Friday, October 23, 2015
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Let me bore you with this story...(3)
Coming Home - Part 3
ready for surgery... |
There
was the sound of music. I had heard that music before. It was a
Mozart Violin Sonata. It was one of the pieces of music on my USB. I
thought: “I'm conscious again. I've been reconnected and
started--the USB has come back on automatically.” There was a man
in the driver's seat. He was talking to another man outside about me.
He said: “Looks good, she started right up.” (He called me “she”.
Maybe I'm beautiful again!) “Good, take her out for a test on the
highway. Bring her up to 120kph and check for smooth acceleration and
any shaking and pulling in the left front drive wheel,” said the
other man. Off we went.
test drive |
up up and away... |
oops, overshot the mark.... |
c'mon down... |
And so,
he backed me off the truck and up to the driveway to my garage and I
was back home again. “Wow,” said Aya, “she looks like new!”
“Yeah, she sure does,” said Jude, “let's take her out for a
test spin and see if she runs OK.”
They did, and I DID!
The end
Monday, October 19, 2015
Let me bore you with this story... (2)
Coming Home - Part 2
We left
Niseko the next day and headed east to meet Jude and Aya's son, Brin, who was flying in
from Tokyo to spend a few days on the Shiretoko Peninsula in Eastern
Hokkaido. It was a gray, cloudy day threatening rain. When we arrived
at Kushiro airport Jude and Aya got a mobile call from Brin saying
that his flight was delayed in Tokyo for a “mechanical issue”.
After a short time, while they were discussing what to do, he called again and said that they were
now getting ready to take off from Haneda Airport and would arrive a
couple hours late. Jude and Aya decided to kill some time by going
into Kushiro for some sightseeing and programmed me for the trip.
We were
driving along smoothly on a perfectly straight road. The pattern of
the streets was unfamiliar for people from the southern parts of
Japan with their narrow twisting roads. The wide streets were laid out in a grid pattern with many
crossroads. As we were going through an intersection Jude suddenly
exclaimed: “Oh shit!” Just then I felt a white blur smash into my
left front wheel with a loud crunching and banging-thudding sound. I
was pushed a short distance and then I couldn't move any more. I
filled up with smoke but my engine kept on running and the music
played on. Jude said: “Oh, SHIT!. We are FUCKed!” Then to Aya, who
was whimpering and crying: “Get out of the car, now!” Aya was
able to open the crushed passenger door and got out into the street.
Jude suddenly realized I was still running and turned me off and got
out of the car himself.
The
rest is a blur of sounds and images: Jude asking Aya if she was
alright and noticing blood on her torn jacket sleeve, trying to get
her to calm down. The driver of the other automobile pointing to the
stop sign that Jude had just run. The front end of his car was crumpled, a piece of it in the street. Sirens, a firetruck, an ambulance, several police cars, a
policeman opening my hood. I sensed that I was badly damaged; my left
front fender and left passenger door crushed, left front wheel bent,
my left front seat torn and several airbags dangling from the ceiling
on the passenger side. I was broken, unable to move.
The
gray, rain threatening afternoon dragged on with mobile phone calls,
medical attention for Aya, endless questions for Jude and
measurements by the police. Eventually an ambulance took Aya to a
hospital and Jude was left in the street awaiting whatever was coming
next. What came next was a truck. The truck driver approached Jude
standing on the curb and said he was going to tow me away. Jude,
looking shell shocked and confused mumbled: “What?” The man
seemed to understand Jude's condition and clarified: “I'm a wrecker
service from Takanaka Auto associated with Xanadudu.” Jude
responded: “Oh, OK, whatever!” Just then another policeman came
up to Jude, introduced himself as "Natsu", and said he was going to drive him to the hospital where
Aya had been taken.
I was,
alone, abandoned, at the mercy of the “wrecker”. It had started
raining. An ugly looking beast backed up to my front end and lowered
a huge iron hook. The wrecker driver found a large iron ring under my
engine and inserted the hook into it and lifted my front up off the
ground with my grill pointed at the sky. I was then pulled, in that humiliating position, through the rain slick streets of Kushiro until we
reached what looked like an automobile graveyard where I was
unceremoniously dumped with the other wrecks. It was the end of my
short life and it was my own fault. I had been in the habit of announcing:
“There's a stop sign ahead,” as part of my GPS program. But I had
failed to announce the stop signs on that long straight stretch of
road in Kushiro and Jude had run one. We had probably run several of
them before the fatal intersection came down on our heads. Night came
down. It was dark.
A gray
rain-soaked dawn, other derelicts like tombstones in the stygian
light. Strange new sentients coming to look at me. Humans. “It's a
shame,” said one, “only 3,683 kilometers, practically brand new!”
“Not as bad as it looks, I've seen worse. Look around you!” said
another. “I wonder if the owner plans to junk it?” said a third.
“They are coming this morning. I'm going to recommend that it be
repaired. It's not that bad and it is a brand new car. It's worth
fixing,” said the second, “and it is fully insured.”
My
parents are coming. They haven't abandoned me. I hope they agree to
have me repaired so I can go back home! A taxi pulled into Takanaka
Auto's parking lot and three sentients got out: Jude, Aya and a
younger human who looked a little like both of them.”This must be
their son, Brin,” I thought. All three came and looked at me a
little sadly, I thought. Brin, who was seeing me for the first time,
said: “Ouch! That looks pretty bad. Do you think it can be
repaired?” “Well, to him I guess I'm just an 'it' ,“ I
thought, “he hasn't had time to get to know me. Hmph, I am a young
lady!” Just then Mr. Takanaka approached and invited all three of
them into his office for, he said, some tea and a chat.
A
little while later a very unattractive blue Nissan K-car drove into
the parking lot--puny, tinny and no power. Soon Mr. Takanaka and Aya,
Jude and Brin came out of the office all smiles and good fellowship.
Then I heard the good news. I was going to be repaired but it would
take some time, maybe a month or more. I would require several new
parts that had to come from the Mazda factory and many of my
reparable parts needed to be worked on. Once repaired I would be
shipped back home. Then I heard the bad news. That gaudy blue K-car
was a rent-a-tart that Jude and Aya and Brin would drive away to
continue OUR journey and leave ME behind to the tender mercies of
Takanaka Auto, while they went off in THAT roller skate to have a
good time without me. Humph! The Nissan was pulled up right in front
of me. Ugh! Jude and Aya transferred their remaining luggage to that
cheap tart. Jude dropped a bottle of gin and broke it on the hard
surface of the parking lot in the process. “Serves him right,” I
thought unkindly. Once everything was moved, they drove off and left
me alone, again. There I sat, abandoned and broken, in the Takanaka
Auto junkyard, for an endless wait for parts to arrive. And the rain
kept on falling.
To be
continued...
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Let me bore you with this story...
Coming Home
I'm going home today.
I'm going home today.
It was
dark. Somewhere, somehow I was aware of sentient thoughts discussing
a nebulous concept. The male said: “The one we rented on our last
trip was great on mileage.” “Yes, it was, and I like the design,
too,” said the female. “Me, too, he said, “why don't we go to
the showroom and have a look?”
Shortly
thereafter I began to develop according to the specifications the
sentients had decided on: a beautiful coat of lustrous metallic Navy
blue enamel, aluminum wheels, white and black leather seats with a
red stripe, GPS navigation and USB sound system, automatic windshield
wipers and headlights, idling stop—the works. That nebulous concept
I had become aware of coalesced into an automobile and I first saw
the light of day when I was delivered to the showroom where my
sentients came and drove me away for the first time.
The
male sat behind my steering wheel and I could sense that he wasn't
used to me and rather overly cautiously, I thought, crept out of the
lot into the traffic. He was obviously unfamiliar with my GPS
navigation system and turned the wrong way at the first intersection.
But I patiently advised him to turn around and start again. He said:
“She sure is calm and collected, doesn't get frustrated or
sarcastic when you make a mistake!” That was the first time I was
referred to as “she”. It was because I spoke to my sentients with
a female voice. And so, they drove me to my new home and parked me in
my own garage and admired how nice I looked in it. My motor purred
like a four-legged sentient called a “kitten” they said.
As they
struggled with the new technology, I learned that my sentients were
called “humans”. In a fit of frustration the man said: “What
the fuck! I thought I was buying a new car, not a whole new
computer!” The woman said: “I don't understand this manual at
all!” “Well, I can't even read it, it's in Japanese!” he said.
“I can read the words, but the technical stuff doesn't mean
anything to me. It might as well be in Greek!” she retorted. I
learned, little by little, that their names were Aya and Jude, and
that they certainly weren't always as calm and serene as I am.
Aya and
Jude came often to try and figure out my navigation system. They
would sit in my front seats, she with the manual and he trying to
figure out what she was talking about while fiddling with the buttons
and dials. “There are different ways to program it,” she would
say pouring over the manual. “You can input addresses, telephone
numbers, geographical coordinates; you can even talk to it.”
Talking to me is a little tricky, though, since my program requires
the use of a few basic code words. At first, they mostly entered
telephone numbers on my numerical touch pad. Little by little they
struggled until finally they felt reasonably confident that they
could use me for a long trip. So, the day came when we drove off for
the far north of Japan, the big island of Hokkaido.
parked in the Japan alps |
junk food stop |
ferry boat |
nothing serious |
cleaning up |
To be
continued...
Monday, October 12, 2015
Arte Ocupa in Okayama
Photo by Suisse-Marocain |
the Fuyori school |
interior stairway of the Fuyori school |
Okayama
Prefecture sponsors an “Art Bridge” project designed to try and
revitalize a depopulating countryside. This year they invited and sponsored
artists from Japan and abroad to come and set up an artists-in-residence program in a very rural mountain town in central Okayama
Prefecture for about a month. They chose an old school building in Fuyori, Okayama, no
longer in use, as an atelier (studio/workshop) where the artists were
free to work on their own projects.
59 rue de Rivoli, Paris |
“Arte
Ocupa” is a movement, as far as I can tell, that encourages the use
of “squats” where artists can live and work free of rent. Squats
are abandoned buildings that would otherwise become dilapidated and
decay from disuse if they were not razed or occupied. We visited one such squat
last summer while in Paris on rue de Rivoli in the Marais area not
far from the Place de la Bastille on the recommendation of a friend
who had squatted there some ten years ago and is now living in Okayama.
"For Me, squatting is a different way of living! - not a big deal!" banner hanging on the outside of the school |
Some
of the artists associated with the Arte Ocupa movement from Paris and
other countries were invited to join the Art Bridge project here in
Okayama. We visited the old school last weekend. Quite a variety of work was on display from painting to sculpture, some of it a bit iconoclastic. Here, in no special order, are a few photos of my impressions.
scarecrow? |
portraits of some of the artists in residence |
painted red jacket by Suisse Marocain - modeled by me |
the sculptor from Brazil |
corrugated cardboard sculpture |
wood sculpture on marble base - same Brazilian artist |
Winter in Japan - by Suisse Marocain |
Friday, October 9, 2015
Green Hair
I spotted his bit of shrubbery while walking around the neighborhood recently. I can't decide if this is a half finished hedge trimming job or the result of someone with a great sense of humor.
Saturday, October 3, 2015
Silhouettes
These two figures appeared back-lighted in my window --one a Wayang puppet, the other a Praying Mantis looking so creepy as to suggest a Halloween image . . .
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