The Constorium of Greater Minds

japanese wendys > american wendys

dj mehdi at warehouse in azabu-juban

cool kids, justin and adam @ the mehdi show

warehouse

emmitt the photographer…where’s waldo?

azabu-juban

early morning/late night cab ride

tokyo tower

the empire state..?

riding the tube. adam and justin

bocce in yoyogi park. the new tokyo bocce ball club. we had japanese fans watching…no joke

the day turns into evening and there is less bocce ball and more chu-hi drinking with new friends adrianna and mannuel

and more chu-hi drinking

justin acting a fool

shotgunning chu-his – east meets west

skull it!

tokyo bocce ball crew

madness in the hotel

deck department in the house

you could say we’re ballin’ in our own right

and outside was tokyo

hotel bar on the 35th floor

tokyo, baby

so saturday was another one for the books, if you plan on burning all books fahrenheit 451 style. damn, what a crazy ass night. spent all day beatin’ the tokyo pavement, exploring the jungle like a modern day lewis, jumpin from iron worm to iron worm like tarzan swinging from vine to vine. covered a lot of new ground and hit up some favorite spots, all was good until nine o’clock when i met part of another jungle…the JO jungle, that is, at shinjuku station. already sauced and ready for trouble, i was ready to jump on the train going the opposite direction, but my worse judgment got the better of me and one, two, three, etc. beers and five subway stops later i found myself slightly buzzed and navigating the cesspool known as roppongi. sushi was eaten, more beer was drinken (it rhymes damnit), and then, with appetites sated, we made our way to the cavern club to see the silver beats…the best damn beatles cover band in all of the world. the lead singer even looks like a japanese john lennon. after near perfect renditions of imagine, lucy in the sky with diamonds and other classics and after two bottles of moet chandon and one bottle of “canadian whiskey” made in illinois..??? don’t ask, the merry troupe made its way out of the cavern and back into the madness of roppongi cross. bobbing and weaving down a corridor of neon lights, blaring music and african emigrants advertising “topless/bottomless” clubs we ran into a young man from mexico advertising one such previously mentioned establishment. but this night topless and bottomless would not be on the menu – this band of merry men was in search for another thrill, a newly reopened thrill: lexington and queens, newly renamed and reopened under the banner of the “new lex.” our mexican amigo was kind enough to guide our way to the nights ultimate destination and we soon found ourselves tumbling down the stairs into a room teaming with young russian models, the holly grail, the new spot we had been searching for so many nights – nights that would end in the same shady hookah bar, depressed and longing for something new. finally we had found that new place, after so long and if we weren’t too utterly toasted to understand the gold mine we had just found, well we didn’t mind. long story short, much too much spirits, not enough life giving water, the early morning sun found two of the posse passed out on the floor of shinjuku station, waiting for the first train of the morning, another found himself passed out on a conductors stool next to the tracks and yet another was passed out in another station several miles away. one long, local train ride home and two hours later 3/4 of the band of revelers were uncomfortably seated in a cab ferrying them from the station home. a throbbing head and aching gut and hours upon hours of sleep awaiting…another classic night of pain in roppongi. i’ll never do that again – famous last words. oh, yeah, and my bike was gone when i got home. peace

a couple of photos from my dad’s camera…he just figured out how to send photos by email

la baita in garmisch…the spot for italian after a day on the slopes

how many times have we posed here over the past years?

some shots of my apartment in yokosuka.

view from one of the balconies

same balcony

same balcony

the kitchen

hallway…

tatami room

tatami room, again

video intercom

kitchen

the bathroom sink

bathtub/shower room

the space age commode

the control panel for my toilet…it does cool things…

the studio

bedroom

bedroom closet

the other balcony. opens on my room and the studio

view from other balcony

same balcony

this is my pad…a work in progress. still nothing to sleep or sit on except for the patio furniture left on the balcony by the previous resident. not sure if i’m going to go with a bed or a futon. the hallway is only 28 inches wide so it looks like i’ll have to get a midget couch for the living room…anyway, this is where you will all stay when you come visit!! peace

four more shots from sydney…more to come once we get back and bud gets his camera cord he left in japan…

paddington street intersection

beautiful property on the bay

funky apartments on the water

of course…

some old shots from tokyo – mostly taken in harajuku and yoyogi park

the balcony at the park prince hotel

streets of aoyama – omotesando

harajuku girls in yoyogi park – not exactly as you’d imagine from the gwen stefani videos

now you know where elvis has been hiding all these years…yoyogi park rockabily club

they even brought a “chick” to rock out with them

beatin’ that box up in the park

the skater crew was encroaching on the bmx gang so cat had to throw a sick dead sailor in their face to back ‘em off

basketball man was high on smack

When one is “underway” in the Navy meaning at sea steaming from point A to point B life is very different from in port or, in the civilian world, working a nine to five. At sea one is confined to 20,000 square feet of deck space and no more. Underway one sees the same people in the same places at the same time every single day. Standing watch for five hours every day with the same people, eating breakfast lunch and dinner with the same people and living in the same compartments with the same people can make for interesting sociological dynamics.

When I got underway for this one and a half month deployment I had no idea how the office dynamic would develop. I work in the same office with essentially the same people every day of the week. When you are not on watch, eating, exercising or sleeping you are in the office. After only a few days it becomes clear who spends more time in the office. Those individuals who are “always” in the office notice and begin to resent those who are not in the office as much as they are. They automatically assume that those not in the office constantly throughout the day must be shirking their duties. The first assumption when explaining the absence of an individual is that he/she must be sleeping. In the Navy the saying that perception is reality takes on a whole new meaning. Someone could be studying or exercising and for those reasons not be in the office, yet the first assumption is that they are sleeping and not doing their job.

When such an individual enters the office they are greeted with a barrage of remarks such as:
“Well, there he his!” or “Welcome to the Navy, shipmate” or “Holly shit, look who it is” or “Man, I thought you fell overboard” or “Where the fuck have you been.” It is because you don’t want to be “that guy” constantly heckled with the aforementioned comments that sleep has transformed into a forbidden and illicit act.

Such practices as the “lunch time nooner” develop, or the trick of sleeping on the floor of your stateroom in your uniform or going to the bathroom and sleeping on the toilet or placing a pen under your desk and sleeping with your head in the shadows and when the XO stands above you and asks “what the hell’s going on here?” you can grab the pen and stand up exclaiming “there it is, I was looking all over for this!”

I have even begun to ask myself “do I want to eat or sleep” because for the most part there is no time to do both. Most days I skip breakfast with the wardroom in favor of an extra half hour of sleep. At lunch I’ll sleep for half an hour and then eat or sleep an hour and not eat at all. I stocked up on power bars and beef jerky prior to sailing so I could sustain myself in the confines of my state room and if I so desire not have to ever go to the wardroom to eat and thus expose myself to the omnipresent eyes of my Department Head or the XO.

So my friends sleep has become twisted and distorted. It has become a taboo subject no longer discussed openly as in my school days when I would speak freely of my napping exploits. Gone are the days when it was not unusual to sleep for half the day or more or take a nap each afternoon for days on end. When out to sea the normal rules do not apply and let every man beware that as it goes with the latest SupremexNike collaboration so it goes with slumber: you better not get caught sleepin’

I’m not sure how it is for everyone with a “normal” job but having been in the Navy for only a short period of time I have already seen the ordinary act of sleeping take on a very different role from the one it once had in college.

Formerly a favorite past time, sleeping, or more specifically, napping, was discussed freely among friends without fear of derision or resentment. I would frequently hear classmates talk contentedly about how often they napped and for how long, often claiming to have slept through many classes, and saying all of this without fear of scorn or reprisal. I regularly indulged myself in a nice noon time or post class nap, sleeping, sometimes, for several hours depending on the activities the night before. During particularly strenuous periods of study, as during finals week or prior to midterms it would not be uncommon to find me napping once a day for several days in a row.

Furthermore, when someone would ask me where I was for the past hour I was not afraid to inform them, honestly and without guilt that I was indeed sleeping in my bed, not studying, not working. When they heard this there was no flash of condescension across their face or flicker of enmity in their eye, for they knew the importance of sleep and could hardly claim to be a non-napper themselves.

In fact the importance of a good nights rest was continuously stressed throughout my undergraduate career, along with a proper diet (another practice that went out the window when embarking the ship). Sleep was recommended, encouraged and stressed by counselors, professors and parents alike. If you weren’t getting enough sleep friends would ask what the matter was, with concern in their eye a professor might inquire as to whether you were coping with the class well.

In short, up until three months ago, sleep was an essential, welcome and highly enjoyable practice, one that I looked forward to each and every day. It was an activity that until three months ago I did not have to hide away like a dark secret or cover up like a shameful habit, for in the Navy they have a very different view of sleep. Allow me to explain.

First, let me inject a clause into this discussion. All points here within are geared towards the at-sea Navy, meaning the underway or deployed Navy. When in a foreign port or moored at home in Yokosuka the view of sleep is not at all dissimilar from most other careers or lifestyles. Here I am concerned chiefly with the way sleep is perceived while underway.

More to come…sleep beckons

life on board a ship isn’t as glamorous as pirates might tell you. sure 90% of the time is spent swinging on mast lines, swilling rum and scoring with wenches but that other 10% we have to spend asleep in boxes like the ones below.

the gates of hell (the room’s inhabitants will go unnamed)

this is the side of the “j.o. jungle” they wouldn’t have you see

putting the jungle in j.o. jungle

actual quote by the XO when he busted in on unnamed ensign’s room: “what the fuck”

why sleep in your rack when you can use it for storage?

where’s spike lee when you need him?

my room

this is where i cry myself to sleep every night

this is where i brush my teeth with hot water

Five days of freedom in the land of Oz. I grew up on the mean streets of Sydney and when I’m in the city I’m never more than five seconds away from a gun!

the opera house

bondi beach

breakfast NOT on the ship

view of the city from paddington street

there she is misses bluuuue ridge

sydney from the bay