Cleaning House
I spent most of this morning cleaning my room and doing laundry (yay.) rather than working out as I had planned (also yay.). In doing so, I discovered what a disgusting coat of grime covers(ed) my room and probably the entire house. I probably should have given the place a good wipe-down before I put my stuff everywhere... but it's a certainty that I wasn't up for that when I moved in. All I wanted to do was collapse.

I don't think this room has been cleaned in years. If you think I'm lying, take a look at this rag with which I wiped my two windows. Black. And no matter how hard I try to keep this room clean, within half a week, it again has a thick coating of dust. That's how poor the air quality is here. That, and I think the Japanese have a different standard of household cleanliness. By "different" I mean "bad." For a people reputed to be so excessively clean, I've never seen dirtier walls and floors, sinks and toilets. Blergh. I'm glad it's not *my* house (as in, I don't own it) because if I had some responsibility for its cleanliness I'd be going insane right now.

I left as soon as possible after I cleaned my room. Took myself out to Nishi-Shinjuku and ate some Okinawan food at a restaurant a few blocks from my house. Good stuff, aside from the mysterious meat products. I think I ate spam... and some other random pork product. But no real complaints, as it was quite tasty.

I also poked my head into the neighborhood dog clothing and accessory store. No joke. It's called Love and Peace. And what surprised me most was not its existence (as Japanese tend to favor not only ugly, ratty, whiny dogs but also dressing them up) but that there were several customers (with clothed dogs!) there at the same time as I! Wow.

I took the Yamanote line to Ikebukuro at Chris's recommendation and followed the Seibu Ikebukuro-sen out of Tokyo. For the few minutes I rode the Yamanote, I watched one of the Tokyo wanna-be elite as she stood in front of me. Picture: young girl in twenties, badly dyed (orange-ish) hair, western makeup, stilletto knee-high boots, chinchilla coat, Pinky and Dianne bag and Louis Vuitton keitai strap. I didn't know whether I felt more the urge to be jealous of her spending capacity or to "accidentally" scuff her shoes. Dum de dum.

The Seibu Ikebukuro line runs from the Yamanote (upper city) to the Shitamachi (lower city) and where I stopped was still close to Tokyo but less urban for certain. In fact, I rode the train several stops past where I intended to get off to the station called "Fujimidai" in hopes of glimpsing the elusive mountain. Alas, today was too hazy to see it but today was clear enough that I could see mountains out there, beyond the city, mysterious in the distance like the Olympic range. I don't know what they're even called.

At the stations you can watch the young schoolgirls roll down their skirts, which they've hiked up to "look good" for class, so that their parents won't suspect. The elementary school boys play games on the platforms and strangely their uniforms still feature short shorts in December. Why is this?

I took the same line back to Ekoda. It's the kind of place I might want to live if I were to stay in the Tokyo area. It has... atmosphere. Children. Dogs. Restaurants. Shrines. You can hear music being practiced in the upstairs rooms of houses.








I simply walked through Ekoda for a few hours... long enough to feel separate from the city in a way because I live so close:






And it was great; one of the last things I saw before I left made my day. A tanning salon called Black People. Really. That's the name of it. Hee hee heee. Silly Engrish!

Here are a few shots from Asakusa the other day. Senbei (rice crackers). Fans. And a Japanese Walk of Fame (or something?).







I don't know how I feel about the world right now. On one hand, I had a really good day, on the other I'm rather angry that two of my very good friends in Eugene were robbed this morning. My thoughts on that subject involve a whole lot of unneccesary cursing and general directing of death wishes toward the purpetrator. What a f*^%wad, robbing college students to finance some pathetic drug habit or other sorry reason. Merry Christmas to you too, Asshole. Bottom feeding... grah.... Yeah. I'm mad. Like, find-'em-and-gouge-'er-eyes-out-with-hot-pokers mad. Fun times.