Today’s soundtrack: I try not to ruin the moment
Today at 10:02pm: It was Tommy’s turn to cook and he whipped up this delicious pork dish.


I’m pretty psyched--the Asian American Writer’s Workshop asked me to teach an Intro to Fiction class! It’ll be Wednesday nights from April 2nd to May 14th. I’ll post details here in a few days, after we put ink on the contract.

Sign up if you’re in the New York area and have an interesting in writing, I’ll do my best to make it worth your while. It’s entry-level so no Dostoevskys please. (You outclass me.)

The second “movie screening” I held at my place went well. I bought some inexpensive floormats at Pearl River Mart, borrowed a second couch-like object from Yuka’s and decked the place out with pillows. We had the DVD broadcasting into two TVs so everyone had a good vantage point. If you’re into Asian flicks, have an affinity for period pieces and a stomach for violence, check out “Musa.”

When you don’t have to work, lazy Saturday afternoons in New York are a good hang. Me and the fellas (Seiji, Mike, and Mike’s new Japanese protégé, Tommy) rolled around downtown in search of Pumas, cool objects, pretty girls and cheap eats. We musta walked thirty blocks.

At the Vespa showroom on Crosby we were checking out the sidewalk models. I guess we looked scruffy ‘cause one of the saleswomen came outside, got in between us and yanked the key out of the ignition. Like we were gonna steal the shit or something.

By late afternoon we’d wandered up to what passes for Little Tokyo around here. The four of us ate hot takoyaki on a 9th Street stoop, did rock-paper-scissors to see who would get the last piece and discussed digital cameras.

On the way back home we cut down 2nd Avenue. I bought a pineapple and then we got into an unfortunately loud conversation about people who eat poo (like for those fetish porn flicks). The internet being what it is, all of us have “accidentally” seen snippets of horrific footage.

Mike told us in Japan there’s a place where women eat nothing but caviar and champagne for two weeks, then rich businessmen pay to eat their shit. All of us contested him on the veracity of this but he claims to have a business card from the place. That is, for christ’s sake, the foulest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

The four of us are a fun and decent bunch of guys, I swear. We might discuss fecal dining but we’d never steal a Vespa.