
3. Plastic Christmas tree
4. Tricycle - circa 1930's
5. Plywood cutout of a German Shepard
6. Remains of a dog wrapped in pink insulation
7. Message in a bottle from Chambersburg, PA
8. Dead field mouse in a drinking bottle
9. Uncorked bottle of not-so-bad wine
10. Socks growing moss
11. Spiderman underwear
12. Boxers in a tree
13. Two full I.V. bags
14. Tube of Vagisil
15. 8" mortar shell
16. Red Cross stretcher
17. 50 Bosnian dinars
1. Dead muskrat
2. Kabuki mask
3. Plastic Christmas tree
4. Tricycle - circa 1930's
5. Plywood cutout of a German Shepard
6. Remains of a dog wrapped in pink insulation
7. Message in a bottle from Chambersburg, PA
8. Dead field mouse in a drinking bottle
9. Uncorked bottle of not-so-bad wine
10. Socks growing moss
11. Spiderman underwear
12. Boxers in a tree
13. Two full I.V. bags
14. Tube of Vagisil
15. 8" mortar shell
16. Red Cross stretcher
17. 50 Bosnian dinars
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