Trains, Trannies, and Scary Nigerians: With love, Tokyo Part 1*

> CLICK HERE FOR PART 2

                                        Photo: "Shibuyu Crossing Madness" Credit : Rudy Randa

Shit.

Really?

 They cancelled my flight out of Hong Kong to Tokyo.

 I didn’t even venture out on my last night in HK after dinner because I didn’t want to miss my 10 am flight to Tokyo.

I wanted to soak in a full Saturday and really be fresh for the experience. Great.

We can put you on a flight at 15:00. Gets you in at 21:00. Ugh. There goes my night.

Whatever. When you travel you have to be prepared to deal with things you can't control, and you can either let it sabotage your mood and your day, or just let it go. THINK POSITIVELY.

It WAS kind of disheartening though, because I knew that after I landed, I still had about another hour or so of travel from Narita airport to where I was staying in Rappongi Hills in Tokyo.

I chill in HK airport and eat a PHENOMENAL salumi plate. Some dutch girl a few tables over stares at me off and on for about 30 minutes. The entire time while sniffing a very long cold French fry. Pretty bizarre, but nothing in comparison to what was on the horizon.

Finally I get to Tokyo and as I am walking up to the customs line A crush of Phillipinos swarmed.

Ugh.

They didn’t speak any English and they didn’t speak any Japanese. They had many small children, who seemed hell bent on mayhem.  The line was moving at a snail's pace due to this, and ended up taking an hour for what should have been a 15 minute wait. Meh.

 NOW I missed the last Skyliner train into Tokyo. I was to transfer at Shinjuku and then cab to my hotel. About a 45 min experience and the fastest way into town. I didn’t make any alternate plans so I had to figure it out, and the Japanese train system is incredibly complex, and does NOT have everything in English.

Oh- did I mention I have almost 200lbs of luggage in four pieces I am Sherpa-ing around ? I brought about 75 lbs of books with me, which were in my large backpack. I’m getting tired.

OK, so the next fastest way to get to Rappongi is to take the Narita Express to Ueno (about 50 minutes) and then transfer to the local subway, onto the Hibiya (grey ) Line. Then I was 10+ stops away from Rappongi.

This is going to take forever.

How much is a cab to the city? Around $250 ? Ugh. Im not spending that on a cab.

At least I will get to ride the bullet train. I LOVE trains. Love love love love being on them, and this would be my first Japanese bullet train experience, and it didn't disappoint, as I could barely discern the rapidly passing by scenery.

I finally get to Rappongi station, it has taken about an hour and a half and I am tired, hungry and cranky. I see a McDonald's and am tempted.
No.
DON'T EAT THE POISON. You will be elbow deep in some fantastic sushi soon.

I hail a cab and tell him the name of my hotel.

He doesn’t understand.

I show him the address.

He doesn’t understand.

Now I am getting REALLY cranky. I look for a direct number to the hotel but I cannot find it, as I booked it through Agoda, which is like an Asian Hotels.com and is fantastic for reviews, pictures, and just getting the full scope of each prospective hotel.

I find what I think is the number, but the name of my hotel, Hotel S, is causing problems on google, because google in all its brilliance, even when I “ “ the search words, is telling me I am searching for hotelS (plural).  I was going to splurge and treat myself and stay at the RITZ while I was here, but I have found in my travels, both domestic and abroad, that I just prefer staying in smaller, upper end boutique hotels than large business ones. I like that they usually have more local flavor and that there is always an array of personalities who stay there.

The cab driver is now repeating what he sees on my email in really broken English. Including irrevelent information such as the dates of my stay.

I should have booked the damn Ritz.

 My phone has 8% battery.

I find what I think is the number. I call and hand the phone to the cab driver.

Why is it that what should be short direct conversations seem to drone on forever in Japanese and Chinese? He smiles and hands my phone back. ON OUR WAY. It is now about 23:15.

We take a left off the main road and are on a dark side street. The cab driver is fervently surveying the addresses as the car slows to a crawl. These two women run out and flag down the cab. They appear to be dressed in hotel uniforms. Finally. They must have been watching for us after he had spoken to them. AMAZING.

They try and pick up one of my suitcases. These little Japanese women cant even move it. I laugh and tell them I got it.

We get in and the lobby looks suspiciously small and doesn’t seem very hotel-like.

What the hell is going on here?

 One of the workers says “your guests are awaiting you” and points to a curtain that is covering a passageway.

Huh? What is she talking about?

Just then a very statuesque attractive platinum blonde with enormous fake breasts comes through the curtain. She looks pretty damn hot.

I stare for a moment.

Oh shit.

Just when I realized What I was staring at :

“This isn’t him.”

She says in the deepest manliest voice in all of Japan.

She shuffles me behind the curtain and I realize I am at a restaurant. A fine Japanese dining establishment. Not a hotel. And it’s a private party. I survey the room:

There was the transvestite and a bunch of men.

 I am tired. I just want to shower and eat .

“Sit with us, join the parteeee” says one Japanese man in American Homosexual English.

They begin to fawn all over me. I don’t know what to do. I am tired and hungry and want a shower. I guess I can eat here.

I sit down, and have some sake.

Another westerner says with a very dramatic lisp “Oooooooo, we weren’t expecting thissssssss”.

The trannie is next to me and touches my leg.

Jesus this is getting creepy. Now you all know I love my gay people. I have gay friends. I don’t look at them any differently than I do EVERYONE. But this just felt, CREEPY. Like I was some sacrificial lamb. Whatever these dudes had planned after this dinner party, Im sure it involved the blood of goats, handcuffs, weird satanic chants and virgin tears…..lots of virgin tears.

NOT BECAUSE THEY WERE GAY. BECAUSE THEY WERE CREEPY. AND NO, THEY WEREN'T CREEPY BECAUSE THEY WERE GAY, THEY WERE CREEPY BECAUSE THEY WERE CREEPY. *just so we all understand each other here.

 Get me the hell out of here.

They are now all making lewd comments and keep telling me I need to come to this party after dinner, that I would be “a hit”.

I start to excuse myself, politely,  “I am tired, I really need to get to my hotel”.

I get up and the trannie blocks the door with the curtain.

                                                 What in the fuck?

She is bigger than me. I have never raised a hand in violence toward a woman in my life and my brain immediately starts to analyze:

Can I shove this big broad?

Is that oK? Will I be a woman beater? Is this a crime against gays?  

Then I think, maybe I should shove her in her chest and find out if she went saline or silicone........

As I am thinking this,  the room has now turned against me, and all the fawning has morphed to hisses and derision.

Even if I push the trannie, I literally have two huge roll suitcases, a briefcase and an enormous backpack. I cannot exactly dash out of this place.  Especially because the halls are so narrow- it took some time getting the bags in- and therefore will take some time in getting them out.

The big Trannie still blocks the door.

Just then the curtain behind her swooshes open.

It is the Westerner that they expected. The man who the Japanese workers had thought was me.

He is cute. Like feminine gay cute. MUCH cuter than I, thank god. He is tall and model like and Incredibly skinny.

They all turn their attention to him.

I take this moment and RUN with my bags.

There was a cab waiting for me as soon as I stepped out. I told THIS guy the name of my hotel, and of course, he knew it.

It was less than 3 blocks away, and literally one block from where the first cab driver picked me up.

This did not start out well, I think I may just check in and crash........


.................obviously I didn't.

CLICK HERE FOR PART TWO AND THE REST OF THE STORY!!!


* No Transvestites, Nigerians, or bibulous western writers were hurt during the filming of this episode and I trust and know that most Transvestites, Nigerians and bibulous western writers are upstanding good people.  

Electronic Music Is Kind of Wack, Yo

                            Photo: DJ Diaper Thong credit : Rudy Randa            



Electronic music is kind of wack.

What Rudy?

I have seen you at Bassnectar! At Pretty Lights! Gramatik! Archnemesis! Big Gigantic!

Well, Yes you have…..back in 2009 when I first saw Bassnectar with about 100 other people at 2 pm time slot at Lollapalooza, I came to embrace some of the electronic music that was out there. I had NEVER been a huge electronic music fan before that, in fact, I often lambasted ravers for listening to robots, that I assured them would turn their brains into mush. But I liked Bassnectar, and I soon came to like many others. The last two years I have been to pretty much every music festival imagineable, most dominated by electronic music. Truth is, I do like electronic music in those settings. I love to wiggle and shake with a group of friends, a big love fest no doubt. But I was never the guy to listen to it while I wrote, or while I worked out, or really any other time other than in a concert or festival setting.  That being said, when you hold electronic music up against the blues or jazz or jam bands or rock or bluegrass or classical or reggae or opera or folk, it just doesn’t compare. When you survey the scope of overall genres-In my humble opinion- the producer is talented but not quite as soulful as an instrumental musician.  I  understand that a producer must know many instruments and sounds, so know that I am not putting him down, more just uplifting a more organic musical type.

I have always been an instruments type of guy, and in the last 6 months, I have gravitated back to my roots.(i still have a great appreciation for some electronic music, but come on people, there is so much more out there)
Although my knowledge of music is quite thorough, and my catalogue of tunes is deep, I have been searching for new tunes to satisfy my musical desires.

Here are a few cuts that I have been really enjoying. So enlighten yourself and take a listen:


Lesson #1

Louis Armstrong "Jelly Roll Blues"

The Satchmo himself just killing this track with his trumpet. Listening to this takes me back, to perhaps a past life, where we all wore formal wear to the night clubs and drank gin fizzes as the sultry wailing of Louis's trumpet warmed all our souls. Can I get an AMEN???

Lesson #2

Sidney Bechet "Baby Wont You Please Come Home"

My man Sidney! One of the most accomplished clarinet and sax soloists, ever.  Hailing from New Orleans (duh) he tooted his horns all over the world, but because of an erratic temperment, never got the acclaim many of his peers did. So alive, this tune brings images of smiling laughing and dancing with my lover in a tuxedo sipping champagne cocktails in the decadent old clubs of the 1930s.

You may have heard Sidney Bechet if you saw the Woody Allen film "Midnight in Paris", as his tune "Si Tu Vois Ma Mere" is the title track. I had the opportunity to see Woody play his clarinet at the Carlyle Hotel. In an interesting juxtaposition, Woody's playing is confident and straight forward and bold, unlike his anxiety ridden film persona. Here is a short clip of me seeing him play Si Tu Vois Ma Mere (which was a dream come true for me to see him play live in the intimate setting of the Cafe Carlyle)

Lesson # 3  John Lee Hooker "No Shoes"   Oh this song is so organic, so down south, so muddy Mississippi. John Lee Hooker lamenting the blues like few others can. This song inspired me so much that I wrote and shot a film using it as a centerpiece. Hopefully in the next month or two it will be finished and you all will see its premiere right here! Until then, just enjoy the tune!

 

Lesson #4 Fats Domino "Blue Monday"  Fats Domino came out of the 9th Ward of New Orleans (N.O. is really giving me a lot of good music these days and much more than i have posted) with his brand of sock hop 50s piano rock n roll. Milkshakes and the drive in movies sort of era. Fats Domino STILL plays, and is considered by many to be the father of rock n' roll having influenced Elton John, The Beatles and many many more. Look at how much fun this dude is having- not to mention the gaggle of musicians all milling about on stage! I NEED to see him before he passes.

Lesson #5 Jerry Garcia, Merl Saunders, Bill Vitt, and John Kahn "Someday Baby"

Some of Jerry's best work came outside of the Grateful Dead with Merl Saunders, his musical soulmate. This cut is from their series of shows "live at Keystone" and is a perfect example of the silky funky grooves that Jerry and Merl seemed to feed off of. 

I am going to continue to do this from time to time (and yes, I will include electronic tracks I find groove me). Please share any music that you are particularly enjoying in the comments section as I ALWAYS love to hear new stuff!

Cinema, Bitch

       Photo :  "I dont want to watch bad film!" (this is the face i make when I think of all you watching terrible cinema) credit : Helen Sharp


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Film is the natural progression in story telling. It follows tribal word of mouth, theatre, 

literature and television in the evolution of the story telling medium. The art of relating a story 

is a precious gift....it is love; and presently cinema is the most powerful and widespread method 

in the ancient art of story telling. My problem is that mainstream Hollywood and by proxy the 

masses do not respect the art.....in Hollywood it is profit driven and for the masses it is a 

convoluted and bastardized form of medication that is in its essence a frivolous means of 

"entertainment". Unfortunately, in an age driven by special effects and fantasy, it is a guileless 

task to entertain the proletariat. Therefore, I despise most theatrical wide releases. Im not 

saying that simple entertainment always makes for foul cinema...but in our time, amusing the 

masses is all too often the easiest aspect of filmmaking when budgets , bottom lines, "star 

power", celebrity gossip , and distribution are given more thought than tone, mood, plot and 

script. To teach.....to impart wisdom, to positively motivate the meek, that is an intensely more 

difficult and painstaking endeavor. Cherish and respect the ancient art of storytelling....it is the 

most direct line to respecting your own intellect. Support film that compliments the art, that 

struggles to propagate social acumen...otherwise our minds and souls will starve in an 

overabundant harvest of inedible bio-engineered cinematic food for thought.

SO stop being passive! Stop being amused by expensive bells and whistles. READ a film like you 

would analyze a great work of art, read it like you would read a book. Get into the guts of the film, 

then you begin to enjoy and appreciate real cinema instead of force feeding your brain poo. You are 

what you eat, and if your brain is eating feces it will turn soft!


Here is a  clip from one of the most famous scenes of one of the world's most renowned masterpieces

: Frederico Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" - dont just watch it- READ the scene and see what you glean

from it

wharf rat

Photo : Enjoying Lolla with friends Forrest and Maya in my cool Tshirt, credit Heather Thorgaard (click on picture to enlarge and better see my cool t shirt hahah)

From the Dictionary of Americanisms:

1. Wharf rat,...(b)one who is frequently found on or near wharves, esp. a vagrant or petty criminal who haunts wharves...1836 Franklin Repository (Chambersburg, PA) 4 Oct 1/3 "I've an idea, my man, that you are one of the wharf rats; and, if so, the less lip you give me the better."

I could give you a review of all the bands I saw. I could tell you about the weather and say “LOLLA 2012 – a MONSOON evacuated the park”.  I could tell you exactly what I did, who I saw.  I could tell you the clubs/bars I went to and the restaurants that I (didn’t) eat at. But that is standard issue - why the hell would you want to hear that again?

This is my favorite memory of Lolla 2012:   (and yes, I know it is late but the lesson learned is timeless)

Bassnectar was on, spinning his special brand of omni-tempo maximalism. He is improvising his live electronic sets, has a rabid niche following, and affords insanely creative stage set ups and screen back drops. He is in a sense, the Grateful Dead of electronic music and you know I absolutely LOVE IT.

As I was saying. My soul was hot, and although I was having fun, I was dealing with some heavy stuff in my life.  I was doing my best wiggling around transmitting motions and vibrations of love up to the mothership and back to all humanity. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and look up.  A large African American gentleman, in corn rows and head to toe urban hip hop garb was staring at me. The stare, my friends, is something I am used to, and why sometimes I try and wiggle so fast you cant even see me.

“nice t shirt”

“I know I know”. I had been getting random compliments on my t shirt all day. It was the Wu Tang ‘W’ insignia, but underneath it were the words “Wharf Rat”, one of my favorite Grateful Dead tunes. Like 99% of the Lolla crowd, I expected this black man to recognize it alluding to the Wu Tang but not the Grateful Dead .

Then  he belted out loud and on key :

“OLD MAN DOWN! Way down down, down by the docks of the citay.

Blind and DIRTY. Asked me for a dime a dime for a cup of coffee.

I got no dime, but I got some time to hear your STORY.

I literally choke back emotion. 

Then I joined in and we sang together:

“MY name is August West ! And I love my Pearly Baker best, more than my WINE.

More than my WIIINE.  More than my maker though he’s no friend of Mine”

He just sang the opening stanza from the song “Wharf Rat”, and he had just blown me away.  My soul smiled ear to ear and I couldn’t really say anything further so I brought him in for a bear hug, except, I guess, he was a lot bigger than I, so maybe he did the bear hugging. Or does bear hugging mean you hug bears, because then I hugged the bear….whatever. I had been spent the last few days doubting life. Doubting its beauty. Doubting doubting doubting.

Then.....my soul was given a jolt. And I walked away wiggling and transmitting double love with an ear to ear perma-grin that nearly split my face in half and I shed a tear of happiness as i pranced away. I needed a hug. Like i said, my soul was agitated and it was a really difficult time in my life. I needed some random act of kindness, love and compassion on this day. The last place I thought I would receive it was from a very large man who appeared to be 'thuggish'.

The lesson here: your eyes will deceive you more than any of your other senses. I understand observing and processing images to come to a conclusion. But the fastest way to fail is to believe everything you see. Remember: we are all just energy, and no matter what race, religion, sex, or clothes we adorn our body in, its the energy inside that defines us. What a great lesson to be reminded of on a hot summer difficult day in chicago. 

LOVE ! 

here is a video clip of a particularly beautiful version of the song "wharf rat" - ENJOY