Allright, time to do some writin. I'm comin atcha with chapters tonight... awwyeah. So if something bores you, skip it and move to the next conveniently labeled chapter. I won't be offended.

CH1 A fool in the rain.

For whatever reason, whenever I go to make "foreign" food I'm cursed. The last time I tried to make a simple arrabiatta it took me two hours, three trips to the store and I almost burned my kitchen down. This is not due to my own incompetence. It's a curse.

Tonight my great experiment, my great and vainglorious undertaking was one of no less hubris than the construction of the tower of babel itself. Mashed potatoes. I got the urge at school... well, I'm missing home style american stupid cooking lately, so I thought this would be something i could accomplish on the one bunsen burner cubbyhole I call my kitchen. And I'll spoil the suspense by telling you I did, but not without some frustration.

All day today it rained, and so my ride home was a wet one, dodging the usual (cars, pedestrians, other cyclists, etc.) on a bike whose brakes did not work (due to the wet) while balancing an umbrella on my nose like a character in a Dr. Seuss book. Off to the store.

One thing I love about here is that the small store thing actually works here, and you don't have to be a ludite with the conviction of Abraham to shop locally. My first stop was to my local grocer, and then my local sake dealer. These guys, along with my local bike shop and tofu guy (I love him) know me even if they don't understand me, and they recognize our relationship by giving me "service"; reduced prices or goodies. Today I got my fish cheap and a break on my sake (brewed near here).

Maybe the thought of that giant bottle in my bag clouded my brain,however, for when I got home (and after I had cooked my potatoes), I realized I forgot the milk. Fine. I'll go to the Lawson's and get a carton. It's not local, but it's close, or so I thought. By now the rain is coming out of God's own upturned boot and somehow... Well, OK, you're talking to the guy that got lost fishing 20 feet from a road... Somehow I lost the Lawson's. And in looking for it, myself a bit. I mean, not really, but I can't see for the rain, it's night, cars are coming at me, and in this place one wrong turn and you're in some other dimension where parallel lines do not meet.

After riding around in the rain long enough to get soaked I found a road I recognized and went to a big chain store which is kinda far from my place. How I got there... anyway. Got milk. On my way back on roads more familiar I passed... the local grocer, a convenience store and... the Lawson's. Of course, as soon as I pedaled up to my door the rain stopped. If it had been lighter a rainbow would have come out.

Ah well, at least I got to enjoy my golden mashed glories whipped with fresh milk and drenched in rich golden butter. Except I forgot the butter.

I'm retarded.


CH2 Air Guitar

Is there anything cooler than chicks that rock? No, there is not. The guitarist for Buffalo Daughter... man. They come on stage. It's a small show at a small club. Maybe 100 people. The stage is at floor level. They come on stage very calm and man, she's small, but, look at that expression. Not mean, but... what does it say? It says "I am going to rock now and this is how I rock." And they did. Cuban influenced funk and experimental pop drone with... there it is, down underneath... a heavy metal churning that gave it such tension. Excuisite architectures built by layer after layer of sound, where you found yourself strolling and daydreaming, brought down suddenly by an explosion of deep electrifying, thunderous rock. It was terrific, fun, ecstatic. I know I'm hearing something good when I feel that bird in my chest trying to get out and I have to close my eyes to keep it inside.

For their second encore they played a tape of them playing and played air-guitar on stage, encouraging us to do the same. In this way we rocked.