Last night, some of my officemates and I went out for an informal kangeikai (welcome party) for a guy who was transferred to work in our office in Tokyo. As our decision to go out was a bit last-minute, none of our usual haunts had room for our group, so we ended up going to a chain izakaya near Shibuya station called Kaasan. Kaasan means “Mother” in Japanese, and the chain markets itself as providing homely fare prepared with a motherly touch. Accordingly, the kitchen and wait staff are composed entirely of matronly middle-aged women who dote on customers with a maternal demeanor whilst supplying them with large quantities of alcohol and reminding them to finish their vegetables.

Since it was a Monday night, we all decided to limit our intake of alcoholic beverages, but achieved varying degrees of success. It’s actually a tad difficult to keep track of how much nihonshu you’re drinking when someone refills your cup after every sip. Nonetheless, we all made it to the station afterwards without anyone puking or passing out (which is quite an accomplishment in itself), and parted ways.

Upon returning to my apartment to find Judy sound asleep, I realized that I had to return a DVD to the video rental shop before midnight, and so I headed back out and managed to get the DVD into the hands of the cashier with about three minutes to spare. As I walked past the station on my way back to my apartment, I happened to pass by a guy who I’ve seen many times playing the saxophone and trumpet (albeit not at the same time) beneath the elevated train tracks. Feeling somewhat chatty after my numerous beers and countless glasses of sake, I greeted the guy asked him, “Do you play here often?” (which, in retrospect, does indeed sound like a cheesy pickup line, much to my dismay).

We chatted briefly about our respective backgrounds and time in Japan, and I learned that he was originally from New York and had spent the past 15 years in Tokyo. Unfortunately, within minutes the conversation quickly took a turn towards one-sidedness and the guy began to rant and rave about everything from the film industry to the American government to the lamentable prevalence of ignorance among the youth of today. He seemed like a rather intelligent guy, but he was definitely on a different level than most “normal” folk. I’m hesitant to just pass him off as some whackjob, but when people advocate the overthrow of the government and say paranoid things like “Don’t you see? They don’t want you to know what’s going on!”, it certainly makes one wonder about their mental stability. I barely managed to get a word in edgewise the entire time, but since I’m not the type to rudely interrupt others when they are speaking, I ended up standing there for over an hour listening to his tirade.

Since then, after having thought a bit more about some of the things that he was saying, and considering the depth of his knowledge and analysis of each issue he mentioned, I’ve come to realize just how intellectually inactive I’ve become in the last few years. I definitely felt more socially aware when I was in university (although I forwent the traditional scraggly facial hair, “Free Mumia” pin and other clich´s), but in the years since, while my knowledge and understanding of social issues and world events have increased considerably, I’ve found that my priorities have shifted a bit and I no longer focus as much energy on them.

Could this be due to disillusionment? To laziness? To having become complacent from living in a society regrettably known for its ignorance and shallowness? Perhaps it’s just from growing older and now being in a position where I’m relatively comfortable enough to enjoy the small pleasures in life, rather than dwell upon the inequalities and injustices in the world. Or maybe I’m just a bad person.

I suppose my biggest question is: Why do my coworkers insist on getting soused in the middle of the week? My head hurts.

- - - - - - -

My apologies for the particularly inane ramblings as of late. I promise I’ll be back to writing about boobies and eccentricities in Japanese society and whatever else shortly. In the meantime, why not take a peek at this video of J-Pop super-group and fodder for Japan’s legion of pedophiles, Morning Musume, squeal and squirm as they watch a clip from the Japanese film Ringu.

Apparently there are few pleasures in life comparable to that attained from scaring young girls.