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Upon latest head count, it would appear that direct family members are:

  • Brother #1: Expecting the great Kanto earthquake from his Tokyo apartment (any day now).
  • Brother #2: Traipsing the Moroccan Desert with his backpack and a donkey.
  • Brother #3: Learning Cantonese pillow talk in Shanghai.
  • Dad: Watching snow melt in Eastern Canuckistan.
  • Mum: Enjoying Lebanon northwestern coast (lovely weather at this time of year), currently deciding between Syria and Cyprus for an emergency evac (wins extra bonus points for Country-on-the-Brink-of-Civil-War).

Honestly, I don’t know what that says about us as a family.

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Currently, they still oscillate between Nobel Prize and two Advils.

Seriously: who goes out until morning on a Monday night? More to the point: who goes to work the day after, on a national holiday?

A sucker, that’s who.

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Don’t you think?

I mean, the alcohol, the drugs, the neverending nights of feral sex, the uninspired blogging… it gets old, really.

Alright, so maybe not the booze, drugs and sex part. But the blogging part: definitely. I don’t mean the part about writing inane crap that nobody in their right mind should care about, in between two intense navel-staring sessions. I don’t think I’ll get tired of that part any time soon (I’m trying though). I mean, the sterile format that this blog has come to follow.

Oh, trust me, I am very aware of it. Sure, I have many excuses as to why my posting rate has dwindled to the levels of Bangladesh’s strawberry production on a bad monsoon year… Work, life, love (or pursuit thereof), happiness (idem) etc. But we all know there’s more to it. Truth be told, blogging here bores me, most of the time. There are a couple reasons for that, chiefly among them are:

  • This blog started out on the wrong foot.
    When I decided to open my first self-hosted online space, it started as a bastard mix of for-friends-only (“hey guys, long time no see”) news reports and travel-journal (“lookee all the whacky things they have here”)… Both rather boring genres in the long run, neither something I really felt like doing much. But I have been pulled toward these roots ever since.

  • It is read by all the wrong people.
    Quite expectedly (although I originally never intended it to be), this has become the place where all people who either have invested some DNA into me, or were court-ordered to stay at least a continent away, come to get their life update on Dave. Knowing that both your genitors (hi Mum! hi Dad!), extended family, past love interests (and potentiall future ones) are all reading this, puts a serious cap on any attempt at spontaneity.
  • And therefore… I write elsewhere.
    Yes, I know, it hurts, but I have been seeing other people. In other locales, other languages even. Usually with completely different style and contents. Don’t even try to search the web: believe me you won’t find it. Those other writings are all that this isn’t: personal, fun, hyperbolic, unauthentic, uncensored etc.

Then why bother?

Good question. I suppose because this still serves a purpose for some writings, in some contexts. Also because I hate giving up. And closing that blog before I turn 50 would feel like giving up.

But things need to change. Not sure what, but they do.

Still working on details. I technically have about 10 days before the official 5 year anniversary of this blog. Do not expect grand announcement or sudden changes, just be warned.

Sorta.

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Albert Hofman, discoverer of the lysergic acid diethylamide compound (better known under its initials) and advocate of a mature, non-repressive approach to psychedelic drug experimentation, died this week at the age of 102.

Yet another tragic example of a young life cut short by the evils of drugs.

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  • Vita
  • Academia
    • Finish all unfinished uni projects.
    • Get seriously started on my research.
    • Make up my mind on the whole PhD thing.
    • Pick a subject.
    • Pick a country.
    • Pick an advisor (not necessarily in the above order).
  • Technica
  • Et caetera
    • Sushi.
    • Beer.
    • Music.
    • Art.
    • Et alia caetera.

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Because I just don’t use this blog enough for my own self-serving interests (please ignore all 1,182 past entries full of pointless navel-gazing, when considering this statement), I thought I’d post a short blurb here regarding my quest for some living quarters in Tokyo for the Summer:

I am looking for rooming options (sublet/flat-sharing/nice-blue-tarp-in-Yoyogi…) in Tokyo, involving some amount of pre-furnishing (the more the better), starting roughly now and until mid-September.

Location-wise: anything within reasonable distance of a subway/train station is eligible for consideration. Bonus points for biking distance (less than 30 mins.) to Shinjuku/Shibuya or other West-Tokyo hubs, Extra Bonus points for quick access to my work in Jimbocho (no more than one change is a must, but that’s pretty much 80% of all Tokyo stations).

Situation-wise: as long as your homicidal schizophrenia is medicated and your pet hyena on a leash, we can negotiate on the rest. I guess a bit of common sense and mutual respect (if it’s a flat-sharing arrangement) would probably help too. As for me: I am fairly easy-going, social but way past my teenage party-animal days, gainfully employed during the day and possibly less annoying in person than this page may lead one to think.
Also: I don’t smoke, bathe daily and can probably relinquish my meat-eater’s morning bacon addiction for the perfect place. Furthermore, my mastering of weather-conversational Japanese and world-renowned trash-sorting abilities should make me a hit with all your nosy obāchan neighbours/landlord.

Money-wise: I can afford market-rate on any of the aforementioned options, but since it is money coming from my own pocket, I’d just as well not go for those laughably overpriced expat dwellings. 120k seems a fair upper-bound given my search criteria (that’s an upper-bound, and definitely not what I’ll be paying for a 2-tatami flatmate option in Saitama).

Best way to contact me is by email, to zedrdave[at]gmail.com. Feel free to pass this on to your friends.

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  • Stuff I emptied out from my apartment: 56 sq. meters’ worth of furniture, art, daily life crap and assorted paraphernalia.
  • Stuff I still owned after distributing everything else to friends, family and random strangers: 6 small boxes (books and some clothes).
  • Stuff actually in my possession and not currently sitting in a basement until I have a home again someday: 1 suitcase.

The first metric tonne is always the hardest to part with… After that it just comes off naturally.

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This morning, I sat through the last written test of my life.(*)

(*) Don’t get all excited now: I am far from done… Still got a couple reports and projects to hand in, not to mention thesis defense(s) in the coming months/years. Not to mention JLPT in December and any other such certification test I may ever be foolish enough to apply for… Still:

The last written test of my entire existence!