Random Notes

Pwn3d… I sat down to read my e-mail this morning immediately after lighting off the coffee pot and before I'd consumed my first cup, in keeping with the Ritual de lo Habitual around these parts. And the first thing I read was this, from The Second Mrs. Pennington (in part):

Have you sent Bobby a birthday card yet? I know he would really like one ;-).

Aiiieee! I immediately replied, thusly:

Sweet Jesus! I forgot his birthday. I can't believe I did that. I'm such a lousy father and grandfather and I'm SO embarrassed. Thanks for the nudge, and check your inbox in about ten minutes or so. There will be a gift card from Amazon in there shortly.

The only problem is I didn’t really, actually forget… his birthday isn’t until Tuesday next. Chances are pretty danged good I would have remembered between now and then. Chances are equally as good I might have forgotten, though. Old Age can really be a beeyotch, at times.

Please. Remind me… yet again, Gentle Reader… to NOT attempt anything that requires the least little bit of actual thought before I pour… and consume… that first cup. I have a tendency to embarrass myself, otherwise.

Yanno?

―:☺:―

So…yesterday was quite the gorgeous day, kinda-sorta. For mid-February, anyway. It was at least 68 degrees or so, complemented by bright sunshine around 1100 hrs yesterday morning. Albert The Propane Guy stopped by and filled up my tank around that time and we both agreed it was a brilliant day, especially considering what was in the offing for today…as in: we’re under a winter storm watch and it’s colder than the proverbial well-digger’s nether regions, as I type.

So, I did what any red-blooded, All-American biker would do when gifted with a brilliant day in the middle of February. I uncovered Miss Zukiko, dusted her off, and took her out for a spirited run that lasted about an hour and a half. I should have taken pictures of the poor girl when I uncovered her. You wouldn’t believe what over two months of accumulated dust looks like on a dark blue motorcycle. It took me nearly 15 minutes to dust her off and make her presentable. It was that bad, and words cannot begin to convey how dirty she actually was. But that didn’t affect her willingness to run, once she was cleaned up. At all. We both had a great time… And, you know what’s best about a ride in mid-winter?

I left home with a clean face shield.

I returned with a clean face shield.

Nary a bug-splatter. Not a single one. And that is nice!

It was still nice enough, weather-wise, when I returned to El Casa Móvil De Pennington that I sat outside and had a cigar while letting the lady cool off before I covered her up again. It was just a wee bit too early to pop a beer, so I made do with what was left in the coffee pot. That worked.

―:☺:―

Today’s Pic: More Kyoto. This photo is the front view of this pic. It was pretty danged crowded that day, as you can plainly see, Gentle Reader. The crowds didn’t dampen my enthusiasm one whit… I was stoked beyond belief as we walked up the stairs and on to the temple grounds, to use the vernacular of the time…

Upside Down, Yet Again

Check this out: Ow' to Speak Clintonian: Foreplay. And there’s a LOT more where that came from… I’m bookmarking this guy toot sweet, most ricky-tick, and raht now!

(h/t: Lex)

―:☺:―

Via Blog-Bud Becky… another one of those famously-addicting quizzes:

One of these days I’m gonna have to give some serious thought as to why I find these things so damned interesting. On the one hand, it makes me think I’m overly narcissistic (is that redundant?). OTOH, I love seeing other folks results, so it ain’t just narcissism. As I said: this requires thought. But not today.

As for the hour of the day I supposedly am? Well, if we wanna be literal… I was fast asleep at 1002 hrs this morning. And I never, ever eat breakfast. Never have, never will… food literally makes me ill first thing in the morning. Breakfast used to be a half-pot of coffee and four cigarettes. Now it’s a full-pot o’ coffee, but no cigarettes. Some things change for the better, eh?

As for the 10:02 a.m. hour, my circadian rhythms, and all that: I’m upside down again, mostly because…

―:☺:―

… I stayed up ALL night watching the reek associated with the VA-MD-DeeSee primaries. And like Morgan, I’m feeling sorry for Hillary. Really. Mainly coz Barack scares the living shit out of me. There’s absolutely NO doubt in my military-mind he’s achieved true phenomenon status and that, Gentle Reader, is damned hard to fight…whether your name is Clinton (for the near term, Dem-side) or McCain (in the general election). It’s also the scariest thing about democracy… Example:

As for all these recent Obama victories, I couldn’t be more excited. What’s more, it seems that several of Mrs. Clinton’s formerly certain superdelegates seem to be tempted to join the Obama bandwagon. I just hope that all this momentum is going to come to fruition. I hope that the change of which Mr. Obama speaks so elegantly is real. I hope he really can offer the opportunity for the people to take back their government. I hope this all isn’t a dream. I hope we really are the change we’ve been waiting for.

Momentum. “Change.” People “taking back their government.”

I call “Bullshit.”

It’s ALL emotion where Obama is concerned and smells (stinks, actually) of demagoguery, as in... a good-looking, articulate guy with a rhetorical flair and a great smile, yet who is absolutely devoid of substance... and that guy is now anointed as the front-runner on one side of our election process? What else would you call this, other than demagoguery?

But it’s still early days, and I’m holding out my own sort of “hope.” I hope the media start calling Obama out and demanding some specifics about his brand of “hope” and “change.” Or at least giving Hillary a couple of column inches or 30 seconds of teevee time when she does the calling-out, which she has been doing.

I might be waiting for Godot.

(Note: I’m not assuming you’re stupid, Gentle Reader. I have some younger readers who may not have been… ummm… “exposed.” Just think of my obvious reference as being “for the children.” We might be doing a whole helluva lot of things “for the children” in the near future… I’m just Getting With The Program.)

―:☺:―

Today’s Insignificant Inquiry: Am I too picky?

That collection of romaine stems is what I throw out when making my evening salad and the quantity is significant (I eat what’s in the bowl, obviously). I hate stems. One assumes they’re edible, otherwise they wouldn’t be in the package, nu? But I don’t consider stems like those you see to be edible…which leads me to ask the question.

Speaking of Insignificant Inquiries... why doncha go over and welcome occasional reader (and frequent commenter here at EIP) Ashley to the blogosphere!?! Her blog is less than a week old… remember what it was like the first week you began blogging, assuming you do this blogging thing? 'Nuff said.

―:☺:―

I’m still playing with Pandora radio. And I’m still loving it, too. We’re riffing on Santana this morning, and it’s great good stuff. There IS a downside to Pandora, though. I’m hearing way too much stuff from my oft-lamented vinyl collection, which, as you may recall, is in the custody of SN2 due to space limitations in El Casa Móvil De Pennington. If ever there was a reason to get out of the RV and re-assume a conventional life, this is IT.

―:☺:―

Today’s Pics: Kyoto, again (We're almost done, Gentle Reader!). This time it’s a couple of oh-so-narrow residential streets the Nipponese are famous for. And these are streets, not alleys. I've long wondered how long it takes the owner to park that car in the pic on the right. Or get it out. One has to be a patient sort to drive (and park) in Japan. You just don't know how good we have it here in the USofA until ya see how the “other half” lives.

As always, click for larger, if the spirit moves ya.

Bits and Bytes...

Via Blog-Buddy Mike, the best thing since sliced bagels:

The Music Genome Project®

On January 6, 2000 a group of musicians and music-loving technologists came together with the idea of creating the most comprehensive analysis of music ever.

Together we set out to capture the essence of music at the most fundamental level. We ended up assembling literally hundreds of musical attributes or "genes" into a very large Music Genome. Taken together these genes capture the unique and magical musical identity of a song - everything from melody, harmony and rhythm, to instrumentation, orchestration, arrangement, lyrics, and of course the rich world of singing and vocal harmony. It's not about what a band looks like, or what genre they supposedly belong to, or about who buys their records - it's about what each individual song sounds like.

Since we started back in 2000, we've carefully listened to the songs of tens of thousands of different artists - ranging from popular to obscure - and analyzed the musical qualities of each song one attribute at a time. This work continues each and every day as we endeavor to include all the great new stuff coming out of studios, clubs and garages around the world.

It has been quite an adventure, you could say a little crazy - but now that we've created this extraordinary collection of music analysis, we think we can help be your guide as you explore your favorite parts of the music universe.

We hope you enjoy the journey.

Tim Westergren
Founder
The Music Genome Project

“OK,” sez you, “That’s interesting. But what GOOD is it?” The Good, Gentle Reader: Pandora, Radio from The Music Genome Project. The link takes you to a search box, where you can type in the name of a song, an artist (a band or solo artist), a station, or Listener Profiles…if you want to find folks who like the same sorts of stuff you do. Once you type something in the box Pandora returns suggestions, including “stations” that features artists and music that “match” the style of the artist you entered. Here are a couple of screen shots:

I’m listening to variations on a Roxy Music theme this morning, after listening to the Stones for about three hours last evening. And the music selections are waay-cool as well as being spot-on, Gentle Reader. Eerie, even. This approach to music analysis works! One of the better things, IM(NS)HO, is the fact I haven’t heard one single track I would place in the over-played, beat-to-death category. It’s all good, so far.

The service is free, but you have to create an account to continue listening after the first five or six songs have played. I now have an account, and Radio Paradise has some serious competition in the Inter-tube Radio department.

Highly recommended. Thanks, Mike!

―:☺:―

Here’s a quiz you might wanna take if you’re not too sure what was going on in the world the year you were born. I’d post my results but they’re all too predictable…three separate atomic bomb items (Hiroshima, Nagasaki and… Alamagordo? Close, but no cigar.), Big Bang Two ends, Truman becomes Prez, and so on. History… as inscribed on cave walls with charcoal, ya know. (h/t: FHB)

―:☺:―

There used to be an old commercial that went something along the lines of “What sort of man…(wears) (drives) (smokes) (something).” One would ask that very same question today about what sort of person supports a certain presidential candidate upon seeing this video from a Houston teevee station. It’s all about that flag…and the face superimposed thereon. In case you didn’t chase the link, that’s a still on the left (no pun…).

It’s been pointed out by others that Obama didn’t hang that flag himself and most certainly never even knew it was (still is?) there. But he knows now, and it would be appropriate if his campaign staff, if not Obama himself, distance themselves from such an overtly Leftist… and by definition, anti-American… political statement.

There’s not a frickin’ thing that’s romantic, endearing, or heroic about Ché Guevara. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Unless you happen to be one of those pseudo-radical wanna-bees. Like maybe this guy. I’d bet good money there’s a Ché garment of some sort in one of his dresser drawers, if not under the shirt he’s wearing right now…

―:☺:―

Today’s Pic: Yet another Kyoto trip photo. The garden at Ryōan-ji, perhaps the most famous Zen garden in all the world. You didn't think I'd missed it, didja, Gentle Reader?

A Road Trip of a Different Sort, Part Deux (and Last)

Where we left it:

“The five of us paid our respective bills and were off into the night, destination unknown but hopefully warm. We had a place to stay.”

If you’d like to begin at the beginning, just scroll down… 

It was just after 2300 hrs when we walked out of the wine bar and one of the guys told TSMP we had to hurry as the busses and trams quit running at midnight. We walked up the street to a trolley stop and stood… huddled and freezing in the cold night air… waiting for a trolley. 


We didn’t wait long. A nearly empty trolley soon arrived, but not nearly soon enough for my liking. It was COLD, Gentle Reader! We rode the trolley for what seemed quite some time…possibly 25 minutes or so, with very few stops… until we reached the end of the line. The city had faded into a suburban landscape and we were on the outskirts of town, in the foothills that surround Kyoto. We got off the trolley and followed our hosts as they quickly walked up a small road that led into the foothills. The road was narrow and quite steep and our pace was quick. I was nearly out of breath when we reached the top of the hill. One of the young men opened a gate, walked into a small yard, up a few stairs, and opened the door to a small house, gesturing for TSMP and me to follow. We left our shoes in a small entry way and went into the house.

It was a very small house…consisting of perhaps three rooms but I only saw two, one of which was the bathroom. All five of us were in a common room which was maybe 12 x 12 feet…if that. The room was traditional Japanese, which is to say it had tatami mats and was very sparsely furnished. The dominating feature was a low table in the center of the room (quite similar to the illustration, but not nearly as elegant), covered with a large quilt. The rest of the room was bare for the most part, and TSMP and I put our knapsacks against one wall and waited for a brief moment for what came next. One of our new friends went over to the table, pulled the quilt back to expose a rather large red light bulb affixed underneath the table, and switched the fixture on. I was semi-surprised to see the table was positioned over what looked like a footwell…which was exactly what it was. Our two male friends then sat down at the table with their feet in the small footwell and motioned TSMP and I to join them. The young woman had gone into the kitchen upon our arrival and was still there… so TSMP and I took our places at the table, which was large enough to sit at least six people. Once we were seated with our feet in the footwell… quite comfortably, I should add… we pulled the large quilt covering the table around our upper legs. It was then I noticed it was quite cold in the room and our friends hadn’t taken their coats off. TSMP and I left our coats on, too… she in my borrowed USAF parka, and me in my field jacket. It couldn’t have been more than 45 degrees in that room, if that.

It was about that time our young lady friend returned from the kitchen, carrying a large lacquered tray with five cups and a large steaming pot of green tea. She kneeled at table side and poured five cups of tea, passing each one to its recipient and took her place at the table. Conversation began almost immediately between TSMP and our three new friends, rapid and punctuated with lots of “So’s!” and “Ah’s!” and little bits of laughter here and there. Every so often TSMP would translate some of the conversation for me but I sat silent and smiling for the most part, largely oblivious to the actual content of the discussion. But it all seemed good…there was a great deal of smiling and nods of approval being passed around amongst and between the five us…among “other things.” 

It turned out our hosts were students at a university in Kyoto, so TSMP and they had lots in common. It also turned out that I didn’t mind the chill in the room, even though the room didn’t get any warmer during the course of the night…at all. But everyone’s feet were quite warm. That red light bulb (which was actually a low-intensity source of radiant heat), in conjunction with the shared warmth from our five pairs of feet under the table and the quilt around our thighs made for a very warm and intimate experience. TSMP later told me such an arrangement was quite common in Japanese homes, and this wasn’t the first time she’d “been there and done that.”

Conversation continued on into the night until the tea was gone and most of the company began to yawn and nod off. It was nearly 0200 hrs when TSMP and the young woman rose from the table and went into the other room, returning with a couple of heavy quilts. TSMP explained we were going to sleep in the common room. And we did just that…. on the tatami mats, with folded clothes from our knapsacks as pillows, fully dressed and under heavy quilts. It was wonderful.

We awoke in the morning around 0700 hrs to more green tea as we each took our turns cleaning up in the small bathroom. TSMP and the other girl had some semi-intense conversation, which resulted in TSMP jotting down a few notes in her small notebook. And then…less than an hour after we woke up… the five of us were off to the trolley line where we caught a trolley back into the city. Our friends got off the trolley before we did, and the good-byes were brief but intense and heartfelt. TSMP and I were grateful indeed for the kindness and hospitality our friends showed us. I only wish I had thought to take pictures…

It’s at this point the tale turns conventional in most all respects. The notes TSMP had taken while she and our young woman friend were talking were all about finding a hotel, and that was our first order of business after we ate breakfast. We were very fortunate. We found a small, inexpensive ryokan in a fairly nice neighborhood in the central city. The first thing we did after checking in was bathe… in a proper Japanese tub, with lots and lots of hot water.
 

It was good to get clean, not to mention getting warm. And one does get warm, both during and after a Japanese bath, let me tell ya, Gentle Reader… You emerge from the bath looking for all the world like a main course at Red Lobster. The Japanese bath and its rituals could be the subject of a separate and lengthy post all on its own (this will do, for now), but suffice to say most Americans are stunned at the temperature of an average Japanese bath, which is many degrees above what we consider reasonable and comfortable. Like the saying goes: “you get used to it.” And once you no longer have access to Japanese baths…you miss it, too.

And then it was out into Kyoto to do touristy things. And there are many, many touristy things to do in Kyoto. This was TSMP’s second or third trip to Kyoto and she knew where the high points were…and so we went, concentrating on the architectural treasures of ancient Japan, without forgetting or ignoring the food, the beer, the sake, etc., etc.!
 

These pics are from Kiyomizu-dera, which means “Pure Water” in Japanese…

Main Gate viewed from rear

Fountain of health, longevity and success in studies. I forget which stream I drank from...probably "health." It sure wasn't "success in studies..."
 

Monk praying inside shrine

I did mention we were traveling “on the cheap,” didn’t I? Proof…

Mickey Dee's

We stayed in Kyoto for three days or so, IIRC. Then it was on to Nara, which is even more ancient than Kyoto. Here’s TSMP surrounded by one of Nara’s most endearing attractions… the tame deer that roam Nara Park.

TSMP and some very pushy deer

From The Wiki:

Tame deer roam through the town, and especially in Nara Park. These deer might be considered "tame" if the visitor does not have any "shika sembei - Deer Biscuits" when they see them.

The people at the ryokan in Kyoto helped us find accommodations in Nara and we arrived in Nara with reservations for another ryokan, thanks to the friendly and helpful owners of the place we stayed in Kyoto. I might be slow at times, but never let it be said I don’t learn from experience. Our stay in Nara, lasting for perhaps two days but no longer, was uneventful and ordinary. We did lots of sightseeing, ate lots of good food, and generally enjoyed ourselves.
 

We didn’t hitch back to Tokyo… once was enough for both of us. No, we caught the milk-train back to Tokyo instead, a journey that took an incredible 12 hours… in third-class accommodations…which is to say hard, upright plastic seats. The Shinkansen, by contrast, makes the same trip in little more than four hours. And costs four to five times more than the milk-run. So, in keeping with our economic status at the time, we opted for the cheapest way out.
 

TSMP at Nara Station

We arrived back in Tokyo in the early evening and took the local train back to TSMP’s apartment, where we immediately and unceremoniously fell into bed. We were beyond tired…we were exhausted. We didn’t bother to eat, we didn’t bother to do anything…except sleep. We unpacked the following morning while sharing our adventure with TSMP’s room-mate (another Sophia U exchange student), who had to be extensively back-briefed.
 

All told, TSMP and I did a week in Kyoto and Nara, food, lodging, and transportation included, for around $200.00. That doesn’t sound like much today…and it really isn’t, in fact. But keep in mind: the year was 1975, and 200 bucks in 1975 is equal to about $770.00, today. Still…that’s pretty danged cheap for two people spending a week on the road in Japan. You couldn’t do that for that price today. I wouldn’t even want to try…

We still had a day or two of Christmas vacation left, but that was soon over and it was back to school for TSMP and back to work, for me. But, Wow! What a great time we had…

I'll close with this... just a simple street scene, taken in Nara.

A Road Trip of a Different Sort

So…here’s that girl I used to know again, this time in Kyoto during late, late December of 1975, or perhaps New Years Day of 1976 or shortly thereafter. Memory fades, and it has been over 30 years, ya know. That’s her traveling companion immediately below, taken in much the same spot as the first pic, from a slightly different angle.

As it is with most things, there’s a story here.

Long-time readers know The Second Mrs. Pennington and I met in Japan. She was on her second foreign exchange student tour, this time as a sophomore at Sophia University (photos) in Yotsuya … a borough of Tokyo. I was on my third tour of Japan with quite a different institution, stationed at Yokota AB. Just how we came to meet is a story in and of itself, but I’ll save that for another time.

It came to pass that TSMP, like all college students, had an extended break over the Christmas and New Years holidays that year. The Air Force, in its infinite wisdom, granted the troops nearly as much time off over the holidays as the college kids received. The usual drill was married people got Christmas week off and single folks got the following week off. So it was we found ourselves with a week or so off, and so it was we decided we’d go to Kyoto for New Years. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and we broke every rule there is about traveling in Japan, or anywhere else, for that matter. We had no reservations. We had no specific itinerary. We didn’t have any means of transportation, save for my very used 350cc Yamaha, and it was winter…not the time of year for an extended road trip on a bike. We had very little money. So… we did what any poor but adventurous couple would do: we decided to hitchhike.

And that, Gentle Reader, is simply not done in Japan. Never. Ever. Except by Americans who don’t know any better.

I should note this wasn’t the first time I’d thumbed in Japan…my Buddy Dan in Florida and I hitched from Wakkanai to somewhere around Sapporo and back to Wakkanai a few years before this lil adventure. And we had had a great time. So, after recounting my story to TSMP, she agreed to go with the flow.

Early one morning we loaded up a couple of knapsacks with all the warm clothes we had (it was cold, Gentle Reader… in the high 30s or so) and set out for the train station. We took the train from Musashi-Koganei (where TSMP had her apartment) to the end of the line, which was near the main road between Tokyo and Kyoto. Our trip would take about three and a half hours, by express train, had we decided to take the train.  

Drive-time would be slightly longer, and we estimated we could make it to Kyoto in about six or seven hours. We were fairly accurate on that count… we made it to Kyoto in about six hours, catching just three separate rides. Our last ride was from a young guy who went completely out of his way to drive us into the heart of Kyoto instead of letting us out on the highway on the outskirts of the city. Our driver vigorously and intensively chatted up TSMP in the process, I should add, during the entire two hours we spent in the dude’s car. All in Japanese, of course, of which I understood only about every 97^th word or so…but I knew what was going on. Some things don’t require words to understand…

So… after we exchanged addresses and such our new friend dropped us off in the middle of Kyoto in the late afternoon. We went and got something to eat and set about on our first task: finding a place to stay. What I didn’t tell you, Gentle Reader, is it’s tradition in Japan to return to the ancestral home for New Years… it’s the biggest travel-time of the year. With predictable impact on the hotels, any hotel, every hotel. As in: “no room at the inn.” Remember, we had no reservations of any sort. Afternoon turned into evening, evening turned into night, and our door-to-door inquiries at each and every hotel were fruitless. Everyone was booked solid. We were starting to get a bit concerned, as you might imagine.

Digression. We wandered into a part of downtown Kyoto which seemed simply loaded with small hotels, and I thought we’d struck gold. TSMP, OTOH, was highly agitated and refused to enter the first of about six hotels we encountered on this block. She simply exclaimed “NO, Buck! I’m NOT going in there!” with little or no other explanation. So… I went in this little hotel and was greeted by an elderly woman who gave me a big smile and vigorous north-south nods when I asked, in English, if she had a room for the night. “Cool” sez I to myself, and stepped outside to get TSMP. TSMP and I re-entered the small lobby and the old woman’s demeanor changed completely, as in: she threw us out. Quickly. Unceremoniously. Pretty damned close to rude, for a Japanese woman.

Rinse, repeat, for the next three hotels on that block. Then it finally dawned on me what was happening, and what TSMP was too embarrassed to tell me. I was trying to get us a room in a whore house. Three of ‘em, to be exact. And TSMP was furious that I couldn’t read in between the lines. So much for my perceptional abilities at the ripe ol’ age of 30. We left that neighborhood most ricky-tick, and by the time we were three blocks away we were both doubled over with laughter at the situation, the reactions of the whore house madams upon seeing TSMP, and the whole delicious irony of my absolute thickness. But the situation was anything but funny...

It was late by this time…around 10:00 at night, and we still had no place to stay and our prospects were pretty bleak. We spotted a wine bar cum coffee shop and went in to get a cup, warm up, and think about our options… which at this point were “slim” and “none.” Or so it seemed. And then our luck changed.

The coffee shop we were in was small, consisting of a small bar and perhaps three tables in the room…total seating capacity of 12, or less. There were two young, long-haired guys and a girl drinking coffee at the bar, and we took seats next to them. TSMP struck up a conversation with the girl, asking if she knew of a hotel near by where we might find a room. The answer was “no,” there weren’t any…and if there were, they’d be all booked-up, what with this being the holidays, as she implied we should damned well know. And then it struck me…perhaps we could make some sort of arrangement here. I just might have something I could trade in return for accommodations. I made some discreet inquiries of the two young guys through TSMP and my hunch was rewarded. One of the young guys took a used matchbook out of his pocket, scribbled something on it, and slid it across the bar to me:

I smiled, TSMP smiled, and our three young friends smiled. The deal was done. The five of us paid our respective bills and were off into the night, destination unknown but hopefully warm. We had a place to stay.

To be continued…