Sunday, June 29

Japanese for idiots

I’m going to Japan. I’m trying to learn some phrases so I’m not at a complete loss. It is said the best way to understand the Japanese is to learn their language- good luck , it’s considered to be one of the hardest and people who have lived in the country for years claim they still don’t understand it fully.

Uh oh. Ok don’t panic! I just need to get a handle on a few simple phrases. Hai, means yes and iie means no, though you will rarely hear the Japanese say it, preferring a long round about answer rather than anyone losing face. O genki desu ka -How are you? Genki desu- I’m fine, even though I don’t understand 99% of what you’re saying to me as we smile and bow to each other.

Kon’nichi wa- hello. Ohayo-good morning, not the state where Cleveland is. Domo Arigato- thank you and to be really polite add gozaimasu. Do itashimashite-you’re welcome, though it kinda sounds like “don’t touch my mustache”.

At the beginning of a meal say Ita daki masu- roughly , I w ill receive, whatever it is I’m eating because I don’t recognize half the food on my plate. but hey, it’s not just a meal, it’s an adventure. When you finish say go chiso sama deh’ta- it was a feast or was it “goat cheese on my mama desktop”?

The phrases I expect to use a lot are, wakarimasen, I don’t understand. Nihon go ga wakarimasen, I don’t speak Japanese, as if this weren’t abundantly obvious. Anata wa ei-go ga hanase masu ka? Do you speak English? Meaning, do you speak enough English I will comprehend, if you can understand my mangled attempt at your language.

I have been listening and practicing for the last month. I‘m ready for this great cultural experience with the most important phrase of all- toire wa doko desu ka? Where is the toilet.

Thursday, June 19

That Certain Summer

This is my favorite day of the year. I love the Summer Solstice, love it, love it, love it. It’s the longest day of sunlight and I love seeing the twilight at 10 pm ( that’s 9 pm in real sun time). I usually have a barbecue to celebrate and sit with a drink, enjoying the light. Ironically, I dislike summer. Historically they are a bummer. As a child they were spent with a dysfunctional family either camping or in my dad’s boat on Lake Erie. My teenage summers in San Francisco were completely forgettable as we were poor and I couldn’t afford to do much of anything.

The best summer I ever had was when I was seven years old and lived in Pittsburgh PA. Every day that summer , my brother Michael and I would walk to the zoo which was about a mile or so from our house. We had a membership so we could get into the Children’s zoo for free and hang out all day. We knew all the animals and their handlers. These were the days when animals were kept singly in pens or cages and some were pretty neurotic because of it. The elephant liked to smack people with his trunk and the older chimp was known to slug people without warning.

Mostly I remember the sense of fun and being around exotic creatures. I would hold a boa constrictor (we already had snakes at home) a parrot, various rodents or burp a baby lion, who promptly peed on me.

The zoo was huge, covering dozens of acres. I would wander across the street and ride the small scale train or check out the new aquarium and watch the dolphin swim in his large deep pen. I was distressed by him being alone in an empty, featureless pool. One day while watching him through the window that offered an underwater view I mentally asked him to jump out of the water and to my surprise he powered to the surface and did just that. He would swim past me and I smiled and clapped and motioned with my hand for him to do it again and we spent several minutes amusing each other. I swear dolphins are telepathic.

That summer ended and it was the last time I ever really had fun. Oh sure there were other summers of childhood fun but they never equaled the sense of joy I felt those days when I entered a stand of trees signaling the entrance to the zoo.

The animals didn’t judge me or think I was weird like everyone else. They ate and pooped and tended their offspring . They yawned and dozed in the warm sunlight after meals and sometimes observed us in fascination.

It was a time when everything was still new and exciting to me and I didn’t have to worry about the tension of school or bundling up against the cold harsh winds of fall and winter.

I never went to the zoo again.

Saturday, June 14

The Grand Staircase



This is a clumsy attempt to recall a remarkable dream I had.

The spiritual path is an infinite staircase with the abyss below and eternity, nirvana, heaven or whatever you want to call it, far above.

We all dwell on the staircase, mostly in the middle. Sometimes treads can be so vast all one sees is a plain as flat as Kansas. People on such a step have no idea what you mean by a staircase. They are perfectly happy where they are because, for them there is no where else. This is it. Sometimes the steps are a small toe hold on a sheer cliff in a wind storm. Other times it is a mere lift of the foot and living is easy.

The philosophers of the past know there are times when the climb is tough and accept the challenge. Shamans and the like speak of life as “The Game” and know the staircase all too well. Jesus is a master player at the game and came down the stairs to let us know that the climb is worth it.

“All the worlds a stage and the men and women merely players.” as Shakespeare put it. Castenda’s teacher Don Juan told him life is an unfathomable mystery but it it the job of a Man of Knowledge to fathom that mystery. The climb is infinite but we continue to scale it nevertheless.

However you envision the staircase- from the linear monolith of the Bible to Escher’s impossible paradox, keep climbing, keep learning.

Thursday, June 12

Writing is not easy

Write,write, write, with all my might
until the words come fast as light.
For now ideas do crowd my head,
quick, quick, quick, get them down before they’re dead.
In each of us is an universe and the struggle to explain-
to others what we see and feel before we go insane.
But to those of us with some pluck,
can write something that doesn’t suck.

Writing is not easy- sometimes it’s like slitting your wrists. It’s like passing a kidney stone or the particularly difficult labor of a child who doesn’t want to be born. When nothing is coming, it’s torture to sit in front of the computer or stare at a blank piece of paper. Try writing when the beast of self doubt is waiting to rip your confidence to shreds or you’re on a deadline or you have just one more sentence to finish that chapter and you’re stuck with creative constipation.

We writers can spend an enormous amount of time avoiding writing when we’re desperate. Novelist Michael Thomas Ford once wrote about the lengths he went to avoid writing and I understood all to well the tactics. Oh wait, I have to do the laundry, then the cat needs to be let in/out several times. I should check my e-mail and pay some bills first so I’m not distracted. Too late for that.

I imagine my muse as a slacker vegging on the couch watching infomercials and eating a bag of chips. I nudge one of her fat legs. C’mon I complain, I got to write something, give me some ideas here I cajole her. No dice.

I long for the end of dry spells when the rush of inspiration threatens to drown me and I can’t get the words down fast enough. It’s like magic or being high. Time holds no power and I’m enthralled by the story unfolding before me. Disreali once said “If I want to read a good book, I writer one.” I used to have the most vivid dreams and wake up still dreaming, I’d lay still so as not to break the spell. I would caress the memory all day as a story emerged then sit down and write for hours in the evening until my hand tired. I couldn’t wait for the reservoir of ideas to fill again. I couldn’t wait to find out what happens next.

But those dreams don’t come by anymore and it gets harder to find inspiration. Writer Fran Lebowitz is right. “If you have a burning restless urge to write or paint, simply eat something sweet and the feeling will pass.”

Take my word dear reader, writing is not for the um. . .shit, I can’t think of the word.

Tuesday, June 10

Buddy Can You Spare a job?

I graduated from college and like everyone else, I needed a job. I started out with a sense of determination and adventure . I went through job hunting classes, learned how to write a resume, did mock interviews, I was ready. I was certain of getting a job with my skills. Then reality hit.
I found an opening at two department stores and dutifully applied submitted a resume: I have a college degree in graphic arts, experience in carpentry, and sales. I have excellent organization and people skills. I am beyond overqualified for the positions I applied for.

I never got a response from the first store but got a summons from the second to attend the stores "cattle call" application and orientation along with fifty other people. I filled out forms, watched a training video, answered the accompanying questionnaire, signed an agreement to let every major investigative company do a back ground check on me and was advised in writing that should I be hired they would require a drug test. ( I was ready for a blood test and full cavity search as well.) I was given a psyche test that had such inscrutable questions as “Can you count past 50?" and “Has anyone you know abused drugs, alcohol or stolen anything in the past six months?” All of this for a part time position in a department store? Needless to say I did not get that job.

I’ve gone through the job search thing many times since. I've tried many different approaches and applied for jobs I know I would be perfect for without success. Getting a job, I discovered was harder than I thought. I was getting discouraged. I heard of one man's quest for a position at a copy shop required him to call ten days in a row and submit to three interviews to get hired as a clerk. It's truly an employers' market.

Adding to the aggravation was the realization that employers aren't as discriminating about who they hire as I thought. I can't count the number of times I have gone to a business establishment to be waited on -eventually- by a pimple faced teenager with a dour expression that said "I'd rather be laying on a couch playing video games that deal with you". Meanwhile I'm left stewing because the nitwit can't find the right forms, doesn't know how to use the company computer or answer the phone correctly. Apparently customer service now means the service is done by the customer. I make a mental note that this business will not be patronized by me in the future.

All I've learned in my years of trial and error is that I have little chance of getting a decent job but I have developed great job hunting skills. I wonder if I could make a living as a professional job applicant. I could forget about working for others and create my own job as a carpenter / silversmith / writer: I'll fix your house, fix your jewelry and fix your term paper. Maybe I could apply to the CIA.