graffiti living

2011 in review – No-one Gives a Shit About Your Blog

graffitiliving — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 00:35:35 +0000

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,700 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 4 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Filed under: graffiti living

All Writers Are Gaijin

graffitiliving — Mon, 30 May 2011 10:11:41 +0000

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a gaijin. Gangster, I meant GANGSTER. But, you see, I’m gaijin. I’ve always been gaijin. And I think it’s about time that all writers claimed the word gaijin as their own.

Gaijin is a Japanese word that literally means ‘outside person’. According to my Japanese tutor, Gaijin is the polite and proper way to refer to a foreigner. In truth, the polite way is gaikokujin, which has the connotations of ‘welcome guest’ or ‘welcome foreigner’ – literally ‘polite form’ ‘outside person’. And according to my Japanese speaking friends, Gaijin is often used as a racist slur against non-Japanese and has many negative connotations. Don’t believe me? Call a Japanese person gaijin, and see how they react.

In Japan, being labeled as gaijin puts you in your place – it reminds you that you’re an outsider and confers lower status; which is very important in a class based society such as Japan. Don’t get me wrong – most of the people who I met in Japan were lovely, and some were incredibly kind to me; but gaijin was always used as an insult or a stick to beat you with. I got so sick of it that when someone was rude to me in Japanese, I’d smile at them, and in my politest tone of voice speak to them in Welsh or swear at them in Greek. *looks innocent*

I traveled alone round Japan for a month – so far outside of my comfort zone that I started to become comfortable with being uncomfortable, and with looking like a complete idiot in front of strangers. I lived on udon noodles, sashimi, and custard donuts; got lost enough to ask for directions on average once every five seconds; and learnt the rudiments of Japanese grammar from repeatedly getting off the Tokyo Metro at the wrong stop.

I was lost in Tokyo, homeless in Kyoto, and set on fire at the Kurama Fire Festival. I had a blast in Hiroshima (no pun intended, tragic history notwithstanding, it’s still my favourite city) and visited Nagasaki, Nikko, and Osaka. I fed Deer biscuits in Nara and a Deer ate my map in Miyajima. I stayed overnight in a Buddhist Temple on Mount Koya in Koyasan (like Butlins, but holy) and joined in their morning prayers. And every day I tried to find a book by Haruki Murakami as a gift for a friend. In bookshop after bookshop, I baffled and beleaguered the staff. My Japanese was so bad, I thought I’d asked if they’d anything in stock by him, but what I actually said was, “Does Haruki Murakami live here?”

For the rest of my trip I willfully embraced my gaijin status, almost as a badge of honour. And in being outside I found myself; I found my place in the world – or at least how to express where I felt I’d always been, which was useful in its own right. I used my truly terrible Japanese speaking ability at every opportunity and learnt more about Japanese language, people, and culture, than I had in years of head scratching back in the UK.

“Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things—air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky—all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.” —Cesare Pavese

Wandering round lost in Japan, it occurred to me that not only would I always be gaijin, but that I’d been an outside person my whole life. Nothing had changed. And if anything, being gaijin confers a useful status, especially for a writer. Outsiders aren’t bound by the same conventions. People may appreciate that you try to speak Japanese and follow proper etiquette (that last point even more so, as they were often amazed that I knew how to behave!), but there are many things you’d never do as a foreigner that Japanese nationals must get in line with. This is no different from many other countries, of course; it just set me thinking about the comparative benefits of outsider status.

Being in a country where you can’t speak the language creates its own natural barriers – not just to entry, but as a barricade against the constant barrage of a media and advertising saturated world. Everything retreats to static and pink noise, because you don’t understand it. You’re continually driven back into yourself, in a wordless silence, surrounded by all this noise that you don’t understand. And in a strange way, it makes your inner voice louder.

I heard tons of writing that wanted to get written. Words poured out of me, but stories got stuck and made me sick if I didn’t write them down; like a fever that you’re supposed to sweat out of you. And in a way it feels like I’ve played against that unwritten backlog all my life. Like I didn’t sweat hard enough to get all the words out, and that’s why I’m so fat now. Well, that and eating cheesecake!

“I think it’s what songs are. Songs have heat and electricity, and they’re real. If you get a song stuck inside you, hallucinate the pictures of that song and that heat and electricity is in your body. If you can’t get a song out, then you get sick. Just the way there are sadness chemicals in tears, there a song chemicals in songs. If you don’t know how to let it out, it makes you seem like a crazy person. Now that the songs are very pure, I don’t hallucinate and I don’t have a fever.” – Kristin Hersh

The word gaijin could be appropriated by writers. It’s often mistranslated as ‘foreign devil’ because in some languages Jinn means demon or malign spirit; so ‘gai-jin’ also carries vague connotations of being a strange, demonic, malignant outsider. Perfect for writers. Writers are gaijin, irrespective of country, religion, gender, or sexuality. Each world has its own rules. Even gangsters have rules to live by, but they’re still a breed apart. Writers are outside people. If you’re not an outsider culturally, you’re a breed apart insofar as you write at all. Neither better nor degenerate; just different. Writing is open to everyone, but it’s a somewhat unusual monkey that takes it up full-time. Writing as a daily practice might seem contrary to normal living, but it’s as essential as breathing for those who do.

All writers are gaijin. It felt like that when I was in Japan, and I still believe it now – I just never articulated it as well as I’d like. Upon my return to England, I discovered scores of writers who’d done a better job, such as David Mitchell in a brilliant essay on the relationship between Japan and his writing. So when I saw the chance to send questions for a Librarything Author Interview with him, I jumped at the chance. My question was among those selected, and he was gracious enough to respond in depth:

From member graffiti.living: As a writer who has lived and worked in Japan at different times in your life, please could you talk a little more about your experiences in Japan and the impact that this has had on your writing?

Trickier to discuss this subject ‘a little’, graffiti.living, than it would be to discuss it for hours. Living in Japan interiorises one, because it is an interiorising culture—if every Japanese citizen expressed his or her own individuality in queues, in shops, on roads, in the family etc to the same degree American citizens do, the place would ignite and explode—imagine 120 million people cooped up on an area of buildable-upon land about the size of, I dunno, Florida?

Writing, too, is an interiorised and interiorizing activity: you live with thoughts, and characters formed, like clay models, from bundles of thoughts, for months or years of your life.

So just living in Japan during my 20s, when the writer who I am was forming, was probably a useful form of isolation. The place itself filled a mental warehouse of raw material, including Dejima, which I’ll probably draw from, to a greater or a lesser extent, for the rest of my life. Finally there are the writers as a result of being in Japan: Haruki Murakami, Tanizaki, Soseki, Mishima when he isn’t being a homoerotic misogynist, Endo—good writers all. Japanese pop culture has kicked up some gifted fantasists, too—Taiichi Yamada (track down a book called Strangers if you’re curious—I think you’ll like it), Akutagawa, the director Hayao Miyazaki. Japan gets under the skin of the young, and it never quite comes out.

To write is to live your life at one remove. You watch life being lived by others, instead of living it yourself. You’re too busy scribbling words in another room. You retreat from the world and in a strange way that means you’re more engaged with how the world really is. That’s the real sleight of hand, right there. A dragon vein breathes blood beneath the earth. It wants you to write, and it wants you to work on its behalf. You’re lucky if you enter into this pact, but you’ll still turn to dust like all the rest. So tap the dragon vein whilst you can – it runs beneath the earth in order to steer your dreams.

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: japan, just write, life, magick, postaweek2011, Travel, writing

The Post-It Notes of a Non-Writing Writer

graffitiliving — Sun, 15 May 2011 22:23:54 +0000

“Writing sustains me. But wouldn’t it be more accurate to say that it sustains this kind of life? Which does not, of course, mean that my life is any better when I don’t write. On the contrary, at such times it is far worse, wholly unbearable, and inevitably ends in madness. This is, of course, only on the assumption that I am a writer even when I don’t write – which is indeed the case; and a non-writing writer is, in fact, a monster courting insanity.”
–Franz Kafka, to Max Brod, July 5, 1922

I’ve no idea how these fragments are all connected – but they are.

The world is not a cat toy for you to play with. The internet is wonderful, but it’s a glitterball of distraction. And you know how much you like shiny things.

You miss your friends, but you need to carve time and space to write. You’re still trying to distinguish in your life between fake connectedness and real connection, both on and offline.

You’re sick of fair-weather friends, but just when you dismiss everyone as being that, a surprising handful of people come through for you in ways that you can’t even begin to express or reciprocate. Although you’re more than willing to give it a go!

It’s disingenuous when writers discourage other people from writing, no matter how badly. Just as it’s maddening when celebrities throw a strop on social media sites because they aren’t met with universal love and approval. Besides, their tweets ARE boring.

You accept that no-one reads your blog and decide that it’s time to pull the plug. Then you’re shocked to receive lovely comments and enjoy interesting discussions with people you’ve never met and probably never will meet. Conversations about stuff that you care about, and that wouldn’t have been possible in any other medium. And you’re awestruck by that – it means so much more to you than celebrities having hissy fits on the internet.

At the end of the day, it isn’t about any of this at all. It’s just you whingeing because you want to write but feel like life will eat away at you on all sides until there’s nothing left. Writing is like banging a head full of words against a brick wall made from fear, lack of talent, and blank pages. But if you write in Helvetica Bold, you can do no wrong.

It all comes back to the typewriting monkey. You love the public domain picture that you stumbled across of a typewriting monkey. It’s about writing. It imitates Japanese brush art. And it’s a monkey. So, whaddya think you’d do but love it?!

‘Do Not Disturb – I’m Disturbed Already’ smacks of a million t-shirt designs, but when you place that text alongside the picture, it suggests that a typewriting monkey is a deranged animal. Which is exactly what writers are: deranged monkeys that just want to be left alone, so that we can get our work done.

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

If I Wasn’t a Fraud or Afraid

graffitiliving — Sun, 08 May 2011 22:23:57 +0000

If I wasn’t a fraud or afraid…

I’d write well every day.

I’d finish that bloody novel.

I’d finish any writing at all.

I’d have the courage to live and pursue my dreams.

I’d see failure as a necessary part of success, not a permanent condition.

I’d be a better person.

I’d be kinder, happier, and more forgiving.

I’d be generous with my time and my affection.

I wouldn’t be such a fucking coward.

I wouldn’t be scared shitless of public speaking.

I’d know what to say.

I’d have the courage to speak out.

I’d have the courage to speak to you. Speak to her. Speak to anyone.

I’d lead by example, and be worthy of being followed.

I’d be out there on the frontline living my dreams.

I’d do the things that I encourage others to do.

I’d wipe the slate clean and start again, any number of times. As long as it takes to get it right.

There’d be gold in them woods.

I’d gladly trade a long life for a life well lived.

I’d love unconditionally without holding back for fear of getting hurt

I wouldn’t try to ‘get you before you get me.’

I’d speak the truth all the time.

I’d tell you that your bum DOES ‘look big in this’.

I’d be an activist in body and in deed.

I’d speak out about the government.

I’d be an outspoken human rights activist, and not just a member of Amnesty International.

I’d pay all my taxes towards schools, hospitals, and public services.

I’d refuse to pay taxes towards nuclear proliferation, raping the earth, or blowing the shit out of third world countries.

I’d beat politicians at their own game.

I’d beat politicians. Full stop.

I’d try harder.

I’d ‘man up’ and ‘grow a pair’.

I’d “bring the normals to their knees.”

I’d be “someone else; someone good.”

I’d stop quoting other people and speak my own thoughts in my own language.

I’d live or die – but either way just shut up and get on with it.

I wouldn’t cry so much or feel so ashamed.

I wouldn’t despise myself.

I wouldn’t wince when shown any sign of love.

I’d undress with the lights on and sleep with the light off.

I’d be able to sleep at night and look at myself in the mirror in the morning.

Clowns wouldn’t eat me in my sleep.

I’d be much less concerned with what you think about me.

I’d be easier to live with, and able to live with myself.

I’d be happy in my own skin.

I wouldn’t take out on you what I’m really taking out on myself.

I wouldn’t make rhetorical statements or ask rhetorical questions. Would I?

I’d still have more questions than answers; but at least they’d be interesting questions.

I’d cook meals for my friends.

I’d actually have friends.

I’d be proud of my achievements.

I wouldn’t seek approval from an indifferent world.

I’d tell my boss to shove it and move on to better things.

I’d quit my job and move to Japan.

I’d give my whole heart to Japan.

I’d be unflinching in my honesty and my love.

I’d be a more faithful lover and a more loving friend.

I’d spend less time dicking around on the internet.

I’d stop shouting at people on the internet.

I wouldn’t be such a dick. All of the time. On the internet.

I’d brush my teeth twice a day.

I’d always wear matching socks.

I’d have already finished what I haven’t begun.

Death wouldn’t be tapping his watch and laughing at me.

I’d probably live in Japan.

I’d probably make my living as a writer.

I’d probably speak publicly on a semi-professional basis.

I’d probably teach creative writing.

I’d still want the moon on a stick.

I’d still have 101 things on my to do list.

It wouldn’t matter so much in the end.

You wouldn’t be reading this.

Please leave your own list in the comments. And get off of my lawn!

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

Chloe Caldwell on Where She Writes Every Day and Why Her Room is So Messy

graffitiliving — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 19:19:13 +0000

Read this and shut up about not having time to write. It inspired me to write AND to tidy my room.

That night my brother put his typewriter on the radiator cover that we used as a shelf-like table in the bathroom. I didn’t know it was a radiator cover when I brought it in from the street corner and painted it yellow. He sat the typewriter at the edge, to face the toilet, and in black Sharpie, he neatly wrote: “Please Continue The Story.”

via Chloe Caldwell – WHERE I WRITE #5: Please Continue The Story – The Rumpus.net.

The real message is to keep going no matter what; even if it means letting everything else slide. You’re allowed to live in squalor and filth – so long as you WRITE!

Filed under: links Tagged: postaweek2011

Photos of Japan – graffiti living

graffitiliving — Sun, 17 Apr 2011 23:44:12 +0000

These are some of my pictures of Japan, as featured in a recent photo essay on generationwhynot which was a lot of fun to do. I took hundreds of them when I was in Japan a few years back, with a camera that I’d procured the night before. I didn’t steal it, so much as borrow it at gunpoint. Then I taught myself how to use it on the plane, and I’ve been breaking the rules of composition ever since. Thanks again to Becky for having me on her blog. And don’t worry, I gave the camera back and have since bought one of my own!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Filed under: photography Tagged: postaweek2011

Monkey Think, Monkey Do

graffitiliving — Mon, 11 Apr 2011 10:11:22 +0000

In Japan abandoned blogs are called ishikoro – pebbles. I think you see where I’m going with this.

Nothing Says ‘I Love You’ Like a Typewriting Monkey

Here’s something fun that I made. It’s a ‘do not disturb the typewriting monkey’ sign for your door, to let people know that you’re hard at work on your novel.
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Letter To God – c/o Anne Lamott, re: Japan (RSVP)

So, I wrote a letter to god. Which is perhaps unusual, for an atheist with writer’s block. But, I got the idea from a wonderful article called ‘God’s In-Box‘ by Anne Lamott, who I love, and it turned out to be excellent advice. Here is the letter for your amusement and edification.
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Death Cult for Fallen Angels

I’ve contemplated suicide every day of my life, since the age of eleven. My ability to procrastinate knows no bounds. Eleven is when I first said out loud that I hated myself, that I shouldn’t have been born, and that I wanted to die. But to say that you want to die isn’t really accurate – you want to live, and you want for your life to have meaning; it’s just that you strongly suspect that it’s never going to happen.
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No-One Gives a Shit About Your Blog

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

Real Life (It’s All True, Including the Bits That I Made Up)

graffitiliving — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 23:00:11 +0000

In the train station a young pretty foreign girl said to me, “Do you have pain? Pain. No, PAIN… That you write with.” (She wanted a pen). Life is full of these moments, but they don’t add up to a life. You have to try and figure out where you are at the moment – in the moment, moment to moment, for all moments. This is harder than it sounds.

Save the Hedgehog of Democracy!

On Sunday night the fascist British National Party (BNP) got in – the next morning I rescued a hedgehog as it cowered at my door. Coincidence? I think not. We need to save the hedgehog of Democracy!
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Elves on a Train

On the train there was an attractive young woman that looked like an elf; she was so pretty and mysterious that if she’d confessed to being an elven princess, I wouldn’t have been surprised. She kept smiling at me. I couldn’t figure out why she was smiling – was she thinking that I too looked like an elf, or just amused by the sight of some nutter with a bow and arrow and cat sick in his hair?
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Chaplaincy Bet

A friend told me a story once that they swore to me was true. My friend is a great storyteller, so although I never believed them, I always loved the story.
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Let Them Eat Fish!

I tried to convince a vegetarian friend that it was ok to eat fish, because “fish don’t count”. Apparently, that’s Pescetarianism, or ‘being a cat’, as I like to call it.
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Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

Writer’s Notebook: Read Once and Destroy!

graffitiliving — Tue, 29 Mar 2011 10:11:28 +0000

Typing up old notebooks is a bit like injecting heroin into your eyeball – addictive, painful, and not very good for your eyes. Fun though!

Please Don’t Read This

They say you should face your fears. One of my biggest fears is that someone will read my notebooks and realise that I’m mad, that I can’t write, and that even when I do write, my first drafts are so terrible that I should be shot in the name of literature. So, here it is. Several pages of my notebook. Uncut. The only thing I’ve corrected is the spelling.
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My Gratitude List

I’ve been keeping a gratitude list of little things I’m grateful for every day. If it gets much bigger I’m going to have to change my name to Rainbow Brite. In a fit of madness, I decided to post some of it here. It’s a bit random, but it’s a great way to track those tiny moments that you otherwise wouldn’t catch, and it’s definitely a practice I’d recommend. Just put the words “Today I’m Grateful For…” at the top and start from there. Anyway, you get the idea.
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Thoth Tarot

One of the blessings and curses of attempting to post something every day for a month, is that it forces you to lower your standards, at the same time as you lower your guard. As a result, you’re more likely to post things unedited or ad-hoc, and people are more likely to get a glimpse of things that they wouldn’t normally see. So, in the spirit of a child who takes a dump on the floor and then says, “Look what I just did!”, here are some more notes from my notebook.
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Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise

When does wisdom appear to be stupidity? When your inability to grasp certain things is actually ‘correct’ or smarter and wiser than if you did. When you are wise enough to know when to appear stupid. When you refuse to deal with duality and questions from duality on their own terms. In other words – when you are a Taoist!
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Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

Notes from the Trenches

graffitiliving — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 11:11:07 +0000

I try not to whinge too much on this blog, but if you ever see a post prefaced with the title ‘Notes from the Trenches’, when I’m a writer, not a soldier, and the only war being fought is against my own inertia; then that’s your clue that it’s just a little rant about writing and not necessarily fit for human consumption. You have been warned.

Nano Why Mo?!

Yesterday, I joked that if I wrote what was on my mind I’d probably get sectioned. Today, I’m going to do just that, and prove myself wrong. Run for the hills; unless you actually WANT to read me being snotty and snarky, off the cuff and off the top of my head. In which case, pull up a chair.
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Unfriendified Flying Pig Poo

A successful published writer, whose work I adore, made an off-handed remark about nanowrimo on a social media site. Out of respect for the writer, let’s refer to them as ‘a writer’, and in deference to the IT Crowd, let’s call the social media site FriendFace. And in the interest of upsetting lawyers by avoiding lawsuits, lets say that this incident was ‘inspired by real events’ and therefore never happened.
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Don’t Break the Chain

Right now, I’m writing. And there’s three things that have kept me going so far that I want to give thanks for: supportive comments, a writer’s trick called ‘don’t break the chain’, and sheer bloody-mindedness.
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Ask Me Anything

A friend once admonished that graffiti living “sounds like a lifestyle magazine for graffiti artists.” Which it is, in a way – if you think deluded scribblings are a kind of graffiti. So, I’m open to suggestions. What does graffiti living mean to you? What would you like to see on this blog? Do you even want to see another blog about writing or a writer’s life at all?
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Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

Here’s Some of My Published Fiction (Don’t Laugh, I Know it’s Shit!)

graffitiliving — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 09:30:11 +0000

Anything that you turn into art, you have the right to destroy. Or, you know, you could always post it on your blog.

American Policeman

They’re watching me in black and white. Not the pregnant teen looking for a place to sit, or the young boy hunched over in front of the second hand bookshop. That place is known for trouble. Of all the people they could watch, the camera has singled me out. I’m not supposed to smoke here.
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Chicken and the Road

I woke when my head hit the glass. Not the persistent rattle like before – head lolled against the window, full weight pressed against the edge of my right ear – but hard enough to bruise. I’d had my head pressed against it so long that all I could feel was the throbbing of the glass against my ear as the coach moved down the motorway, against my ear like a conch shell but I didn’t hear the ocean. All I could hear was the road – different speeds produced their own vibration. I’d sleep and it was always the same dream of the road, dreams of where you are now, not where you are going. I’d jump back awake at sudden turns in the road.
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Dogged

First I recognise the door. There is no difference between this door and any of the others set into the dull grey stone building. As high as I can see, none of the floors have any windows. The stone is far older than I remember it being from the night before. There is a bronze plaque on the door, but its engraving has been rubbed out. I can’t recall if I’ve ever read the sign, or know what it means. Now it’s a mute symbol, as closed as the door I must go through.
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Edge

Words press into me as a description of the candle-lit room. Floorboards stripped back to old wood, with a mattress written into one corner. A carving knife sits on the table near the door, with its serrated edge against the wood’s throat. Condensation breathes against bare glass with no curtains to hide behind. The panes of the large bay window are unreadable mirror pages, black with heavily repeated text. To the right, a smaller leaded window is barred like a prison cell. Candles burn on many levels. Flames writhe in spastic silver shadows on the damp walls.
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Random Green Man

Dreadlocks hid Jake’s face from dirty looks as he pushed his way to the front of the cinema queue. There was a young girl in an expensive coat just in front of him. He got hold of her arm and turned her around.
‘What on earth are you wearing?’ she said.
‘This is my special top’ he grinned. ‘I’ve had it for years, every time I wear it something weird happens.’
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Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

Dream Narratives

graffitiliving — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 11:11:27 +0000

Write down your dreams and use them in your work. Try to write them out as stories rather than just leave them as diary extracts. Dreams are useful and instructive. Be that as a source of ideas and inspiration, dream imagery and weird characters, or outright as full-blown dream narratives and published short stories. They’re also free word count. Nobody can shout at you for plagiarising the contents of your own head.

Black Mirror

The woman is stood at the mirror. She is naked again, and dressed in scars. She has a jagged scar across her belly. Even the blind refuse to look at her. That’s what all the townsfolk say about her. But she likes to stand in front of the mirror, the black mirror thick with dirt. And also thick with something else, so much so that the glass has started to lose its effectiveness as mirror.
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And Now a Word From Our Sponsors

I went to sleep full of questions about writing and Japan. In my dreams a documentary voice over narrated the answers to some of my questions. When I woke up I wrote down what little I could remember without the aid of tea. I am incapable of speaking to anyone until I’ve had a cup of tea, so I’m amused that I wrote anything at all.
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Cold White Room

I’d started to smother myself with the pillow; so much so that in my dreams I dreamed of arguments and nightmares until I woke up and burst into tears. That’s what I needed to breathe. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I’d upset myself so that I could wake up. I’d upset myself so that I’d get out of the cold room and start breathing.
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Nothing Else Matters

I’m sat drinking Yerba Mate – my favourite ‘healthy’ tea, that I love to drink when I write – which I’ve just discovered according to some studies is equivalent to smoking a pack of cigarettes a day. This makes me laugh, as I don’t smoke; but I’m still drinking and I’m still writing, as I’ve had a dream that I want to share with you. And nothing else matters.
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Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

Write to Live, Live to Write

graffitiliving — Mon, 28 Feb 2011 23:00:49 +0000

There are two main elements of graffiti living – ‘write to live’ (which is whatever your personal ideal is for writing, be that earning a living, self-expression, or just your way of being in the world), and ‘live to write’ (which is how you get there). If you want to write to live, you have to live to write. That’s what graffiti living is all about.

Graffiti Living

graffiti living is an approach to writing. It encompasses a lot of different writing techniques and exercises, but in general it’s about enabling your creativity, learning to trust your own process, and writing like a lunatic.
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Digital Zuihitsu

Zuihitsu is an ancient form of Japanese writing. I was struck by its immediate and startling similarity to blogging. As well as to the mad shit that I seem to write by default on a daily basis, but have been afraid to let people read.
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Why Do You Write?

When asked what I write, I usually grunt and say, “WORDS.” When asked why I write, the most honest answer would be, “I don’t know, and even if I could afford a psychiatrist, I’m not sure that I’d want to find out.”
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Life is a Game

The only way to win is to play to the end, and try to make it the type of game that you most enjoy. Just don’t quit. If you want to beat the game of life, you have to play it to death.
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Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

Welcome to Write Club

graffitiliving — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 23:00:17 +0000

Welcome to Write Club. The first rule of Write Club is: you do not talk about Write Club. The second rule of Write Club is: you DO NOT talk about Write Club! Third rule of Write Club: if someone yells “stop!”, goes limp, or types out, the write is over. Fourth rule: only two pens to a write. Fifth rule: one write at a time, fellas. Sixth rule: the writes are bare knuckle. No shit, no adverbs, no cliches. Seventh rule: writes will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first time at Write Club, you have to WRITE!

Nanowrimo Boot Camp

Nanowrimo is great fun. There’s a successful method that I tend to use that I’ve refined over the years, but it isn’t for the squeamish. Here are some quick tips and dirty tricks to help get you through the month.
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Find Your Spark

It has roots in myth and magick. From shamans walking between worlds and stealing fire from the gods, to writers hunched over their typewriters at four in the morning.
Read the rest of this entry »

How to Sit With Your Novel

Time passes. It is going to pass no matter what you do. So, you may as well spend it in the company of your novel. Take time out of your busy schedule to sit with your novel.
Read the rest of this entry »

Get into the Groove

Figure out how to play scratched vinyl, and not only will your ears love you, but you have a useful working metaphor for how to find your own groove when writing.
Read the rest of this entry »

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

Dirty Tricks for Writers

graffitiliving — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 23:00:54 +0000

Do whatever you need to do to get your writing done. Don’t let your muse decide your day. Sitting in your underwear isn’t a job unless you’re good looking or have a crack habit.

Evil Pixies and How to Beat Them

Imagine that your head is a room filled with ornate treasure chests, and inside of these chests are all the novels and stories that you are ever going to write. It is the Evil Pixie’s job to guard the chests and stop you from looking inside.
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Bibliomancy

Did you know that books can talk and that you can train your favourite book to answer questions? This is a little magic trick known as Bibliomancy that wizards have been using for years.
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Story Bowls

No matter how much water you try to hold, most of it will slip through your fingers, unless your hands maintain a good shape. That’s how it is with stories; the quality of your story determines how much of the world it can hold.
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Reading Habits

What do your reading habits say about what you should be writing? Just for fun, I decided to use the mysterious powers of the internet to find out. If you love reading it, you’re much more likely to have fun writing it.
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Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

Graffiti Living Archives R.I.P (2009 to 2010)

graffitiliving — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 19:07:41 +0000

If there’s one thing I hate about blogging, then there’s probably a bunch of other things too. My main bugbear is the continual need for new content. Blogs are hungry beasts. Much of what gets written is ephemeral and has a short shelf, no matter how much time you spent on it. With that in mind, I planned a series of ‘best of graffiti living’ posts with curated links to evergreen content from the archives on particular themes. Then I read my blog and realised that most of it was shit.

Luckily, I have no shame. Here is a complete easy to read overview of the blog’s archives, warts and all. Read it, before I change my mind. The content’s ordered by theme / type of post with back links to each post. If you like specific posts, please comment on them. If you’d love to read more of a particular type of post, or there’s anything else you want to see, please comment here. Honest feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome. So, please let me know what you think.

Dirty Tricks for Writers (Creative Writing Lessons, Tips, and Tricks)

• Nanowrimo Boot Camp – a quick and dirty guide to surviving national novel writing month for lazy writers.
• Bibliomancy
• Story Bowls
• What do your reading habits say about what you should be writing?
• ‘Don’t just do something, sit there!’ – how to sit with your novel
• Evil Pixies and How to Beat Them
• Sparky: writers, shamans, creativity and magick (a creative visualisation)
• Pictures of Scratched Vinyl – How to Find Your Writing Groove

Graffiti Living (Write to Live, Live to Write)

• graffiti living: write to live, live to write
• Chapter 23 – 7 Links for Writers #7links #nablopomo #nanowrimo
• Nothing Says ‘I Love You’ Like a Typewriting Monkey
• Digital Zuihitsu – Blogging and Ranting in the Information Age
• Show the World its Own Dreams
• Life is a Game – Press Button and Insert Coins
• What are you going to do about it NOW?
• Bedways is Rightways NOW
• And NOW a Word From Our Sponsors

Real Life (It’s All True, Including the Bits That I Made Up)

• Letter To God – c/o Anne Lamott, re: Japan (RSVP)
• Death Cult for Fallen Angels
• Save the Hedgehog of Democracy!
• Chaplaincy Bet
• 38 Minutes Delayed by a Fatality
• Thoth Tarot
• Pescetarianism – Let Them Eat Fish!
• Healthy, wealthy, and wise
• My Gratitude List

Notes from the Trenches (Stop Writing in the Gutter, People are Trying to Get Past!)

• Notes from the Trenches – Nano Why Mo?!
• Notes from the Trenches – Unfriendified Flying Pig Poo
• Notes from the Trenches – Don’t Break the Chain
• Notes from the Trenches – Ask Me Anything
• What’s Your Word Count?

Photos of Japan (Have Camera, Will Travel)

• Photos of Japan – Shinjuku
• Photos of Japan – Senso-Ji
• Photos of Japan – Kamakura
• Photos of Japan – Shinkansen
• Photos of Japan – Hiroshima
• Photos of Japan – Nara
• Photos of Japan – Tokyo City Life

Postcards from Japan (Messages to Friends Whilst in Japan)

• Postcards From Japan – Part 1
• Postcards from Japan – Part 2
• Postcards from Japan – Part 3
• Postcards from Japan – Part 4

Some of My Fiction (Don’t Laugh, I Know it’s Shit!)

• American Policeman
• Chicken and the Road (First Draft)
• Dogged
• Random Green Man
• Edge
• Please Don’t Read This – Pages from my Notebook

Dreams (Write Down Your Dreams and Use Them in Your Work)

• Cold White Room
• Dream Narrative – Black Mirror
• Nothing Else Matters

Wordless Weekends (For When You Can’t Be Arsed Reading)

• Wordless Weekend – Information R/evolution
• Wordless Weekend – John Cleese on Creativity #nablopomo
• Wordless Weekend – Clutch – Big News I
• Wordless Weekend – Plants vs Zombies Music Video
• Wordless Weekend – Elizabeth Gilbert (TED Talks)
• Wordless Weekend – Nanowrimo Songs
• Wordless Weekend – Guillermo del Toro
• Wordless Weekend – Anne Lamott

Reviews (If in Doubt, Be Belligerent)

• Librarything Book Review: Apple: Based on the Herman Rosenblat Holocaust Love Story by Penelope Holt
• Librarything Book Review: The Five-Minute Miracle: Discover the Personal Healing Symbols That Will Solve All Your Problems by Tara Springett
• Librarything Book Review: Sugarcoated by Catherine Forde
• Even Thieves are Welcome at the Olive Cafe. #thatlondon

Twitter Quotes (Note: Sarcasm)

• Stupid Library Questions
• Twitter Quotes – Warning: May Contain Traces of Sarcasm
• Twitter Quotes – Welcome to Sarcasm, Please Enjoy Your Stay
• Twitter Quotes – Once Upon a Time in the North
• Twitter Quotes – Tweeted Quotes, Nanowrimo Silliness, and Writing Advice
• Shakespeare Star Wars

Nablopomo Writing Prompts (If You Want Serious Answers, Then Don’t Ask Stupid Questions)

• Nablopomo Writing Prompts – Week One
• Nablopomo Writing Prompts – Week Two – No, REALLY
• Nablopomo Writing Prompts – Week 3
• Nablopomo Writing Prompts – Week 4 #nablopomo
• Nablopomo Writing Prompts – The Story So Far
• More Nablopomo Writing Prompts
• Happy Birthday – Birthday Cat is Not Amused

The End (No, Seriously)

• The Journey – Mary Oliver
• ishikoro

Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-… That’s all, folks!

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: activism, alphasmart, alphasync, art, Blog, blogging, Books, Comedy, creative visualisation, Culture, Documentation, dreams, dropbox, Education, evil pixies, exercise, game, God, gratitude list, hack, Human Rights, inner editor, Inspiration, japan, last.fm, letter, life, links, Literature, magick, mash up, meditation, monkey, music, nanowrimo, News, notebook, novel, oblique strategies, Personal, photography, Photos, poetry, Politics, postaweek2011, Ramblings, Random, Random Thoughts, Rants, reality, red pen, Reviews, Stories, story, tag cloud, taoism, tarot, tea, teaching, Thoughts, Travel, twitter, typing, wordcount, writing

Even Robots Need Love

graffitiliving — Sun, 06 Feb 2011 23:59:36 +0000

Robots are stealing my blog content. Kinda. I’m so angry about it that I was ready to delete my blog. Instead I decided to write a revenge post called, ‘STOP STEALING MY CONTENT, YOU CUNTS!’ that will appear in their feeds. But, I’ve got less than fifteen minutes left to post something this week. And I’m neither alive enough nor drunk enough to do that post justice. So, instead, I’m going to reblog myself and answer a question from a previous post about why ‘City That Does Not Sleep’ by Lorca is my favourite poem. So, here’s the poem. Because robots need love too.

City That Does Not Sleep – Lorca

In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the
street corner
the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the
stars.

Nobody is asleep on earth. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
In a graveyard far off there is a corpse
who has moaned for three years
because of a dry countryside on his knee;
and that boy they buried this morning cried so much
it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.

Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful!
We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth
or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead
dahlias.
But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.

One day
the horses will live in the saloons
and the enraged ants
will throw themselves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the
eyes of cows.

Another day
we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead
and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats
we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue.
Careful!Be careful!Be careful!
The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm,
and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention
of the bridge,
or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe,
we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes
are waiting,
where the bear’s teeth are waiting,
where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting,
and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder.

Nobody is sleeping in the sky. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is sleeping.
If someone does close his eyes,
a whip, boys, a whip!
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and bitter wounds on fire.
No one is sleeping in this world.No one, no one.
I have said it before.

No one is sleeping.
But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the
night,
open the stage trapdoors so he can see in the moonlight
the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the theaters.

Clearly, this is an amazing poem. And if that’s not already apparent to you; you’re dead to me. Or a robot. But, the thing is – I’ve an embarrassing confession to make about how I got into Lorca.

I met a pretty young greek girl, back in the days when I was a pretty young blond boy. We were out drinking and clubbing, but she was also reading a battered copy of Lorca’s collected poems. He was her favourite poet. “I love him. Do you know him?” she said. I lied and said that I loved his work too. I’d never read a line of his before.

We got along quite well after that. I quickly thumbed through the book when she went to the toilet. I opened a page at random and that was the poem that I first read. It was like seeing the contents of my dreams writ large by someone else, only a hundred times better, with infinite style and creativity. It blew my mind. So much so that, the morning after, I went out and hunted down everything of his that I could lay my hands on. I admit that I got into Lorca in an attempt to get laid. It didn’t work, afterall. But, although she’ll never know, I’m forever grateful to this girl for putting me onto his work.

When life brings you poems – pay attention. You may get into something good, even if you don’t get into a Greek girl’s pants.

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: poetry, postaweek2011

No-One Gives a Shit About Your Blog

graffitiliving — Sun, 30 Jan 2011 22:07:32 +0000

No-one gives a shit about your blog. It’s official. There was a meeting. Didn’t you get the memo? Nobody cares what you think. It’s no longer a secret. No-one has to fake an interest in your problems, read your posts, click your affiliate links, look at ‘cute’ pictures of your cats, or listen to what you have to say. Life is short. People are busy. Leave them alone.

Oh, we know you’ve had your suspicions. But now, the cat is out of the bag and talking to the press. The world has had enough of you. Your friends are in on it too. They even paid someone to spell it out to you in words that you’d understand. And, because you’re so pretentious, they insisted that he write it as a poem:

We Who Are Your Closest Friends

We who are
your closest friends
feel the time
has come to tell you
that every Thursday
we have been meeting,
as a group,
to devise ways
to keep you
in perpetual uncertainty
frustration
discontent and
torture
by neither loving you
as much as you want
nor cutting you adrift.
Your analyst is
in on it,
plus your boyfriend
and your ex-husband;
and we have pledged
to disappoint you
as long as you need us.
In announcing our
association
we realize we have
placed in your hands
a possible antidote
against uncertainty
indeed against ourselves.
But since our Thursday nights
have brought us
to a community
of purpose
rare in itself
with you as
the natural center,
we feel hopeful you
will continue to make unreasonable
demands for affection
if not as a consequence
of your disastrous personality
then for the good of the collective.

— Phillip Lopate

Don’t worry what people think about you. Most of the time – they don’t. The world doesn’t give a shit about your opinions, but that doesn’t stop you from having them. And when I say you, I also mean me. The world is full of opinionated assholes. Discuss.

Writers are miserable when not writing. Writers are also miserable when writing, but at least that’s more productive. Writers write, right? And when it comes to blogging, there’s a very thin line between self-expression and self-indulgence which you’ll probably cross on a regular basis. It doesn’t matter. Just write. Stop looking for hugs.

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: just write, postaweek2011

What are Your Writing Obsessions?

graffitiliving — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 23:42:15 +0000

I was going restart the blog with a bang. But, I’m tired, and I want to get drunk. So… bite me. Besides, a friendly netizen recently got me thinking with an interesting post about honesty, so I’ve decided to let you in on a few secrets about what secretly gets me off. I’ve written before about what your reading habits say about what you should be writing. Just like how you kiss your partner tells them a lot about how you’d like to be kissed, we tend to read stuff that we secretly wish we could have done ourselves. And whatever you’re obsessed by, you should probably write. When impressed – you need to express.

So, for what it’s worth; here are some quick notes on my writing obsessions. With a little help from my friends.

“I think all theories are suspect, that the finest principles may have to be modified, or may even be pulverized by the demands of life, and that one must find, therefore, one’s own moral center and move through the world hoping that this center will guide one aright. I consider that I have many responsibilities, but none greater than this: to last, as Hemingway says, and get my work done. I want to be an honest man and a good writer.” – James Baldwin

I’m obsessed by:

“the universe is made of stories, not atoms” – Muriel Rukeyser

Hidden Knowledge – occult, magickal, societal, political, angelology, demonology, Zoroastrianism. The word occult literally means ‘hidden’. I also read way too much Noam Chomsky!

Stories – mythology, fairytale, dreams, memetics, metafiction, language as a virus, reality as fiction and vice versa

“smash the control images, smash the control machine”- WS Burroughs

The Tyranny of Artifice – money, time, and morality are artificial constructs. Structures of authority, tyranny, orthodoxy, and control.

Rebel Inc – how ‘counter-culture’ becomes ‘over-the-counter culture’.

“nothing is true, everything is permitted”- Hassan I Sabbah

Fuzzy Logic – as opposed to binary logic. There are no absolutes. Gender is fluid, sexuality is fluid, binary opposites such as good and evil cannot exist except in relation to each other. Taoism, Tao Te Ching, and their correlations with quantum mechanics.

“the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom” – William Blake

Altered States – drugs, meditation, enlightenment, transcendence, oblivion, lucid dreaming, levels of consciousness

The cultural function of taboo – abjection, boundaries and limits; transgression as a form of knowledge.

“when a cow drinks water, it becomes milk; when a snake drinks water, it becomes poison” – Omori Sogen

Zen – in relation both to Buddhism (peaceful) and the Samurai (blatantly not peaceful). Bushido, Hagakure (‘Hidden by the Leaves’, famous Samurai text).

Business as Usual – life, love, sex, friendship, death, mortality, memory, suicide, how to live, what it means to be human. You know, the fun stuff!

So, what are your writing obsessions and fascinations? Confess your sins in the comments below. Or, better yet – go write them.

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: japan, magick, postaweek2011, writing

Obligatory Throat Clearing – I’m Posting Every Week in 2011!

graffitiliving — Tue, 11 Jan 2011 00:48:20 +0000

Right, I’d better make this official before I chicken out. I’ve decided to do the ‘post a week’ challenge over at The Daily Post. There is a ‘post a day’ option, but as a veteran of Nanoblopomo (having blogged every day for a month on two separate months including last November when I did it alongside writing a ‘novel’ for Nanowrimo) I’ve come to the conclusion that once a week would be more fun for all of us. To write a blog post every day is wonderful. But to actually post that blog post every day is batshit fucking crazy.

So, here’s what you can expect… Actually, I don’t know what you can expect, I haven’t even written the first post yet (the first post of the first week was an overview of the year before, and the first post of the second week is me rambling like this). All I know is that I’ll be posting on this blog once a week for all of 2011. But rather than just ranting about writing, I actually want to, you know, do a bit of… what’s the word? Writing. So, here’s some of the stuff that floats my boat and may end up disgracing these walls:

- Writing, Magick, Japan

- Travel Writing

- Japan! Japan! Japan!

- Did I mention Japan?

- Shiny Things

- Creativity Workflows

- Photography

- Mad Geeky Tech Shit

- GTD and how it relates to creative work (if at all!)

- WIFLWA (Whatever I Feel Like Writing About)

- And, yes, I’ll probably still rant about writing.

Sometimes we give others the advice that we most long to receive. You’re welcome along for the ride; but I must confess that sometimes this feels more like an open letter to myself. When I write ‘you’, I also mean me (I even write my to do lists in the third person). As much as I love to help people, I’m not a guru and I’m not an expert; I’m just a basket case whose life is a junk drawer he’s up-ended onto the floor and is trying to clear out.

Suggestions and hugs are welcome.

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

2010 in review

graffitiliving — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 00:22:52 +0000

The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.

We think you did great!

Crunchy numbers

A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 2,200 times in 2010. That’s about 5 full 747s.

In 2010, there were 64 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 78 posts. There were 46 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 1mb. That’s about 4 pictures per month.

The busiest day of the year was November 8th with 147 views. The most popular post that day was Wordless Weekend – Nanowrimo Songs.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were twitter.com, nablopomo.com, and facebook.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for graffiti, graffiti living, graffiti tags, “tara springett”, and what is graffiti.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

Wordless Weekend – Nanowrimo Songs November 2010
1 Like on WordPress.com,

What do your reading habits say about what you should be writing? September 2009

About February 2010

Librarything Book Review: Apple: Based on the Herman Rosenblat Holocaust Love Story by Penelope Holt June 2010
4 comments

What’s Your Word Count? November 2010
7 comments

Some of your most popular posts were written before 2010. Your writing has staying power! Consider writing about those topics again.

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: postaweek2011

Postcards from Japan – Part 4

graffitiliving — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 20:47:29 +0000

PAN’S LABYRINTH IN HIROSHIMA
I’m off back up to Tokyo tomorrow. I think Hiroshima is going to be
put down as my first choice for where to teach on the JET scheme.
Just back from watching Pans Labyrinth (I know it’s the 4th time, but
you know me and my foreign films and did you really think Id pass up
the chance to see a film whilst over here!). It was in original
language but with Japanese subtitles…　this was ace, as I watched the
whole thing for the performances, understood it all completely despite
not properly speaking either language, but also remembered most of the
dialogue by heart! Salon cinema in Hiroshima is ace, very comfy large
purple seats and lots of space (you even get a bench in front of you
on which you can put your snacks – luckily I had a flask of tea with
me!).

BIG APPLE
Thought you would appreciate this – I am in Tokyo, in the APPLE
BUILDING! Better than any temple I have been to hehehe. It has 4
floors of Macs, including a cinema (for Mac propaganda) and on the top
floor free internet on the new shiny metal Imacs – which is where I am
now, tapping away on a metal japanese keyboard! And Amy Whinehouse is
playing on their sound system. And when I am a teacher in Japan I will
qualify for a Japanese Educational Discount! Woo hoo!

Anyway, enough gloating, I just wanted to tell you. I have tried
to take photos of it from outside, but they’re not coming out too great.
Id try and take photos in here but would be escorted off the premises
pretty sharpish by the Mac Police (or should that be Mac Yakuza?)

See you very soon. Remember I will be back in Manky for 9.30 your time
- though the clocks changing etc are going to confuse me just a little
but with the time difference on top!

I think they should do Mac Hotels, Mac Cafes etc – you know when I am
rich and famous and eventually sell my soul to the devil (or maybe the
other way around, I am a shyster afterall), well I’ve decided that
when I sell out and do adverts, I shall be sponsored by Apple. Would
that be so wrong? Would Bill Hicks forgive me?

Had a great time in Japan, but also a little bit frazzled. If I see
another shrine or temple I am going to start shooting strangers. I
tried to find you a tea towel as requested for a laugh, but my Japanese language
skills don’t stretch that far! Noodles, sushi, sex and drugs – no
problem… but tea towels?!

I’m dreading my return as I have seen my bank balance! Only thing I
miss about UK is family and friends, so you are moving to Japan!

BACK IN THE UK
Japan was amazing – clearly it was never going to be as I’d imagined
it all these years (because it is real), but I definitely want to work
there next year. I travelled around for 3 weeks – and although I
visited a lot of the ‘must see’ sites, you know me, I don’t like
tourists, so I tried to get a sense of what it would be like to live
in the places I visited. I lived on noodles, raw fish, and custard
donuts! I was lost in Tokyo, homeless in Kyoto, and set on fire at
the Kurama Fire Festival. I had a blast in Hiroshima (no pun
intended, tragic history notwithstanding it was my absolute favourite
city and is now my first preference for where to work… and no I did
not sing ‘Enola Gay’!), and also visited Nagasaki, Nikko, and Osaka
among other places. I fed Deer biscuits in Nara (and a Deer ate my map
in Miyajima!), stayed overnight in a Buddhist Temple on Mount Koya in
Koyasan (like Butlins, but holy) and joined in their morning prayers.
I used my truly terrible Japanese speaking ability at every
opportunity and learnt more about Japan, the language, and about
myself, in those 3 weeks than I had in years of head scratching in the
UK. When I was on the plane coming back, I burst into tears as we left
Japan (in a manly stoic way of course) – I didn’t know it was possible
to feel homesick for somewhere you’d never been to before!

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: japan, life, nablopomo

Postcards from Japan – Part 3

graffitiliving — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 20:30:21 +0000

BURNED AT THE FIRE FESTIVAL AND HOMELESS IN KYOTO:
After the Fire Festival – bizarre and I did get singed – I had no accommodation,
and so have spent the night three ways in order of most time spent first
1) homeless, 2) in a newsagents! and 3) in an internet cafe after some
very kind Japanese guy showed me where it was – with the language
barrier I actually thought he was going to murder or mug me, so just
shows how wrong you can be! In a few minutes my time is up here and
as ive used the cafe as a place to sleep rather than surf, I thought
it made sense to actually reply to your email especially as it was so
entertaining, then im off on a round trip to spent tonight in a
buddhist temple. I need sleeeeeeeep!

I’m still in Japan, and yes I have a notebook to scribble in, which is
good for my sanity considering that I left my alphasmart at home! Doh!

Japan is obviously not the way I imagined it since I was little (ie.
it is real), and there has been extremes of good and bad experiences
(more in my feelings than in anything that has actually happened of
course… travelling is stressful and exhausting, especially for a cat
who likes his own company a little bit too much for his own good), but
I definitely still want to teach here. Infact my plans for when I get
back consist of finding ways to come back to Japan (applying for the
JET scheme, becoming a hitman for the Yakuza etc… I have a long coat
and the look and everything afterall!)

I am currently in a hotel (thank god!) in Hiroshima (here for 5 days),
having spent most of my time in Tokyo and Kyoto so far in hostels and
what I can only describe as the Bates Motel of Ryokan (traditional
Japanese accommodation) – instead of being greeted by Geisha I was
greeted by a seedy old man with an attitude problem

Was ill for most of my time in Kyoto – it really isn’t a good idea to
have a cold etc in a country where it is ok to piss in the street but
completely unforgivable to blow your nose in public! Anyway, I
showered and bathed for about 2 hours and then went out to play.
Explored Hiroshima properly today, and plan to make day trips to
Nagasaki and Beppu.

Visiting the peace park here was a bit of a pilgrimage for me – I
take it you know all about the paper cranes as a symbol of peace thing
and the story behind that, well when I was in Leeds I attended a
Samurai event at Royal Armouries and at an Origami workshop made a
paper crane and left it in the peace garden there.
This is a couple of years ago now, and all of those cranes were sent
over to be put in the Peace Garden in Hiroshima, so finally after all
this time I am catching up with the crane that I sent before me! That
said, the crane I sent has by the looks of things gone (they get so
many I think they move them). I spent most of the day on the verge of
tears (and rightly so – Peace Memorial Museum, Atomic Dome, and the
math of 140,000 dead in one instant). And it was a bittersweet moment
to realise that the crane I sent had long since gone, as I;d
entertained some bizarre notion of being able to see it and bring one
circle to a close. (But no, I’m not a writer or anything hehehehe…
you should see some of the things I have scribbled in that notebook!,
I oscillate between being a 4-year-old going WOW at everything, and a
teenage goth having a panic attack!).

I return to Blighty on the 8th of November. I don’t know what I’m going
to do for the remainder of my trip after Hiroshima – I’m torn between
bumming around the country on trains (sleeping on them overnight or
ending up on park benches etc) and going back to Tokyo to re-enact
“Lost in Translation”. As for when I get back home, my inner 4 year
old has the following to say: “Fuck that! I don’t wanna! Getting a job sucks
ass!” I don’t know where my inner child got such a potty mouth but you
get the idea

Filed under: graffiti living Tagged: japan, life, nablopomo