Mariko Takahashi's Fitness Video

Busy

saying goodbye to parents and students, organising 6 haloween party lessons a day, finding presents for people, last minute shopping, last minute catch ups, applying for jobs in melbourne, writing this unnecesary blog, sending records home, sending books home, sending everybloodything home, minimalism is good. going to the post office, going back to the post office, paying bills, finding missing bills, trying to get refunds, going back to the post office, learning japanese, wondering why im sick again, returning dvds, cooking dinner, trying to maintain contact with people back home, cleaning flat, gotta move out in two weeks, wondering whether to bring my labtop, gotta get a vietnam visa, gotta find the vietnamesse emabassy, gotta learn to spell embasy, sending paper work to office, trying to get 6 or 7 hours sleep a night, breaking in new shoes, bringing labtop to school in ovsersized box it was bought in, need to buy a labtop bag, gotta save money, gotta spend money, gotta buy nice shit, gotta stop buying shit, gotta email mum, gotta organise banking, organise going away drinks, drink more milk, eat twice a day..........

Harvey Pekar on Letterman

Maudlin

Yesterday i didnt want to go home. Today, after a night of cheap vodka and loud soulless club music in Daikanyama, I cant get on the plane fast enough. I sincerely hope that Stanton Warriors turn to islam and attempt to buy back all their records so as to destory them a la Cat Stevens in the early eighties (he really did try this im told). Perhaps I wouldnt have gotten so drunk if the music was better, actually no, perhaps i would have enjoyed getting so drunk if the music was better.

Today, record shopping in Jimbo Cho with Dion and Tomita, something weird happened. I got tired of record shopping. It was probably just the hang over but I got tired of talking about records too. I actualy waited outside for 10 minutes while Tomita and Dion were in the last shop(admittedly we had been digging for four hours straight by that stage) In an issue of American Splendour, Harvey Pekar talks about his addiction to collecting jazz records. His apartment is full of them but he cant stop buying more, stressing out about how he's going to pay for all the records he wants. Then one day he wakes up and he doesnt feel like it anymore.

Anyway, I dont think thats going to happen yet. there were some nice finds today, I went from having no Kimiko Kasai records to owning 5. A 70s Marvin Gaye record with Heavy Love Affair on it as well as this album about fruit.



FRESSSSHHHHHH!!!

By the way I realise how much of a geek you have to be to put up photos of records you bought on a blog, so dont bother pointing it out to me.

About an american friend i used to work with.

We had been talking excitedly about the new NIntendo DS for months. When he finally bought one, he brought it into work and wouldnt give me a turn.

He was outraged when i said i'd never been to a gilbert and sullivan musical and proceeded to sing for me something about a baseball world series in his booming voice. When i admitted that i didn't understand baseball either, something seemed to break inside of him.

Each lunchtime he suggested we go to the racecourse for a quick bet. Each time I said no he would tell elaborate fantasies about how sorry i would be when he won a million yen and I didn't. I reminded him of the time that we did go and won nothing, a cold and miserable late autumn afternoon spent in the stands with about a dozen old men staring at numbers on the screen that made no sense to me. Between each race he would sing more Gilbert and Sullivan as we headed to the betting machines.

He loved to tell me about the mother of one of his students, the one with the double D cup breasts. Everytime she came to class they would sing head shoulders knees and toes. It was his favorite punchline. I was never sure what the mothers of his students thought. On more than one occasion I would go into his classroom to retrieve something buried deep in his desk and the smell of last nights booze and BO was overpowering.

In one of his more surreal moments (they were not uncommon) he would confide that he had deep seated ambition to go seal clubbing In Greenland. "Greenland would be awesome." he'd say, "its hardly ever light there, much better than Iceland!" He then made that popping sound when you put your finger in your cheek which I think was supposed to be a seal being clubbed.

Often, he would ring me up from one izakya or another, wondering why i didn't want to come halfway across tokyo to meet him at 10.30 on a Tuesday night.

His only other friend was a chinese guy named Wuan who worked turning yakatore sticks all day at one of the small red lantern izakyas under the train station. They would yell chinese at each other (it is not possible to speak Chinese) and as the Righteous brothers played in the background, bet 500 yen on each sumo match that came from the small television in the corner. Each week Wuan would reveal how much he had lost in the Pachinko parlors that week. it was rumored that he owed his boss, who had several interests in a strip that seemed to only consist of pachinko parlors, izakyas and hostess bars, 6 months worth of wages.

He would win it back though. Even if he didnt If he assured me that if he ever decided to sell the gold chain he wore, it would be worth at least what he owed. Once Anna came down and Wuan was so nervous he hardly exchanged a word with our table all night except to pour us a new beer and bring a fresh plate of yakatore.



Ocassionaly one of the anonymous old men that sat along the bar would approach a table with a "hello" or"where from..American?" One gentleman would come back every so often waving his finger at me as if I have been keeping a naughty little secret from him that he was wise too "Kangaloo" he would say and then disappear for a while, possibly to regroup with the table of men that kept glancing over at us, only to return again later; "Kowala!" he beamed.

Another man who was in the same place almost every night must have been nearly 90. One night when sitting along the tiny bar, he tapped me on the shoulder "Korea" he said, making a gesture towards his chest. It was hard to say whether he he was Korean because the next thing he said was "Marlon Brando" making the same heartfelt gesture.

Ah yes back to complaining...

The following is a DVD review taken from the PBS website. The reason I am wondering whether or not writing this will send me to hell is that the author, with the exception of signing a dole form, has probably never been paid for a single word. He clearly does it for the love and so I feel like I am stabbing a brother in the back. But it's fun so here goes.

"Be you, do your thing, and stay strong in what you do."
- Moy, b-boy representing Houston Texas


Red Bull is the perfect sponsor for the annual B-boy finals. They have a real respect for the art of break dancing. They have the strength of an international brand to lend prestige to the event. And dancers agree there simply is no better way to legally fuel a break dancing routine than Red Bull. But the Red Bull BC One DVD does more than showcase the dancing competition that took place in Berlin in 2005. It takes a greatly misunderstood international subculture and elevates it to a level that forces you to appreciate it for what it is: the most dynamic folk-art form in the world today.

We're only one paragraph in but Jeff is already begining to sound like a member of the "hooray for everything" party."


The Red Bull BC One DVD features two-hours of competition and DVD extras including interviews, a slow-motion special, trailers, "The Making of BC One" and "The History of Break Dance". Which, frankly, may be too much dynamic folk-art. (With all respect to the high calibre of the dancers in this DVD, there's only so much of B-boying that you can stand at one go, unless you're drinking heavily or you're a B-boy, or both). But these are just trivial objections.If you're a B-boy, you're already obsessed and you can't get enough. If you're not a dancer, skip the main competition and go straight for the slow-motion special. In this feature, the routines are converted to something like underwater ballet, which fully exposes the beauty at the core of this art form. Yes, I know, I keep referring to it as an "art form". For a multitude of inexplicable reasons, (primarily racism) the general public is dismissive of break dancing. All skeptics are urged to please watch the slow motion special – once seen, you will never honestly deny the pure athletic grace of the dancers.

I agree. I once watched Money Train with Wesley Snipes and Woody Harrelson and I loved every minute of it, i thought the action scenes were thrilling, the premise of an actual money train highly believable and featured knock out performances by the dynamic duo that brought us white men cant jump. my only objection (and its a small one) is that it was a piece of shit. Could it be that a DVD that can only be enhanced by a bout of heavy drinking is also a bit shit?


Before discussing the competition, I think it's important to mention that the 2005 Red Bull BC One event took place in the former parliament house of the East German government. Isn't there something great about that? Can I get a Hip Hop Hooray on that? This is the same place that all those communist leaders met and hatched their evil schemes throughout the cold war and now the place is full of break dancers. (Not to belabor the point, but isn't it amazing how quickly things can change for the better? Doesn't that make you think: "Hey, man, maybe the 2015 B-boy grand finals will take place in Saddam Hussein's imperial palace.") (I'd by a ticket.)





Jeff, you know you're being stupid now because you put quotation marks around your own thoughts. When the voice inside your head starts a sentence with "hey man..." it might be wise to ignore it, thats the cast of Electric Boogaloo whispering in your ear.



The setting inside the former communist stronghold is a cross between a Muay Thai boxing ring and the stage used by Elvis in his 1968 come back special. There's a real street feel to the venue, and the crowd heaves with energy. The competition itself features 16 of the best dancers from all over the world, each facing off against his opponent in three-minute rounds. The dancers range from 18 to 24, and possess spines of licorice. The serviceable host, Rahzel from the Roots, is dressed in a big white sweat suit and he looks like a black Michelin Man.

OK Jeff I just want to point out here that Michelin man is a corporate logo who is made from tires. Therefore, being a "tire man", he is exempt from all notions of race or creed. Grimace cannot be hispanic because he is round and purple and does not possess a nose, Michelin man cannot be black, white or asian because he is made from tires. Its all very well to get creative in your descriptive passages but after each full stop it is worth asking yourself "am i making sense now? "



From the first round to the finals, (except for the all-too superfluous performances by the "Show Acts"), the DVD moves at the rapid pace established by the dancers. Beyond their awe-inspiring moves, one of the things that's interesting about the competition is the way it's filmed; it looks like a video game. There's not a bunch of sly camera tricks and cuts; the camera revolves around the stage, focused on the dancers, and it catches all the facets of their routines from every angle.

The weakest part of the DVD is the music that's used during the dances. Only occasionally do DJs Ace (Switzerland) and Billy Brown (France) come close to giving the dancers (and the crowd) the energy and funk they need. Most of the music is mediocre synthesized Euro-trash pump and dump.

The five judges for the event are dancers themselves, (most semi-retired) and base their scores on technical virtuosity and up-rocking moves, not the down-rocking moves that are the real crowd-pleasers. Since the judges are looking for technicality over physical prowess, and the dancers have to please the judges, it always ends up that the nerdiest guy usually wins. (Not to give anything away, but the 2005 champ looks more like the winner of a spelling bee). Note to Red Bull: A great way to improve the event would be to have a top-rocking champ and a down-rocking champ. Or a crowd-favorite and a judges' favorite – something for the punters in the audience, who, though untrained, paid to see something wild, and to acknowledge the dancer that gives it to them.

Jeff thinks Breakdancing is cool but he is a little bit dissapointed that the winner looks like a nerd. Never afraid to lend a helpful hand or offer some useful feedback, Jeff then suggests ways in which the rules could be changed so that nerds cant enter.


It's inevitable that B-boying will make another break through to the mainstream. The beauty and the power of it just can't be denied. Ironically, DVDs as good as this one might do more harm than good – once the entertainment-starved general public sees how amazing this art form really is, they are going to want in. And, like before, the B-boy movement will sell-out in a minute. But before that happens, have a look at Red Bull BC One 2005. It might just go down as one of the last "real" B-boy battles of the 21st century.


I don't think I have the strength to carry on. Jeff can write. where he falls down is thinking; and lets face it the two have always worked in tandem. Truman Capote made a famous quote about Jack Kerourac when he declared "(It) isn't writing at all, its typing." Jeff clearly needs to relax and spend some quality time with his backspace key.