hm

Today in Japanese History we began looking at World War 2, and more specifically, Japanese atrocities. And I purposefully forgo the use of quotation marks.

Simply, I felt sick to my stomach looking at the pictures and hearing the explanations. The Rape of Nanking: at least one hundred thousand chinese massacred by the Japanese without remorse. they turned it into a game. One of the reasons, the professor told us, was the brutal treatment of incoming soldiers by their superiors. for the first six months of their time in the army they were beaten, punched, kicked, treated like dirt. they were bound to take it out on somebody. Unit 731 - biological warfare testing area, where people were injected with bacteria, and then cut open, without antiseptics, to see what happened inside. the pictures were just hideous.

And the reason it made me sick is because I feel like I've made a second home for myself within their culture, however superficially. and to now learn of that culture's history of brutal and unthinkable violence, i feel like it's a part of me as well.

I also realise how uncomfortable they must be with their own history, the new generation. unlike the germans with the jews, who left as soon as they could, japan was still in the midst of the asia they were so violent against. they deal with it every day, in business, politics, culture, everything, and it is awful. I understand why they are so accepting, so quick to be nice to anybody, where this comes from.

I wish it didn't come from there, but now I see that it does. I love that country and now I know more of its history. I suppose a better understanding will lead to a deeper relationship, and i hope to be able to do that.

human beings can be ghastly creatures - better in history than in the present, i would say.

a milestone

It seems I am going to vote for the first time through the postal service, no not the band, indie kid, but the actual postal service. i received my mail-in ballot today. And it would seem to me that the people designing the ballots would try and come up with the most practical and easy-to-understand layout for these ballots - instead, all of the names are scrunched to one side in tiny font with little boxes that are kind of not exactly congruent with the candidates' names.

and then, I realised I need to provide my own postage. i'm not sure how to feel about this. For some reason I don't think that it should cost me to vote, even if it's 37 cents, I think there's something very fishy about this. kickbacks from Big Postage Stamp Conglomerates or something.

bleh.

Also, I read this by Hemingway:

"Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know."

As depressing and negative as that statement is, I can't help but agree. Happiness is quite the useless and selfish emotion. But who's to say whether being selfish is an eternal sin or not. I'm not sure, I'm still figuring that one out. All i know is that the intelligent people Hemingway is talking about are those who have realised that the world is what it is. perhaps once you peer into it even more you find out that there's no rhyme or reason - that things we take for granted don't actually exist, and that our lives here are as random as the stars in the sky or the freckles across a girl's face. the deeper you go, the more you realise that nothing is set, nothing was planned, and that is the human dilemma. the belief in a world that is completely hypothetical. Is it possible to know the world and be happy?

I hope to always chase an answer. I went to a vigil for the victims of the Darfur genocide last night, and the thought came to me, as residue from a conversation i had with a certain scotland Fox the other evening - there almost no piece of information we cannot obtain in less than thirty seconds. anything. and yet it is human nature to leave thing behind their veils and use that as the excuse for not acting. the shoah, for instance, was not widely known about during the war. however, our generation has access to nearly everything that is going on in every shadowy crevice of our planet. this, of course, means that we have no excuse for acting upon something we know to both exist and be a human problem.

it is our nature to not react, to simmer in our own lives. but do we not have a moral obligation to affect the world to the extent that we know about it? that sphere has become without end, and yet even I, the biggest proponent for an un-lazy existence, have to fight against my inner sloth. I believe that is our generation's biggest challenge - to revolt against our inclinations, grasp within our minds the power we own by having access to pure information, and use it to its fullest power.

this is the struggle. fight on.

this entry is ordained 'a milestone'. it is, indeed, my 100th entry.

here's to 100 more.

glorious

Friends - I feel it is my duty to inform you whenever I stumble upon a piece of information so glorious and awe-inspiring that I literally fell out of my chair and could not get up for 15 minutes. It is therefore my humble priviledge to notify you about a certain product that I think could make a substantial difference in each and every one of our empty, empty lives: of course, I am talking about the Magic Bullet.

Let me set the scene for you so that you can understand, more clearly, the massive genius of this product.

Imagine, if you will, a kitchen. Got it? Okay. Now, imagine if you will, a group of artifically attractive people sitting around this kitchen table in summer dresses. And now that we've got that down, picture a guy with a Ringo Starr accent and a strangely sexual attraction to kitchen appliances and his barbie doll wife. They are all enjoying what seems to be some kind of smooth, frozen, fruit beverage.

A man walks in - for some reason already dishevveledly dressed for work although the set seems to be in the morning. He asks them not to be so loud - he clearly is hung over.

The man with the Ringo Starr accent asks him if he'd like a "smoothie". "What kind do you have?" the hung over individual queries. "What kind do you want!" the man with the R.S. accent orgasmically declares more than asks.

As it turns out, with the help of the Magic bullet, and a bunch of apparantly free ingredients, you can make a smoothie out of any fruits you want, just throw 'em in and then turn the little thing, and then count out loud 5 seconds for effect, and you have a fresh smoothie!!!! And then, magically, it cleans itself and you can make 7 other fancy dishes like omelettes, salsa, all this other shit, all with this little magic bullet!!!

But isn't it hard to use?

NO, shithead!

Just turn the top cup thing and watch it grrrrrrind whatever's inside it into tasty oblivion.

But, reader, just when you think you've seen everything this little thing can do, a horribly unattractive woman walks in, her face covered in eyeshadow, hair looking like roadkill, a half-burnt cigarette sticking out of her twizzler-red saggy lips, and sits down at the table. Her name is Hazel. Ringo Starr welcomes Hazel, and she grunts.

Ringo's barbie doll wife has a question for everybody: what's the worst thing you have to do in the kitchen?

Hazel speaks up - she hates to chop garlic (perhaps she's chopping so much that men are repulsed by her scent, and that's why she's living in a television studio).

Barbie then squeals with squeamish delight - "watch this," she says - and throws some complimentary cloves of garlic into the bullet - presses down on the cup thing, and within 3 seconds (cause who has the time anymore) she has fresh, chopped garlic.

basically, everyone craps themselves at how easy it is to use and a massive orgy ensues, right there on the infomercial.

Don't believe me? watch it for yourself.

Long story short, I now have 35 magic bullets in my possession.

I suggest you treat yourself as I have done.

q.e.d

ugh

First of all, FUCK American Airlines. I'm stuck in the Hartford airport AGAIN. I haven't come here for an American flight and had it take off on time in all 3 trips out of this dump... Not only is this the most depressing airport I've ever been in but they are never on time so I'm forced to spend even more time in here than I have to.

I really want to yell at this god damn airline but I'm not sure who to yell at.

So I'll vent here. At least there's wireless.

save me

"I'm selling my Gamecube games that I don't play anymore on ebay so I can buy Xena warrior princess on DVD."

-You guessed it.

favors

Today in fiction writing we workshopped one of my stories, whose title I wasn't a fan of so I won't mention it here, and everyone seemed slightly confused but mostly positive on it. I was proud of it but admit it wasn't the best I could do. anyway, everybody gets copies of your story when it is workshopped

and i got everyone's, and they mostly said the same thing, good but vague, etc etc, and then I save one for last whose comments came from this girl i must have mentioned here before, who I'm kind of interested in you could say, and I get to the bottom, and it says "it seemed artificial and contrived",

which I really have to say wasn't what i was looking for, not to say I was thinking she'd dip it in perfume and deliver it to me with her lips, but I expected something a little more enamoring, such as "I see where you're going, but please meet me at make out creek later so we can further discuss this". but, of course, after reading her story, I didn't write 'subtly beautiful and extremely dateable".

On the bright side, I know what she thinks of my writing.

Holy.

ひさしぶり　やろ。

Walking with a friend of mine, we passed somebody, who i recognized, and i said, "I see him everywhere," to which my friend responded: "he has a twin."

See, I really like that this happened, for a few reasons:

1) an unexplainable phenomenon was explained by definite sources

2) i was confirmed not crazy for seeing the same person twice as often as i felt i should

3) i guess that means that they have seen me half the times that i have seen them

Dostoevsky once said "If everything on earth were rational, nothing would happen." I believe I have the leg up on this one, Fyodor. Write a 900 page novel to counter me, go ahead! I've got this one on you all the way to my grave. What's that? Too afraid to write? Goodman 1, Dostoevsky 0.

I watched the Oscars with great vigor, and although I think I gained 20 pounds during the ceremony due to the egregious intake of Whoppers (candy, not burger) and chips, it was a successful night. I am absolutely terrified of seeing Dolly Parton in a dark alley, absolutely positive Jennifer Garner was drunk, and completely convinced that Keanu Reeves is being run on battery power and they are running out of energy and so are forced to preserve battery and make him move and express as little as possible. Also, I'm pretty sure Jack Nicholson ad-libbed "Crash" winning the best picture Oscar, it was so awkward and quickly stated.

Oh, and my roommate has officially become the first person ever whom I do not care whether he is comfortable or not (lights on/off, music volume, privacy, etc), due to his continued excellence in that category towards me.

じゃあ　ね。

indeed

I spent the last 5 days in Washington, and it was great, and at some point I will stain this e-parchment with the tales of my trip, but fot now I will leave you with this. What I am about to do constitutes a first for this e-scroll: a picture with me in it. Of course, I wouldn't put a picture with me in it unless I thought it was exceptional, and in this case, I suppose it is. If you don't know who it is standing next to me, this might refresh your memory:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Goreconvention.jpg