It's in the millions of small images that cross your path every day. The bored expression on this woman's face as she fidgets with an iPod earbud. The decisive manner in which that man there slaps his cell phone closed and curses quietly to himself, like he just lost something close to him, like he's ready to bust. That little boy with the expectant smile there playing with a ball. That shout over there. That turn of the head. That! Did you see it? That thing represents a story - one that you can't quite put your finger on. And they stream by like images across the hot beam of a film projector. Disjunct symbols, yet somehow connected. They're symbols of something that might be or could have been, or is, at this moment. But you don't exactly know the what of it. Or the why. Because those things are just out of reach. And finding them - oh god!, finding them - is hard work. And scary.

So you vow to find the thing 'someday' and you put some words in a notebook about it for future reference to yourself. But the words don't do anything - they don't even seem to be the right language. You read them to yourself and they don't make sense. They don't represent the thing you discovered. The thing that seemed real before. So you tear out the page and you write more words, thinking surely this must be closer to the thing. But when you scan them later, you discover they still miss the mark. In fact, they're further away from it. And now it's an exercise of diminishing returns. You begin to question the thing ever existed all. The further away in time you move, the harder it is to bring that thing to mind.

And so you stop trying. And that's the tragedy of it: when we stop trying to write the story. Because writing the story isn't just about writing. It's about living. And continually looking for a thing that you've only caught a glimpse of. You hope it exists - you've seen evidence that it probably does - but you just don't know it. And not knowing drives you crazy.

I spend a good part of my days searching for things. Sometimes the things are just objects. A book, a file, a document. Despite my being a pretty meticulous filer of things, I never know where the hell said thing is filed. And so the search often induces a little whirlpool of fear and paranoia deep within my gut over the fact that the thing may have been lost or thrown away. Even though I know for certain I 'filed' the freakin' thing. The problem is that there's no system to the filing. No order. I know I should keep a thing, but I hate like hell to figure out where it should be kept. Because so much commitment rests in that decision. I do not file alphabetically or by subject - too restraining. Instead, I file randomly, the same way I arrange my CD collection. And if you want to know the truth of it, the reason I'm so bad at looking for things is I begin with the premise that it is lost. I begin with a doubt over its existence. And that's a bad way to start.

So what if the thing in question is not an object at all? Most of the time it isn't, you know. Often it's something abstract. A gesture. An emotion. The reason for a tear. Or a smile. Things that give clues to the broader story: like 'love,' for instance. Like 'happiness.' Or 'sadness.' Or 'fear.' . . . Like 'success.' These are the words we use - the language, the set of symbols - for these larger ideas which, supposedly, provide meaning to our lives. And yet, the meaning of these very things is defined by other words, other symbols, that are themselves hard to pin down. Like 'money.' Like 'sex.' And so this exercise of searching is made horribly complicated and unstable.

It's not that I hate the search. I hate anticipating the search, and wondering if I'll even know a thing when I find it. And that's the crux of it, isn't it? That something may or may not even be there. The Great White Whale. The thing you spend your life pursuing. What if it isn't even there to begin with? What if you painstakingly peel back all the layers, getting closer and closer, and find - in the end - nothing. Whiteness.

FDR was close about that fear thing. Fear can be a 'nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.' But I don't think the great fear is the fear itself. I think the great fear is nothing. The great fear is that all this stuff we occupy our time with - all this running around, all these words - it's all nothing more than running around, nothing more than meaningless symbols. What if there's no greater significance to it all than that? That's the awful, gut-twisting thought we try like hell to avoid. And to not be paralyzed by it, we have to spend our lives trying to prove it wrong.

But I think it's different for some people. The question of whether or not a thing is there makes no sense to them. These are the people who know exactly where a document can be found. These are people who, when you question them on whether or not a thing is there, they reply, of course it is there. It's there because it was there yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. I've always known it was there. And when I open up this little box here that I've kept by my bedside all these years, this little box my parents gave me, and their parents before them, when I open it up . . . see? There it is. It's still there. I can look at it and touch it and even pick it up, turn it around, and view it from all angles. And there's nothing more to it than that. It is something, you see? It's the what and the why.

Sometimes, man, I wish I had that.

Other times, I'm really glad I don't.

link to this | comments (2) | File:  Chewing 

Dear Jon Stewart,

I love your show, but what's with that McCain interview? (Watch: Part 1 | Part 2). You sounded a little like Bill O'Reilly there, Jon. Remember him? He's the man you love to make fun of for doing . . . exactly what you just did. I was a tad embarrassed. You seem to be forgetting your own mantra: that The Daily Show is a comedy show. You are on Comedy Central, Jon. Not Fox. The Stewart Factor, featuring Jon the political pundit - who talks over his guests - is a different show, a slightly disturbing one, and one I don't care to watch, regardless of whether or not I agree with you.

link to this | comments (3) | File:  Media  Politics 

When our contractor said he was sending out a 'cleaner' to detail the bathroom, the first image to come to my mind was Harvey Keitel, as "The Wolf" in Pulp Fiction. Which is weird. Because we don't actually have a dead body or bits of brain to remove from our bathroom. Just a lot of dust. But there was something strangely appealing about having a man show up in a tuxedo, possibly swilling a cocktail, a cigarette dangling from his lips, maybe a girl under his arm, and directing my contractor on how he can clean up his own damn mess. And I'd be in my bathrobe and more than happy to make them some coffee, and not that freeze-dried Taster's Choice crap, either, but the serious gourmet shit.

But let's be real, I would never serve Taster's Choice. To anyone. Come on. I mean, what sort of man do you take me for? Oh, and The Wolf would definitely be overkill for this job. Clearly. Besides, I was hoping for something in more of a 'French maid' flavor.

Sadly, when I opened the door this morning, neither of these mental images stood before me. Instead it was a bespectacled and entirely bald-headed man by the name of "JB" dressed in dark jeans, a camouflage sweater, and carrying a bucket of cleaning supplies. He wore a cheerful demeanor that screamed, I know how to get tough stains out and I'm not afraid to do it. Indeed, he appeared to be competent enough, but this was no Wolf. And certainly no French maid.

Overall, JB did a pretty decent job. He's coming back Monday to touch up the tub and the floor. But most of the dust is gone from the fixtures and the sink. Now C will feel more comfortable brushing her teeth in there and we can finally move our bathroom stuff out of the kitchen.

So now we have several DIY things to do around the apartment this weekend. Like sanding. And painting. I also plan to take at least ten showers, you know, to wear the new bathroom in a bit. So I'll be busy, to say the least.

And I suppose I might as well announce it. It's probably time to come out of denial about the whole thing, after all. Act like a grown-up. Alright, so here it is: After we get everything cleaned this weekend, we're putting the apartment up for rent. So if you're in DC and have interest in leasing a large, classic, one-bedroom apartment, brand spanking new bathroom, hardwoods, light-filled, the ultimate in convenience - I'm practicing my ad lingo here - near the Convention Center, a quick walk to every metro line, CVS, Starbucks, Whole Foods, etc, well, let me know. We should be ready to show the place by next weekend. As for C and I, our plan is to move to nearby Baltimore, Hon, where we can still enjoy some semblance of city-living with more space and at a greatly reduced rate. I'm sad, sad, sad because I really don't want to leave the District. But I think B-More will grow on me. It already has, actually, thanks to E&M. And for the first time since moving east we'll have a guest room. So we will be expecting visitors! Of course, there are a few minor details to deal with. We need to get our place rented. And find a place of our own. And move. And a whole host of other extremely stressful minutia related to these things. It looks like this was a terrible time to try and quit morphine. (Just kidding - I would never go off morphine.)

Anyway, that's the plan. There I've said it. I've committed myself. Which I really hate doing.

So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a Nervous Breakdown. And wait for The Wolf, who should be coming directly.

Have a good weekend.

link to this | comments (3) | File:  BMore  Bathroom_Remodel 

Currently, I'm really into using the Google Web interface for all my email needs. But I used to be a Thunderbird client type of guy and this new version makes it very tempting to go back.

link to this | comments (0) | File:  Tech 

It's becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with all that Google is releasing. Here are a few of things that have got my interest recently: SMS Flight Info and My Maps. Also, I've recently downloaded this Firefox Extension to supercharge my Gmail use. If you're a Gmail user, give it a try! And finally, I'm a little tired of Google denying that their office apps are competition for MS. Come on. I'm not sure why the PR spin, but it's getting old.

link to this | comments (0) | File:  Google 

Head down, against this wind. I don't want to face these things. It's easier not to look ahead. To a familiar place where hard decisions become missed opportunities.

The wind always makes my eyes water and blur. And the instinct is to lower your head? But if I'm going to be honest—and why shouldn't I?—I guess I kind of like it. I like the blurring. Because it's a distraction. And it's safe. And my distractions are my last resort. Nobody talks about the risks of being too focused. So I lift my head and stare ahead blindly.

I call my Dad from outside the Y. Where it's cold. Where it's pissing rain. Where the wind blows. In April. A day after tax day. I tell him there's talk of snow here. He says it's 73 there. He's on his cell in Texas. He says he hasn't packed yet. Doesn't care much for it, the packing. In two days he will be in Italy. Last week I was in Japan. Times like these, a cell phone is a miracle.

And suddenly I'm glad for everybody—for people I love that are far away, but who are as near as a phone call. Or these words. I'm glad for shared moments at safe distances.

And there are other people right in front of me. As real as my hand, and just as close. I share the same space. And that's it. Their movie is not mine. Walk-ons to my life. My set. They fight the wind and rain with their umbrellas. They aim for their destination and make it seem important and real.

Take cover, brother. Because it's cold out here. In here. We all shut out the things that make us wince and tear. It's good to have a winter coat in spring.

link to this | comments (5) | File:  Chewing  Weather 

A clever post on the 12 Breeds of Clients.

link to this | comments (0) | File:  Work 

A NPR piece about an upswing in new vinyl record sales, which in part may be driven by a new USB turntable that converts songs to mp3.

link to this | comments (0) | File:  Music 

Some memorable things about Japan, in no particular order:

1) Vending machines. In Japan, if you need a coffee, or a bottle of water, or cigarettes, or a soft drink, you don't need to look far. Ever. There are vending machines all over the place. And I'm not talking about just in the urban areas. I mean everywhere. I'm a huge fan of this. Especially because the stores and restaurants close pretty early - 9:30 or 10:00 - but because of these you can still pick up necessities. Namely, caffeine (which I need on a fairly regular basis) and nicotine (which I no longer need, but with it pushed in my face all the time, it was pretty hard to resist). Interestingly, not many of the machines have food.

2) Okay, now where do I put this stuff? In contrast to the ubiquitous vending machines, trash cans are surprisingly difficult to find. Surprising because Japan is so damn clean. The subway. The streets. The constructions sites. Tidiness is everywhere. And yet just try to find a simple trash can. What's a salary man to do when he's done slurping down his can of coffee in the morning? The answer is he has to pack that trash, buddy. You know, like when you're hiking. And when you go to throw it away, don't just toss it in the bin. Separate that shit, man. Now you're thinking Japanese. Before people got off the shinkansen, I saw them packing up their trash and then they'd put it neatly in the appropriate bin, separated by paper, plastics, etc. I didn't get a chance to find out if the movie theaters were the same way.

3) Girl's fashion. By American standards, many girls in Japan dress a little like - how can I put this nicely - porn stars. And yet, somehow they carry it off innocently. Like it's your sister or something. You feel bad looking. But come on. The high heels, black or white stockings that go up just above the knee, short skirts that stop just below the . . . crotch. (Gulp.) A bit of bare thigh in between. The affected pigeon-toed walk. It doesn't matter what age or orientation you happen to be. You'd have to be dead or blind not to turn your head. Actually, I think even the blind could hear these outfits. I guess this is why there are special subway cars in the morning that are for women only. Apparently there is a 'groping problem.'

4) The incongruities. Japan's culture is full of contradictions. It's architecture is a conflicting mix of old and new, a battle between dirty urban sprawl and manicured parks. Peaceful elegant shrines and castles minutes from gaudy neon lights and boring office buildings. High and low fashion worn side by side. A teen wearing Gucci sunglasses underneath a baseball cap that says Lynard Skynard. Or pearls and high heels while playing a game of catch in the park. It's a culture of politeness, where each time a server comes to your table she literally says, "I commit a rudeness," where people will say nothing and look at their feet rather than tell you you are wrong, where the word "no" is rarely spoken. And yet in the subway or on the bus people have absolutely no problem pushing and shoving each other like elementary school kids running for the playground. I guess that it's universal: being on time trumps manners any day.

5) Acupuncture. You don't necessarily need to speak the same language to get good medicine.

6) Fish auction. If you missed it before, here's the video and a few shots.

7) The shinkansen. Do not dilly-dally when boarding or exiting the shinkansen. If you do, it will leave without you . . . or with you. It doesn't care, either way.

8) Breakfast at the ryokan in Hakone. I love breakfast. It's my favorite meal. I love waking up and making coffee and having eggs or pancakes or biscuits or cereal. It doesn't really matter what you feed me. At least I thought that was the case. But I have to admit that when I woke up to this, egg in miso, big salty fish, seaweed . . . well, it put my breakfast stomach to the test. But I still ate it all. Or most of it, anyway. I think there was one thing I passed on. I'm unable to describe exactly what it was. Really.

Okay. That's it. And here's another gallery for Hakone and Kyoto.

link to this | comments (3) | File:  Japan 

My blog-posting plans fell a little short of my goal for Japan. I kind of new they would. Oh well. Good thing I don't do this for a living. Anyway, here's a little about our last several days there . . .

Saturday night we had a really nice dinner with the whole family, plus Mitch, Naoko, and a few of their friends. Then Sunday, Mitch, Naoko, C and I took the shinkansen to Nagoya and headed straight to M & N's apartment. We grabbed dinner at Mos Burgers, which is a burger chain in Japan that markets itself as a slightly 'healthier' alternative to MacDonald's. I had a chicken teriyaki sandwich. The trick to Japan and food is the portions are smaller. I left feeling satisfied, but wanting a bit more, which is perfect.

After Mos, We headed over to the Nagoya Dome to watch the Dragons play the Swallows. Baseball in Japan is a pretty cool experience. There are a lot of ritualized chants and cheers. When the home team is up to bat, the chanting begins. They're lead by a really dedicated (volunteer) fan base. I took a bit of video when one of the favorite players stepped up, but I'm having a hard time getting it up on YouTube or Google Video right now. Will keep trying. When the other team bats, the stadium generally falls silent, which is kind of strange. There's no booing or anything. Japan is a positive reinforcement kind of culture, I guess.

The next couple of days we hung out with M & N in and around Nagoya. We saw Inuyama Castle, which is the oldest castle in Japan - with the original structure still in tact - as well as Nagoya Castle. We also did quite a bit of shopping for gifts and souvenirs. Nagoya is a big shopping city. In fact, it reminded us a little bit of Dallas in that regard. We broke down the different cities we saw this way: Tokyo = New York; Kyoto = San Francisco or Seattle; Osaka = Las Vegas; and Nagoya = Dallas. Mitch thinks Osaka is a little more like Chicago in temperament, which is probably true. We were mainly thinking in terms of the bright lights and neon.

As fate would have it, Mitch's apartment is literally next door to a back rehab clinic, so we stepped in to see if we could make an appointment. They were very friendly and the rates were extremely reasonable so I wound up having two sessions - one involving the application of these suctioning electrode doo-dads (I believe that's the technical term) and the other involving a round of acupuncture. Receiving acupuncture from a doctor in Japan who doesn't speak English was one of the more memorable moments of the trip for me. Mitch was there one of the days, and was able to translate. But the other day, he had to work. So Naoko came with me and was able to help a little, but her English is more limited. So we got by through the use of phrase books. The doctor used his to tell me I might feel nauseous and dizzy following the treatment and I should get some rest. I used mine to tell him the needles felt strange in my back, but didn't hurt. Before leaving, we bowed to each other a lot and I told him domo arigato (thank you very much) several times, which is the one Japanese phrase I was able to use expertly, thanks to Styx.

Therapy from the Far East. In the Far East. Can't beat it. The treatments really helped, and actually helped me walk somewhat normally the rest of the week. So that settles it, I'm going to look into acupuncture at home.

We had a great time in Nagoya and many thanks go out to M & N for their hospitality. It made the trip to be able to get a true "local's view" of Japan while we were there.

After leaving Nagoya, we spent one final day in Tokyo, and then it was back to DC - and you've already heard about that.

There's a bit more I want to say on Japan, but will save that for later this week. In the meantime, enjoy this photo gallery of our first several days in Japan. These are all from Tokyo. This will be the first of three or four galleries, probably. Since I took over 800 photos, I need to do some weeding out first so as not to completely bore you.

link to this | comments (0) | File:  Japan 

In world domination news, Google will be serving up television ads. And, magically, we will all think it's really cool and tasteful, I'm sure. Not sure how they do it.

link to this | comments (0) | File:  Advertising  Google  TV 

I just got the following 'Alert DC' text message: National Weather reports that 1 to 2 inches of snow is expected to fall late tonight into tomorrow morning. Temperatures are expected to be in the low 30's. Hello, April 6th!

link to this | comments (2) | File:  DC 

I've got a second glass of sake on the way and I'm thinking I could get used to traveling this way. We splurged a bit on the tickets home. Used some miles - and some cash - for an upgrade to business class. Because I don't fly well. Because I'm big and awkward in coach. Because I tend to carry my stress in my spine like a lead pipe for days. A three-hour flight I can handle. But twenty hours of travel - it sort of puts me over the edge. The flight out taught me that. I've had a funny strut for most of my time in Japan as a result. As if I didn't stand out enough already. (Not many tall white guys there, you know.) Anyway: the walk. 'Waddle' is probably the best word to describe it. It was a sort of hunched over, stiff-legged affair, as embarrassing to perform as it is hard to describe properly. Occasionally I'd catch my reflection in a hotel lobby mirror and think, Who is that poor sod? And why the hell does he look so constipated? I'm not sure when it was that my body developed such a cruel sense of humor. I'd like to say, the way I've been walking, I've maybe looked a little like John Wayne. But evoking the image of his famous swagger might be stretching it a bit. In reality, it's nowhere near as manly. Now, let's say the Duke just spent a few nights in a Mexican prison. Now you get the picture.

I've been dreading the flight home. The last couple of days I've been standing a bit more straight. And I've been afraid I would go back to square one. But the wonders of business class have made all the difference. I've got so much room in front of me I can actually sit on the floor and do some simple stretches whenever the mood strikes me. And my seat - wonderful, roomy seat - is large enough that I can shift this way and that, achieving several different positions effortlessly. Not just the single position I maintained on the way out. My shoes are off, feet slightly elevated by the foot rest . . . I'm downright comfy. And damnit, I really wish somebody would bring me a vine of fresh grapes already and hand feed them to me!

Speaking of food, let's walk through the lunch menu, shall we? We started out with warm nuts, followed by a salad with balsamic vinaigrette dressing and a few sushi rolls on the side. I ordered a glass of Gekkeikan Horin Daiginjo Sake to wet the palette. Then came the main course, Madeira Chicken with linguine in a basil cream sauce, followed by desert: vanilla ice cream in a strawberry sauce and walnut cookie crumble topping. Delicious. It's been kind of like traveling in a restaurant. I won't even tell you what I had when I was in coach. It kind of brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it.

Oh, hold on just a second . . . I see the waiter - I mean flight attendant - now.

Eh hem. Yes, excuse me. Be a dear and hurry up with that second glass of sake, would you? I'm feeling a bit parched.

I think I'll have a nap now. I'll get back to you in a bit.

link to this | comments (0) | File:  Japan  Travel 

The pace has been pretty hectic. I've been jotting down notes and observations, which I'll probably post later, but I guess I'm not a very good gonzo journalist. I like to make edits. I like to refine a bit before I post. So for now, I'll just make a quick update while I still have Internet access.

Kyoto was great. It's been my favorite city, so far. Loved the Geisha district - called Goin. Kyoto is very 'old Japan.' Charming streets. After Kyoto, we went to Osaka, which was much more industrial. Mitch tells me the people in Osaka are known for being more laid back and lively. The city itself is a little more 'industrial.' A little more 'blue collar.' We went to an area called 'Namba' at night, which was a very young area full of arcades and lights and general craziness. It was like Las Vegas. We also mistakenly trekked through the 'red light' district. We wanted to take pictures, but thought it might be a bad idea.

Now we're back in Tokyo. Mitch met us last night and we're going to go down to where he and his girlfriend Naoko live in Nagoya. They just moved into a new place and are still waiting for their internet to be installed, so I may not be able to get online for a few days, which is probably a blessing in disguise. We'll be back in Tokyo Wednesday and then, sadly, it's home to DC on Thursday. (And in a neat twist of time, we'll arrive in DC before we leave Japan.)

I can't believe it's almost over.

link to this | comments (1) | File:  Japan 

I'm posting Japan time, so for those of you reading back in DC, I am future Dave. Sorry, I know I'm making too much of this, but I'm kind of a geek about this time travel business.

link to this | comments (0) | File:  Japan