See if you can spot me in the crowd. It's kinda tough, but just look for the big white guy.
Despite my awful interview, I was accepted to JET.I leave on July 30th, and arrive in Tokyo on August 1st for orientation.
That was the day when, for the first time, FINALLY, someone on national TV asked:"Wait - intentionally outing a spy (Valerie Plame) isn't an act of treason?"Thank you, Bill Maher, for finally catching up.
Ah, the story I didn't manage to get written. My Red Bull story, you see, was only half of my spring break.The other half consisted of Japan Nite and everything that goes along with it. Japan Nite is the one night during SXSW every year where they bring in a bunch of Japanese bands that the bands' Japanese managers want to introduce to international ears. But it's more than one show. There's the pre-show the day before, and the after-parties, and all that fun stuff.At the shows, I got to hear a handful of wacky bands, but three that really shined - Oreska Band, a group of six girls that just graduated high school and can actually play really rockin' ska music; Go! Go! 7188, a hard rock trio led by two small, hot, but talented girls; and HY, a (figuratively) huge band from Okinawa with several #1 hits and headlining tours in Japan.My friends, who speak better Japanese than I, felt brave, and so they decided to go up and talk to these bands and try to get to know them more than the rest of the fans who got pictures or autographs or whatnot. As a result, the first night's afterparty ended up with us taking a couple members of HY out barhopping on 6th. Once the bars closed, one of the Japanese guys came to the rescue with his loft right above 6th.We were stoked to have gotten to hang out with these guys. They're so big in Japan that they would have been completely inaccessible, but here it's a different story. They're unknown, and they don't seem to mind escaping fame for a little jaunt around the US. To them, we were just some gracious American hosts who had some good beer. To us, they were just musicians who wanted to be chill and have a good time - or so we acted. In private, we were overwhelmed with the coolness of hanging out with these guys. And just amongst ourselves, we had a great time too - we made new friends from Texas State's JA, so the yakuza sort of got expanded that week. But that was merely the first night. My Japanese friends, their bravery rewarded, decided to expand the invitation to the next night - the real afterparty for the real Japan Nite. Kind of a big deal. Much to our surprise, they were down for it. After another seriously good concert, we headed back to the loft with all of HY, and part of Go! Go! 7188, and though I left a bit early (there was another party with a very sexy Japanese girl that needed attending), the experience was so magical that you could feel it in the air. The kind of magic where an acoustic guitar gets passed around amidst the beers and cigarettes and you just know that you're in a place where everyone is genuinely happy, just for that evening.Much to our chagrin, the night eventually had to end. HY had an American tour to wrap up. People had to get home. Many people spent the next day recovering from the fun. The best Japanese speakers out of my group stopped by HY's hotel to say adios - they wound up getting the band's Japanese phone numbers and an invitation to hang out in Tokyo. I spent the day clinging to the buzz of being surrounded by Japanese life, and as such whiled away the afternoon with the sexy Japanese girl and showing her the joy of BBQ. That night, my brain had officially had it. I started doing weird things like calling all the wrong people to hang out on a Saturday night. I could feel the magic leaving my body - rather, I could feel myself coming down from the adrenaline high that had been the previous week and I was desperate not to lose it. By 10:30pm I was frantically making phone calls. By 11:30 I was crashed out on my bed. I slept for 14 hours.I decided over that break that I enjoy who I am much more when I'm not in school - I wasn't stressed, I slept more comfortably, I was a more adventurous cook, and I was a better friend. Suddenly, graduation doesn't sound quite so bad. Perhaps it's not always going to be a life of partying with Japanese rockstars, but so long as it happens occasionally, I think I'll be all right.
The following was taken directly from my email to Vicki, someone I hold near and dear.
Why I woke up early Saturday: 40 Acres Fest. It's a big, big organizational fair where every student org comes out, sets up a booth and does stuff. Some give away food. Some sell it. TGA played Guitar Hero and drew a big crowd all day long. JA drew Sharpie tattoos on people and drew cute girls all day long. I was already sunburned and tired, and then... IT happened. Little Richard. His free concert on campus. The. Most. Awful. Thing. Ever. Most people who I know know who Little Richard is, so I'll assume you do too. After all, you are a person with a life and everything. It's important to note that he's old. Roughly 75. Lots of legendary musicians reach this ripe old age and are content with their lives and who they are, and they're a joy to merely be in the same room with. Jazz musicians are a great example of this. Little Richard, however, is not one of these people. He is a rather angry old man. He, in fact, stopped early in his concert to complain about the piano, which was indeed rather out of tune. The mic was hot while he launched into a 10-minute tirade about bad pianos coming from Indiana and threatening to never come here again. It was funny at first, and then just turned awkward. Awkward, like "daddy beats mommy at the dinner table" awkward. After a grueling 10 minutes - during all of which my TGA guys just started making fun of the situation, if only to ease the tension - the band FINALLY smarted up and started improving a blues tune. By this point, Richard sat atop a travel case and started to play an electric keyboard. Once the real concert restarted, in mid-song Richard asked Walter (his PA, it would seem) for a 7-up. Again, the mic was hot. His only positive interactions with the audience were the questions, "Are you havin' a good time?" and "Am I still pretty?" - both of which drew obligatory cheers, and I mean obligatory after the 20th time he asked the same question. Senility. It kills - but never quick enough. It also became apparent that Little Richard is a commercial whore - he was happy to mention his doing commercials for food, and that Disney asked him to voice Santa Claus in a movie (wtf??), and that he dislikes the Internet because he doesn't get paid for the videos of him that people put online. This would ultimately become the final nail in the coffin for this travesty of the concert. He played "Tooty Fruity" - the song that made him a legend back in the early 50's. Probably the song that most of us came to hear. HE STOPPED THE SONG. STOPPED IT. BEFORE IT WAS OVER. He did this to call out a girl in the front row who was holding up a camera, and proceeded to spend 5 minutes accusing her of bootlegging "my show, my entire catalog, my life's work." In the words of one of my TGA guys, "I'm done, I'm going to get drunk." I agreed. Why I woke up early on Sunday: Thesis Symposium. Dear God, I'm glad you missed it for your timeshare-sellers' convention. It was to be an 8 minute speech followed by 4 minutes of Q&A. Rough. It quickly became apparent that I wrote about 25 minutes' worth of speech, so I had to cut myself dramatically short. Given my pre-existing nervousness about giving this particular speech on a less-than-stellar night of sleep, this made me panic. At the very least, I can thank my lucky stars that the question askers were on my side (they proceeded to ask me about the PowerPoint slides I hadn't covered) and Domjan gave me an awesome grade anyway, because in her words I had shown that I had prepared.
Note: Vicki doesn't really sell timeshares. Inside joke.
Why I woke up early Saturday: 40 Acres Fest. It's a big, big organizational fair where every student org comes out, sets up a booth and does stuff. Some give away food. Some sell it. TGA played Guitar Hero and drew a big crowd all day long. JA drew Sharpie tattoos on people and drew cute girls all day long. I was already sunburned and tired, and then... IT happened. Little Richard. His free concert on campus. The. Most. Awful. Thing. Ever. Most people who I know know who Little Richard is, so I'll assume you do too. After all, you are a person with a life and everything. It's important to note that he's old. Roughly 75. Lots of legendary musicians reach this ripe old age and are content with their lives and who they are, and they're a joy to merely be in the same room with. Jazz musicians are a great example of this. Little Richard, however, is not one of these people. He is a rather angry old man. He, in fact, stopped early in his concert to complain about the piano, which was indeed rather out of tune. The mic was hot while he launched into a 10-minute tirade about bad pianos coming from Indiana and threatening to never come here again. It was funny at first, and then just turned awkward. Awkward, like "daddy beats mommy at the dinner table" awkward. After a grueling 10 minutes - during all of which my TGA guys just started making fun of the situation, if only to ease the tension - the band FINALLY smarted up and started improving a blues tune. By this point, Richard sat atop a travel case and started to play an electric keyboard. Once the real concert restarted, in mid-song Richard asked Walter (his PA, it would seem) for a 7-up. Again, the mic was hot. His only positive interactions with the audience were the questions, "Are you havin' a good time?" and "Am I still pretty?" - both of which drew obligatory cheers, and I mean obligatory after the 20th time he asked the same question. Senility. It kills - but never quick enough. It also became apparent that Little Richard is a commercial whore - he was happy to mention his doing commercials for food, and that Disney asked him to voice Santa Claus in a movie (wtf??), and that he dislikes the Internet because he doesn't get paid for the videos of him that people put online. This would ultimately become the final nail in the coffin for this travesty of the concert. He played "Tooty Fruity" - the song that made him a legend back in the early 50's. Probably the song that most of us came to hear. HE STOPPED THE SONG. STOPPED IT. BEFORE IT WAS OVER. He did this to call out a girl in the front row who was holding up a camera, and proceeded to spend 5 minutes accusing her of bootlegging "my show, my entire catalog, my life's work." In the words of one of my TGA guys, "I'm done, I'm going to get drunk." I agreed. Why I woke up early on Sunday: Thesis Symposium. Dear God, I'm glad you missed it for your timeshare-sellers' convention. It was to be an 8 minute speech followed by 4 minutes of Q&A. Rough. It quickly became apparent that I wrote about 25 minutes' worth of speech, so I had to cut myself dramatically short. Given my pre-existing nervousness about giving this particular speech on a less-than-stellar night of sleep, this made me panic. At the very least, I can thank my lucky stars that the question askers were on my side (they proceeded to ask me about the PowerPoint slides I hadn't covered) and Domjan gave me an awesome grade anyway, because in her words I had shown that I had prepared.
Note: Vicki doesn't really sell timeshares. Inside joke.