tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-211620742024-03-07T16:45:50.460-08:00A Guy's Moleskine NotebookThoughts and reflections on works of fiction and literature. Pondering of life through pictures and words. Babbling on gay rights. Travelogues and anecdotes.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.comBlogger246125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1167959145471825042007-01-04T17:00:00.000-08:002007-01-04T17:15:38.890-08:00It's Official...I'm Moving...to <a href="http://mattviews.wordpress.com/">WordPress</a>. While I'm still working on the finishing touch on the new site, like categorizing all the archived posts, updating the blogroll, transferring all the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/">Flickr</a> pictures, and reorganizing the book reviews, the blog has pretty much moved into the new home at<br /><br /><a href="http://mattviews.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-size:180%;">http://mattviews.wordpress.com</span></a><br /><br />effective immediately. All new posts will be in the new site. Please make sure you change your blogroll or links because I don't want to lose anyone! The brand new site is exciting with wonderful features that are not available in Blogger. The biggest improvement is the categories (Books, Music, Movie, Travel, Gay Life, Friends...) under which individual post is filed. Also you will now find the <a href="http://mattviews.wordpress.com/moleskine-book-reviews/">Moleskine Notebook Book Reviews</a> at the very top of the site under the header.<br /><br />Hope to see you at my new home! Bear with me the dust and construction. I'll keep on updating and touching up the new site. Let me a comment or two to let me know what you think. Cheers!mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1167832799949553542007-01-03T05:45:00.000-08:002007-01-03T21:00:25.106-08:00Technical DifficultyThanks to <a href="http://joshua1955.wordpress.com/">Joshua</a> who has pointed out that the new <a href="http://www.blogger.com/">beta Blogger</a> cannot be imported into <a href="http://www.wordpress.com/">WordPress</a>. I almost did the switch although Blogger says, one reason or another, my account is not ready for the new version. Anyway, I'm moving to WordPress until I've got the nuts and bolts straight--backing up files, categorizing posts, picking a 3-column template...<br /><br />I have yet to start posting at the new address. I have registered an account with WordPress (same login id); but, until I have sorted out all the technical details to incorporate my 3-column blog into the WordPress template, I'll still be posting here. Cheers.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1167696937941411432007-01-01T16:00:00.000-08:002007-01-01T16:15:37.943-08:00Moving to WordPress?Some fellow bloggers have moved to <a href="http://www.wordpress.com/">WordPress</a> for a refreshing new look, but on top of that, to kiss Blogger glitches goodbye. I'm weighing my options here and consider moving to either <a href="http://www.wordpress.com/">WordPress</a> or <a href="http://www.typepad.com/">TypePad</a>, which charges at least $4.95 for a basic membership. Things to consider:<br /><br /><ul><li>import the entire content of my current blog to the new site</li><li>varieties of templates, as you can see, I prefer a 3-column format</li><li>comments moderation </li></ul><p><a href="http://www.wordpress.com/">WordPress</a> looks appealing since it allows user to categorize posts. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Also I've got to get on the header for the blog. So much to do and this is only the first day of new year!<br /><br /></p>mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1167578426181554972006-12-31T06:47:00.000-08:002007-01-01T14:31:16.606-08:00The Year in Review: BooksI'm reading E. M. Forster's <em>Maurice</em>, which most likely will conclude the year of 2006 in reading. Since I started this blog back on Janurary 18 this year, a sense of responsibility, which inevitably takes up more of my time and effort, has imbued in me. The immediate effect is that I have read less. But when I looked back on the readings I have done this year, I realize reading less does not necessarily make me less bookish of a reader, who has evolved to become more serious, and cultivate a more eclectic taste. I still read more non-living than living authors, more Penguin classics than airport novels. Here is the year of 2006 in review:<br /><br />1. Jan 01-Jan 08 The Civilization of Angkor by Charles Higham (NF)<br />2. Jan 10-Jan 19 Literary Theory by Terry Eagleton (NF) (not finished)<br />3. Jan 22-Jan 28 Mr Muo's Travelling Couch by Dai Sijin (F)<br />4. Jan 30-Feb 07 What The Bible Really Says About Homosexuality by Daniel A. Helminiak (NF)<br />5. Feb 08-Feb 15 The Atonement by Ian McEwan (F)<br /><strong>6. Feb 17-Feb 24 The Spell by Alan Hollinghurst (F)<br /></strong>7. Feb 25-Mar 05 The Egyptologist by Arthur Philips (F)<br /><strong>8. Mar 07-Mar 09 Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin (F)<br /></strong>9. Mar 14-Mar 22 To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee (F) (re-read)<br />10. Mar 23-Apr 04 Tell Me How Long The Train's Been Gone by James Baldwin (F)<br />11. Apr 05-Apr 18 Covering: The Hidden Assault of Cicil Rights by Kenji Yoshino (NF)<br /><strong>12. Apr 19-May 03 The Trouble with Normal: Sex, Politics and Ethics of Queer Life by Michael Warner (NF)<br /></strong>13. May 04-May 16 Virtually Normal: An Argument about Homosexuality by Andrew Sullivan (NF)<br />14. May 17-May 30 The Wings of the Dove by Henry James (F)<br />15. Jun 01-Jun 07 The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana by Umberto Eco (F)<br />16. Jun 07-Jun 12 The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown (F)<br /><strong>17. Jun 13-Jun 21 The Pillars of Earth by Ken Follett (F)<br /></strong>18. Jun 30-Jul 25 War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy (F) (re-read)<br />19. Jul 26-Aug 01 Alec Baldwin Doesn't Love Me by Michael Thomas Ford (NF, Essays)<br />20. Aug 02-Aug 10 The Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem (F)<br /><strong>21. Aug 14-Aug 22 The Dante Club by Matthew Pearl (F)<br /></strong>22. Aug 24-Aug 30 White Teeth by Zadie Smith (F)<br />23. Aug 31-Sep 05 The Double by Jose Saramago (F)<br /><strong>24. Sep 05-Sep 15 In September, The Light Changes by Andrew Holleran (F, SS)<br />25. Sep 18-Sep 24 Dancer from the Dance by Andrew Holleran (F)<br /></strong>26. Sep 25-Oct 09 Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose (NF, writing)<br /><strong>27. Oct 10-Nov 03 The Marquise of O- and Other Stories by Heinrich von Kleist (F, SS)<br /></strong>28. Nov 05-Nov 20 Arthur and George by Julian Barnes (F)<br />29. Nov 24-Nov 29 Runaway (Short Stories) by Alice Munro (F, SS)<br />30. Nov 30-Dec 05 Little Children by Tom Perrotta (F)<br /><strong>31. Dec 07-Dec 30 Stories by Anton Chekov (F, SS)<br />32. Dec 13-Dec 18 The Painted Veil by W. Somerset Maugham (F) </strong><br />33. Dec 19-Dec 25 The Razor's Edge by W. Somerset Maugham (F)<br />34. Dec 25-Dec 31 Maurice by E. M. Forster (F)<br /><br />The titles in boldface are my top 10 picks for the year. In-depth reviews of all the above can be found in this blog. Click over to the sidebar on the left should you're interested. Out of 34 books read this year, 6 are nonfiction and 28 fiction. The breakdown:<br /><br />Non-fiction: 6<br />Fiction: 28<br />Re-read: 2<br />Gay-related titles: 11<br />Number of journal pages: 147<br /><br />Happy New Year!mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1167444213615965882006-12-29T17:53:00.000-08:002006-12-29T18:03:33.646-08:00A Few Light Fares to Complement the 50 ThingsI consider myself a little weird and picky...but...<br /><table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2><tr><td bgcolor="#98FB98" align=center><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'><b>You Are 90% Weird</b></font></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#CAFBCA"><center><img src="http://images.blogthings.com/howweirdareyouquiz/weird-5.jpg" height="100" width="100"></center><font color="#000000"><br />You're more than quirky, you're downright strange.<br />But you're also strangely compelling, like a cult leader.</font></td></tr></table><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howweirdareyouquiz/">How Weird Are You?</a></div><br /><br />Friends make up part of my life. They have modled and pruned me.<br /><table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2><tr><td bgcolor="#EEE9E9" align=center><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'><b>You Are A Good Friend</b></font></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#FFFAFA"><center><img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatkindoffriendareyouquiz/good-friend.jpg" height="100" width="100"></center><font color="#000000"><br />You're always willing to listen<br />Or lend a shoulder to cry on<br />You're there through thick and thin<br />Many people consider you their "best friend"!</font></td></tr></table><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindoffriendareyouquiz/">What Kind of Friend Are You?</a></div><br /><br />And this one really hits home...<br /><table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2><tr><td bgcolor="#EEE9E9" align=center><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'><b>How You Are In Love</b></font></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#FFFAFA"><center><img src="http://images.blogthings.com/howareyouinlovequiz/rose.jpg" height="100" width="100"></center><font color="#000000"><br />You take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time.<br /><br />You give completely and unconditionally in relationships.<br /><br />You tend to get very attached when you're with someone. You want to see your love all the time.<br /><br />You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change.<br /><br />You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard.</font></td></tr></table><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howareyouinlovequiz/">How Are You In Love?</a></div><br /><br />Happy New Year!mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1167230966825696112006-12-27T06:24:00.000-08:002006-12-29T14:57:31.460-08:00Now To The Round of New Year...Another Christmas had come and gone. Now to the round of New Year's festivities that will cut down some of the food indulgence! This time of the year is usually full of merrymaking, giving and receiving, as well as surprises. Santa has really been good to me this year. When I finally got to unwrap all the gifts--the holiday mysteries under pleasant disguises of wrapping papers--late Christmas night, I found:<br /><p> </p><ul><li>a black Armani Exchange embroidered/woven shirt</li><li>a newspaper boy's cammello hat</li><li>a copy of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kafkas-Soup-Complete-History-Literature/dp/0151012830/sr=1-1/qid=1167230019/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/002-5407043-5220051?ie=UTF8&s=books/"><em>Kafka's Soup: A Complete History of World Literature in 14 Recipes</em></a> </li><li>a couple of Illuminations aromatherapy candles</li><li>a pair of AussieBum nylon rower midcut swim trunk (If you doubt yourself, wear something else. So true!!! LOL)</li><li>a Gap athletic-cut t-shirt</li><li>a Club Monaco V-neck wool striped sweater</li><li>an Abercrombie & Fitch gift card</li><li>a copy of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gay-Life-Culture-World-History/dp/0789315114/sr=1-1/qid=1167230442/ref=sr_1_1/002-5407043-5220051?ie=UTF8&s=books/"><em>Gay Life & Culture: A World History</em></a> </li><li>a Hugo Boss mesh (oh my god) close-fit sweater</li><li>two pounds of La Colombe coffee, Nizza</li><li>a Joseph & Lyman cashmere sweater</li></ul><p>I'm so grateful although I have to say thank god no more gifts which I have to return or exchange at the store. Gone are also books that would be disgrace the library collection and that frighten me out of my wits! Just kidding. The best part of the holiday is to be ensconced with family and friends, in thier company, sharing, and conversations.<br /><br /><br /></p>mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1167145530715588902006-12-26T07:01:00.000-08:002006-12-26T07:05:30.746-08:00[62] Little Children - Tom Perrotta<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/836348/Children.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/200/546314/Children.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><em>Light reading fare for Christmas. I saw the movie with Matty a while ago and so this movie tie-in would be somewhat interesting to read. After all, it's not too bad of reading.</em><br /><br />Talk about dysfunctional families and their drama. Set in a quiet suburb where nothing ever seems to happen in a way we think well-to-do upper middle class families have any issues, (WRONG!!!) Little Children brings forth inner-workings of what becomes a roaming crisis. Sarah, mother of a three-year-old, is a relapsed feminist, an ex-gender studies graduate student aborting her PhD who studies the behavior (which she concludes monotonous and boring) of suburban women. Their stroller rut at the park, which consists of playing, snacking, and strictly adhering to the offerings' timetable (which they deem conducive to the kids' being admitted to Ivy-League schools)was pleasantly interrupted by the surprised return of Todd, a stay-home dad whose dark feature, cropped blond hair, and jock physique have captured the hearts of the moms.<br /><br />No sooner have the thirty-something parents met did they hit it off. At least they have one thing in common: Unhappy (unfulfilling?) marriages. Sarah's husband has become more and more involved with his fantasy life on the internet than with his family. His indifference toward her engenders in her a sudden and desperate desire to visit the town pool, where she knows Todd would take his so on a clammy afternoon, as the cloud looms low, promising rain but not delivering. Todd, despite his being married to a fine woman with a svelte body, brooded over his failing to pass the bar exam. His problems are more intrinsic, springing from his troubled ego, salt-and-peppered by wounded vanity. Piqued at his uncertain career, he realizes something must be wrong with his being, as if he had sleepwalked through life to realize he cannot possibly be happy with any of the choices that the world offer him.<br /><br />Maybe Todd's wife, an aspiring documentary filmmaker, has incurred on him that he must feel to live up to a vision of himself that had never really been his own. But satirically who is this novel is NOT wearing a mask, hiding behind his/her true self? While the residents of the quiet suburban town wrangle out of their wits with these emerging dramas, sexual fling, unhappiness over wrong marriages, a ex-convict of child molestation returns to the community to live with his mother. How ironic and satirical that the one person who has nothing to hide, whom everyone in town shirks and scorns, in somewhat a positive way, helps these lost folks come to their own senses about who they are.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1167024328015235182006-12-25T07:00:00.000-08:002006-12-25T13:08:08.296-08:00Merry Christmas!<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/322034/Tree2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/424331/Tree2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Wishing all of you and your family, loved ones peace, joy, and happiness during this holiday seasons, and a very prosperous new year. The picture, which has remained one of my favorite of any Christmas trees, was taken at the Festive Walk in Hong Kong a couple years ago. It might be somewhat difficult to see but the trimmings were all crystals. <br /><br />I had to do some last-minute Christmas shopping but I managed to had a mahjong game, which I know has absolutely nothing to do with Jesus and Christmas (but hey it's a holiday...) with my cousins last night. <br /><br />Not only that this Christmas is the first one in 6 years that I celebrate in San Francisco, it also marks some very special time for myself and my friends. I'm very thankful for all the people in my life. Despite some of the disheartening episodes, has marked some special brushes in life. On Thursday night, Ken and I had our Christmas dinner at Slow Club. He has enriched my life since he made the entrance back in October, right before I left for Asia. We have slowly got to know each other and I can only look forward to the future.<br /><br />I'm grateful for Bill D, who is now spending Christmas with his family in Ohio. He has been more than a friend--a mentor, someone who watches over my academic well-being, who listens to my struggle, who mitigates my relationship woes and who always comes into succor with sound advice. We don't get to see each other much but have maintained that inexplicable bond bewteen friends who have stuck out through thick and thin.<br /><br />My best friend Fernando: I'm so excited that you and Maria have a second baby--Julian. Thank you for always being so supportive to what I do. You surely have pruned me, through your eyes to the world, your own experience, which is completely distant to my own background, and made me a better person. <br /><br />My college buddy and rommmate Weizhu: Thank you for always letting me to tag along and being the third wheel to you and Patty. I'm so excited you finally tied the knot this year. I'm lookinf forward to spending time with you guys.<br /><br />My very good friend Estrella: Thank you for always being so thoughtful and kind to me. I appreciate your creativity and your helping to reconstruct some of my clothing. I wish you, Deniis, and your family peace, happiness, and joy in this holiday season. We need to hang out and go eat until the stomach bursts okay? Neecha or Slow Club, you pick!<br /><br />My partner in crime and good friend Tony L (who doesn't really read my blog no more): We have really come a long way. Thank you for always being there listening to me whine and gibberish. <br /><br />My good friend Stepehn, who should be on the way somewhere at 35,000 feet to Bangkok: Thank you for all always cooking for me--all the delicious pastas, grilled chicken and salads. You've always been a mentor to me in both my writing and in coping with life. <br /><br />Thank you all the bloggers who have stuffed my mailbox with holiday greetings. Thank you Robert for being so thoughtful in sending a Christmas CD. It's been a pleasure to have met all of you, especially <a href="http://mrgregoc.blogspot.com/">Greg</a>, <a href="http://danitorres.typepad.com/workinprogress/">Danielle</a> (who inspires a lot of my current reading), <a href="http://www.book-girl.info/">Iliana</a>, <a href="http://cultofjef.blogspot.com/">Jef</a>, <a href="http://hellowaffles.blogspot.com/">Kalvin</a> (one with some of the most thought-provoking posts), <a href="http://lifescolorfulbrushstrokes.blogspot.com/">Tony</a> (glad I brush shoulder with his brushstrokes), and our very own, local <a href="http://matty03.blogspot.com/">Matty</a> (thanks for your Christmas e-mail), and all the hunks at <a href="http://gaymenrule.blogspot.com/">Gay Men Rule</a>, especially Joshua, you rule!<br /><br />I know there is no way I can list everybody--but to all of you, wherever you are, be well and be safe. Happy Holidays!mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1166673773877122622006-12-21T06:00:00.000-08:002006-12-21T06:15:11.700-08:00Un-Skipping Christmas<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/246777/Tree.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/184741/Tree.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>People who know me for years know I'm never around for Christmas--I'll be vacationing at places where the sun doesn't go down before 5, where I can still saunter around in liner pants or shorts, like <a href="http://mattviews.blogspot.com/2006/01/temple-of-emerald-buddha-in-bangkok-1.html#links/">Thailand</a>, <a href="http://mattviews.blogspot.com/2006/01/8-civilization-of-angkor-charles.html#links/">Cambodia</a>, and <a href="http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/mattviews/album?.dir=da5b&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/mattviews/my_photos/">Bali</a>. It's also a time to visit friends and family in my hometown--Hong Kong. But not this year. For the first time in six years, I'm staying in San Francisco for Christmas. Although my consistent absence during the holiday season has instilled in people's mind an inevitable deception that I shirk (if not skip) Christmas, this year I have been pleasantly surprised by the fact that Christmas cards have inundated my mailbox. Some of you fellow bloggers have sent me warm wishes for which I'm in utter gratitude. Robert sent me a CD like I've never had ever. Greg from Oregon sent me a card with a picture of Eugene from Skinner Butte.<br /><br />Honestly when the Christmas shopping season kicked off after Turkey Day, I was somewhat overwhelmed by the whole holiday idea. Not being savvy of the day when Union Square lightened up the Christmas Tree to boil up the holiday spirit, the day that diastrously coincided with the monthly biker critical mass, I was stuck on Stockton Street outside Macy's for almost an hour, stranded in the jostling elbows of shoppers, contrived to shirk and get around the bikers.<br /><br />But my qualm of the holiday quickly mitigated as I start writing Christmas cards to all my friends and wrapping the gifts. Today I walked past Union Sqaure again and couldn't help lingering around for a few moments to appreciate the tree. I held the tree, which was surrounded by picture-takers and kids, in a reflective gaze of affection, like gathering thoughts from distant memory. A surge of emotion gradually rose in my body as if some medication is coursing through my veins. The sight of a mother straightening up her son's outfit for a picture provoked a sense of nostalgia in me about my mother. It was just that. The feeling was almost as morbid as if you're being possessed. Sometimes a very small thing will have a tremedous effect on you out of all proportion to the event. It depends on the circumstances and your mood at the time. <br /><br />I slowly picked up my pace started walking away when I returned to my usual element. My mind was beaming at the fact that I'm here for Christmas this year because this year is going to be very special. I realize the meaning of holiday is not just the gifts and parties, it's about giving and sharing love with those who are in need and those who are special. Tonight I'm having dinner with a very special person at <a href="http://www.slowclub.com/">Slow Club</a>, one of my favorite joints tucked away in an inconspicuous corner in Potrero Hill. Then I'll be celebrating the holidays with my dear bunch who works at <a href="http://www.cafeflore.com/">Cafe Flore</a> (a.k.a. my office?) on Christmas Day. The tender thoughts of all my friends like Tony, Estrella, Fernando, Maria, Stephen, Bill, Tore, Weizhu, Patty, Matty, Jan Song, Be, O,so many of them...etc. warms my heart and makes me realize this is really the season to cherish. And gosh, it will be another one for indulgence of eating.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1166538360596225902006-12-19T06:15:00.000-08:002006-12-19T06:31:17.586-08:0050 Things About MeI've been getting e-mails from readers who good-naturedly suggest a post that lists 25 Things or 50 Things about me. Honestly I've had long conceived the idea but never mustered up to do it because I simply don't know where to begin. Vital stats are boring. Hobbies and favorites can be morbidly narcissistic. <a href="http://lifescolorfulbrushstrokes.blogspot.com/2006/12/meme-50-things.html#links/">Tony's post</a> yesterday came to my rescue--I decided to cover his meme of 50 Things. Proceed at your own risk. Enjoy. <br /><br />1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?<br />OMG I need a hair-cut.<br /><br />2. How much cash do you have on you?<br />You mean in my wallet now? About $500. Gotta have a little extra cash for holiday shopping.<br /><br />3. What's a word that rhymes with "DOOR"?<br />Pour? What does this have to do with me?<br /><br />4. Favorite planet?<br />How am I supposed to know if I've lived my whole life on Earth? I guess Earth?<br /><br />5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?<br />...my friend Stephen who will be leaving for Bangkok for vacation this weekend.<br /><br />6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?<br />It's one of the generic tones called "Notify."<br /><br />7. What shirt are you wearing?<br />At the moment just a ringer t-shirt, from Target!<br /><br />8. Do you "label" yourself?<br />We live in a country that is morbidly obsessed with labels. Other than the fact that I'm <em>homo sapien</em> (the taxonomical term for human); I don't want to be labeled nor classified in any ways. I rather to be myself and do the things I like to do instead of wasting time to come up with labels that suit other people's interests.<br /><br />9. Name the brand of shoes you're currently wearing.<br />Flipflop at home...a pair of Keen sandals, Timberland loafers.<br /><br />10. Bright or dark room?<br />I'm an avid reader, so the room must be bright. I prefer dark room for certain activities that I can't elaborate on he...<br /><br />11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?<br />I've never met Tony, but gathering from the e-mails he sent me and his posts, he is disarmingly down-to-earth, friendly, and thoughtful. Oh...did I say he's cute?<br /><br />12. What does your watch look like?<br />I can't afford one! LOL Nah...I usually don't wear one since I've grown used to looking at my cellphone.<br /><br />13. What were you doing at midnight last night?<br />That would be Sunday nig...in bed.<br /><br />14. What did your last ext message you received on your cell say?<br />One of my best friends whose name happens to be Tony as well sent me a text message saying he can hang out this weekend, on Christmas' Eve.<br /><br />15. Where is your nearest 7-11?<br />Dunno. The only one I know that exists for sure is in the Castro, which is at least 2 miles from my house.<br /><br />16. What's a word that you say a lot?<br />"So what's going on with you?"<br /><br />17. Who told you he/she loved you last?<br />I'll have to ditto Tony's response on th...For my ears only. Haha!<br /><br />18. Last furry thing you touched?<br />George the puppy.<br /><br />19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?<br />No drugs unless you count Tylenol.<br /><br />20. How many rolls of film do you need developed?<br />Don't we all use digital cameras these days? I just got my second Canon with 10 mega pixel. I haven't bought a roll for years.<br /><br />21. Favorite age you have been so far?<br />I guess now (I'm 31) because I'm still in grad school but I make decent money so I can still travel freely all over the world.<br /><br />22. Your worst enemy?<br />Myself. I'm a perfectionist and, like Tony has said, I wish to be perfect in everything I do even though I realize sometimes it's not possible.<br /><br />23. What is your current desktop picture?<br />The picture of Angkor Wat I took in 2005.<br /><br />24. What was the last thing you said to someone?<br />Goodnight. See you Thursday evening. I was on the phone with Ken.<br /><br />25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?<br />I definitely want a million bucks because I have fear of height.<br /><br />26. Do you like someone?<br />I like all kinds of people. But yes, I do like someone now.<br /><br />27. The last song you listened to.<br />Horn Concerto #1 by Mozart.<br /><br />28. What time of the day were you born?<br />I think my mom told me I was born around 3 in the morning.<br /><br />29. What's your favorite number?<br />12. Don't ask me why since I don't know it myself. I've had a sentimental attachment to this number since I developed memory as a child. I collect t-shirts with the number 12 on them.<br /><br />30. Where did you live in 1987?<br />Hong Kong, back then it was still a British colony. That same year I moved to San Francisco.<br /><br />31. Are you jealous of anyone?<br />Not really.<br /><br />32. Is anyone jealous of you?<br />I hope not! I guess not!<br /><br />33. Where were you when 9/11 happened?<br />At work, the UCSF chemistry lab. I was watching the TV in utter consternation and disbelief.<br /><br />34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money?<br />Pound on the machines like that would really help.<br /><br />35. Do you consider yourself kind?<br />I don't bite so I guess I'm kind. I am trying. Haha!<br /><br />36. If had to get a tattoo. Where would it be?<br />I have never considered getting one. But if I have to pick one, that would be my upper arm, like around my bicep.<br /><br />37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?<br />Spanish. I've dropped that cotton-picking Spanish class three times in college!!!<br /><br />38. Would you move for the person you loved?<br />This one is negotiable. But at the moment I won't move anywhere for anyone for I love San Francisco.<br /><br />39. Are you touchy feely?<br />Are you asking me if I wear my heart on my sleeves? I guess I can be but I've had enough drama and woes that taught me it's not necessarily a good idea. Once I get comfortable and trustful with someone I can get very touchy feely. Try me! LOL<br /><br />40. What's your life motto?<br />Living life to the full and make the best out of each moment in time.<br /><br />41. Name three things that you have on you at all times?<br />A pen, a book, and iPod.<br /><br />42. What's your favorite town/city?<br />San Francisco (it's beautiful, lots of friends), New York City (museums), Hong Kong, Vancouver.<br /><br />43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash?<br />That would be an iced double say latte at Cafe Flore. $3.50<br /><br />44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?<br />Last week I scribbled some notes along with Christmas cards which I sent out to friends.<br /><br />45. Can you change the oil on a car?<br />Yup! That's one of the few things I can do with a car, besides washing it.<br /><br />46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?<br />My first love moved to New York City the last time I spoke to him. I think he's still single and jhopefully not in love with me! LOL<br /><br />47. How far back do you know about your ancestry?<br />My great-grandparents. My uncle showed me the village where they had lived in China, it was about 4 hours away by car from Hong Kong.<br /><br />48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy?<br />I was part of the wedding party for my friend's wedding last month. I had on a tuxedo, slacks, and dress shoes. I don't dress up too often, I'm more a smart casual type of person at a fancy restaurant.<br /><br />49. Does anything hurt on your body right now?<br />Thank goodness no. Touchwood.<br /><br />50. Have you been burned by love?<br />Yes and in fact not too long ago back in summer. Maybe he didn't think it was love so he could just walk away and pretended nothing happened.<br /><br />Okay that's it folks. I'm not tapping anybody. Just step in if you feel like going through this ordeal. Happy Tuesday!mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1166230672036770472006-12-15T17:00:00.000-08:002006-12-15T16:57:52.080-08:00Lowell Contrived To Keep Quiet Antigay Hate CrimeHas it not been the unswerving aspiration of the <em>Lowell</em>, the school paper, what seemed to be a passing tale of poor behavior might have escaped our attention since the school administration had seemed to go out of its way to cover up a bizarre antigay hate crime that took place at the city's premier high school in September. <br /><br /><em>SF Guardian</em>, upon the release of the story in the Lowell, dug out the inner workings of what might have caused this ugly incident. An early-bird faculty member routinely unlocked the door of the World Language Department office on the morning of 9/21 and was greeted by the most unusual sight: There was paint all over John Raya's computer. Thick streams of pink paint dripped from the monitor onto the keyboard and were splattered on the wall behind the desk and the chair in front of it.<br /><br />And that was not the end of it. Slightly drenched on the keyboard was a note that addressed to Raya:<br /><br />"Big mouth fag!!!!! You start too much trouble in this department!!!! Mind your fucking business and go back to New York!!!!! Or Cuba or wherever the fuck you come from!!!!!"<br /><br />The principal and administration knew better to contrive keeping the ugly incident under the wraps, because a prank was out of the question. Even though it took place in one of those heavily trafficked rooms, the scene is an office to which only faculty have keys and access. And when the Japanese teacher arrived for work early that morning, the door was locked and showed no sign of forced entry. That's led Raya and the administration at Lowell to a truly disturbing and indisputable conclusion: The hate crime was committed by a disgruntled, angry member of the faculty. <br /><br />But I'm all the more disturbed by and disappointed at the fact that the school, one that is ranked 26 out of 1200 top public schools in the country, one for which some 3000 elite 8th-graders vie for admission every year, one that is known for its academic rigor and excellence, seeking to safeguard its prestige, would pretend the hat crime didn't happen. To say nothing of it is just as bad as being in complicity because the administration’s shady reaction conveyed tolerance of hate crime.<br /><br />Now this is scary. I'm talking about not only tolerance of the crime, but the administration's subtle (manipulative) effort to remove freedom of speech not just from gay people, but also their friends and supporters. Students were never formally told what happened. Faculty were discouraged from discussing it. This is like, to me, red China, some kind of a Communist regime that monitors what is said and what should be said. The story, although escaped the throttling hands of the administration, not only raised some deep-seated questions about how the school is managed, but also pinged the alarm about what seemed to be a tolerating attitude was just a deception. Lowell's tolerating attitude lies in a hypocrisy--a combination of private tolerance and public disapproval. <br /><br />How can you teach the kids to respect social diversity when all you care at the outburst of a hate crime like this is to keep it at bay? Silence is not always golden especially when you're to take a strong stand to safeguard one's civil right. It seems to me the incident had been downplayed from the beginning, for the principal, who insisted on students being involved, asked the faculty not to say anything to the students. The discomfort with which the student paper felt toward this unusual poise bespeaks the flawed handling of the incident. The school has allowed a staff member who has resorted to the sort of racist, homophobic act that's rarely seen in San Francisco workplaces these days at large. It also shows how the principal, who seems to be autocratic in her ways of dealing with the staff, is imbecile in resolving conflicts among the staff.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1166021271210680392006-12-13T06:17:00.000-08:002006-12-13T06:47:51.663-08:00Barracuda<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/267635/Barracuda.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/452156/Barracuda.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>When Bill sent me an invitation to dinner through OpenTable.com, I had no idea what or where Barracuda was. He wrote,<br /><br />"It's listed as Japanese, but there's a lot of fusion going on."<br /><br />True. The menu has alludes to a delightful mixture of shushi, <em>sashimi</em> (raw cuts of fish), <em>nigiri</em> )slice of raw fish over rice) and ceviche. The newest addition to the unique dining scene in the Castro, Barracuda (barracuda is a fish, but upon a little research I arrive in the conclusion that this Japanese-sounding word is not Japanese, kind of like <em>hagen diaz</em>) serves Japanese cuisine with Peruvian and Brazilian influence. <br /><br />With a funky and colorful interior, the upscale quasi bar ambience of Barracuda can be a deception if you take a peek from the outside. Candle-lit tables, creative and modern interior render the restaurant a very sublime ambience. <br /><br />Bill and I selected the high table with stools by the window, which one of the cute servers deemed as the warmest and most private table for conversation. Since Bill is not a sushi fanatic, he opted for a grilled fillet and being the connoisseur of sushi that I am, I order the Barracuda sushi set with 11 pieces of nigiri including shrimp, yellowtail, white tuna, tuna, salmon, fish eggs, and eel. Our server has suggested a starter of cerviche, which represents their assortment of experimental fushion dishes, but since we came for a Japanese dinner, we politely declined the offer. <br /><br />About half way through our dinner, over conversation about the past semester and our writing, a skein of their Christmas lights that was taped (a gay boy wouldn't have used Scotch tape?) on the wall above us collapsed to about an inch short of Bill's head. We joked about how that might forsee a possible lawsuit that will entitle us a lifetime of free sushi. Overall it was a pleasant dining experience at a stylish ambience. It's more of a hipster spot with mod decor but I can find better sushi elsewhere, maybe even for less. It's a fun place to be but don't expect serious authentic Japanese food especially if they serve this queer lollipop tempura thing!mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1165933244954444422006-12-12T05:55:00.000-08:002006-12-12T06:20:45.200-08:00Pet Peeves<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/953800/veil1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/931419/veil1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I have many people-think-it's-not-a-big deal pet peeves. Like the way you put in a new roll of toilet paper on the holder--I prefer the the end of it to be coming over on top instead of the bottom under. My other pet peeve is the adoption of movie poster to book cover when publisher releases new edition of a novel. When I saw the trailer of <em>The Painted Veil</em> starring Edward Norton and Naomi Watts at the theater watching <a href="http://mattviews.blogspot.com/2006/12/queen-directed-by-stephen-frears.html#links/"><em>The Queen</em></a>, I knew I had to take imminent action to scour the bookstore for a new copy of the pre-movie edition--<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/132223/Veil.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/423187/Veil.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>and I found that copy at the new Borders in Westfield San Francisco Center. I don't hold anything against a film that is made out of a novel but, I do feel there should be a demarcation between the film and the novel. I know I am being a little too crazy on this idea but as a reader, and a bibliophile, I feel infringed when a movie poster supersedes the original book jacket design. I don't know. Myabe I'm like being fault-finding. Anyway, <em>The Painted Veil</em> has remained one of my favorite novels by Maugham. Set in England and Hong Kong in the 1920s (in the film it doesn't look like Hong Kong), it's the story of the love-starved Kitty Fane. When her husband discovers her adulterous affair, he forces her to accompany him to the heart of a cholera epidemic. I'll have to re-read it soon.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1165811041582290092006-12-11T06:10:00.000-08:002006-12-10T20:24:05.546-08:00The Queen directed by Stephen Frears<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/791141/Queen.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/233777/Queen.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>"Tradition prepared her. Change will define her." The poster of <em>The Queen</em> reads. Ken suggested we go see one of the few movies that captures my attention with some of the most marvelous performance. Queen Elizabeth II (Helen Mirren) faces the tough decision on how to arrange for Princess Diana's funeral in the wake of her sudden tragic 1997 death in Paris. While the film honors and acknowledges Princess Diana's work, it inevitably reveals her rocky relationship with not only the Queen but also the royal family. It makes me wonder how the funeral and memorial service would have turned out had the recently elected Prime Minister Tony Blair (Michael Sheen), who favors a public funeral which allows the British people (the populace) to pay their final tribute to <em>their</em> princess, not advised the Queen.<br /><br /><em>The Queen</em>, subtle, and often funny, explores the inner-workings of a ruler whose power has become purely decorative. The film stoically basks in the doleful pondering of royal manners and meaning. The sensitive mourning of Princess Diana only accentuates the Queen's realizing of her decorative power. We're let into behind the closed doors of Buckingham Palace and the Balmoral Castle to see how the royal family copes with the death--as the raging public rebukes Buckingham Palace for its lack of remorse in Princess Diana's death. No formal statement has been given. The flag on top of the palace is not lowered to half-mast.<br /><br />To the populace, Diana, as real clips inserted into the film suggest, was "the people's princess," hounded to her death by in-laws, the media, and the public; their self-chastising guilt just whips the flames higher. To the Queen, she was a shameless ex-daughter-in-law who wasn't shy about her celebrity. Of course there should not be a state funeral, Elizabeth maintains, since the divorced Diana was no longer a member of the royal family. The drama of the film--and it's both delicious and potent--lies in how the queen comes to understand this error in judgment and how it rattles her as a human being. <br /><br />"I've never been hated like that before," she says at one point, and there, very quietly, is the shock of a waxwork startled to realize she's still alive. And the man who helps Her Majesty sail through this tempestuous water of a national disaster that captured the sad ness of the world is Tony Blair.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1165583803685374582006-12-08T05:05:00.000-08:002006-12-08T17:08:14.516-08:00Cafe Flore IIIYesterday was not as dreadful as the day before, I could actually sit at Cafe Flore and have an iced soy latte which O made me. It was actually study hall at the cafe, as my friend Rod, who is a PhD candidate in philosophy, was there as well. The guy sitting next to me was working on his paper on Nabakov. As the day shortens and the sky seems to loom downward, demography of Cafe Flore shifts to laptop campers and students cranking for their papers. You see less of the toursy crowd and the fashion-trendy boys whose main hobby is to people-watch.<br /><br />I decided I needed a 15-minutes break from the work on thesis and took to reading an interesting article from <em>Gaytimes, </em>an UK publication which I brought back from Asia.<br /><br />Brad Pitt said, "Angie and I will consider tying the knot when everyone else in the country who wants to be married is legally able."<br /><br />Everyone. Right, so that includes us gays.<br /><br />While his declaration of solidarity with the gay community may have heartened campaigners for gay marriage rights, I can already see how his speech must have enrage straight women who have been trying to get their men to the altar for years. Straight men, especially the ones who are commitment-phobic, can now quote Brad Pitt to put off the dread nuptials.<br /><br />What about us gays then? Gay rights activist groups, which have been striving to overcome religious resistance to gay marriage, might beam at this viewpoint with smugness. But consider the way things are here, commitment-phobia will inevitably become a gay phenomenon too in places where marriage or civil union are legally available. In fact, commitment-phobia has already prevailed in the gay community. Those of us romantics who want to plight our troth with our dreamboat should know better. How many of us can really say we are ready to commit?<br /><br />What Brad said is no more than a welcoming complement to the euphemistic (almost cliche) saying: Until I find that special someone, I'll play along. Not convinced? Go check out bigmuscle.com and see for yourself. To call it a jungle is an understatement, it's a meat market out there!<br /><br />No sooner had I finished Brad's perspective on wedding bliss for homos than I spot a very hot, familiar looking guy, a celebrity, who saunters into Cafe Flore in an insouciant air. I have to search my memory and to see where I had crossed his path--well; it was more like where I had seen him before. It dawned on me in less than 5 seconds.<br /><br />This man (a hot daddy!), in snuggly charcoal t-shirt that hugged his athletic-built body, layered with a black hooded sweatshirt that seems a bit short on him but accentuates his body contour, sports a goatee that looks as if it's just been dyed. His hair is cropped short with streaks of gray. He seems somewhat skinnier, but still commands an air of calmness and charisma, than I last saw him on prints and flicks. He is not too tall, no more than 5'9". He is Cliff Parker!<br /><br />I remember he used to be an exclusive of Titan Men, the local video production company that featured muscled, rugged-looking, and butch type of men. Something about his dreamy eyes, somewhat beetling brows, and the stubble-goatee look mesmerized me. He was part of the reason why I was so absorbed by those magazines I talked about in this post. How my heart beat upon seeing his pictures. At least 10 years must have gone by since I discovered Cliff Parker and from a source which I can no longer recall Cliff had retired from the porn industry. Rumor has it that he is back in school.<br /><br />It's good to see him, in person. He seems happy.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1165414037061148082006-12-06T06:05:00.000-08:002006-12-06T11:42:55.903-08:00[61] In September, The Light Changes - Andrew Holleran<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/411482/September.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/100233/September.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><em>In September, The Light Changes</em> is a collection of 16 short stories that with such literary erudition and keen prose capture the melancholy and meditation on mortality in the context of autumnal reminiscences. The fact that Holleran wrote these stories over 20 years' period renders a taste of gay life over changing times.<br /><br />The stories might be heartrending to read at times but through his acute social vision and his elegant prose we can all, one way or another, identify ourselves and relate to his unforgettable characters. Who are so true to life in facing medical challenges, in dealing with loss of love, in being so obsessed with pumping the iron, and in scouring the bars. Most, if not all, of the stories take place during the changing fortune from the 70s to 80s, with vivid delineations of bar scenes, ominously shadowed by the looming epidemic.<br /><br />One story reminds me that despite the recent advance of gay right on the battleground of marriage (civil union), society, bound by the inveterate heterosexual values, still treats the gays with straight standards. (Who cares what straight people think about us? … The only reason what we do interests them is because they're so deeply bored.)<br /><br />Another story, one that is so close to my heart that I can put myself in the character's shoe, explores what it means to want someone so much that you would do anything not to be banished from his presence, even if the love is unrequisited and your future will be forfeited.<br /><br />One story meditates on how a man deems sex the most important thing in life—that he would only take temporary job in order to pursue these no-strings-attached flings, encounters, escapades, and whatever-you-wish-to-call sexual relationships. Careers and family responsibility leave no vestige on him. Life to him is not defined by success nor failure. Not until reaching the encroaching middle age did he realize he had lost his lost chance to make a connection with another human being. The dominations of sex in gay life began to distress him.<br /><br />One of the most heart-breaking stories owes the grief not to parting upon death but to the character's forlorn scope in find love. He is poignantly preoccupied with failed love—that he always assumes he would be dumped. He was in a standby mode to take the blow of relationship failure.<br /><br />Another story delivers the blunt but sad truth about the ones endowed with GQ looks: They are eye candies, good to look at but be aware not to be too serious with them. Some people are worth loving; some are perfect. These people are rare, of course, and they almost never happen to love you in return (unrequisited, non-reciprocate love is such a bitch), but they do exist. What's even more demoralizing, we have to admit that most of the time people who go out looking for love end up with sex instead.<br /><br />Another story takes up a slightly critical voice and contrives to steer the gay community back to the right direction of evolution. Instead of finding new ways to relate to one another, or progressing in humanity (in Holleran's words), we regard each other as nothing but fantasies, always fear of commitment, and always fail to integrate sex with the rest of our lives. (We’re just going to keep on going to gyms and dance clubs, taking drugs, dancing, cruising bars, and playing games.)<br /><br />Finally, in one of the gloomiest piece of writings, Holleran gives us someone whose incurable disease has irretrievably plunged him into depression, along with the chasm of his own personality. His whole life had been condemned by his family in his hometown—part of the reason he chose to live a life of recluse in Amsterdam nearing death's threshold. He is ready to let go of his teetering social life as he thinks everyone who takes pity on him is being condescending. <br /><br />Pick up a copy of <em>In September, The Light Changes</em> and start reading. You'll see yourself in at least one of the stories. It's a sobering book.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1165113770394196522006-12-03T07:05:00.000-08:002006-12-03T07:10:11.526-08:00Gay-Blogging CommunityWhen I received Joshua's e-mail about what I enjoy about being part of a gay-blogging community, I was reflecting on, against my own experiences, a couple of books in which men come to terms with their sexuality and/or sexual fetish. We all know it's ridiculous, at usually futile to be at war with our desires. For so many years, Governor James McGreevey, not that he's been in denial with his own sexuality, has chosen a path that will ensure success in his political career, and being gay, or openly being gay is not part of the equation. He must have agonized over his decision to divulge his true self in national television. The fear, the pain, and the mind-wrestling of coming out must have surpassed the actual declaration--takes a great deal of courage and to accept the reality of one's true self and reality of desires. For some people it might take their entire life to be able to give in and get on with life. <br /><br />Why am I talking about this? What does this have to do with being part of a gay-blogging community? While many of us share similar coming-out stories, the process that prepares, prunes, and leads us to that point must be altogether different, let alone the walk of life when coming out takes place. A gay collaborative blog like this provides a friendly converging ground for us to share our thoughts. If such a blog existed when I came out more than 10 years ago, it would really boost my morale. Even though my parents embraced the truth with a surprisingly equanimity, I always felt a feeling of revulsion, of unease lurking in my mind. That inexplicable qualm was not so much about what others thought of me being gay, but my own refusal to come to terms with my <em>gay desires</em>.<br /><br />I remember walking into Merill's drugstore, or Bretano's Books (now Walden and Borders), furtively, and nervously, pretending to look for <em>Scientific American</em> or browse the <em>Newsweek</em> as a disguise for picking the hot, steamy <em>Playgirl</em> and <em>Men Magazine</em>. I would hide at the quiet corner with very thin shopper-traffic, carefully tugged the porn magazine into the <em>Newsweek</em> and suureptitiously flipped through page after page of hunky showcase. I was 16.<br /><br />I guess at that point I was past the guilt. Even the excitement--the aching indecision and wild anticipation of pictures of nude men--had pretty much run its course. But I also knew that it was beyond my power to stop, now that I had come that far. Experiences had taught me that in the end I've always lost the battle with desires. The trony, of course, was that I had so strenuously resisted my own inclinations to view those magazines. No sooner had I looked at <em>Men</em> than I started craving for more--wouldn't it be even better if these gorgeous men are engaging in some steamy actions? Sure. But my conscience kept whispering to me in a rebuking voice: <em>You can't want this. You're not the kind of creep who wishes to see guys fucking each other</em>.<br /><br />I got over the inner voice too. In fact, I could never get past the uncomfortable fact that these guys existed for me solely as just images on magazines. I've never heard their voice, their groan, and their moan. Sometimes I'd have to flip through pages of these images before finding one that brought me to the state of arousal that a single picture used to inspire. As the years went by I became regular audience of gay porn--the ones that are starring my "type" of men--the gruffy looking, the ruggedly good-looking, the moustached, the daddies, and the beefy jock <em>without</em> the all-American look. That was my <em>second</em> coming out: to come to terms with the specific type of men to whom I'm attracted. I was 24. <br /><br />Now that I'm out to everybody around me, at 32, I think I'm lucky to have a very supporting group of friends who accept me the way I am. It's been more than self-discovery and enlightenment--it's a liberation.<br /><br />I might have digressed so outrageously Joshua's original question. But i truly appreciate a gay-blogging community where we, as gay men, and also others come together and discuss issues, share thoughts and feelings. It should be the starting point where people can embrace difference and diversity.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1165009316335575422006-12-01T13:10:00.000-08:002006-12-01T17:55:19.396-08:00My New iPod Nano<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/118158/ipod.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/603447/ipod.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The serious consequence of my leaving the iPod Mini at home in Hong Kong is that now I have no music to pamper me to sleep. Don't laugh, I have made it a habit to put on some music, usually classical and easy listening, that will put me to sleep, since nobody is telling me bedtime stories. So for my birthday I treated myself a brand new iPod Nano with 8 GB. Unfortunately it is only available in black and red (odd combination of colors). I opted for the black it for a more slick look at the Apple Store on Stockton Street.<br /><br />It's one delicate piece of toy that, until the arrival of the iPod case shipment, I have to toss in a roll (maybe not a roll) of saran-wrap to protect the fragile screen and keep the dust out of the control knob. I registered the new iPod on iTunes and set the update mode to manual. I have a pet peeve of not being in control of things: The automatic update mode, although very quick and convenient when you connect the iPod to iTunes, does not categorize the songs into respective playlists. I like certain songs to be grouped together under a playlist by the year of the albums' release, by artists, or whatever. And since most of the entries on my iPod are Cantopop (Chinese pop), for display purpose, I set the language to Chinese. The next acquisition would be the exquisite iPod dock by Bose.<br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IPO3_RtZDrg" width="415" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"></embed>mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1164937513702186912006-11-30T17:20:00.000-08:002006-12-01T06:53:18.133-08:00"Showroom"<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/264137/118_1896.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/560052/118_1896.jpg" border="0" /></a>Tired of the usual Gap or Banana Republic? Think Abercrombie sucks (so it says on a T-shirt at <em>American Boys</em> on Castro)? Don't want to put up with the outrageous price at Rolo? Try <em>Showroom</em>. <em>Showroom</em> is a fashion studio in the Mission Dolores (hey guys, it's just a short walking distance from the Castro) that features my friend, Estrella's custom-made and vintage reconstruct men's clothing as well as the Rare Thread label by Saffron, and Yugula's dresses.<br /><br />Estrella's clothes represent a part of my wardrobe with some of the trendiest style that is modest enough to wear to work. For example, for early fall (since we here in SF is blessed with an Indian summer) she cut the pattern for a form-fitting, green plaid, cowboy shirt with snap buttons for me. I was wearing that all over Hong Kong and boy, that shirt looked so sharp that it put me on the spot!<br /><br />She's working on reconstructing a German (could be French??) army mid-length jacket for me. She barely started the project before I left for Asia so I don't have a clue what she has been doing to the jacket besdies sewing in elbow patches on it. Maybe a boy scout badge on the shoulder? Estrella also does custom tailoring, reconstructs old sportcoats and jackets--bring in your favorite but outdated D&G and Armani--I bet she can revitalize them and give them new look.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/5983/118_1900.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/86584/118_1900.jpg" border="0" /></a>So if you ever have time and are in the neighborhood, stop by and take a look at <em>Showroom</em>. The girls there might even treat you to a glass of red.<br /><br />Showroom<br />3579 17th Street @Dolores<br />415.626.2533<br />415.497.0473<br /><br />Chillin' Productions Party<br />Saturday December 2, 2006<br />8:00pm-2:00am<br />Mezzanine, 444 Jessie Street<br />www.mezzaninesf.com<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/211096/Showroom1.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/132331/Showroom1.jpg" border="0" /></a>Also next weekend, on Saturday, December 2, Chillin' Productions will host a party at Mezzanine that features 60 fashion designers and 80 photographers including the <em>Showroom</em>. Read the flyer for more info.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1164815475598677942006-11-29T07:10:00.000-08:002006-11-29T13:29:00.603-08:00Cafe Flore II<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/92173/118_1890.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/713354/118_1890.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I usually go to Cafe Flore at least three times a week, especially when my friends Be and O are working at the bar. They are perfect examples of what casual acquaintances, slowly simmered over time, turn into friendship. They know what I usually get for drink--a large double nonfat latte to start and maybe a cup of English breakfast afterwards. Anyway, I was up at Cafe Flore for my usual rut after work--bringing with me a stack of papers, my laptop, my iPod and a couple of books to read. I put on the headphones in which the vivacious movements of Haydn Symphony 95 (Haydn, my thinking music) came alive as I scribbled a few thoughts on my Moleskine notebook. A guy in his mid to late-forties, with a slightly buzz cut hair, somewhat muscular, built more like an ex-football player, but not too tall, walked up to my table. (I had to confess he was pretty cute.) At first I was not aware of him but when I looked up, I was a little taken aback then he was going to invite himself to sit down:<br /><br />"Are you Chris?"<br /><br />"No."<br /><br />Upon hearing that his cheeks were sunken. <br /><br />"Do you know an Asian guy named Chris?"<br /><br />"No."<br /><br />Why and *HOW* would he get the idea that I know this guy Chris whom he's obviously meeting here for the first time. Talk about randomness.<br /><br />About 20 minutes later, I went up to the bar and had Be refill a cup of hot water for my tea. The supposed Chris, who was late, finally walked in and surveyed the entire cafe and looked to meet his new friend. I could see how the ex-coach (my fantasy LOL) had mistaken me for his new boyfriend--we're both of the same height, both sported a moustache, both built a somewhat too hunky for the usual scrawny Asian guys. <br /><br />I told Be about this interesting encounter. She gave a quick, crisp laugh to signalled her not being surprised. This is Cafe Flore, after all, known for the addictive people-watching, for the furtive glance aplenty. I walked back to my corner table where I was basking in the warm aftternoon sun, took up those headphones again whith Haydn Symphony 22--the Philosopher's Symphony on. <br /><br />Cafe Flore, what a cruisy place.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1164727009552699882006-11-28T07:10:00.000-08:002006-11-28T08:09:21.416-08:00[60] The Marquise of O-- & Other Stories - Heinrich von Kleist<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/Marquise.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/200/Marquise.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>The reading of this collection of short stories spanned my entire getaway, a little short of a month. Not only because I was busy traveling and doing the toursy thing, but also due to the fact that Kleist writing style requires frequent back tracking to assure I understand all that is going on. The world of all the Kleist's stories is an unpredictable one, a world of dislocated casuality on which inexplicable factors include and in which sanity is poised on the brink of destruction. For example, <em>The Marquise of O--</em> is a detective-type, psychological mystery. An upright widow who has lived in unblemished reputation finds herself pregnant without a clue how and who might have caused her pregnancy. She is clear of her conscience although she finds intolerable the thought that the baby she has conceived in the tymost innocence and purity and whose origin, in addition to being mysterious, also seems to her more divine, is destined to bear a stamina of disgrace in society. But Kleist at first withholds one last fact, which persists to the end and buries in it the key to resolve the situation. <br /><br />The stories also reflect Kleist's preoccupations with the deceptiveness of human nature. In <em>The Foundling</em>, the story tells how a man, out of his compassion and kindred spirit, adpots an orphaned boy leads to his own destruction. The coming of age young man lusted after the old man's young wife. When he by chance discovers her strange emotions that fixate on a young Genoese nobleman who, 12 years earlier, had saved her from a burning house, and had died of an injury incurred during the rescue, humiliation, lust, and desire for revenge conspire his mind to engender a deed of vileness. The subsequent turn of events in this story depicts the transformation of an once kind man into an obsessed avenger who literally craves for hell.<br /><br /><em>The Duel</em> bears a premise that is similar to that of <em>The Marquise of O--</em>--one in which an apparently chaste woman is suspected of unchastity on the basis of seemingly damning evidence. The case against Lady Littegarde would be weakened of this Count Rotbart were obviously a scoundrel, but he is regarded as an honorable man by many, despite his dissolute life. He is on the trial for his life on a charge of murder that, as an alibi, he seemes justified in making his disclosure that the night on which the murder was committed had been spent by him in Lady Littegarde's bedroom. She can invoke no testimony except that of her irreproachable way of life against all the accusations of her shameful conduct. A chamberlain who vows to prove her innocence urges her to hold fast at all costs to her inner intuitive feeling that she is innocent, notwithstanding all the indications to the contrary. <br /><br />I have always talked about the beguiling opening sentence of <a href="http://mattviews.blogspot.com/2006/09/heinrich-von-kleist.html#links/"><em>The Earthquake of Chile</a></em>, which raises the deepest theological and existential questions. It reveals Kleist's epistemological obsession, his preoccupation with the tragic or potentially tragic deceptiveness of appearances in the world and in human nature. In reading Kleist we may realize that our own familiar and dependable moral framework seem to have weakened and shaken loose. You have to read it for yourself.<br /><br />In <em>The Betrothal in Santo Domingo</em>, the essential theme of the story is not the cruelty of man to man, nor even the unaccountable operations of God (like in <em>The Duel</em> or <em>The Earthquake of Chile</em>) or nature or fate, but that of love being put on trial. The lovers are confronted with an ambiguity of appearances, with ambiguous behavior on the part of the beloved, which leads to a fatal understanding, with tragic results. All the character has (to judge with) is tangible evidence of senses: to grasp something so intangible as the reality of love. Again, this story is built up in series of twists and turns that keeps reversing reader's assumptions and expectations, to an extent in which we don't know who really the characters are.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1164463065678564022006-11-25T05:31:00.000-08:002006-11-26T17:36:11.710-08:00Reminiscing Tokyo Part 8: Wrapping UpThat's it folks with Japan. I don't want certain readers of the blog to think I have given up on book reviews and literary content. Book reviews will be up. If you miss any part of my Japan travelogue, go to the right hand side and click on the appropriate links. Hope you all enjoy these pictures from Japan as much as I took them.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/768502/IMG_2303.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/503093/IMG_2303.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Japan Airlines flight 736 anchored at gate 43 at Hong Kong International Airport. The aged Boeing 747-300 with an extended upper deck had defintely seen better days despite it was painted with a new livery. The seat was okay although it was deprived of personal entertainment. After all, the flight was pleasant and service was attentive.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/699340/IMG_2309.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/982663/IMG_2309.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>The signage was my very first intro to Japan's web-like railway system. This train will take me straight to Shinjuku from Narita Airport in 90 minutes.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/880250/IMG_0046.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/273868/IMG_0046.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>The Tokyo Metro is complicated, but manageable if you follow the map indicator that locates above the train doors. Each station is designated by a alphanumeric code so tourists like me will not get lost. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/43733/IMG_0056.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/422975/IMG_0056.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>An European couple were kind enough to take a picture of me when I was walking around Asakusa after visiting the Sensoji Temple.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/808733/IMG_0058.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/414630/IMG_0058.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Many vendors along the street leading to the Sensoji Temple sell charms--all kinds of them, for health, for fortune, for good luck, for a favorable marriage--but you'll have to look around and find the best bargains before zeroing on it.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/726109/IMG_0066.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/708250/IMG_0066.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>The Buddha at Sensoji Temple in Asakusa. I've always thought the way different cultures, or different countries portray the Buddha vary. The Japanese Buddha, to me, is somewhat chubbier than that in Cambodia. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/875835/IMG_0059.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/236909/IMG_0059.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Wafting aroma from this pastry stall captured my stomach's attention. I walked over there and bought a couple pieces of lightly fried pastry with red bean paste filling.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/6837/IMG_0072.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/46077/IMG_0072.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>These are bead bracelets made of different kinds of wood like mohagany and cherry wood. Unlike those tasseled charms that are usually hung in houses and inside the cars, mead bracelets are more personal. I got several of these bracelets, prayed over them at the temple, and give them to friends as gifts.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/234846/IMG_0074.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/139916/IMG_0074.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Japanese animal crackers?<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/232632/IMG_0118.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/635005/IMG_0118.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>A sober me after paying respect at the Meiji Jingu Shrine, where you bow twice in front of the shrine, then clap your hands, pray, and bow once more to show respect. Notice a mother behind me is taking her little kimono-donned daughter to pay respect for blessing.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/297945/IMG_0129.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/219577/IMG_0129.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Think I can pass as a train conductor!?! Trains are usually painted in colors that are identical to the respective routes on the map.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/751720/IMG_2323.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/727557/IMG_2323.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>A quick, insouciant, spontaneous shot of Shinjuku after dark. This is obviously not a busy intersection with only a few commuters. I like the backdrop--the buildings so neatly lined the street, stippled with neon lights and signs--against which people, most of them glued to their cell phones, walked with such fast pace. They probably had to hurry and finish their conversations as cell phone conversation is NOT allowed in all subway trains.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/543710/IMG_2325.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/134564/IMG_2325.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Most of the noodle shops in Tokyo are staffed with one, at least two servers who usually don't take your orders. You buy a ticket from the vendor machine and hand the tickets to the servers when you walk in the restaurant. No tipping is needed. A bowl of yummy <em>ramen</em> with a side of <em>gyoza</em> is around 800 Yen.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/404159/IMG_2326.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/267555/IMG_2326.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I found these polyester-spandex boxers at a 100Yen (99 cents) store near the noodle shop on the way back to the hotel. They are so comfy that I went back to the store and bought all the remaining ones!<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/57219/IMG_2336.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/72463/IMG_2336.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Bronze statue at Sensoji Temple. A group of Indians who were there before me took turn to touch the staute all over and prayed to him.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/449055/IMG_2361.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/819377/IMG_2361.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>The shopping alley at Ueno split into two here. Just a quick ride on the subway from Asakusa, Ueno has lots of grocery shops where you can get cheap candies and <em>nori</em> (rice cracker with seaweed). I also found an army thrift store where you can find army apparel from countries all over the world.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/15798/IMG_2344.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/417863/IMG_2344.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Local people were paying respect at Sensoji Temple.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/824484/IMG_2355.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/202074/IMG_2355.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Restaurants usually maintain a beautiful, exquisite display of some of their featured items on the menu. These samples are made of colored wax. Who won't be drooling all over looking at these samples?<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/581871/IMG_2356.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/530464/IMG_2356.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>The street of Asakusa. I like those hanging cubic lanterns.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/402298/IMG_2362.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/874504/IMG_2362.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Fresh fruit stall at Ueno.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/212507/IMG_2411.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/58370/IMG_2411.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Muji was holding its annual customer reward. This bag is called the Happy Bag--which contains a wool jacket, a plaid shirt, two pairs of boxers, two t-shirts, two pairs of socks, and a leather belt--all in medium sizes, for 3150 Yen (US$27). You have to buy the entire bag and the content of which cannot be substituted.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/119286/IMG_2418.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/465511/IMG_2418.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Fare map showing all stations within the Tokyo metropolitan area. I don't know how the people can do it without even looking at the map. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/92348/IMG_2438.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/122580/IMG_2438.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Offerings made to the Meiji Jingu Shrine are neatly arranged under the same roof with the appropriate name tags and quantities.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/59292/IMG_2441.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/991996/IMG_2441.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Chrysanthemum show at the Meiji Jingu Shrine<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/604654/IMG_2454.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/506335/IMG_2454.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>People lined up and waited patiently to get in the department store for the sale event.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/24152/IMG_2459.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/442713/IMG_2459.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I guess in all things there is always exception. In a city that is so neat, orderly, and clean as Tokyo, at a subway exit during rush hour, I spotted some abandoned soda cans. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/968935/IMG_2460.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/347143/IMG_2460.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Floral display at a department store. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/671206/IMG_2461.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/553674/IMG_2461.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I did some last-minute souvenir shopping at Shibuya. All these are fragrance bags for women, who traditionally tug these cute little pouches inside the lapels of their kimonos. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/391950/IMG_2466.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/777226/IMG_2466.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Diving once again into the sea of crowd at Shinjuku Station, hurling behind me two big luggage, where is my train? These electric display boards might be helpful especially if you're trying to locate where your train departs at a major station like Shinjuku with more than 20 platforms.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/459100/IMG_2467.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/950252/IMG_2467.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Signage on the platform floor indicates where to board the appropriate car.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/58172/IMG_2471.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/85452/IMG_2471.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Homeward bound. Signage inside the Narita express train indicates the train is bound for the airport. I was in car #4.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1164126501906751622006-11-22T08:00:00.000-08:002006-11-22T09:12:50.296-08:00Reminiscing Tokyo Part 7: Meiji Jingu Shrine & Harajuku (11/2/06)<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/379250/IMG_2421.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/577076/IMG_2421.jpg" border="0" /></a>Got up early again to the cold and gloomy morning. It was indeed the coldest day since I came to Japan, but I could still manage with SS polo shirt. As usual, I took a walk around Shinjuku on the way to the train station, where I for the first time hopped on the JR Yamanote Line. This line, other than the Metro Ginza Line, is probably the busiest, the most crowded and the most prominent line in the entire Tokyo metro area. Also known as the green circle line, the Yamanote trains circulate around Tokyo area and pass through major business and entertainment areas like Shibuya, Shinagawa, Tokyo City, Uneo, and Asakusa.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/771966/IMG_2422.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/475595/IMG_2422.jpg" border="0" /></a>A short ride on Shinagawa-bound train dropped me off at Harujuku. A short walk upon the exit on the right side led me to Meiji Jingu Shrine, a site that is, to my surprise, not packed by tourists. The Meiji Jingu Shrine was built in 1920. It honors the life of Emperor Meiji. Prior to the Meiji Era (1868 - 1912) Japan was a closed nation, but as ruler between 1869 and 1912 Emperor Meiji rekindled lost friendships, fostered overseas relations and in so doing, laid the foundations of modern day Japan.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/891413/IMG_2423.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/907781/IMG_2423.jpg" border="0" /></a>The gate to the shrine, which captured my immediate attention, is made of cypress wood and is one of the largest in the country. Walk under it and up the long gravel path and the city shrinks a mile away--the surrounding woodland covers 175 acres and is said to contain at least one example of every single tree found in Japan. At the end of the serene path I came to the front of the main shrine buildings. The originals were destroyed in the air raids in 1945 so these reproductions date from only 1958.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/965914/IMG_2426.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/16231/IMG_2426.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/769771/IMG_2427.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/729034/IMG_2427.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/489075/IMG_2429.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/965310/IMG_2429.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/703337/IMG_2428.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/154530/IMG_2428.jpg" border="0" /></a>The stalls selling religious artifacts also sell leaflets which explain, in English, the procedure for paying respects at a shrine. I made note of the worshippers purifying their hands and mouths with water from the stone basin, and the wooden plaques upon which special intentions and wishes are written. Thousands of visitors have left behind thier prayers on racks. During summer, Meiji Jingu also hosts Shinto wedding ceremonies. A Japanese woman told me that the Meiji Shrine, which carries an air of stolidity and prestige, is a popular, but also very expensive venue.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/397142/IMG_2435.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/91844/IMG_2435.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/607096/IMG_2436.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/857546/IMG_2436.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/377859/IMG_2437.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/516096/IMG_2437.jpg" border="0" /></a>I approached an old Japanese old who was paying worship and asked him about the proper manner with which to pay respects to the shrine. I could barely follow his words which now I summarize:<br />How to Pay Respects at Shinto Shrines<br />1.In appropriate dress (mine were only jeans and polo shirt), I am to proceed along the path through the Torii Gate. At Temizusha (the font for ablutions), I rinse my hands and mouth using water from the stone basin. Take care I should not touch the dipper with your lips directly.<br />2.Then I proceed to the Main Shrine building. He said if I wish, I can throw some coins into the Offering Box.<br />3.In front of the Main Shrine, I bow twice.<br />4.Then I clap my hands twice.<br />5.Finally, I bow once again.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_0113.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_0113.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_0116.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_0116.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_0119.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_0119.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/359652/IMG_2432.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/55158/IMG_2432.jpg" border="0" /></a>I stumbled upon little boys and girls wearing splendid kimonos around the shrine. Their parents have brought them, along with generous gifts and sacrifices, in order to receive blessing.These kids probably had no clue why they were there, but their parents, often dressed in traditional kimono and fine suits, made sure they abided by the proper etiquette to pay respect to the shrine in order to receive a blessing, which, entails good health and high marks in school. The ceremonies to solicit blessing take place at the age of 3, 5, and 7.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/703829/IMG_2439.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/630194/IMG_2439.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/330767/IMG_2440.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/848150/IMG_2440.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_0121.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_0121.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_0122.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_0122.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_0123.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_0123.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/254841/IMG_2443.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/781301/IMG_2443.jpg" border="0" /></a>Not too far from the shrine where the Meji Emperor and Empress are deified do I find this condom store Condomania. It stocks all kinds of condoms here from the most generic <em>durex</em> and <em>trojan</em> to things that are out of one's imagination. Small boxes and cartons of condoms--chocolate flavor, fresh fruit flavor, condoms for women, super ultra thin condoms--lined the store that, if you look from a distance, you would mistake it as a cigarette shop. Condoms are exquisitely packaged into decoys of candy bars, moth balls, napkins... The most amazing kind I find is Penis Pasta.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/977675/IMG_2444.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/679242/IMG_2444.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/42861/IMG_2445.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/231329/IMG_2445.jpg" border="0" /></a>Harajuku first burst onto the scene in 1964 - the Olympic year. With the Olympic gymnasium and village located nearby, the prospect of meeting somebody famous in the street drew people from far and wide. Today, the area includes Takshita Street, Meiji Dori Avenue and Omotesando Dori Avenue.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/514674/IMG_2446.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/878733/IMG_2446.jpg" border="0" /></a>I found the second-hand store (in Japanese called medieval wear) not necessarily cheaper than the ones selling new apparels. A paperboy's hat at this particular was 2900 Yen, compared to the new one I acquired at Muji for 2000 Yen. So you would have to look around, compare prices, and not to be too rash in buying things.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/312387/IMG_2447.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/533737/IMG_2447.jpg" border="0" /></a>Takeshita Dori Street is opposite the Takeshita Dori Exit of Harajuku Station. Here, shops sell a most extraordinary blend of goods reflecting the Japanese notions of "cute", "cool and American" and "rebellious and British". In other words a strange mixture of Hello Kitty, hip-hop and the infamous British punk. As for the shoppers? Well, any form of fancy dress goes.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/827896/IMG_2448.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/135376/IMG_2448.jpg" border="0" /></a>Being the focal point of Harajuku's teenage culture, Takeshita Dori (Takeshita Street) and its side streets, which are lined by many trendy shops, fashion boutiques, used clothes stores, crepe stands and fast food outlets geared towards the fashion and trend conscious teens.<br /><br />In order to experience the teenage culture at its most extreme, visit Harajuku on a Sunday, when many young people gather around Harajuku Station and engage in cosplay ("costume play"), dressed up in crazy costumes to resemble anime characters, punk musicians, etc.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/188508/IMG_2449.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/307081/IMG_2449.jpg" border="0" /></a>I didn't have sightings of people wearing strange costumes or anime characters. But I did have a lot of fun shopping. Many shops offered bargain for hood sweater, t-shirts, and accessories. The Japanese sizes are just perfect fit for me, since in the US there is no equivalent to a Japanese Small. In fact, the Japanese (or Hong Kong) Large would be a Medium in the US. Anyway, here most of the sales people don't speak English so I had to find the sizes and the styles myself and ask for help in Japanese. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/1251/IMG_2450.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/120872/IMG_2450.jpg" border="0" /></a>Design T-Shirts Store granlph is a hidden jewel in Harajuku. Unlike the overpriced Beams T, which is just several doors up, this place sells limited editions of simple-design t-shirts by up-and-coming local artists. All SS t-shirts are marked for 2625 Yen each and 2 for 4200 Yen. Long-sleeves are 2900 Yen each. The store was crammed with so many people that even I managed to elbow my way in, at first I had a hard time navigating through and looking at the stuffs. When I was ready to check out, the salesperson was punctilious enough to noticed i had picked t-shirts of various sizes. He politely asked if they were gifts and I said <em>hai, sore wa puresendo o tomodachi desu</em>. Then he carefully wrapped the t-shirts for me and ribboned them very gorgeously. Bidding goodbye to him, he gave me a few postcards and asked me to come visit whenever I'm back in Tokyo.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/1600/771220/IMG_0125.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/233/2118/320/329901/IMG_0125.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2452.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2452.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>It was always dark by the time the Yamanote train took me back to Shinjuku. I decided to have <em>katsu don</em> for dinner so I walked over to the west side of Shinjuku station and looked for a restaurant. I took the elevator up to 5th floor, purchased a ticket for the <em>katsu don</em>, found a seat by the window that overlooked the neoned streets and scribbled on my journal. The waiter arrived with a pitcher of water (yes, a pitcher for each patron), miso soup, and <em>edamame</em>.mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1163639901930582772006-11-17T19:00:00.000-08:002006-11-17T08:03:05.230-08:00Reminiscing Tokyo Part 6: Imperial Palace & Shibuya (11/1/06)<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_0076.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_0076.jpg" border="0" /></a>I woke up extra early in the morning, skipped breakfast at the hotel, and walked to JR Shinjuku Station to purchase Narita Express ticket to Narita Airport on Nov 3. Lonely Planet and other travel resources have advised advance purchase for fear of soldout. One of Japan's hidden jewels that travelers often overlook is the underground aracde--home of many souvenir shops, bookstores, restaurants and bargains. On this particular morning, after I've secured my airport express ticket, I slowed down a bit and spotted a woman donned in kimono and clad in wooden slipper in one of the gift shops. She kindly gave me permission to take a photo of her.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_0084.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_0084.jpg" border="0" /></a>I stopped by a tiny restaurant in the underground aracde beneath the train station for an <em>asagohon</em> (breakfast), which contained steamed rice, miso soup, grilled fish, rolled omelet, pickles, and dry seaweed for 650 Yen (US$5.70). Over <em>asagohon</em> I scribbled a few postcards (a travel ritual of mine) and took them with me to the Main Post Office, which was conveniently located at the proximity of the historic Tokyo Station. As you can see in the picture, I looked a bit lost as I was riffling through the guidebook for a map.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2373.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/200/IMG_2373.jpg" border="0" /></a>No sooner had I walked into the post office did my heart skip a beat, at 8:30 am a long line was forming at the door. Once I found my bearing inside the office I learned that the long line was for parcel pickup and social security payable--no wonder it was packed with retirees. The clerk at international post was very friendly and efficient--he even stamped the postcards, peeled the stickers that said "air mail" and put them on for me and assured that they would be sent out immediately. For only 490 Yen not only did I receive quick and efficient service, I also experienced a s[ecial courtesy that was deeply rooted in the Japanese culture.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2374.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/200/IMG_2374.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2375.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/200/IMG_2375.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_0085.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_0085.jpg" border="0" /></a>The current Imperial Palace (Kokyo) is located on the former site of Edo Castle, a large park area surrounded by moats and massive stone walls in the center of Tokyo, a short walk from Tokyo station. It is the residence of Japan's Imperial Family. Edo Castle used to be the seat of the Tokugawa shogun who ruled Japan from 1603 until 1867. In 1868, the shogunate was overthrown, and the country's capital and Imperial Residence were moved from Kyoto to Tokyo. In 1888 construction of a new Imperial Palace was completed. The palace was once destroyed during World War Two, and rebuilt in the same style, afterwards.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_0089.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_0089.jpg" border="0" /></a>From Kokyo Gaien, the large plaza in front of the Imperial Palace, visitors can view the Nijubashi, two bridges that form an entrance to the inner palace grounds. The stone bridge in front is called Meganebashi (Eyeglass Bridge) for its looks. The bridge in the back was formerly a wooden bridge with two levels, from which the name Nijubashi (Double Bridge) is derived.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2377.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2377.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;">Meganebashi (Eyeglass) Bridge is a popular picture spot thronged with tourists. I beat the tour group by a couple of minutes.</span><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2378.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2378.jpg" border="0" /></a>I walked all the way to where Meganebashi Bridge is cordoned off and reached the observatory point. From this perspective you can see the imperial buildings are separated by an inner moat. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2379.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2379.jpg" border="0" /></a>The palace buildings and inner gardens are not open to the public. Only on January 2 (New Year's Greeting) and December 23 (Emperor's Birthday), visitors are able to enter the inner palace grounds and see the members of the Imperial Family, who make several public appearances on a balcony.<br />The Imperial Palace East Gardens are open to the public throughout the year except on Mondays, Fridays and special occasions. Please visit the East Gardens information page for more information.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2380.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2380.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2382.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2382.jpg" border="0" /></a>The East Gardens are the former site of Edo Castle's innermost circles of defense, the honmaru ("main circle") and ninomaru ("secondary circle"). None of the main buildings remain today, but the moats, walls, entrance gates and several guardhouses still exist. Edo Castle was the residence of the Tokugawa shogun who ruled Japan from 1603 to 1867. Emperor Meiji also resided there from 1868 to 1888 before moving to the newly constructed Imperial Palace. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2383.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2383.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/Garden.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/400/Garden.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>In place of the former buildings in the secondary circle of defense (ninomaru) at the foot of the hill, a nice Japanese style garden has been created. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2384.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2384.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2386.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2386.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2390.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2390.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>After the Imperial PalaceI hopped back on the metro to Shibuya, a popular shopping and entertainment area around Shibuya Station. This is probably the most-pictured scene of Tokyo. The opening scene of the movie <em>Lost in Translation</em> was filmed here.<br /><br />Shibuya is one of Tokyo's most colorful and busy districts and birthplace to many of Japan's fashion and entertainment trends, including my favorite--Beams. Most of the area's large department and fashion stores belong to either Tokyu or Seibu, two competing corporations. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2401.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2401.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Shibuya has achieved great popularity among young people in the last thirty years. There are several famous fashion department stores in Shibuya. Shibuya 109—called "Ichi-Maru-kyū", which translates as 1-0-9 in Japanese, is actually a pun on the name of the corporation that owns it—Tokyu—which translates as 10-9 in Japanese—is a major shopping center near Shibuya Station, particularly famous as the origin of the kogal subculture. The contemporary fashion scene in Shibuya extends northward from Shibuya Station to Harajuku, where youth culture reigns; Omotesandō, the zelkova tree and fashion brand lined street; and Sendagaya, Tokyo's apparel design district.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2403.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2403.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2404.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2404.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2407.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2407.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>A prominent landmark of Shibuya is the large intersection in front of the station (Hachiko Exit), which is heavily decorated by neon advertisements and giant video screens and gets crossed by amazingly large crowds of pedestrians each time the traffic light turns green.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2408.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2408.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2392.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2392.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2395.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2395.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Shibuya has everything from 100 Yen noodles, condoms (lots of them in <em>Condomania</em>!!!), pubs, souvenirs, kimonos, fashion T-shirts (some T-shirts by up-and-coming local designers can cost as much as 17,000 Yen!), hats, to top notch gourmet food. No wonder it has been said that Shibuya has threatened Shinjuku's place as the main entertainment and shopping center. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2397.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2397.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Center Gai is the narrow street leading away from the station to the left of the giant video screen, it's famous as the birthplace of many of Japan's youth fashion trends. Center Gai is jam-packed with clothing stores, music stores, and video game arcades. I was oblivious to time's passing as I strolled insouciantly and felt the Shibuya vibe.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2409.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_2409.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_0102.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/IMG_0102.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21162074.post-1163550727049664982006-11-14T17:05:00.000-08:002006-11-14T17:37:32.466-08:00Reminiscing Tokyo Part 5: Gay Life (10/31-11/1/06)<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/TokyoGay10.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/TokyoGay10.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/TokyoGay7.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/200/TokyoGay7.jpg" border="0" /></a>Someone came to me today and said all the pictures from Japan I have posted are too modest, too upright--that I'm too flourishing and cheery. Okay, I've been on vacation, how can I be *not* flourishing? Did he say I was "flowery" too? Let just say I have my share of naughty adventures but had opened my eyes to kinky gay scenes in Tokyo, which center around Shinjuku-2-Chome, an easy 10-minute walk from my hotel.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/IMG_2457.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/200/IMG_2457.jpg" border="0" /></a>After my shopping binge at the flagship Muji store--which advertises for "no brand, good product," I hopped on the next train back to Shinjuku for a night of clubbing and dancing. But I need to say a few words about Muji. It was developed in the early 1980s as a private brand of the giant Seiyu discount department store, offering an antidote to the rampant brand mania in the Japanese economic "bubble" period. A common sense approach defines the store aesthetics and sets the stage for a lesson in pared down retail design based on things like bulk packaging in plain, uniform containers. Under simple track lights, products are stored in unpainted wicker bins, on plain plywood shelving and unvarnished wood tables. In a tsunami of beige, the Muji message of unadorned simplicity makes itself explicit. I for sure left my mark at Muji and paid my due!<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/TokyoGay1.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/TokyoGay1.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>No sooner had I walked out of Shinjuku Station did I spot two Japanese men holding hands making their way into 2-Chome (translates into 2nd lane). I thought they looked so sweet that they were completely oblivious to the worldly eyes of reproach to have publicly claimed their love. In Japan, gay men are so much more suppressed to publicly show affection for one another. Disguised under their suit and tie during the day, you won't run into many gay men even though at least 10% of the population is gay. When flashing blinking neon signs replace the petering sunlight at dusk, activities and hangouts of gay men limit only to a few <em>chome</em> (lanes) in Shinjuku, Ginza, and Shibuya. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/TokyoGay2.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/TokyoGay2.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>However meager or minisculed the gay scene might be, it doesn't necessarily cool down the heat of a gay dancing club. In fact, some of them might have got so kinky that many American guys find them a bit overwhelmed. Recently a superstar in the music industry dressed up in tight leather SM outfit for his round-the-country tour. His image became a new icon for gay men--who dressed up in tight harness and leather vest with boots and hit the dance floor of many clubs in Shinjuku. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/TokyoGay3.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/TokyoGay3.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>On the way to Arty Farty (my favorite bar) after the leather bar I ran into these guys who were campaigning for the gay magazine <em>Badi</em>, a monthly Japanese magazine for gay men. The title comes from the Japanese pronunciation of "buddy." Badi frequently has approximately 500-1000 pages (easily like a white page), including several pages of glossy colour and some black and white photographs and drawings of young, fit men in their teens and early twenties. Despite the pornographic pictures and stories, however, Badi is not a pornographic magazine. Badi appeals to a young market (and to admirers of younger men). It features fashion, health and relationship articles and community news and event listings. The guy on the right asked me if I was interested in a session of candid shots. Oh well...<br /> <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/TokyoGay11.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/TokyoGay11.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>At Arty Farty, things were still slow because it was early. A few people were sitting at tables against wall engaging in low conversation against the droning of jazz music. The dance floor was empty and the bar-tender, a 20ish cub type with a paperboy hat, was busy wiping martini glasses for the night. I took a seat at the bar and chatted with him with my broken, choppy Japanese which I have long forgotten since I left the classroom in college.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/TokyoGay4.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/TokyoGay4.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>Anyway, Arty Farty is in Ni-Chome (2nd lane), right around the corner from Advocates Cafe, where I posted an entry from my mobile about a little earlier. Advocates closes around midnight on Sunday, so Arty Farty is always a convenient place to retreat to when they shut the doors at Advocate. I prefer Arty Farty over other bars is the all-you-can drink wine thing (like the beer blast at Advocates, except, well, with wine).<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/TokyoGay5.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/TokyoGay5.jpg" border="0" /></a>This bar for boys and the guys who love them has been the gateway to Tokyo's gay neighbourhood, Ni-chome, for many a man for many a moon. Women are allowed only on weekends, and usually only with gay friends, and yes, apparently, they mean it. As the music picked up and people began to converge at the dance floor, spirits heightened around the bar. I met a few Caucasian men who were living and working in Tokyo. They usually came a couple nights just to chat over glasses of wine and checked out younger Japanese boys. They were somewhat taken aback and surprised when I started speaking to them in English fluently. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/TokyoGay6.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/TokyoGay6.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>I talked with them for hours and was oblivious of time's passing. It was 20 after midnight when I looked at my watch for the first time. I jotted down their contacts and e-mails on a crumpled piece of paper that was earlier a receipt from Muji and bid them goodbye. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/1600/TokyoGay9.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/233/2118/320/TokyoGay9.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>On the walk back to the hotel I spotted yet another curious sight--Hotel Nuts! Japan seems to never stop fascinating me! Hotel Nuts right in Shinjuku Ni-Chome along with all the gay bars and clubs. How appropriate eh?!mattviewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09701132375537532760noreply@blogger.com6