Pop Culture Tuesdays XI

Japan has a lot of things that are 'Uniquely Japan', and for whatever reason just don't happen in other countries. Obviously this is especially true of Pop Culture phenomenon.

Japan seems to have an entire class of people whose job is simply to be over-exposed and be singing at you on the radio, staring at you from giant billboards or enticing you to buy some product. Basically they seem to be professional 'Jack-of-All-Trades (and masters of none)'.

It seems that in the US each Pop Sphere is independent from the others. Celebrities rarely whore themselves for a hairspray commercial, act in movies, and sing in Pop bands; they just do one. In Japan the movement between spheres seems to be much more common, and as mentioned in the previous Pop post, this leads to the creation of the Pop Aesthetic. And simultaneously is a huge money making machine.

For example, let's say I like Japanese band SMAP (I don't), and in particular SMAP member Takuya Kimura. So I buy their CD's, then I see Kimura advertising a hair product, now I need to have that hairspray because the guy from my favorite band uses it. Do you know what hairspray the members of your favorite band prefer? Of course not, unless you live in Japan. Then I need to go see Generic Action Movie because he is in it. And suddenly this guy has dominated every sphere, and in the process made lots of people (including himself) very rich.

Anyway, I'm getting carried away, all I wanted was to post these hair product commercials.

Please enjoy professional-pretty-boy Takuya Kimura and his open-mouthed hair twirling:







Gaa-tsu-byyyyyyy!

Maybe Okinawa's Not That Bad Afterall...

As mentioned in the previous post, I headed out to one of Okinawa's outer islands last weekend (Tokashiki Island, to be precise). It was an act of pure spontaneity; I went to watch the school's tennis match, and got there only to find out that my school would be playing the next day. So I figured since I was already up early I may as well do something productive.

A 10 minute cab ride later I was at the port in Naha deciding what island I wanted to try. Tokashiki was decided on purely because I could get there and back in the same day. Once on Tokashiki, I ended up on Tokashiku beach, which, as I understand, is only one of two beaches on the island. Most of the island is mountains and there are only three small towns on the island, so although Naha is certainly no Tokyo, it definitely felt like it after being on Tokashiki for an afternoon.

Can you imagine living on one of these Outer Islands having absolutely nothing to worry about and nothing to do but rent out life-jackets and stare at the sea all day?

With views like this (Click for much larger/better quality. Seriously do it. You can't appreciate the amazingness unless you do it):

it took all of my will power not to ask for a job and never be heard from again.

OK, no more words, let's look at some more pictures I took (None of these pictures have been edited at all, the colors are as they really are. Once again, click for larger/better.):

How Can You Expect Me To Go Back To Being A Common Schmuck?

While it's true that any foreigner in Japan (outside of Tokyo) is a minor celebrity, this is doubly true for foreign teachers I think. Students are curious and less inhibited anyway, so that awards the foreign teacher immediate popularity, but if you are even mildly outgoing and show a slight interest in the students you can approach immortality.

A long-winded example? Is that what you want?

Sure!

This weekend I ventured to one of the Outer Island of Okinawa (pictures later), and naturally I was the only foreigner on the boat ride there and back, so I was already doing a minimal amount of blending. So there I was standing around at this tiny port on some random tiny island, waiting for the boat back, when I hear someone behind me say "Ano...sumimasen?" I look up and it's some younger-looking guy (I say it like that because, as we all know, it's impossible to tell the age of a Japanese person. I just put him in the 15-25 age range, because that's as close as I could get.).

I look up nervously, because I know I'm about to have yet another communication failure. I respond with a suspicious "Hai?"

So the guy says my name. And I respond with an even more suspicious "Hai???"

At this point everyone around us in the waiting room is looking at me, and I know it. So this guy explains that he is one of my students. And while students will come up to me all the time in the grocery store or convenience store, I was especially flattered and impressed this time because: a) we were clearly nowhere near school b) we were both on vacation and c) he is definitely not one of my best students. I was also completely ashamed that I had absolutely zero idea who he was (to be fair, I do see like 300 students a week, who all pretty much look the same). So we struggled through a conversation, shook hands, took a picture and that was that. And he's now my favorite student.

So that alone made me feel like quite a celebrity. But after he left everyone was staring at me, and not trying to hide it, which was odd. Then I thought, 'Oh man, from an outsider's perspective, especially one who speaks no English, this totally looks like I am some sort of foreign celebrity (And not to be a douche, but I was kind of looking the part that day...)." So for the rest of the time while we waited, and all the way back, people would periodically stare, then talk amongst themselves.

And I will unashamedly say that I enjoyed every minute.

If fame was a drug, I'd definitely be the junkie on the corner selling sex for my next hit.

Failing At...

Answering the door!

Though if I can share a secret with you, I get a secret sadistic/masochistic pleasure from this one.

My doorbell rarely rings, as you might well imagine, and when it does it’s always someone who wants something from me. And let us not forget the shit state of my Japanese ability, so in this way, answering the door really can be a painful adventure.

But the pain that I know I’m inflicting on the unsuspecting Japanese person who comes to my door is a million times better. When I answer the door, it’s like they’re in a Gaijin Haunted House; the initial look of panic as I pop out of the door is priceless. I swear to God, I’m bringing a camera to the door from now on. One of those instant Polaroid ones would be the best.

Anyway, this post is prompted by my latest door encounter with the newspaper salesman.

I have no idea what possessed me to open the door on this particular occasion anyway. It was fairly late at night, during Obon, mind you.

So I answered the door, and I’m immediately being talked at in Japanese. Gradually a smile spreads across my face, and when this guy pauses for a half a second I bust out the usual “Sumimasen, wakarimasen, Gaijin desu.” OK not that last part, but I do use the first part, and it’s often enough to get people to either switch to English or leave me alone altogether.

So the guy switches to English and starts asking me all kinds of questions; Where I’m from, what I do, how long have I been here, how long will I be here, etc. At first I thought he was a neighbor introducing himself, “Oh, what a nice guy” I thought, and his English isn’t half bad, maybe this will be a fruitful neighborly relationship. It took me an honest 5 minutes before I realized he was trying to sell me a subscription to a newspaper. Then he pointed at the paper and said, “So you don’t understand Japanese words?” then it dawned on me, and I had to let him down gently.

Poor guy. I hope I didn’t hurt him too much.

Although I don’t feel too bad; what the hell was he doing trying to sell me newspapers late at night during Obon, I mean, he’s begging to get eaten by pissed off ancestor ghosts.

And mark my words, I’m buying a Polaroid camera and capturing the “Oh my God Gaijin! Shit! I can’t run now it’s too late, he answered the door already! Sonofabitch, Sonofabitch, Sonofabitch, what to do now!?!” face.

And I’m also buying a fog machine and strobe light to complete the Haunted House of Gaijin effect.

Pop Culture Tuesdays X

(I'll put it out there right away, this is a long, wordy post; not your typical Tuesday post. No shiny eye candy, so if you don't like that kind of thing, I'll see you next week.)

Look at this, I’ve been doing Pop Posts for how many weeks now, and I haven’t defined Pop and given even the slightest reasoning behind what makes it in these posts.

Although, I do think the best way to teach something is to give examples, then define it, then give more examples. But teaching pedagogy aside, this should have been the first Pop Post. And so important do I think this post is that it is also getting a tab on the top of the page.

Let me start with this: ‘Pop’ as I use it is an aesthetic, and in its truest form, a way of life. So something or someone can be ‘Pop’. SuG is Pop. Lady Gaga is Pop. Hachiko Crossing at night is Pop. Gyaruo is Pop. A particular outfit, song, or hairstyle can be Pop. To be Pop is to be faddish, fast, and forgetful of the past. Pop is sex, beauty, money, and fame. It’s always about the next best thing, trying to be shinier, louder, and more exaggerated than whatever is currently the shiniest, loudest, and most exaggerated. Pop is about capturing attention and the imagination.

Yet, paradoxically, Pop must also be nostalgic. Maybe because of the incredible pace required to be Pop, there is a tinge of nostalgia and, if not longing for, then respect for the past (specifically the Pop Past). Pop Nostalgia usually takes the form of references to other Pop Cultural phenomenon. In terms of music, Pop Nostalgia is a little more difficult to define, but you know it immediately when you hear it. Pop Nostalgia in music makes you immediately feel warm and tingly and think of summer when you were a teenager. Although that description is disgusting (and it feels just as disgusting when you feel like that), part of us likes it, no matter how much we pretend to be jaded and not like it. This façade of jadedness is likely to try to make ourselves feel better and give us an excuse not to enjoy it, when we secretly know the real reason we can’t enjoy it is because society tells people of a certain age we are too old to enjoy, or be, Pop.

Which brings us to another vital characteristic of Pop: It is by the young, for the young, consumed by the young and perpetuated by the young. That’s just the sad fact of it. You can’t be Pop if you are over a certain age. A person can certainly be stylish, classy, or fashionable, but after a certain age the person can no longer be Pop. Don’t ask me to pick an arbitrary age. It would probably be most accurate to say that once a person begins a serious life-long career, that’s when Pop, as a lifestyle, must be given up.

Pop (despite what people may say) is about creativity and innovation. The most successful Pop People have done something unique or taken a previous Pop fad to its logical conclusion. Let us take Lady Gaga for example. There is really nothing especially innovative about her music, let’s be perfectly honest here. It is undeniably catchy and sexy, but not really innovative. What makes Lady Gaga an immortal Pop legend is, first, the irony in most of her songs. But much more important than that is the performance of the songs, and the way that she lives Pop. She is never ‘off’; she can’t be; Pop is her lifestyle. If you only listen to a Lady Gaga song you are missing more than half of it; you must both listen to and watch a Lady Gaga song. And this says a lot about what Pop is—you must watch music, not listen to it. To fully understand and appreciate the song you must see the costumes, the choreography, and the fashion, hear the music, and understand the references. In this way, Lady Gaga (and SuG) have brought all elements of Pop Culture into one medium, and brought Pop to its logical conclusion. There is no longer Pop Music, Pop Fashion, or Pop Art, it’s all one thing now: The Pop Aesthetic.

Another good example is the way Pop Music (or maybe this is just a Visual Kei thing) in Japan seems to work. Every time a band comes out with a new single they also change their appearances—as in haircuts and styles, costumes, makeup, the whole shebang. So intimately is music and fashion tied that a new song demands a new look, and often a new music video. Which can really border on the insane when some groups have three major singles come out in a year. But that’s Pop at its purest.

There is nothing simple about Pop, and people who dismiss it as such are so much more simplistic than the culture that they enjoy haughtily ridiculing. Pop done right takes an incredible amount of skill, thought, and creativity. Not to mention the marketing of Pop is quite possibly the most calculating, least simple thing the human mind has done since putting itself into space.

So, although that doesn’t quite explain how a particular thing makes it into the Pop Posts, it should make seeing a coherent theme among the posts much easier. For each post, after reading this, the reader should (hopefully) be able to look at whatever is being talked about and go, “Oh yeah, that’s Pop”. Maybe you can’t specifically articulate why, but you know it’s Pop.

And please, don’t be a Pop-Hater.

Don’t make me choose between you and Pop. You’re only asking for heartbreak.

Because I’ll choose Pop every time.

Cumulative Acts of Swellness Will Destroy My Sanity

Japan’s swell, really it is. But sometimes. Sometimes…it’s a little too swell.

When I find myself at wits’ end because of the swellness it always sneaks up on me; it’s usually the accumulation of a bunch of small, well intentioned things that make me touchdown-spike whatever I may be carrying in the genkan.

Which makes the inevitable guilt that comes immediately after said touchdown spike to be that much worse, because I always think, “Aww, but look at the attention to detail. How can I be mad at someone for taking their job seriously and being so thoughtful?”

It also makes me question my sanity because I look at the mess I just caused and go “Wow, did I just explode because my shopping bag was taped closed?” But like I said, it may be the taped shopping bag that caused the explosion, but this was just part of a long chain of seemingly insignificant, but additive, small things.

So what causes the touchdown spike of frustration you ask?

Well, it can usually be traced to the aforementioned tape. Mother of Christ, the amount of taping that goes on in this country boggles the mind. Positively every time you go shopping whether you’re buying donuts, clothes, groceries, CD’s or anything in between, the handles of the bag are brought together, taped, and the bag is now taped closed.

Oh, how thoughtful you say? That’s what I thought, until I have a bunch of shit I just want to quickly unpack. And forget about just tearing it apart. Oh no. The tape stretches, mocking you as you grow frustrated to the point of tears, pleading with, then demanding that the bag opens if it knows what’s good for it. Then, because the bag is often plastic, it has no resistance, and it stretches along with the tape. Now you’ve got a mutilated bag, which is still taped shut, and your fingers have lost circulation because of how hard you’ve been pulling on the handles.

So, finally, you get that motherfucker open, and what do you find (if you’ve gone grocery shopping)? Each pack of meat, chicken, sushi, etc is individually wrapped, and taped, in its own bag. So. Fucking. Unnecessary.

But you breathe a sigh of relief, the bags are all opened, and it’s time for dinner.

How about that sushi you bought? OK!

Hold on? Why won’t the lid come off?

Because it’s taped in four different places!

Aaaaaand cue touchdown spike.

Back In The Loop

There must be some sort of cosmic irony in the fact that I'm in Japan, the country that invented robots that play soccer (and totally violate the Uncanny Valley), yet it took me nearly 2 months to get Internet in my apartment.

Anyway, I can finally stop doing productive things with my time, and instead spend it getting hopelessly tangled in Wikipedia's web of pseudo-knowledge, burning away my life one pointless 2-minute Youtube video at a time, or searching for porn. Because, be honest, the Intenet isn't good for much else.

And in between, try to nurse this blog back to health and vitality.

So, just a post to explain the hiatus, and get you ready for the hot and heavy rush of blog posts that is about to come your way.

Kampai!

I like to drink. Quite heavily on occasion. So I guess it’s a good thing I came to Japan where crazy drinking in the name of social solidarity is expected and demanded. I guess it’s a good thing I came to a place that has basically institutionalized alcoholism.

Let’s go over some of the fun drinking rituals you can expect to encounter should you be fortunate enough to get unspeakably drunk with your Japanese co workers (then never mention it again, in true Japanese fashion.)

First, never pour your own drink. What to do when your glass is empty then? Pour for someone else, even if their glass isn’t empty. They’ll get the hint and pour for you.

Second there’s pretty much always rounds of toasting before the drinking begins, even in less formal situations. Obviously, speeches are not made by every person in every situation, but as a good rule don’t start drinking until you hear “Kampai!”

Speaking of Kampai (Kanpai), say it with some enthusiasm. It’s a fun word to say, and it’s something to hear a group full of rowdy drunkards shout it.

When toasting with someone, the older person’s glass is always held higher.

In more formal situations, there’s some sort of clapping thing that happens to signal the close of the drinking festivities. I’m not too clear on the details.

I’m not sure if this is an Okinawan thing, or a general Japanese thing, but the fun rarely ends with the end of the original meeting. Often there are nijikai (second party) and for you crazy kids sanjikai (third party). These are often much more fun and rowdier than the first party as everyone is already drunk and ready for a good time. Supposedly once the group ends up at a karaoke place that is the sign that the after parties are over.

Fun’s over when you get to karaoke, kids.

Kampai!