Harbor/Fortress

Now would be a good time for you, me, and the Velvet Underground. Ian Curtis can come, too. We'll lay on my living room floor so that our hearts will thump along the bass beats. We'll discuss Nico's merits and whether she or Lou Reed had the bigger coke problem over bites of mango jell and sips of green tea. Pleasant company and warm afternoon sun, let's channel some of that bliss.

Emergency, emergency!

Yes, it looks like I've placed a golfball in my cheek. Don't worry. It also feels like I did. Goodbye wisdom teeth, all four of you, though you won't be missed. A slew of things happened in the last 24 hours. Namely, I passed out from dehydration/liquid diet/vicodin/losing so much blood.

I scared a whole bunch of people, namely my parents who probably thought I was dead. So when I regained conciousness, my family had crowded around me while paramedics were marching through the back door. Of course, the first thing I did was give a small beauty queen wave and timidly said, "Oh hey guys, how's it going?" I really need an on-site monologue writer to pass me better quips.

This bed ridden business is not cool. I wish I were with Di and Phuong at Cole's instead. Or doing arts and crafts at Phuong's place. In light of everything, I just need to keep in mind these following words: "Every time I get injured I measure it's severity by asking myself 'Would this stop me from going to Disneyland?'" - Chris Colfer

And to be honest, no. Despite all the bleeding and fainting, I would be first in line with a wheelchair smuggled from the hospital.

endings

December heralded so much dismay that it seemed impossible to escape that vortex of 31 heart stomping days. Break downs, break ups and make ups, phone calls in search of a connection, everything felt tragic to the point of comedic humility. But now we stretch through the torrents of rain for the patch of sunlight to grow and heal our battered hearts. Hippie pyscho shit? No, it's optimism that it can't get worse. Is it really necessary to spit on me after you've broken my shins and taken a kidney?

January will recite moments of mourning but February, glorious February, must hold redemption for the nonsense of the past year.

Gimme gimme gimme

I'm not sure why these contraptions are called "UFO Catchers" but they could named worse so let's just shrug and move on. I blew 500 yen on trying to grab one of those bears before giving up. David gave it whirl and I was ready to kick him in the shins if he actually got one. Luckily his shins survived another day.

These machines are tricky bastards as the bears are placed precariously over the exit slot's edge, as though just a nudge will have it teeter into my hands. No. Not the case, as my lost 500 yen will tell you so.

In many areas of Tokyo and Kyoto, there are arcades devoted to UFO Catcher machines and some people are ridiculously good at it (and must have a lot of times on their hands.) I saw one man with a shopping bag brimming with won goods. The man also looked to be in his mid-30s. But that's a topic for another day.

Dead leaves on the dirty ground

In Kyoto, we caught the changing of the leaves. In parks and shrine areas, it looked as though someone took a giant paintbrush and made sweeping arcs against the green trees so that smears of red and orange stained the leaves. It was a pretty sight, very contrasting.

Walking through the city of Kyoto is a dichotomy of old meets new. I can be strolling down a boulevard where stores like Lacoste or Starbucks line the streets to find a geisha in complete uniform and makeup. I was pretty perplexed and wished I were shameless enough to whip out my camera to snap a picture of her. Instead, I kept walking to the world's best gyoza shop in the world. I have no idea what it's called but that just means if you want to try the place out, you'll need to buy me a plane ticket to show you where it is. My written directions will be useless.

Kyoto reminded me of Los Angeles. I'll be the first to admit that LA is a wasteland, devoid of warmth and nature. But I know that there are pockets where such beauty exists. Beyond these groves of trees were houses cramped next to each other and street hawkers screeching their wares. Just like LA.

Rilakkuma

When I get married, I want a bride and groom version of Rilakkuma on my wedding cake instead of the usual human versions. I found my new obsession at Kiddyland in the hip Shibuya district of Tokyo. It's 7 floor of childhood goodness, ranging from Hello Kitty to Winnie the Pooh and friends to anime geek out merchandise.

Rilakkuma is one of the newest Sanrio characters. And let's be honest, we all had our favorites. (Mine was Kerropi!) But we all grow up and out of our childhood loves. In my case, I roamed towards bears and I sorely wished I had bought the giant three feet tall version. Even if it would have run me a few hundred bucks. Even if I would have needed to buy its own seat on the airplane. I mean, look at this plushie:

It's 59850 yens. In US dollars, that's about 650. 650 for a bear?!?!?! YES.

No underwear in the machines

I seriously tried to find used underwear in a vending machine. Alas, my search was without rewards as I could only find drinks and snacks the machines. Thankfully, Japan lived up to its Godzilla myths by including an image of one on a vending machine. Other machines had images of Tommy Lee Jones. That was a bit too "Lost in Translation" for me.

The best part about the vending machines was that as you added coins, the buttons would light up beneath whichever items you could afford. And one machine even thanked me for my purchase with its cute "Arigato gozaimasu!"