Midaregami

I have been reminded why I don’t listen to the radio. Since working someplace where the radio is on all day, I’ve been able to spend hours with the following “songs” suck in my head:

• “The one about walking a thousand miles,” by Bland Pop Vocalist (special guest appearance by Guy Who Plays Trite Piano Pop Hook)
• “This Kiss, Forgettable,” by Nobody Of Note, (produced by Somebody Whose Sound Is Alarmingly Close To Bad Country)
• “Let’s Give ‘em Something To Gag On,” by Crossover Country Whore
• “Horrible Self-Referential Punk-Pop Hit,” by Gratingly Whiny Adolescent

I know there are more, but this is a start. Damn these songs, and damn the radio for playing them.

—in geekery simply because I don’t know where else to put it, is a link to Herself’s La’Cryma Christi Fan Page. Miss J labored long and hard on this project, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t an excellent resource for fans of this apparently underrated ex-Visual Kei band.

Goyukkuri.

If there’s a theme to my writing here, it is one of enthusiasm. Not through the events of my life, per se—which is more a string of minor disappointments and indignities than it is anything else—but rather for the icons and artifacts that I admire along the way. I don’t talk about the albums I listen to that are merely good, or the books that have simply competent prose. I don’t have time for that, because there is so much that just shines brighter.

The latest statement that I must make in this spirit is this: Anybody remotely involved with Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow deserves your money.

Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water is hardly the most difficult anime series to translate. Does a good editing job cost that much? There are fansub scripts out there, and nobody would’ve known if you’d taken a look at them. Or you could’ve asked me—I’d keep your secret.

It’s bad enough that you’ve managed suck the vigor out of Hanson and Sanson’s wacky exchanges on love and life. You also suceeded, amazingly, in diluting Gargoyle’s pompous speeches to starved shadows of their former selves. This isn’t Mishima or Tanizaki, guys, this is pulp action. It’s not that hard.

But hey, sometimes it happens, and sometimes the editor isn’t paying attention. But could you try to avoid out-and-out mistakes? Because stuff like this is just sad:

Minion: The blast destroyed the airships Dius, Ekis, and Makina!

You don’t have to be an Arthur Waley or a Frederick Schodt to figure out that it’s one airship named “Deus Ex Machina.” And I don’t even have a major in Japanese. I’m so embarrased for you.

Love, Paul.

PS – give me a job. I work cheap.

I only do this because I always appreciate it when my friends remind me of their birthday. They don’t expect me to give them a gift, because I’m both forgetful and poor—but they know I like to be able to wish them a happy birthday. So I’m making sure to let people know.

Mine’s on September 30th. I hereby invite general hassling and old-age jokes. In the unlikely event that you have a huge cash surplus, you know what to do.

(I really want this one.)

My younger brother’s anime DVD collection is larger than mine. I don’t want to dwell on this, but please understand that it is very weird for me.

I can’t get too upset, though, when he introduces me to such wonderful shows as Last Exile. I haven’t been this captivated by the look and feel of a TV series since Escaflowne. It’s just lovely. The mechanical designs are elegant and fanciful, evocative of the clean lines of WWII aircraft and the best of 1950s automotive design. The plot is absorbing, although obscure. I can recommend it with one reservation: the plot arc is slow to move and slower to explain itself, so be willing to suffer through the first couple of volumes on look and style alone before learning anything of substance. It’s ultimately worth the trip.

I also watched the first couple of episodes of Kino’s Journey, and have this to say: Creepy.

I though I’d reached the pinnacle of critter encounters in Yoka. And perhaps I did, in the invertebrate/exothermic category, but let me list a few numbers. These numbers tell a story.

• Deer encountered: 4
• Very Stupid Deer encountered: 1
• Extremely Lucky Deer encountered: 1
• Deer killed by van: 0

Here’s a shorter, potentially more dramatic story.

• Bear warning notice signs in neighborhood: 1
• Strange noises heard outside late at night: 1
• Bear droppings sighted in backyard the next morning: 1

I have a picture, but I’m not sure I want to set the precedent of distributing random crap. (Ha!)

I have raved about these guys before; the CD caught my eye in a Shibuya HMV and they’ve been in regular rotation every since. I liked how they turned jazz on its head. I liked their innovative, respectful covers, and I liked their original compositions. I thought it was the best jazz I’d heard in a long time, and I immediately bought both albums.

So when a Bad Plus poster showed up in Miss J’s dorm, I was pleased. I’d like to say I nodded thoughtfully at the poster, thinking, “I’d be fun to see a swingin’ trio like that up close,” but she knows the truth. I jumped up and down like a cheerleader after the game-winning touchdown, and my squeals of glee were only tempered by the fact that it was 1 AM, and I didn’t want to be dismembered by angry co-eds after interrupting their sleep with unrestrained peals of delight. I hear Briana (18, Communications major, minor in Spanish) packs a mean left hook.

Anyway, I saved the joyful hysterics for after the show.

Do you know why the first Tokyo Jihen album is going to be called “Kyouiku?”

I sure do. It’s because class has started, people. The principal of rock is in, the professors of groove are preparing their notes, and you’d better be ready to study. Because you are about to be schooled.

Goddamn right, “Education.”

The only album title I could come up with that seemed suitably descriptive was “Musical Super Radical Album of Bad Intense Rock Asswhoopery Volume The First, Can I Get A Hell Yeah?,” but that’s kind of a mouthful. As usual, Tokyo Jihen finds a better way to say it.

This is like the musical version of a new Star Wars movie, back before Star Wars started sucking. I want to go stand in line for a week or something.

There have been some changes around here; yes indeed, and there will be more. That is, I am told, the way of things.

Chief among these changes is a change of address:

608 1/2 Lolo St.
Missoula, MT 59801
USA

I share a basement apartment with a thriving population of spiders, who pay their share of the rent by carrying change out from my couch cushions and placing it in my shoes for me to find every morning.

Some things that were once opaque to me have become as crystal. I speak chiefly of my Roland keyboard, whose effects engine and sequencing interface completely stymied me roughly 2 years ago. Yet I have used them effectively in recent days to create a simple composition, without so much as a single manual. Banzai, Roland! In truth, you have earned a place on my car for your sticker.

The composition, once it is finished and titled, will no doubt find its way online for general consumption and mockery. I have heard tell of a savage ordeal known as a “Songfight,” where chord progressions and pop hooks are used as weapons in a ceaceless, bloody war. Perhaps

The worst of the moving drudgery is over, and I have made great strides in the bureaucratic aftermath. All that remains are the issues of broadband (which I can no longer live without) and employment (which is only slightly less pressing than broadband.)

I have important things to say about various media. And they will be said forcefully, and soon. But not now. Here are some previews: Quruli. Nadia. Last Exile. JUDE.

That’s right. You can’t wait, can you?

Oh, and I’m going to a Bad Plus show on the 9th.