Friday, July 24, 2009
bambinos
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Drum-n-bass, Peace Park bench, a-bomb epicenter, drag queen show, island camping, thunderstorm, sailing, The Fountain
Friday night I drove with some Japanese friends up to Hiroshima, The City of Peace, for a drum-n-bass show. I wore the “screamer” t-shirt I bought for sixty bucks months before at the request of the driver, Yoshi, “to help with my Hiroshima friend’s t-shirt business. And if you wear it, you will get benefits at shows.” And I had received a few discounts at some events, but nothing more. I wore it Friday night like he said and at the club I met the designer. He showered me in love. I was treated with drinks and endless appreciation. It was great! The music, superb.
I soon woke up. First thought: find air conditioning, I was so hot. And Coffee. Coffee and air conditioning. I remembered spotting a Starbucks near the entrance of the park ...Easy.
At first, in a small garden next to the doors into the monument, you see an abstract sculpture representing a clock stopped at 8:15. It was really hot outside and so I hurried into the cool building.
The end of the ramp emptied into the cylindrical sanctuary. It was still pretty early so nobody else was in there. Only me, my iphone, and my primordial condition of non-dual mirror-mind.
An oculus in the ceiling brought up (re-membered) the Pantheon, and the columns the Hagia Sophia, (I kept seeing the hole in the ceiling as a positive—remembering James Turrell’s technique of “bringing the sky down.”) (look at the video "meeting." for a superb example of his illusionism. He is a master of light.)
The sound of water and indigenous lighting made me feel high and clear.
the sound of water...
Clown-like exaggerations, ribaldry, satire, comedy, dance...Drag Queens are usually brilliant performers, with no shame.
The host for the evening (which traditionally is usually the biggest drag-queen) was a huge Diva, with big football-player shoulders, and hair short like a man’s. (S)he had a naked, large, hairless masculine chest, with well-made dark circular stickers covering the nipples, very feminine, very erotic, with a woman’s face, and a woman’s queenly corset, and hairless, androgynous legs.
You see what I mean? The gender mixing is confusing for everyone. It’s fantastic!
The entire band (Emily, Trish, Ty, Chris, Melissa, Caleb, Amy, and Hayden) had arrived the day before on Ty’s new sailboat. (For those of you who don't know, these are almost all of my best friends in Ehime.)
The island was like any great resort island...it had the bar at the beach, and cute locals catering to the tourists needs. A group of about twenty people joined us that night, some arriving on their jet-ski’s from the main island. The band actually got to perform sing-alongs at the restaurant. It had a piano and a tourist who just happened to know someone on the island with a bass and amp. We had a guitar and the band actually got to perform. It was amazing...
I woke up in water. The fly for the tent was gone. Panic. How? Why? What...I was surprised that I was so tired to not have woken up sooner! I was so tired.
Hayden and Emily had to be at work the next day so at the crack, in the rain, we packed up everything and got back on the boat to sail home.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Big Weekend
A host bar in Japan is where hostesses go to relax after work. It's a fancy bar with young beautiful boy bartenders and young, done-up beautiful Japanese women. There is something for everyone. (this movie is recommended). Keisuke wanted to hear more Micheal Jackson songs, so Chris and I ended up singing We Are the World, and some strange version of Amazing Grace, which Keisuke thought was a Micheal Jackson song.
Luckily, one of the hosts was the guitarist from Kungfu.
Keisuke paid for everything, as usual. There is amazing generosity over here.
Deer Island takes about 20 minutes to walk all the way around and is covered in forest with dazzling deer. And we had it all to ourselves, all night.
In the morning those of us who slept woke up to beautiful Japanese families walking though our campsite, fresh off the ferry and ready to spend the day swimming or fishing at the beach. The island also had a rather impressive shrine,from which taiko drums announced the morning hours (just as the church bells do in the west).
We left the island in the late-afternoon, and headed to an onsen. I'm now at Calebs, celebrating his 25th birthday. I feel great. How do you feel?
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Kyoto with Chris
As always, Kyoto exposed to us her naked stone canals and soft moss gardens, only this time she was covered in a layer of Chris Romain. I got to see Kyoto through his eyes, and that was absolutely breathtaking.
Sanjusangendo floored us both (as it would anyone with an Asian art history book). Just one of those sculptures would be the highlight of any museum in the West, and Sanjusangendo has over 1000!, all lined up like a choir behind music deities playing drums, biwas, and flutes. This is still by far my favorite temple in Kyoto.
We then walked to Kyomizu-dera, which, despite being the second most popular temple in Kyoto, was nearly empty! Our cab driver said there`s a 90% decrease of tourists this year due to the pig-flu scare. Lucky us.
Fushimi-inari in the evening was extraordinary. Spiders built webs around the lights, gnats ate rotting gates, cats played in the shadows, distant claps and shrine rattles shattered space, and we saw a couple with their son searching for insects in the black-green forest. Their flashlights reminded me of frogging with my dad.
After Fushimi-inari shrine we ate ramen, drank sake, and then followed some friends from the hostel to Sam and Dave, a huge, hopping dance-club with two floors each playing different kinds of music. I almost cried when the 80's DJ played classic MJ.
The next morning we went to Nanzenji (chosen because it was featured in Lost in Translation).
Holy Christ, Nanzenji was God-incarnate (but what isn`t, right?). I wasn't expecting such a tremendous Gate! Japan is full of gates, portals into buddha-fields. And the Zen gardens there pushed us into ineffable intimacy with our infinite selves.
one sunbathing snake
listens to one chanting monk
Nanzen-in