We all up to speed? Cool.

OK! Let’s get this out of the way:

Is there racism in Japan? Silly question. You might as well be asking is the sky blue, or is water wet. Yes, Virginia, there is racism in Japan… Of course, there is. And this racism isn’t coming solely from the Japanese, either.

This is not-debatable, at least not here on Loco in Yokohama. Anyone who wants to debate its existence in Japan is barking up the wrong blog.  We’re wayyyyy past that in these parts.

And for you readers who are tempted to skip to the comment area and spew some deep insights like they’re homogenous and were isolated for centuries upon centuries and blah blah blah…or tear me a new one for targeting  Japan, this is for you:

Racism can exist anywhere, and being a denizen of a formerly isolated homogenous island like Japan doesn’t justify it or excuse it. I target Japan because I just happen to live here and I’m focusing for the moment on the issues that directly impact my day to day life. Loco in Yokohama is a blog primarily about the ups and downs of life for a foreigner living HERE!

And if you still feel an irresistible urge to hand Japan its exemption papers from the rules that the best of the rest of us have happily agreed will make the world a better place for future generations, you should have come to Loco in Yokohama a lonnnnnng time ago when we still entertained those kinds of ideas.

Like I’ve said, we’re way past that now.

OK, so, moving right along…because the question over whether racism exist in Japan is NOT the cause for the Gaijin Clash of ideologies introduced in part 1. It seems to me the main point of contention is over how foreigners here should respond to it, if at all.

Like most NJ (Non-Japanese) living here for a number of years, I’ve encountered the attitudes and behaviors described in Debito’s well-written and thoughtful article in the Japan Times, these so-called “microaggressions.” And, they troubled me right from the start. I didn’t initially interpret them as racist or aggressive, however. I simply thought of the people who held and performed them, depending on its degree, as either annoyingly ignorant, dangerously ignorant, or utterly disengaged — almost dutifully so — and thus a challenge for me to respect. This ignorance  often times seemed to be purposeful. Like the people here had undergone some kind of ritualistic indoctrination, taught from childhood that it is a cultural imperative to marginalize, ostracize, criminalize, denigrate, and insult; a standing order to “other-ize.”

But, that’s not the case (I tell myself at least once a day, sometimes even convincingly).

Not to suggest ignorance is unacceptable. If my time in Japan has taught me anything, it has taught me that not only was I, too, the victim of  miseducation, the target of disinformation, and a more receptive receptacle for propaganda than I believed was possible for someone as intelligent, open-minded and well read as I’ve always aspired to be, but that I was also ignorant of  many things. Not least of which is how traumatized I’d been by racial matters prior to coming to Japan.

Yes, Virginia, ignorance is acceptable.

To an extent…

I mean, if you believe that asking me if I meet your stereotypical notions of people who share my racial designation is a fit cultural icebreaker and augurs well for future communication, then you’re more than a little out of touch, by MY standards. And if you make keeping a minimal safe distance from me whenever possible an imperative, when the only threat I represent is a product of your imagination, and expect me to view this behavior as anything but racially motivated, and indeed to accept it as indicative of Japanese “shyness,” then I am, at least, entitled to question your choices and how you’ve come by them.

Cultural ignorance is almost a given, hell, it’s inevitable. It is the rare person who fully understands a culture outside of their own well enough to rise above the level of ignorant. Of course, if you keep your nose to the grindstone, your eyes wide open, and fully dedicate yourself…you know, through cultural immersion or assimilation, you can possibly ascend to the level of fairly knowledgeable. But, for most of us, we’re limited to stereotypes, propaganda, hearsay, and the touts of people claiming to have risen above ignorant. Generally these turn out to be unreliable sources.

Though I’ve been here almost a decade and have immersed myself and assimilated as much as I (and clearly the natives here) are comfortable with, I do not claim to be an authority or the most reliable source on Japanese anything (except maybe ramen, and even that’s arguable…) Everything you read about life in Japan on this blog is, of course, as it is seen through the eyes of a man who is admittedly a little unbalanced. But, at least I’m aware of it and I endeavor to keep my scales weighted properly. The reason my blog is successful, I believe, is that my readers have come to trust me. As is the case, I’m sure, with Hikosaemon, Debito, and some of the other content creators working the Japan blogosphere.

TRUST

(Just in case you were wondering where I was going with this, this is where I was headed).

Trust is the key word. It is not only an essential ingredient in any relationship but the lack there of is the cause of many foul and contentious relationships.

TRUST

By my estimation, both of these gentleman possess the prerequisites to be considered “knowledgable” about life in Japan. They both live here (or have lived here) for considerable lengths of time, they’re both consistent creators of quality content, they both are fluent in Japanese…they’ve both a vested interest in the prosperity of this place (families, children, etc…), and, in their own ways, have left blood on the battlefield, so to speak. Clearly both are at least, I believe, worthy of respect…

But trust is whole other thing, isn’t it?

I happen to trust both of them…but that wasn’t always the case. They both had to earn it.

I’d check out Hikosaemon’s vlogs from time to time, and they’re always informative and entertaining, sometimes even thought-provoking and inspirational. I was particularly impressed with his Japanese ability. Though I’ve long since given up the ghost as far as achieving native fluency in Japanese goes, I still admire not so much the people who do achieve this goal but the work ethic and dedication required to do so.  Nevertheless, part of me had initially marginalized him as one of those Happy-Go-Lucky Gaijin running around Japan not so much with blinders on, but with Ray-Ban shades on….only the “Rays” being “banned” weren’t the sun’s rays, it was the rays of racism shining brilliantly everywhere you look.

It’s difficult for me to trust someone like that.

But, then we had a pre-interview chat on SKYPE and I got to know his views a bit more…and if you checked out his interview with me about my book (and you should cause it was great) he basically states that oblivious racism, or unconscious racism, is the kind you’ll run into a lot of in Japan. They’re [Japanese] not maliciously racist. They just inadvertently do things that they don’t realize, and that’s one of the challenges for people coming to live in Japan because we’re used to more blatant or hypocritical racism…

Sounds a lot like that Microagression Debito wrote about in the Japan Times article, doesn’t it?

Sounds a lot like the behavior I covered in my book, as well…

Peep this illuminating video:

Needless to say, trust was established with Hikosaemon that night. I’m not easy, but I try to keep it simple.

With Debito, it was a bit more complicated, though.

As a blogger, new on the scene back in 2008, two names popped up when people described my blog. The first – I guess due to my use of humor from time to time, and the fact that we’re both black – was Gaijin Smash, a blog I admired (and envied) quite a bit and about the funniest blog I’ve ever read about Japan to date. I was flattered to have my newborn blog even mentioned alongside such a well-established and super-popular one.

And the other, I guess due to my occasional rants and discourses on racism and discrimination, was Debito Arudou’s.

Debito, too, was well-established and popular in some circles. But, I’d soon learn that this comparison to Debito was not praise, but damn near a slur. He was despised by many of the bloggers, vloggers and visitors I first encountered when I got into this blogging game. (And still is, as evidenced by his recent vilification.) And, by simply being mentioned in the same sentence as his, my blog became an anathema to many on the Japan blogosphere, even by some who’d never read it. I was quickly labeled just another American Hothead trying to smear his political correctness and racial over-sensitivity over every goddamn thing under the Rising Sun of this lovely land, and in the process defile our albeit complicated, but ultimately complaisant Japanese hosts.

The hate he generated was seething, over the top…and viral.

Now that’s power, I thought! As a writer, a strong reaction, whether positive or negative, usually indicates the writing or writer has a particular quality; one not easily dismissed or ignored.

So, naturally, I visited Debito’s blog and read his work to see what all the hubbub was about and, as a writer, I was impressed. The man is prolific like I’d never been (but always wished I could be). All I could think at first was where the hell does he find the time and energy to do all of this goddamn writing, not to mention the activism! Respect was instantaneous, if for nothing else than the energy and drive involved.

I also understood almost immediately why he was so reviled, and by so many: He brought the noize! He got right in the faces of the Japanese themselves and shouted, “The days of being respected without giving it in return are over! I may not be a native Japanese but you will respect me, goddamn it!” And, he got in the faces of all the Japanophiles and those so-called Authorities on Japanese culture and mindset  and said, “you guys need to wake the fuck up! How the hell are we going to exact change in this country if we kiss their asses, let them walk all over us, and call that shit kawaii? Can’t you fools see that Gaijin is a slur? It’s Japanese for Niggers??? Well, I can!”

Yep, somewhere along the line he discovered his writing’s rudder and the engine that keeps it spinning, and he keeps that sucker oiled and fueled.

But, hell, I had an audience to build and ”The Black Debito” label wasn’t what I was after. We were fighting on two different fronts, I thought. Somehow I managed to de-stigmatize myself somewhat (it still lingers though in some circles…you know who you are) by finding an identity and voice and rudder of my own.

Then, back in the summer of 2010 , I learned that Debito was going to be teaching a workshop at a Writer’s Conference in Tokyo. He was the main draw for me. As I mentioned in pt.1, he was giving a presentation on Book Publishing in Japan, providing attendees with some of his horror and success stories as a Publishing Insider. I learned quite a bit in that session. For one, I learned we had similar goals and dreams. I saw him as a man on the same ladder I was climbing, a few rungs ahead of me, and showing me the slippery spots and cracks.

Trust was established with Debito that day.

So, where’s the beef, right?

Hold tight. Part 3 to follow soon!

Loco

Who do you trust?

Check out Part 1 here

PS: In the meantime, if you haven’t already, do yourself a big favor check out my critically-acclaimed book, Hi! MyName is Loco and I am a Racist, available here on Amazon. You’ll be glad you did! Seriously! Ask anyone who’s read it.

Before we get started though, please click on and read the following article from the Japan Times:

Yes, I can use chopsticks: the everyday

‘microaggressions’ that grind us down

…then watch the video below.

Negativity, Cultural Adjustment and Microaggression

OK, everybody up to speed on the issue at hand?

I was hesitant to even get into this, believe it or not, for a number of reasons. Prominent among them is that I happen to know and  respect two of the gentleman above.

I’ve read Debito Arudou’s blog quite a bit and  I admire and respect many of his positions on life here in Kawaiiland. We met once at a Writer’s conference in Tokyo where he was  giving an intriguing and ultimately influential workshop on the challenges of self-publishing (I would decide to do so myself not a few weeks afterwards). I don’t agree with everything he opines but he is consistent and clearly a man engaged in the issues that impact a number of non-Japanese who have, for whatever reason, made a home here among the native Japanese.

I’m an admirer of Hikosaemon’s work, as well. I find him to be one of those influential and fluent non-Japanese residents of this land capable of maintaining a balanced perspective while having fun and finding the funny. Clearly he doesn’t avoid serious issues, evidenced by his interviewing myself  and endorsing my book (see below) but his work is generally not opinion-heavy on social issues. He focuses more on entertainment (God knows we need it), as well as Japanese language and cultural information.

click photo to watch interview

I was also hesitant to dive in because it felt like one of those murky sensitive issues that I’ve endeavored to avoid lately, the kind where once you’ve sprung from the board and committed yourself  you might find that its murky surface has concealed a fairly shallow bottom. Ouch, right? Who needs that?

Readers of  Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist know that, though I never refer to it as microaggression, I’ve covered this area  pretty thoroughly, and continue to in most promotional appearances and discussions of my book…however, I had intended to give the issue a rest, at least as far as my blog was concerned…

Well, I guess recess is over…

Another reason I needed a recess was that I grew weary of the insinuations by well-intentioned and intelligent folk that what I and many others know to exist and experience regularly here in Japan may well be a figment of my (our) imagination, the result of over-sensitivity or being products of the racialized western world (a world I’d like to think is looking towards a Post-Race era; an era Japan has been exempt from some might say,) etc…

THIS is the issue that prompted the formation of Loco in Yokohama in the first place, as well as my writing of the original blog series: Hi My name is Loco and I am a Racist, and eventually lead to the writing of the book, as I explained in its introduction. It was the attitudes of a good number of (for the most part) “white” people living here in Japan that inspired me to undertake the unpopular and hazardous task of taking Japanese to task.

Before I go any further, and to clarify my position on this issue (for those of you who haven’t been long time readers of Loco in Yokohama) here is an excerpt from the introduction to my book:

“The dream of writing a book about life in Japan— which I would wager is shared by every writer or wannabe writer who has ever lived here — is one I’d put on hold until now. Why was the dream deferred? Well, because the Japan Book, written by an English instructor, whether fiction or non-fiction, is practically a cliché. So I told myself that if I couldn’t find subject matter related to my life in Japan that hadn’t been covered so thoroughly that I could cut and paste it from ten books written the previous year, then I wouldn’t do it.

Fast forward almost a decade.

A decade spent in Asia learning about myself and teaching about my world, tearing down shrines of ignorance and erecting temples of understanding, learning the true measure of love and the true meaning of loss, indulging hate and enduring what really violent thoughts can do to a mind reluctant to act on them, discovering the writer I had the potential to be and uncovering the obstacles that lay in-between living my dreams and having them deferred.

It’s been quite a ride so far. One I wouldn’t trade for anything.

During my time in Japan I’ve paid careful attention to the work of other foreigners living here- mostly the content creators- via the books they’ve written and the blogs they keep. I’ve watched their videos and vlogs, and listened to their radio shows and podcasts. I’ve run into them in person in the streets, and met / tweeted up with them at bars and cafes around Yokohama and Tokyo. They come in various flavors of humanity, different races, cultures and nationalities.

Most of the successful and popular Japan-based creators tend to stick with “positive” stories and light material; shrines and temples, anime and language study tips, food, fashion, festivals and females. Others might delve into the creepy and the kooky, mysterious and spooky (of which there is plenty- some even fascinating), but the woolly mammoth in the room has often gone ignored; or worse, denied. Creative folk, either knowingly or not, seemed to be unwilling or unable to deal with what I felt to be the most glaring of issues here.

It made me feel a little paranoid, to say the least.

I questioned whether what I was seeing was real or a figment of my imagination. Was I suffering from delusions of persecution? They’re not exactly unknown among expats here, that’s for damn sure. Maybe that was the reason I saw the behemoth while many did not, or could not.

Some of these content creators would, on occasion, partially acknowledge it with their right hand, but somehow manage to dismiss it with the left. A post of theirs might read something like: “I sat down on the train today and this Japanese guy sitting beside me suddenly stood up and stormed off into the next car. That’s rather odd, I thought. But then my nose informed me what the issue was. I was wearing a new aftershave, and Japanese people are sensitive to foreign fragrances. I was also wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt, and Japanese are very particular about these kinds of things. They prefer a more professional attire, especially when it comes to foreigners, and rightfully so. I’m glad I didn’t jump to conclusions like some other bloggers do. It was all my fault. I felt really bad for having disrupted this guy’s peace of mind. I hope I see him again tomorrow so I can apologize.”

Others, though, were either oblivious or in total denial; like contestants on a wacky game show where they’re made to wear blindfolds and try to guess objects from their feel. Hand one contestant a freshly used condom and, despite the “lubrication” and “ribbing,” they’ll invariably say it’s a balloon, inflate it and make a balloon animal just to prove their point. Hand another contestant a dildo, and they’ll stroke it like a sculptor does clay and say, “I know this shape, especially here at the tip and here around the base. It’s so familiar, Wait! I’ve got it! It’s an o-miyage (souvenir) from a Japanese Penis matsuri. I wrote my doctorate thesis on these fertility festivals. It’s a quirky time-honored tradition that dates back before America and its bloody Black Ships came and tarnished this great country! Am I right?”

It’s that kind of crazy up in here!

Well, in October 2008, I said “enough of this shit!” (I think those were my exact words), started blogging, and proceeded to give that neglected prehistoric pachyderm some overdue attention. Reaction was mixed, but the reception was mostly considerate. Over the course of several months I was fortunate enough to build a readership, practically one reader at a time. It seemed some people here had been aching to talk about the mammoth frankly and were ever on the lookout for a suitable venue. Loco in Yokohama came along and met this need head-on. I’ve been blessed with some of the greatest readers: thoughtful, intelligent, critical and challenging; a burgeoning writer’s wet dream.

Others were not so thrilled that I had the audacity to tell my stories. These Happy-Go-Lucky Guys (I call them) did not take too kindly to my negative words about their beloved Japan. They viewed and treated bitter malcontents (they call me) as a plague on two houses: That of the Japanese, and their own.

To be fair, some of these Happy-Go-Luckies were truly oblivious to the mammoth for, though they might occasionally smell the piles of dung it leaves everywhere, it did not reveal itself to them in its full glory. The Japanese would generally behave differently in their presence, for reasons that became clear the longer I stayed here, got to know people and observed the goings-on. One reason being that the reception Whites receive in Japan is a bit different than the reception some other ethnic groups receive, especially Chinese and those of us of a darker hue. (Invariably, these Happy-Go-Lucky types were Caucasians who think Japanese are colorblind and treat all foreigners equally). Some of these guys and gals will defend this notion by any means necessary.

The comments they’d leave on my posts would run the gamut, ranging from YouTube crude: “You niggers make me sick with your constant whining! Kneel and suck it like the rest of us, and be glad no one’s throwing a rope around your neck.”

To disbelief: “You seem like a nice guy, Loco-sensei, and pretty intelligent, too. So I just can’t understand how you can be so off when it comes to Japanese people. They’re so harmless and polite. Maybe you’re just a little over-sensitive, or misunderstanding them due to the language and cultural differences. Perhaps if you studied Japanese…”

To something approaching solution-oriented: “You apparently have an excess of energy, evidenced by your long, fascinating posts, so why don’t you put it to more productive use and do something about it? The onus is on you to change their minds. Writing blog posts in English just isn’t going to cut it. Get out there and show them that black people aren’t all the same. Some are really good people, smart and kind-hearted, like you. For God’s sake, Loco, be a game changer, not a complainer.”

To dismissively condescending: “Some people come to this magical and mysterious land with unstable minds and a certain amount of dung already encrusted in their nostrils. And, please forgive me for pointing this out but, particularly Negroes…ahem…I mean, people who are descendant from that dark, feral continent. Personally, I believe you people are born with trace amounts of dung in your noses, thus you smell it wherever you go. The further you travel from your own kind, the more pronounced the smell becomes. I’m pretty sure I’ve read a scientific study or two that has proven just that. So, I must conclude then that what you smell is your own stench! Why don’t you go back and live among your own kind, where everything naturally reeks of dung, cause then you’ll be more comfortable, no? And leave the Japanese to the people who understand them, accept them and love them for the adorable, unadulterated child-race that they are.”

With assurance that you’ll find yourself in the minority of a minority, and the target of baffling conjecture and derisive censure from the majority, I began to understand why people avoided talking about the beast. It was easier to just live and let live, and tread the dung-strewn path of least resistance with a clothes pin pinched on your nose.

But, I don’t get down like that.

So, I had a change of heart and, after three years of blogging, I dusted off that publishing dream and got down to business…and Hi My Name is Loco and I am a Racist was the result. Amazon may be bursting at the cyber-seams, and the shelves of your local library may be warped with the weight of books by expats living in Japan, but there’s NOTHING like the one you’re about to read now.

Not even close.”

Stay tuned for Part 2 coming real soon!

Update! Here’s part 2

Loco

PS: In the meantime, if you haven’t already, please check out the rest of my critically-acclaimed book, Hi! MyName is Loco and I am a Racist,  available here on Amazon. You’ll be glad you did!

When the outside world interacts with us, via our various mediums, they are asking us: What the hell is going on over there?

Our answers should be given responsibly!

Caroline Josephine and Loco

A friend of mine, Caroline Josephine,  has taken on the task of answering that question in a magazine format, by sharing with readers the work of some of these creative people living here — particularly literary and visual artists — and how their creativity impacts life on this island.

CJ has taken on the daunting mantle of publisher, and the first issue of her new publication: Tsuki Magazione is now available.

Here is a woman I know to be of high integrity and open-mindedness. Though she is very fond of this country, evidenced by her commitment to its success, she is not blind to its glaring issues either (which unfortunately is rare here), and for that, among other things, she has earned my friendship and full-throated endorsement.

In her own words, she says of her vision for Tsuki Magazine:

“Creation, evolution, forward motion, movement; it all
leads to the future. And as I look around myself, as I look at the people
I am connected with at work, in my personal life, on twitter, through
blogging… I see creation everywhere. Writing, music, photography, art,
design, fashion…it’s flowing all around us. And now I want to gather it all
up and showcase what I’m seeing.”

Support her efforts and check out the first issue of her new magazine here: Tsuki Magazine

You can get more information and updates by following Tsuki Magazine on Twitter here and on Facebook here

And tell CJ that Loco sent you!

Noam Chomsky

Here’s an Op-Ed piece by Mr. Chomsky published yesterday:

Catagena: Beyond the Secret Service Scandal

Though sidelined by the Secret Service scandal, last month’s Summit of the Americas in Cartagena, Colombia, was an event of considerable significance. There are three major reasons: Cuba, the drug war, and the isolation of the United States.

A headline in the Jamaica Observer read, “Summit shows how much Yanqui influence had waned.” The story reports that “the big items on the agenda were the lucrative and destructive drug trade and how the countries of the entire region could meet while excluding one country – Cuba.”

The meetings ended with no agreement because of U.S. opposition on those items – a drug-decriminalization policy and the Cuba ban. Continued U.S. obstructionism may well lead to the displacement of the Organization of American States by the newly-formed Community of Latin American and Caribbean States, from which the United States and Canada are excluded.

Cuba had agreed not to attend the summit because otherwise Washington would have boycotted it. But the meetings made clear that U.S. intransigence would not be long tolerated. The U.S. and Canada were alone in barring Cuban participation, on grounds of Cuba’s violations of democratic principles and human rights.

Latin Americans can evaluate these charges from ample experience. They are familiar with the U.S. record on human rights. Cuba especially has suffered from U.S. terrorist attacks and economic strangulation as punishment for its independence – its “successful defiance” of U.S. policies tracing back to the Monroe Doctrine.

Latin Americans don’t have to read U.S. scholarship to recognize that Washington supports democracy if, and only if, it conforms to strategic and economic objectives, and even when it does, favors “limited, top-down forms of democratic change that did not risk upsetting the traditional structures of power with which the United States has long been allied â(euro) [ (in) quite undemocratic societies,” as neo-Reaganite scholar Thomas Carothers points out.

At the Cartagena summit, the drug war became a key issue at the initiative of newly-elected Guatemalan President Gen. Perez Molina, whom no one would mistake for a soft-hearted liberal. He was joined by the summit host, Colombian President Juan Manuel Santos, and by others.

The concern is nothing new. Three years ago the Latin American Commission on Drugs and Democracy published a report on the drug war by ex-Presidents Fernando Henrique Cardoso of Brazil, Ernesto Zedillo of Mexico, and Cesar Gaviria of Colombia calling for decriminalizing marijuana and treating drug use as a public-health problem.

Much research, including a widely quoted Rand Corporation study of 1994, has shown that prevention and treatment are considerably more cost-effective than the coercive measures that receive the bulk of funding. Such nonpunitive measures are also of course far more humane.

Experience conforms to these conclusions. By far the most lethal substance is tobacco, which also kills nonusers at a high rate (passive smoking). Usage has sharply declined among more educated sectors, not by criminalization but as a result of lifestyle changes.

One country, Portugal, decriminalized all drugs in 2001 – meaning that they remain technically illegal but are considered administrative violations, removed from the criminal domain. A Cato Institute study by Glenn Greenwald found the results to be “a resounding success. Within this success lie self-evident lessons that should guide drug policy debates around the world.”

In dramatic contrast, the coercive procedures of the 40-year U.S. drug war have had virtually no effect on use or price of drugs in the United States, while creating havoc through the continent. The problem is primarily in the United States: both demand (for drugs) and supply (of arms). Latin Americans are the immediate victims, suffering appalling levels of violence and corruption, with addiction spreading through the transit routes.

When policies are pursued for many years with unremitting dedication though they are known to fail in terms of proclaimed objectives, and alternatives that are likely to be far more effective are systematically ignored, questions naturally arise about motives. One rational procedure is to explore predictable consequences. These have never been obscure.

In Colombia, the drug war has been a thin cover for counterinsurgency. Fumigation – a form of chemical warfare – has destroyed crops and rich biodiversity, and contributes to driving millions of poor peasants into urban slums, opening vast territories for mining, agribusiness, ranches and other benefits to the powerful.

Other drug-war beneficiaries are banks laundering massive amounts of money. In Mexico, the major drug cartels are involved in 80 percent of the productive sectors of the economy, according to academic researchers. Similar developments are occurring elsewhere.

In the U.S., the primary victims have been African-American males, increasingly also women and Hispanics – in short, those rendered superfluous by the economic changes instituted in the 1970s, shifting the economy toward financialization and offshoring of production.

Thanks largely to the highly selective drug war, minorities are dispatched to prison – the major factor in the radical rise of incarceration since the 1980s that has become an international scandal. The process resembles “social cleansing” in U.S. client states in Latin America, which gets rid of “undesirables.”

The isolation of the U.S. at Cartagena carries forward other turning-point developments of the past decade, as Latin America has at last begun to extricate itself from the control of the great powers, and even to address its shocking internal problems.

Latin America has long had a tradition of liberal jurisprudence and rebellion against imposed authority. The New Deal drew from that tradition. Latin Americans may yet again inspire progress in human rights in the United States.

******

Mr. Chomsky, thanks for keeping us thinking!

Ever since I first published Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist I’ve been basking in the glow of that esteemed title: author. It’s a dream come true. A strike-through on my bucket list. Even my mother is digging the book!

The response has been favorable, reviews glowing and feedback extremely useful. I’m bursting with pride and oozing confidence. Not so much because sales have been astronomical but they’re way above average for a self published book, and even pretty good for some traditionally published books.

I’m off to a good start…

I’ve done a number of interviews and Q&As, made a couple of public appearances and, to date, two readings.

TWO!

This is what I want to focus on for this post. This being one of the more obvious differences between being a successful blogger and being a successful author. It was so obvious that somehow I missed it, like the keys you spent 10 minutes looking for only to discover them in your left pocket when you habitually put them in your right.

My blog became successful on the strength of the quality of the writing, the subject matter, word of mouth and quite a bit of social media. I never had to leave my keyboard really. Aside from things that , for the most part, I would have been doing whether or not I even kept a blog (like exploring Yokohama, taking pictures here and there, etc…) and a handful of tweet-ups, there wasn’t much flesh pressing and in-person meetings involved. Hell, I could have done the entire blog thing incognito and still probably enjoyed a certain measure of success.

Not much more is expected of a blogger.

But, to promote a book, and to earn and maintain the highly coveted Author title, there comes increased responsibility. This is PARTICULARLY true for self-published authors with no established publisher/imprint at your back, and merely one book and a blog to speak of.

It is the extremely rare author that  writes a work that reaches its audience and sells itself without overexertion. What the hell was I thinking, right? Sitting back on my laurels, social mediating, and waiting for success to come kick in my door?

The funny thing is (and to make matters worse), it did just that! Success sidled up beside me, one day, and waved hi. Not a month after the book’s launch, an unsolicited overture from a mainstream publisher graced my inbox. There I was, sitting at my desk, mouth agape, looking at the subject line of an email from one of those big boys that had once given a manuscript I’d spent years putting together a collective “meh…”

So, I settled a little more into my La-Z-Boy of complacency, telling myself I’d done my part. Blogged my ass off for three years, writing posts drenched in as much blood as ink, made a name for myself (though that name is pretty limited to primarily a small band of expats living in a small island group in Asia),  and then went ahead and wrote, edited and published a killer book. I pulled myself up by my own bootstraps, and now that I was erect, and the ball was rolling, I could just enjoy the ride a bit.

Well, I was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong…

The truth is something I’d long since gleaned from everyone I’ve ever known who is successful at anything, and a maxim I’m going to hold on to tighter than a mother would hold a beloved child recovered after a prolonged kidnapping. The truth is: The Grind is for LIFE!

This is not an advice post, per se. What’s true for me may not hold true for you. But, as we speak, friends and Tweet Buddies of mine are taking this self-publishing route, as well, (and I suspect many more will follow). If this posts helps them in any way, that’s great. I’d love to hear their thoughts on this matter.

Like my boy in Kobe, Jlandkev, and my girl TenMinutesHate, for example. Kevin has written a book about teaching in Japan and South Korea called: Teaching in Japan: Tales and The Real Deal. I’ve bought the E-book from Amazon but I haven’t as yet read it. Plan to during this Golden Week holiday though and shall be doing a review, as well. And Ten Minutes Hate, better known as J.C. Greenway has an upcoming book event for her book: The Teas That Bind, an insightful look into the year following the earthquake of 3/11/11 here in Japan. Looking forward to reading that book as well. Will get my signed copy on the 11th when I  attend her event.

You might be wondering what brought on this thinking. Well, it was actually a result of my latest reading which occurred on Wednesday night at the Kimono Wine Bar in Aoyama, Tokyo. It was hosted by the proprietor of the restaurant, and a brilliant writer herself, Lauren Shannon.

When I first arrived, a little late at that for I had gotten lost, there was no one there aside from Lauren, her chef, and her adorable dog, Archie. Though disheartened, my ego took the blow in stride. And this surprised the hell out of me. As I sat there with Lauren being consoled/encouraged I was actually thinking: This is great! This is an illustration of what will happen if I try to phone-in, or social media in, my book’s promotion.

Then something happened just as I was having that thought. I swear to God, Lauren, in her own words, spoke my thoughts aloud! Fell in love with the woman right then and there! Lauren offered me dinner and a drink for my efforts and we settled in for a one-on-one chat about the book with no expectations beyond that. I was totally content.

Then people started showing up, first one then another, then a third, and our little one on one became a reading I’ll never forget wherever my publishing career takes me. The five of us sat there and had a hell of a chat and I can only hope that future readings will be half as fulfilling for me as this one.

Here’s a video excerpt:

Yeah, and this went on for almost two hours! Two hours of real people really opening up and discussing real world issues! This is what a writer must do. Social media is only part of it. I gotta get in people’s faces in creative ways…I gotta grind! And, you know why!

The Grind is for Life!

That’s my renewed motto, and you can expect to see the results of this attitude and altitude adjustment from now on.

Stay tuned!

Loco

Loco will be making yet another appearance in Tokyo TOMORROW (Wednesday 4/25) where I’ll be reading a selection from my book, “Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist, fielding questions on the book, on writing, on blogging, on my adventures in self publishing – the ups and downs including  my recent overtures from a major American publisher (and possible first major book deal offer) and other fun and useful stuff. If you’re a writer or thinking about getting into this publishing game, or just looking for something interesting to do, this is the move.

Plus, I’ll have a few copies of the book on hand, and I’ll be happy to sign them. You know how we writers love to see our names in print! (-;

The event is being hosted by the lovely and brilliant writer and restaurateur, Lauren Shannon, at her restaurant: Kimono Wine Bar in Aoyama, Tokyo!

So, come on out to my current event. Click here for more info and directions: Book Talk with Baye McNeil 

Only 1800 yen per person, which includes snacks, our book talk and one drink. (cash bar after special one coin- all drinks just 500 yen) Seating is limited so RSVP to lauren@kimonowinebar.com or call 03-6438-1685 if you can, or just come on through. Seats are still available.

See y’all there!

Loco

Fact #1- I live abroad…that is to say I have a life here!

Fact #2- Having lived abroad too long, I’m probably unfit to live anywhere else, at least not without a considerable and arduous re-adjustment period

The bouts of homesickness that plagued me earlier in my tenure abroad have waned. And, every visit “home” confirms that truism: “home is where the heart is,” and informs me that that place which I have venerated upon a pedestal in my heart as my hometown has become “home” to people I don’t even know. And, more importantly, don’t know me.

At least, that has been my experience.

So, home has become almost a mythical place, an island depot of memories with a fort at its foot surrounded by a wall adorned with murals of the past; a collage of images, sounds, tastes and smells; a fresco of ideas. The wall is lined with decaying cannons, relics from wars so ancient no one recalls the victor nor the vanquished, aimed out to sea.

And these ideas within, they cry out to me sometimes, rub their moist little mouths on my ankles and lap at my toes with sandpaper tongues. Sometimes they jump up on my desk and lick my face and fingers. They’re hungry, you see. And I must feed them, cause if I don’t, then, when I wake up in the morning, my garbage can will be overturned, the plastic bag within torn open, and refuse — leftovers of unfinished business and leavings of regret, things I have neither the ability to change or the desire to totally jettison, will be spilled all over the place.  And, the cleanup is the emotional equivalent of what’s currently underway at that Fukushima nuclear plant north of here.

I’ve learned that allowing that to happen is not in my best interest and serves no useful purpose.

No, they will be fed, one way or another! And, so feed them I must.

I was a New Yorker before I became a citizen of the world outside NY, and so it is on New York that I feed these ideas.

Sometimes I toss them table straps, while other times I offer up heaping helpings of my soul in the form of the music that resides there.

Songs like #10, New York, New York, from the man at the Top of the heap, King of the Hill, Frank Sinatra.

Though not a New Yorker, one of the coolest guys that has ever lived, and this song earned him honorary and eternal New Yorker status far as I’m concerned. Thanks, Francis!! Particularly for the message, “If I can make it there (which I did) I can make it anywhere!”

Sometimes I scrape a spoonful from a place of longing and regret. Like my regret that, though the opportunity presented itself on numerous occasions, I never made my way to Cafe Carlyle to see Mr. Bobby Short perform Cole Porter classics like #9 “I Happen To Like New York,”

I think it was because I was ashamed of my deep admiration of Woody Allen (who introduced me to Bobby Short in one of his films). I’m over that now, though. I wonder if Bobby’s still doing his thing…

Though it isn’t about NY per se, this Isley Brothers song reminds me of EVERY woman I have ever shared love with before I came to Japan. It used to fill me such a profound sense of melancholy and longing that even if I heard it by chance I’d have to actually get up and leave the room for fear of making a spectacle of myself. Now, well, it still gets me, but I’ve known  love unrelated to the-Isleys here in Japan as well and these loves are fresher in my heart than those Old Skool loves hijacked by the Isleys, and have made #8 Living For The Love Of You an extremely potent reminder that I’m, well, loving and lovable (-;

I can even sang “Woo” right along with Ron Isley without straining out tears. (-;

I thank the lord there are people out there like YOU, Elton!! It took me YEARS to finally understand what the man was singing about in #7: Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters

“Rich man can ride, and the hobo he can drown, and I thank the lord for the people I have found…” Nuff said!

The God, Rakim, says of New Yorkers in #6 New York, “We got cliques for wreck, we like Pits for pets, we got Jet and Giants, the Knicks Yanks and Mets, we like much respect, sex extra wet, and high-tech dialect you ain’t catch yet!” Couldn’t put it better. I bet nobody can!

Rakim was my idol and role model for years! And continues to inform me, in  a stanza that rings in my ears regularly, “it ain’t where you’re from, it’s where you’re at!”

I was never much of an Alicia Keys fan until #5 Empire State of Mind. Though Jay-Z stole the show, she represented admirably enough to earn my love! Something in the timbre of her voice made me Google her and learn that she too is from New York (and not be surprised by the discovery).

“Honey took a bus trip, now she got her bust out, everybody ride her, just like a bus route…” Damn, Jay-Z, too vivid, yo. “Long Live the World Trade!”

“Don’t push me cause I’m close to the edge. I’m trying not to lose me head…” says  Grandmaster Flash / Melle Mel (shit always get me confused) and the Furious Five on #4 The Message I was in high school when they first spit this one,

“It’s like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder how I keep from going under…” Oddly enough, I never knew exactly what ‘going under’ meant until later in life. Certainly no reason to hightail it back to NY…Melle Mel’s message was loud and clear and can be heard reverberating around in my head any time I choose to listen.

For, what is his underlying message? #3 Love is the Message  of course

]

Not necessarily a NY song but every time I hear it, my soul exhales and I’m 13 years old again and carefree, skating at Empire Roller Rink in Brooklyn, walking distance from my house. We practically lived there every weekend. Here’s a clip of what it was like.

Here’s the original version of Love is the Message!

Damn, right? This is basically the true National Anthem of the black community! Couldn’t be more appropriately named! And Love continues to be the message even here in Japan, so nothing to run back to the states to find. Love is everywhere if you know where to look, right? (-;

You ain’t gotta love Jazz to love Duke Ellington…I used to wake up to this song back in Brooklyn before I actually had to do #2 and Take The A-Train to work. Nothing like it to remind me of the grind back home. Nothing to get all sentimental about, gotta tell ya!

Billy Strayhorn and The Duke’s collaborative compositions are among the best ever written in any music genre!

And, I leave you with Lady Day, singing #1 Autumn in New York

Listening to Billie Holiday is often mingled with pain, particularly this song. This one actually used to make me homesick until I finally understood what it was saying about NY and life in general. Then, it became a treatment for the condition. What do you think this song is about?

In conclusion, let me say that I wrote this post because I’m suffering from a bout of homesickness presently. But, just putting this together for you guys has set me on the road to recovery.

Hope you enjoyed it!

Loco

Well, the other day at work I saw something that might be key: Get the kids to thinking about having babies!

Yep.

How do you go about that? Well…step this way:

First you gather some professionals to help the kids experience pregnancy and learn how to properly care for the infant once they’re born.

Let the kids get their feet, or in this case hands, wet.

Let them try to get out of a futon carrying a watermelon in their bellies…

Find a teacher or two willing to join in on the fun…

And then, for a grand finale, you put them in the room with the real things (and their anxious but generous mothers)…

And it won’t hurt if they happen to be some of the cutest babies ever…

And VOILA! Baby crisis aborted (so to speak).

I don’t know if this will inspire Japanese people to have more than 1.25 kids (the national average) but here’s hoping these kids will save their country from this pending disaster.

Loco

Here are some pics of how I spent this year’s celebration:

Keep spring in your heart…

Best Regards,

Loco

Maybe it was the harrowing cries for help heard on the 911 call recordings.

I think I had just apathetically written these sort of acts off as just the cost of being black in a whitewashed world, the way one might watch a story on the news about a terrorist bombing in on the Gaza Strip and say “Those crazy middle easterners…geezus! Won’t there ever be a resolution?” I might give a news story about some black youth being denied his right to life and human dignity by a system that barely acknowledges it prominence for a few hours, use it as fodder for a couple of thoughtful tweets, but more than likely I’d move on to the next story without giving it too much thought. It’s so commonplace. It’ll sink in, however it won’t dissolve. Just settle to the bottom of my unconsciousness like sugar unstirred in a glass of iced tea. And sit there.

Then, I came across the following article, written a couple of days ago in The Nation, by a writer and educator I’ve come to admire quite a bit, Melissa Harris-Perry, and I realized something that I had been looking at for years but for some reason was unable to see, let alone to articulate.

I’ve read this article several times and it has helped me so much in articulating my own thoughts, in getting at that sugar that clouded my thinking, that I’ve decided to re-print it here.

Please, read it and let’s discuss it (if you’re down…I am!)

Trayvon Martin: What It’s Like to Be a Problem

Trayvon Martin was not innocent. He was guilty of being black in presumably restricted public space. For decades, Jim Crow laws made this crime statutory. They codified the spaces into which black bodies could not pass without encountering legal punishment. They made public blackness a punishable offense. The 1964 Civil Rights Act removed the legal barriers but not the social sanctions and potentially violent consequences of this “crime.” George Zimmerman’s slaying of Trayvon Martin—and the subsequent campaign to smear Martin—is the latest and most jarring reminder that it is often impossible for a black body to be innocent.

Black communities in the United States spent much of late March expressing outrage about Zimmerman’s actions and the Sanford, Florida, police department’s inaction. But the anger and grief are not exclusively about this single act. They are prompted by the ways the case reveals the continuing subordination of full citizenship for black Americans.

This is not a straightforward issue of racial inequality, discussions of which are often reduced to an almost competitive empirical analysis of which Americans have the most problems. On those terms, there’s ample evidence that black Americans have consistently had fewer resources and opportunities. But this case is not about which race or group of people has the most problems. Right now people of all races have problems. With a decade of war, an unemployment rate still hovering at historic highs, stinging gas prices raising the cost of consumer goods and a housing market still on its knees, there are few families untouched in some material way by our national challenges. Even for those who have remained insulated from our collective difficulties, there are personal tragedies and loss.

Yes, everyone has problems. And, yes, government has a role in making citizens individually and collectively more resilient. Moreover, democratic governments have a duty to ensure that citizens bear the weight of these burdens more equally.

But the democratic social contract is not violated when citizens have problems; it is violated when some citizens are a problem. In The Souls of Black Folk, W.E.B. Du Bois described the experience of being black in America as a constant awareness that others viewed him as a problem. “Between me and the other world there is ever an unasked question…. How does it feel to be a problem?” This is not a statement about black people having more problems than their white counterparts. Du Bois captures the defining element of African-American life as the very self, but most especially the visible, black self in public space as being a problem.

Liberal democracy—based on commitment to individual liberty and dignity—does not exist if the government legislates against particular bodies in public spaces, as it did during Jim Crow, or when it is complicit in the violent policing of those bodies by other citizens, as in the Trayvon Martin slaying. For more than two years, vocal pockets of conservative activists and politicians demanded proof of President Obama’s citizenship—as if a black man was trespassing simply by being elected to the Oval Office. As the president was being asked to show his papers to the nation, state governments in Arizona, Alabama and South Carolina empowered police officers, school officials and merchants to demand proof of citizenship from anyone they deemed suspicious of immigration violations—suspicions that are triggered primarily by racial, ethnic and linguistic profiling. Despite the dramatic legal changes brought about by the ending of Jim Crow, it is once again socially, politically and legally acceptable to presume the guilt of nonwhite bodies.

This is the political setting for the moment when George Zimmerman approached Trayvon Martin as he walked home in the rain with a bag of Skittles. During an interview with CNN’s Anderson Cooper, Zimmerman’s neighbor Frank Taaffe suggested “if he [Trayvon] had just answered him [Zimmerman] in an appropriate manner, ‘I’m just here visiting. My mother’s house is around the corner,’ and be upfront and truthful, there wouldn’t be any problem.” Fox News host Geraldo Rivera weighed in on the case by saying, “I’ll bet you money, if he didn’t have that hoodie on, that nutty neighborhood watch guy wouldn’t have responded in that violent and aggressive way.” Conservative commentators and websites piled on, pointing to Trayvon’s gold teeth and his tattoos. These statements suggest that the unarmed teenager was culpable in the encounter that led to his death, not because of any aggressive or illegal act but because he was not following the appropriate protocol for being black in public. A black body in public space must presume its own guilt and be prepared to present a rigidly controlled public performance of docility and respectability.

Sagging-pants laws in Louisiana, Georgia, Florida and Arkansas attempt to legislate that public performance of black bodies by making it illegal to enact particular versions of youth fashion associated with blackness. Philadelphia, New Orleans, Cleveland, Chicago and other cities have responded to violence in predominantly black communities by imposing curfews on young people and then policing these rules most vehemently among black youth—making it a crime for them to be in public space. New York City’s “stop and frisk” law empowers police to temporarily detain a person based merely on “reasonable suspicion” of involvement in criminal activity, which in practice has been vastly disproportionately applied to young men of color.

It is easy, but wrong, to write off Zimmerman as a deranged man whose violence against Trayvon Martin was tragic but unpreventable. Zimmerman was acting in ways entirely consistent with the long history and contemporary reality that assumes the criminality and potential danger of black bodies

About the Author

Melissa Harris-Perry

Melissa Harris-Perry is professor of political science at Tulane University, where she is founding director of the Project on Gender, Race, and Politics in the South. She is author of Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America. She is also a contributor and host of her own talk show on MSNBC. Here’s a clip from a segment she did related to the mortality and criminalization of black youth.

Here’s a video/song Chaka Khan put together with a few other celebrities for Trayvon, with a poignant message: Fear Kills, love Heals.

And don’t miss his upcoming Album Listening Party this Saturday Night, click here for more details!  I heard the track from the pic above, called “No Idea” (with the great Talib Kweli) and it’s straight SICK, instant classic!!

Naturally, your boy Loco will be in da house supporting my nihonbro (and Pimping my Prose on the sly!) Come on through! Let me know ahead of time if you want a copy and I’ll hit you off!

I’m just sayin… (-;

And now that we’ve got the shameless Tomodachi and Jibun no promotion out of the way, on to…wait, more self-promotion?

…Only this time via some very happy readers! A few of the people who bought and received the 50 first print run autographed copies!

As serendipity would have it, the first copy went to long time reader and supporter of Loco in Yokohama, the fabulous and beautiful scholar formerly known as the Workaholic Hostess. Congrats Saboten! Love you, boo!

And now to finish that title sentence…

On the strength of rave reviews, tweets galore, engaging interviews, supportive friends, word of mouth, and the love of satisfied customers like those pictured above, you heard it here first: it’s OFFICIAL!! 

Loco is BIG in Japan!

I’ll be getting another shipment of books in soon so don’t fret if you haven’t ordered yours, yet. Just holler at me in a comment below or via email (locohama7 at gmail dot com) and I’ll set you up with your own autographed copy!

It’s about time you found out for yourself why readers are so enthusiastic! And, at the same time, help a struggling writer quit his day job and do what he’s meant to be doing on a full-time basis: writing the best damn books I can!

And, please, if you’ve read the book (and apparently hundreds have) please, please, PLEASE take a moment to share your thoughts on the Book’s Amazon Page! Good or Bad is not important. Why you didn’t like the book is as important to me (and to readers) as why you did.  Even a couple of sentences helps.

Or if you’re shy about Amazon, just drop a few lines below so visitors here can know what time it is!

I can’t stress the importance of this enough!

Think of it this way: Like it or not, Amazon is a King Maker in the publishing world! Having a wonderful product is only the beginning…the hard part is getting readers to know about the product and, unlike days past when the NY Times, Publisher’s Weekly and the likes were the only gatekeepers, Amazon has arranged it — democratically, some might say — so that reader reviews go a LONG way toward gate crashing!

So help me crash the gate and drop a few lines!

Loco

And there’s even BIGGER news on the horizon (but I don’t want to jinx it so I’m gonna hold that thought til a later date!)  

And THANK YOU ALL!!!

This is a special request for my girl Daisha (-;

An oversight I intend to rectify now.

Those of you who’ve read my book may recall that immediately following the earthquake I went  to a café across the street where I had a cup of coffee and watched the nonchalance with which the Japanese seated around me were handling the situation, subdued chit-chatter, newspaper reading, nothing out of the usual aside from the aftershocks that rocked the rickety café and chased me out of there for fear the building would collapse on top of me.

I had ended my story there, for in that moment I’d had the beginnings of the epiphany….

So, 3/11/11, 30 minutes after the most devastating earthquake in recent history, and certainly the worst since I’d been living in Japan, I walked out of that café I suspected was going to become a tomb any moment, crossed the street and went into the train station. I figured the trains would be stopped and they were. The station was crowded with people with no way to get home until service was restored.

For a while people stood and waited, watching station staff racing around doing God knows what, with the kind of urgency that left the impression that whatever checks and repairs were required were underway and that train service would soon be restored.

That optimism lasted for about an hour.

I stopped a staff person and asked when would trains be running. He said it might take an hour, or it might take several. That the entire Tokyu system needed to be checked for damage before service could be restored. I wondered what that entailed, until I saw a couple of staff people walking slowly around the station, looking almost listless. Then one touched the other and pointed to something on the floor of the station. No one else seemed to be paying them any attention, but they had my undivided. At first I thought maybe they were checking for gum (no wonder the unemployment rate in Japan is so low) but after one made a note on a handheld device they both moved away, I moved in closer to see what they had been examining.

What I saw informed me of just how long the trains might be down, and just how powerful that earthquake had been. There was a crack! A crack that raced across the floor, I saw as I followed it with my eyes, straight across the station from wall to wall. The point in the crack that they had been examining closely seemed to be thicker than the rest of the crack, but that might have been my mind playing tricks on me.

I was really on edge from this discovery, and a surge of panic shot through me, riding on the thought that not only was that aging cafe I’d deserted earlier subject to the structural damage of a 9.0 earthquake epicenter-ed 250 miles away, but so was this modern station…and if this station was, then what kind of shape was my wooden house in…what kind of shape was the whole country in?

I’d heard no news as of yet…and there were no TVs around. I’d stupidly let my battery on my cell phone dwindle down to the single digit percentile (how was I supposed to know I would need it like never before) with no outlets in the vicinity to recharge. Twitter was my only source of info…and I wasn’t using a smartphone yet, and with dumb phones Twitter wasn’t much use at all.

Then, suddenly, someone tapped me on my shoulder. I spun around like maybe an aftershock had taken human form and was walking around the station accosting people.

“I’m sorry, do you speak English?” the woman asked. She looked Polynesian, short and smiling.

“Yes?” I said, relaxing by the second, for I could see that she was not a crack in ten tons of concrete coming to get me.

“My husband and I — he’s over there — we’re here on vacation from Hawaii…” she said in native English.

I peaked in the direction she pointed and her Japanese husband was standing there looking anxious as hell.

“You guys came to Yokohama from Hawaii for a vacation??”

She laughed at the irony…an American!

“My in-laws live here,” she said and smiled.

“Well, welcome to Yokohama, pride of the Kanto!”

She laughed some more…”You guys throw a hell of a welcome party!”

“Well, we make sure our visitors feel welcome and  have a memorable time!”

We both looked down at the ominous crack in the concrete — a lightning bolt slicing the station almost in half — then again at each other.

“Does this happen often here?”

“Tremors, yeah, but nothing like this…”

We looked around at the hundreds of people standing, sitting, squatting, talking, brooding, laughing, crying, pondering…waiting.

An hour passed. Then another. No change.

This Hawaiian woman handed me a mikan. She had a whole bag of them.

We stood there, me and these perfect strangers, just watching the goings on mostly without comment. Every so often a person would walk through the gate like they had no idea that there had been an earthquake and we were mid-crisis, noting nothing unusual about the excessive crowding, and head for the escalators to the subway platform, where they’d be set upon by the station staff. Only then would they notice that something was amiss.

After a while we sat down, ate mikans, chatting and joking, trying to ward off dark thoughts.

After a third hour I started getting restless. I went over to one of the staff people and asked what the deal was. He repeated to me what he’d been saying to everyone who’d approached him since we’d been there. That the track and stations were being inspected and service would resume asap. I added a question about bus service. He told me there was none.

I lived about 20 minutes away by train…I was trying to calculate how far away that was on foot when two white guys came over to us. One looked anxious as hell, the other had an iPhone and was talking a mile a minute. They both had British accents.

That’s when I learned the extent of the earthquake, that we were nowhere near the epicenter and that it was one of the biggest recorded in the area in years. That tsunamis were in bound or had already hit certain areas…all that kind of news.

“My wife is in the hospital in Ebisu. She’s having a baby. My first. We’ve walked all the way from Ofuna thus far. Now we’re about to do the rest, all the way to Tokyo.”

Ebisu was a good 40 minutes away by train…in the direction of my house. I told them that I would join them. They’d already been walking for about two hours at breakneck speed so they wanted to rest up before resuming at a nearby restaurant. I knew of one and told them I would take them there.I turned to the couple I’d spent the past three hours sitting and chatting with and invited them to join us.

“No, thank you. We’re gonna wait here for the train…”

I thanked them for the mikans and bid them farewell.

I took the two guys to an old-fashioned izakaya around the corner and we sat there eating yakitori and drinking brews. There had been no cellphone service since the first quake, but the owner had a land line and said we were welcomed to use it. We sat there chatting and fueling up on greasy chicken and Asahi Super Dry beer. The expectant father gave me his business card, saying I was a cool guy and we should keep in touch. I pocketed it.

Twenty minutes later, we were headed for Tsunashima Kaido, the main corridor that runs between Tokyo and Yokohama.

It was packed with like-minded individuals, people who’d decided to walk home, mostly coming from Tokyo. One side of the street were people Yokohama bound, the other, our side, Tokyo bound, with a little spill over from the other side, but not much.

The two of them set out at a pace that was damn near a trot. Periodically they would check bicycles we passed to see if they were locked, intending to “borrow” a couple, but kept encountering secured mamicharis. Their speed increased. I tried to keep up but, having no offspring about to come into the world, I lacked the motivation to marathon, so I began to slow. They didn’t notice. They disappeared into the masses ahead of me.

I walked alone at a pace I felt comfortable with. There was traffic on the two lane street but it might as well have been a parking lot. No car horns blared. Every time I passed a convenience store I wanted to stop but they were packed to the doors and through the windows I could see rapidly emptying shelves and refrigerators.

Then, suddenly, the street lights went out. It was dark by then so the streets became a sea of bouncing shadows and headlights. There was no panic. No screaming. The pace of the masses neither quickened nor slowed. It kept moving forward. I felt like a refugee headed for safety outside of the war zone, with a few million of my countrymen and women.

I realized then that I was still feeling that feeling of communion with my Japanese brethren that I had felt at the moment the earthquake had struck. The darkness protected me from their eyes the way my umbrella protects me on rainy days, but when passing headlights would reveal to the people walking beside me who they were walking alongside of, there was no freak-out, no jolts, no cringing, no evasive maneuvers, just acknowledgement that we were all in this together.

I arrived home about two hours later, just as the power had been restored, with a mikan and a business card in my pocket.

Loco

Aren’t they puurty!

Wouldn’t you just love to get your paws on one of these puppies?

Well, it ain’t hard!

Cuz I’ll be penning autographs (still feel funny saying that) and serving them up to the first fifty (50) people who respond to this post! And they’re going fast…I posted the above  pic on twitter and Facebook and we’re down to 40…already!

So, don’t delay. Send me an email today!

Send it to:

LOCOHAMA7 at GMAIL dot COM 

Your email should say something to the effect of “I want mine!!” and it’s yours…for only 1500 yen (plus shipping and handling…roughly 2000 yen)

This Offer is especially for my fellow foreigners here in Japan!

***For you folks not in Japan, send me an email and we’ll figure something out…)

Get these babies while they’re hot!

And, thanks in advance!

Loco

PS: And if you’d like to attend my first reading / book signing in Tokyo, it’s not too late to reserve a seat! It’s on Friday, MARCH 2nd! An hour and a half of Spirits, Snacks and a Q&A with yours truly! Pick my brain clean! (what’s left of it…)

Click here for more details and to reserve your spot: The Cat’s Meow

The rules were pretty straight forward…simple even. The player must come up with an excuse (Iiwake is Japanese for excuse) for the bizarre behavior of the people in their vicinity and, based on the excuse’s creativity and humor (if possible), points were rewarded. The point system went a little something like this:

Give yourself 20 points if you make yourself laugh (reduced to 15 points if you laugh out loud), 10 points for merely creative Iiwake, 5 points for mediocre, -10 points if you fail to come up with an Iiwake and -50 points if you even think a negative thought about your fellow Japanese-flavored human beings.

As I mentioned at the time, my high score was 175 (hurrah, it was a banner day in Yokohama) and my low? Well, it was too embarrassing to mention.

I’d explained I created the game  for three reasons:

1- To address my growing suspicion that I was becoming paranoid, thinking that everything going on around me was somehow being caused by me or was as a direct result of my presence. To get out of my head, as it were (never a bad thing), and try to see life through another’s eyes, so to speak.

2- To gather ammo in my ongoing internal war against the part of me that finds most Japanese people  unconscionable cowards thus repulsive. Because, if that side of me was to win I would be forced to leave this land that I have grown to adore with a bitter resentment. And,

3- Simply for entertainment. If I could laugh at them or at myself then I would feel so much better. I’m a firm believer in the maxim one must never, ever, lose one’s sense of humor. Never!

If I could find other reasons and/or rationalizations for their behavior, something that paranoia had blinded me to, then I’d score points and so would they.

It’s a Win-Win kind of game.

(Longtime readers of my blog, and of course those who purchased my book, Hi! My Name is Loco and I’m a Racist, — see chapter 10 — know how this game played out.)

Well, the other day, following a rather terse conversation with a high-level private student who’d read (and loved) my book, I was finally inspired to upgrade the game. Thus the birth of Super Iiwake.

And, as before, this is not for the faint of heart! And, parental guidance is suggested

This conversation – which took place in a cafe in Yokohama, as per usual — went a little something like this:

Me: …so you enjoyed the book?

Student: Oh Yeah! I loved it…you have an interesting style. I couldn’t stop reading. And you have really lived a fascinating life!

Me: Some of it, yeah, I guess.

Student: I think you misunderstand something about Japanese people, though.

Me: Well, set me straight…I’ll put it in my next book. Life is a learning process, you know?

Student: Sou da ne. Well, it’s about the, eeto, the empty seat…

Me: Uh huh…

Student: Do you think that Japanese don’t sit next to you because we are racists?

Me: I  don’t think there’s only one reason. And I don’t know every individual’s reason… From my Japanese friends and people I’ve spoken to about it, I’ve gotten a number of excuses…I mean, reasons. So, in the book I focused more on my response to the seat, not so much the cause. You know?

Student: I can tell you the reason.

Me: You mean, there’s only one?

Student: … (pregnant 30 seconds of cogitation)

Me: So, what do you think the one reason is?

Student: I talked to my co-workers about this and they all say the same thing…

Me: What did they say?

Student: They are afraid that a foreigner might speak English to them and embarrass them.

Me: OK…

Student: It’s true!

Me: I’m sure it is.

Student: Then, why did you make that face?

Me: Sorry…I think I might have gas…

Student: …

Me: Seriously.

Student: You don’t think it’s a language issue?

Me: Sometimes, yeah, of course it is.

Student: …

Me:  Well, think of this way…let’s say you lived in Jamaica… And everywhere you went people avoided coming near you like you had a disease, and evaded you when possible like you were a dangerous animal…Don’t laugh, I’m serious! Not everyone, of course…but a significant portion,..let’s say a solid 50% of the strangers you encounter on a daily basis do it, to some extent. Some even run when they see you! So you ask your Jamaican friends or the students you’re teaching Japanese to…you ask them about this and they say, “oh don’t pay those people any mind. Jamaicans are just afraid of being embarrassed by people who don’t speak English or Patois. And since you’re Asian they assume you can’t speak either language. It’s nothing personal…”  What would you think?

Student: … (gives me the gas face)

To be continued…

PS Remember this classic? 

I was an avid reader but rarely had I been so moved as I was while reading this book. 

I didn’t know who Zora was. We’d never learned about her when I was a child. My elementary school primarily focused us students on the greatness of African Americans, particularly in the Arts. We were encouraged to read many books by popular and even some not so popular black writers. But, Zora was not among them. There was “The Color Purple” by Alice Walker, of course. And, the choreo-poem, “For Colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf”  by Ntozake Shange. And  then there was “Sula” by Toni Morrison and one of my all time favorites, “The Friends” by Rosa Guy (the first book to actually make me cry almost throughout). 

But, no Zora.

She was a lost treasure, basically, til Alice Walker went in search of the woman and found her unmarked grave somewhere in Florida where she died the romantic death of an artist, penniless and under appreciated.

Thank you, Ms. Walker! And may the Creator’s blessings remain upon you forever!

“Their eyes were watching good” is held up as Zora’s masterpiece. At the time it was published, however, it was not. Even other writers I admired trashed it. Richard Wright, for one, shredded it in a review. Accused her of pandering to white superiority. Said she was trying to tell a story that would only appeal to them. That black folk didn’t need stories that portrayed them as quaint and illiterate circulating about reinforcing what whites already believed, while intellectuals like him get looked upon as freaks and exceptions to the rule of black inferiority.

These were troubled times for blacks in the America. We were holding on to our dignity and self-esteem with our teeth and fingernails.

And, Zora comes along and writes a powerful novel starring characters so plain-spoken as to resemble caricatures, dialogues written phonetically so that most readers would have to read the conversations aloud to even understand what the characters were saying, as they lived out there lives of simplicity free of white influence, in the first incorporated black township in America.

It was audacious. Profound. She was post-race before people could even envision post-race. Even now we can only glimpse it. I think it was because she was an anthropologist. She studied people, the way they lived and the way they talked. She travelled a great deal in the South of the US and in the Caribbean, and learned things that people trapped in the US mindset couldn’t understand at the time.

I think she discovered something in her travels. Travelling, not to take pictures of famous places and come home to show them to friends, but to study about life and humanity, does something to a person. It frees the mind from the constraints that most people aren’t even aware of. Digging up folklore, and listening to the stories passed down through the ages orally, as they were done traditionally, and the nature of things becomes more apparent.

I suspect.

And this is what Zora brought to all her work. This discovery,though language is power, that laced in language is love. That language, spoken language, has an inherent poetry and vividness that is lost when it is comtemporized and formalized. The beauty gets lost.

Zora never lost it.

Love you Zora. Thank you for keeping the oral tradition alive even in print. Your work is miraculous. A tradition that you taught us all is worth preserving.

 Loco

PS: In case you didn’t know, your boy Loco is looking a place in black history right in the face with the publishing of his critically acclaimed first book: Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist! (now available from both Amazon and Barnes & Noble online!).

This book reflects my own knowledge and love of black history, which began with my parents making sure I learned it in lieu of “American” or “Eurocentric” history from the tender age of six.

This book is more than about life in Japan. It is a memoir of my active participation in several major movements and  how these events have helped shape my current world view for the better! Don’t take my word for it. LET READERS TELL YOU: See what they’ve said here on Amazon

Get your copy here.

For more info, check out the book’s webpage here: www.himynameisloco.com

Are you interested in getting your physical hands on a physical autographed copy of the critically acclaimed book, Hi! My Name Is Loco and I am a Racist?

That’s Right! Signed, sealed and delivered to your front door…

Sure, you are!

Well, for the first 50 people who respond to this post you’ll get just that!

Just send me an email to: loco@himynameisloco.com to reserve your copy!

The cost: ¥1500 (plus shipping and handling) Roughly, ¥2000!!

You make out much better than with Amazon (no int’l shipping), PLUS you get the author’s autograph! Who knows? It might be worth something someday (-;

PS: And, oh yeah, do me a favor and send me (or post) a pic of yourself holding the book and smiling like you’ve hit the lottery!

Love,

Loco

PS: Don’t forget, I will be doing a reading of my new book on the evening of March 2nd at a lovely venue in Yoyogi- Uehara called Biscotti Tapas. This event is being promoted, curated, and coördinated by the fine people at The Cat’s Meow, primarily that lovely, talented and energetic Gal-About-Town, @Kimiecat Click here for more information on this exciting event:The Cat’s Meow,

Well, here’s your chance!

For I will be doing my first reading of my new book that evening at a lovely venue in Yoyogi- Uehara called Biscotti Tapas. I visited there one evening last year and had a wonderful time! It’s an ideal venue for my inaugural reading and for an intimate Q&A with a few choice readers.

This event is being  promoted, curated, and coördinated by the fine people at The Cat’s Meow, primarily that lovely, talented and energetic Gal-About-Town, @Kimiecat  

So, have you been wanting to meet the man and mind behind Loco in Yokohama but haven’t had the chance?

Have you wanted to get yourself a copy of his new  book, “Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist“  but were waiting for the trade paperback version to be made available? Did you want your copy signed by the man himself? Have you prayed on bended knee for the opportunity to ask him questions directly about this controversial, critically acclaimed book?

Is my referring to myself in 3rd person creeping you out, too? lol

Well, in the inimitable words of Mr. Bob Barker, “Come on, down!” 

The venue is small (this is Japan) so we’re accepting only thirty (30) reservations, on a first come / first serve basis (and according to Kim, 8 of those are already spoken for as of the moment of this posting: 2/14/2o12 10:50 am) So, don:t delay, reserve today!

Foe more information and to reserve your spot at this event, please visit Kimiecat’s homepage here: The Cat’s Meow

Looking forward to meeting you!

Loco

***A little FYI: Hi! My name is Loco and I am a racist is available in paperback as well. You can pick up your copy at my book page here: Loco’s Createspace Page

Enjoy the interviews! Drop a line and let me know what you think.

Click Here to read Baye’s Q&A with Our Man, from the infamous blog Our Man in Abiko

Click here for Baye’s Q&A with Corinne of the outrageously popular blog: Always Leaving Things Unfinishe

Click here to read Baye’s Q^A with the fabulous Sci-fi author: Tonya Moore,

Click here to read a Q&A with Amanda of the rising star among blogs: Whoa I’m in Japan

And, below we have a couple of video interviews done via Podcast and Youtube channels. Enjoy!

CLICK HERE FOR THE  PAPERBACK!!

That’s right! You can get the trade paperback version of this book right here at: Loco’s Createspace E-Store

And, for those of you who like the convenience of carrying a library around with you in your Smartphone, iPad or other smart device, the Kindle version of this controversial new book remains available from anywhere in the world at Amazon.com. Just follow this link: Kindle Version. You don’t even need to buy a Kindle. Just go to the order page and download (for FREE) a Kindle reader for your Mac, PC or smart phone. Hi! My name is loco… is also available on Barnes and Nobles’ Nook: Click here to download the Nook version. If you need a Nook reader for your PC, Mac or Smartphone, you can click here to download a Nook App for FREE.

You’ll be reading it in minutes! Gotta love the modern world!

Loco

The wait is over!

Hi! My Name Is Loco and I am a Racist

has arrived!

ON SALE NOW!!

For those of you living in the past, who like the feel of slain trees in your hands when you read, the Trade Paperback version of Hi! My name is Loco…is now available. Never let it be said that Loco discriminates against the Old Skool and the Ecologically Unsound. (-;

…and here’s the proof:

CLICK HERE FOR THE PAPERBACK VERSION!!

That’s right! You can get the trade paperback version of this book right here at: Loco’s Createspace E-Store

And, for those of you who like the convenience of carrying a library around with you in your Smartphone, iPad or other smart device, the Kindle version of this controversial new book remains available from anywhere in the world at Amazon.com. Just follow this link: Kindle Version. You don’t even need to buy a Kindle. Just go to the order page and download (for FREE) a Kindle reader for your Mac, PC or smart phone. Hi! My name is loco… is also available on Barnes and Nobles’ Nook: Click here to download the Nook version. If you need a Nook reader for your PC, Mac or Smartphone, you can click here to download a Nook App for FREE.

You’ll be reading it in minutes! Gotta love the modern world!

*****

I’ll be having a book launch party and doing some signings around Yokohama, Tokyo and Kawasaki in the very near future. So stay tuned for that in the coming weeks.

In the meantime, enjoy which ever version you purchase and please leave reviews at the Amazon and Nook pages so that others can know how much you enjoyed the book–and I have every confidence you will!

Thank you, and brace yourself for a game-changing experience!

Regards,

LOCO

It’s real, it’s realer than real…

It’s not a rumor, y’all! Dreams DO come true! Just do your part, and stay the course…the Creator”ll give you a hand when you need it (-;

Don’t know what else to say…except this:

The Paper version’s coming soon!!

Stay Tuned!

Loco

PS: Damn, 392 pages is thicker than I thought…(-;

PPS:My critically acclaimed first book: Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist! (is now available in both Amazon Kindle and Barnes & Noble Nook online!) and as you can see above will soon be available in print!

This book is more than a “Japan” book. MUCH, much more! Don’t take my word for it. LET READERS TELL YOU: See what they’ve said here on Amazon

For more info, check out the book’s webpage here: www.himynameisloco.com

This phenomenon was best captured, IMHO, in the words of Ralph Ellison.

I remember when I was in grade school, I was assigned to write a book report. The name of the book was “Invisible Man.” I was a big Abbott and Costello fan, so naturally I thought it was going to be a creepy tale about, well, an invisible man.

It was…and it wasn’t.

It was about a man, alright. And it was very creepy. Gave me nightmares. Not the kind of book I think should be assigned to 12 and 13 year olds. I was an avid reader, though, and devoured books for fun. But, this one…it was the first book I’d ever read that scared the shit outta me despite the fact I could hardly understand it. I just knew the parts I didn’t understand would scare me all the more.

For example, in the first chapter named “Battle Royal”  – a wicked example of understatement – a nameless “ginger-colored” boy, expecting to give a speech and receive a scholarship from some drunken white benefactors, is forced (after watching a naked blond women dance around) to fight 8 other black boys in a ring, all blindfolded, for the white guys’ amusement. Then, after blindly beating the shit out of one another, they were paid, but the money was placed on, unbeknownst to them, an electrified rug and they had to fight one another to retrieve the coins. Then, battered, bleeding and electrocuted, and subject to repeated interruptions replete with racial slurs and other insults of the debased nature, including the editing out, under threat of violence, of the word “equality,” he was allowed to give his speech and receive his scholarship.

WTF right?

Even at that age I knew that I was not Ellison’s target audience. I was the wrong age, and probably the wrong race, too. Ellison was part of the Harlem Renaissance’s black intelligentsia, and this book was written in a style only fellow intelligentsia, or at least well-educated or well-read folk could fully grasp. His target was white people.

At least I used to think so. Now I think it was written for thinkers of any race.

Ralph Ellison won the National Book Award in 1953 for this novel, full of surreal imagery and symbolism. It’s held up as one of the 100 greatest American novels ever written.

I still can’t read it without feeling chills. Without feeling myself disappearing into the eerie landscape of the dream world he fabricated. A dream world forged by the dehumanizing impact of living in a society racially charged predominantly by white hate and ignorance.

Today, I’d like to take a moment and thank Mr. Ellison for writing a book that without a doubt leaves the reader, regardless of race, creed or color, with full recognition of what it feels like to be invisible…and for those who already feel invisible, how to materialize before the eyes of those that would negate your singular existence.

Loco

PS: In case you didn’t know, your boy Loco is looking a place in black history right in the face with the publishing of his critically acclaimed first book: Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist! (now available from both Amazon and Barnes & Noble online!).

This book reflects my own knowledge and love of black history, which began with my parents making sure I learned it in lieu of “American” or “Eurocentric” history from the tender age of six.

This book is more than about life in Japan. It is a memoir of my active participation in several major movements and events in modern day history, both black and otherwise, both beautiful and horrid, and how these events have helped shape my current world view for the better! Don’t take my word for it. LET READERS TELL YOU: See what they’ve said here on Amazon

Get your copy here.

For more info, check out the book’s webpage here: www.himynameisloco.com

In the case of Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist! there were several worthy chapters that missed the cut due to time and length constraints.

For those of you who have read and enjoyed the book, and would like a chance to sink your teeth into some of these missing selections (that btw I’m very proud of and regret not being able to include in the final version) then this offer is for you!

And it’s so easy!

For each person you persuade through strong recommendation and endorsement to buy the book I’ll make one of these scintillating chapters available to you!

By no means should this be done at gunpoint…after all, you are a satisfied reader, right? And this was something you were going to do anyway, right?

Just tell your recruit to holler at me on Twitter (@Hi_MyNameisLoco or @Locohama) or Facebook (@Hi! My name is Loco) using the hash-tag #himynameisloco, or in the comment section below with proof that they’ve bought the book on the strength of your personal kuchikomi recommendation, and by midnight on February 19th 2012, you’ll be one of the elite readers with a copy of the Not-So Lost Chapters from my highly acclaimed book.

It’s that simple!

“Here’s an excerpt from one of these chapters just to wet your whistle:

After University, there was an event in the US that polarized, racially, the entire country…virtually no one was excluded. No one was immune.

At the time I was an account executive, a salesman, working in corporate America at a respectable company receiving, after commissions and bonuses, respectable compensation. I was content.

The company was actually pretty diverse comparatively, and the Sales department reflected this diversity. I had co-workers from several minority groups, (Latino, Asian, Middle Eastern, etc…) and the whites were descendants from a number of ethnic groups, as well (Italians, Jewish, Irish, etc…) And, like my experience in the Army, we were all thrown together and expected to get along. Once again it was in the name of the only color that really mattered: green. But, not OD Green. This time around it was Benjamin Franklin Green, the almighty dollar. And, aside from a few minor bumps along the way, we did just that!

We were a happy group of Yuppies, Buppies and what have yous. Since the commissions were based on the group effort, we all bust our asses. Slacking was seriously frowned upon. No one wanted to be the guy or gal bringing up the rear. We’d play basketball together, go drinking together; one of my best friends, til this day, actually sat right beside me.

Life was good.

That is, until this event…

It was June, 17th 1994…I was watching my home team, the Knicks, battling it out against Olajuwan (perhaps the greatest center ever) and the Houston Rockets, game 5 of the NBA Finals, and man was I pissed when breaking news interrupted the game. I can’t even remember if I’ve even seen the end of the game to this day, because this event — for reasons that would become clearer as time went on — rocked the world!

Watching that white Ford Bronco cruising along the highway in a low speed chase, police in cold pursuit, all I could think was: this fucker is guilty just for pulling this shit during the game!

Little did I know at the time, that half of America was watching this same scene at that same moment…like it was the Space shuttle Columbia disaster or Bush’s televised Shock & Awe assault on Iraq. Nor did I know how the events that took place afterward would impact my comfy little diversified workplace, and the entire country, bringing out the ugly little racism that dwells in all of us!

Is your whistle wet? Wanna read more? Well, go ahead and do what you’d probably been planning to do already and tell a friend to buy the book! Click here!

This is just a little extra incentive…

yours,

LOCO

PS: If you haven’t read the book yet, no need to feel left out. Go ahead and get yourself a copy! Readers say it’s a page-turner they couldn’t put down (see link on left to read reviews), so there’s an excellent chance you’ll finish in plenty of time to participate.

Thank you to all of the readers who have been saying such wonderful things about my labor of love!

James Baldwin…(sigh!)

Here was a man!

A man that didn’t mince words. He didn’t infuse his words with religion to give them some lofty significance. He didn’t compromise his ideas by sanctifying them with some ancient text of dubious origin written by zealots. He had the courage that conviction creates, however, and the pluck to speak truth to power and to the powerless. He’d sagaciously find flaw in majesty as astutely as he’d find flaw in himself, and thus was respected and despised as someone with his intellectual authority unfortunately will inevitably be.

He spoke to me.

I saw myself in him more so than in any of the other black leaders and spokespeople. He earned my trust and respect the way a great teacher does, or a great comedian, a person with a mind capable of witnessing events, great and small, and discerning their significance, their humor, their value to humanity, having the rare ability to strip away the extraneous, the hyperbolic, the strictly decorative, the ego-molested message muddling muck, and articulate these complex ideas of utmost importance in the language of every man, yet with an eloquence and purity that makes it feel like The Creator was feeding him words through a teleprompter and ghostwriting his books.

He possessed as close to an objective view of the black struggle in America as I’ve ever encountered, as I suspect was humanly possible for a person living in such times.

Yeah, I loved the man.

Particularly his debates with members of the Nation of Islam, including Malcolm X, and for good reasons.

I think he presented the strongest argument against the Nation. He certainly supported my own reasons why I could never seriously entertain notions of joining their ranks.

While whites at the time could not argue with Malcolm substantially for they lacked the moral turpitude and in many cases even the conviction and intelligence to do so, James Baldwin could and did! And, how!

Strangely enough, I didn’t truly discover Baldwin until I was in University. How I made it through my elementary school without having his work thrust at me is a question I  really can’t answer. Maybe it was because my school had embraced so many aspects of what the Black Muslims were doing in the community that they didn’t need any dissenting thoughts floating around. Or maybe it was simply because he was openly gay at a time when gay was seen, at best, as something that should be kept in the closet, locked away. I really don’t know why.

In my twenties I read a book Baldwin had written about his meeting with the Honorable Elijah Muhammad, the leader of the Black Muslim Movement at the time, called “The Fire Next Time” (which became one of my all-time favorite books) in which he’d taken the phenomenon known as the Nation of Islam to task, in no uncertain terms. And made it virtually impossible for any African American reader (not deep under the influence of the Nation of Islam already) to walk away from the reading feeling the same way about Elijah Muhammad and his followers as they did before reading it.

(Many of the profound and ultimately prophetic ideas he expressed in the above clip were expanded upon in the book. Eventually even Malcolm’s views would become much more aligned with Baldwin’s.)

Instead of focusing on the numerous nuggets of truth and wisdom in Elijah Muhammad’s (and thus Malcolm’s and eventually Minister Farrakhan’s) words, the presence he brought to every utterance, and the reverence he inspired in his devotees, (though he by no means ignored it) Baldwin got down to the nitty-gritty. What was his organization’s objective and how feasible was this objective? And, more importantly, was this objective in the best interest of African Americans and America as a whole, for Baldwin believed (as I came to do as well) that one could not exist without the other.

And, even if he hadn’t addressed the Separatist views, the talk of the expiration of the White man’s Civilization, the Mother Plane connection, etc…one would feel not so much that these ideas were silly, but that they were no less far-fetched and ludicrous than praying to a Mysterious God and waiting around for a blond-haired, blue-eyed Jesus to return with salvation for the faithful, something the Black Muslims (including Malcolm) would often criticize Black Christians for doing .

Even Minister Farrakhan has stepped back, in recent years, from some of the radical and fantastic notions once upheld by the Honorable Elijah Muhammad.

Baldwin said, in this essay, words that have actually helped me through many a troubled time- even sometimes here in Japan. He said, “I do not mean to be sentimental about suffering–enough is certainly as good as a feast–but people who cannot suffer can never grow up, can never discover who they are. That man who is forced each day to snatch his manhood, his identity, out of the fire of human cruelty that rages to destroy it knows, if he survives his effort, and even if he does not survive it, something about himself and human life that no school on earth–and, indeed, no church–can teach. He achieves his own authority, and that is unshakable.”

Wow, right?

If that statement had been the extent of all he’d said in his entire career, I would still think him worthy of recognition this Black History Month, by an America, and perhaps a world, that would be a better place if they’d only heed his words.

Thank you Mr. Baldwin for showing me how to use love and compassion to retard the combustive energy of anger.

Loco

PS: In case you didn’t know, your boy Loco is looking a place in black history right in the face with the publishing of his critically acclaimed first book: Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist! (now available from both Amazon and Barnes & Noble online!).

This book reflects my own knowledge and love of black history, which began with my parents making sure I learned it in lieu of “American” or “Eurocentric” history from the tender age of six.

This book is more than about life in Japan. It is a memoir of my active participation in several major movements and events in modern day history, both black and otherwise, both beautiful and horrid, and how these events have helped shape my current world view for the better! Don’t take my word for it. LET READERS TELL YOU: See what they’ve said here on Amazon

Get your copy here.

For more info, check out the book’s webpage here: www.himynameisloco.com

When I was a University Student, I studied Creative Writing. My professor, Lewis, read the essays I’d written for his class and recommended several writers that he felt I should read.

“Why these writers?” I asked.

“I think you are a talented writer,” he said. “Yours is a voice the reader wants to hear.”

I remember his words exactly. Even though I was a student with a chip on his shoulder (I dared anyone to try to knock off) and unaccustomed to praise for anything I’d created, and being that he was a professional writer and educator, I took him at his word. (btw, there’s much more on Professor Lewis and the impact he had on my development as a writer and human being in my new book, Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist…just saying)

“Your style is very hard-boiled,” Lewis added. “Very raw and emotional yet tough and edgy. These writers I believe represent the different journeys a voice like yours can take. Check them out for yourself and let me know what you think.”

I told him I would.

They were just names written in red on the cover of my most recent essay. I didn’t recognize any of them but I remember them all.

1. Dashiell Hammett
2. Elmore Leonard
3. James Ellroy
4. Raymond Chandler
5. Jim Thompson
6. Chester Himes

Though I read a lot, I was mostly a biography, auto-biography and sports book guy. I got most of my fiction through film. I was a movie fanatic, Still am. So, my initial research into these guys garnered names of stories I knew well from films I’d seen and dug. Hammett’s Maltese Falcon, Leonard’s 52-Pick up, Chandler’s The big Sleep, Thompson’s The Getaway…(Ellroy would later have L.A. Confidential)

Then there was Chester Himes.

As I researched Himes, the only black writer on the list, naturally I recalled a couple of the movies that were adapted from his books. The first, a film I remembered from my childhood fondly, was a movie called, “Cotton comes to Harlem.”

It was some campy blaxploitation from the early 70′s that used to find its way to television on the Late, Late, Late, Late, LATE show occasionally, and TV Guide devourer that I was, I never missed it. Then there was its “sequel” “Come Back, Charleston Blue.” More of the investigative hijinks of Coffin Ed and Gravedigger Jones, the two black police officers enforcing The Man’s law by any means necessary.

Some goofy shit! But good for a number of laughs.

And, before I sat down to actually read Chester Himes, I wondered just what Professor Walsh had in mind when he suggested I read the works of a man who created these two clowns. What did he see in my writing that lead him to believe that I could benefit from reading novels about corrupt black police officers who, though they didn’t take no shit from their White commanding officers (as was the M.O. of Blaxploitation films of the time…lots of sass and monkeyshine at the expense of white folks), colleagues nor criminals, acted like hard-nosed buffoons and ran around Harlem kicking every ass in their way?

My local library didn’t offer much. Those other author’s works were in abundance but Himes…there was only one. A book called: If he hollers let him go.

So I borrowed it.

And read it.

When I finished, and I did so damn near in one sitting, I read it again…immediately. I spent a whole weekend reading this book.

And, I understood, with blinding clarity, why Professor Warsh had included Himes on that distinguished list: Himes was me!

Furthermore, Himes, or should I say Bob Jones (what a name! might as well have been John Doe), the main character of the story, was every black man. Bob reiterated everything I’d ever heard about what it meant to be a black man in a white world…though Jones was from a different time — the World War II era to be precise — his experience with race was not so different from the experience of black men of the late 80′s and early 90′s. The battles he fought, both internally and externally, wage on even til this day. Even more so for me now that I live in Japan where I’m dealing with some of the same psychological struggles as Jones such as my vulnerability in a society that remains exclusive, and the necessity to restrain my urge to assault while I endeavor to understand the nature of the force I find so disturbing, how much of it is within my control and how much outside of my sphere of influence.

Even his relationship with a white woman mirrored my relationship with white women back in the U.S., and even with Japanese women since I’ve been living in Japan. At the time I first read it I had recently broken up with my first white girlfriend (for more on this relationship, check out my book Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist), and his book helped me to understand what I couldn’t quite get a handle on at the time. The knot that I had twisted myself into so tightly, imagining the pressure would only find relief through the use of drugs and by way of the sexual subjugation of women.

Also, his eventual self-exile, expatriation to Europe, as had many black artist of that time (James Baldwin and Richard Wright most notably did the same) due to the lack of acceptance of his humanity in the States and an open armed acceptance in Europe. So, my having done similarly, in my case Asia, has allowed me to see Himes in a way I think someone who hasn’t had the experience of living outside of one’s homeland for an extended period of time can fully experience and appreciate.

The book struck home and continues to do so when I re-visit it, as I do occasionally…when I can take having home struck so mercilessly as Himes does.

And, after that weekend, back in University, I wanted more. Much more!

This was pre-Amazon, click and ship, so I bounced around the city until I found a number of his other books including the Harlem crime/mystery novels, “Cotton comes to Harlem,” and “The real cool killers,” and my biggest Bonanza, “The collected stories of Chester Himes,” which included all of the short stories he’d written for a number of magazines while in prison.

Yep, I said prison.

Eventually I’d get around to his autobiographies, “The quality of hurt” and “My life of absurdity” but not before I’d checked out the other writers on the list my professor had furnished. By the time I had gotten through them all I understood why he’d included Himes in this group of rather distinguished authors. Simple. He belonged there! For quality of writing and pure storytelling, character & plot development, suspense, action and hard-boiled hard-hitting dialogue, he was as good or a better writer than those others.

But I also suspected something else, as I read Hammett and Chandler in particular. Himes was not quite writing crime novels. Nor was he creating fictional stories with the reality based backdrop of Harlem like Ellroy does Los Angeles or Thompson did Texas and any other hell hole he’d lived in.

Himes was doing something different. I suspect his Harlem was more of a dream-scape, a metaphor or a caricature of Harlem, more representative of his idea of the world as a whole than of Harlem of that time. The world was a place where violence was carried out by the good and the evil, where no one was one or the other, where the comedy was not so much in the irony or in the wit, but in the absurdity of and utter chaos that some writers choose to attempt to give order to and rectify.

He did not.

Even his comedy was painful, derived from a guilt-ridden numbness and that was what was missing from all those movies I’d stayed up all night to see as a youth and re-watched numerous times over the years. And it’s something that film adaptations of his work cannot capture for the finished product would not be so much a black comedy as a black tragedy, comical in its irreverence and lack of everything we’ve come to call humanity. Like watching a person holler in agony, helpless to do anything for your agony has you hollering as well, until you both breakdown into fits of hilarity.

My professor missed that I think. But I could be wrong.

Thank you Mr. Himes for sharing your pain with us, and with the world, for finding the means to translate it into soul-stirring literature, for through it maybe we can all come to a have a greater comprehension of the true value and purpose of our pain.

You have been a great inspiration to me as a writer and as a human, showing by example how to put hurt to work at something productive and creative, something that future generations of any race, can benefit from immensely.

I’m not sure if you ever found the joy that you deserved. The tragic life you lead, revealed in your autobiographies, leads me to believe that most of it, if any, was obtained through writing  and sharing. But I hope your loving wife, Lesley, at least brought you some measure of it.

I honor you not only this Black History month but every Black History month, and every time I take pen in hand.

Loco

PS: In case you didn’t know, your boy Loco is looking a place in black history right in the face with the publishing of his critically acclaimed first book: Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist! (now available from both Amazon and Barnes & Noble online!).

This book reflects my own knowledge and love of black history, which began with my parents making sure I learned it in lieu of “American” or “Eurocentric” history from the tender age of six.

This book is more than about life in Japan. It is a memoir of my active participation in several major movements and events in modern day history, both black and otherwise, both beautiful and horrid, and how these events have helped shape my current world view for the better! Don’t take my word for it. LET READERS TELL YOU: See what they’ve said here on Amazon

Get your copy here.

For more info, check out the book’s webpage here: www.himynameisloco.com

The list is long and distinguished, but I will limit my list to those that impacted me the most.

Some may be familiar to you guys, some may not, but all  come with my highest recommendations if you want to understand what it means to be black, not only in America, Africa and Europe, but, as I’ve learned living here in Japan, in Asia as well.

The motivation behind forming a Black History Month is essentially the same motivation that drove me to write my first book: Hi! My Name Is Loco and I am a Racist.

While there is an abundant amount of  information disseminated internationally about the  contributions that other races and cultures have made to humanity throughout history, much of what Africa and its diaspora have contributed has not . The effect this has on the world’s mentality and attitudes toward blacks is a dark and detrimental one, to say the least. And this ignorance nourishes racist attitudes worldwide. 

So, an educator, historian, and author by the name of Carter G. Woodson came up with a solution.

“Americans have been miseducated,” Woodson concluded. “Negro contributions are overlooked, ignored, and even suppressed by the writers of history textbooks and the teachers who use them. Race prejudice, he concluded, ”is merely the logical result of tradition, the inevitable outcome of thorough instruction to the effect that the Negro has never contributed anything to the progress of mankind.”

This, of course, is very far from the truth.

It was time to properly educate them, for through this educational process not only would African-Americans stand to benefit – for a foothold in history is a human need evidenced by the fact that humans have always cherished and recorded it – but so would Americans of all races. History has been a dignifying constant and a source of pride since the time all humanity called Africa its homeland. (It’s no wonder that throughout history when one nation conquered another often the historical records and achievements of that nation were obliterated, for that was one surefire way to demoralize that  people making them easier to control and enslave.) And he knew that if all Americans were aware of this history then they too would come to respect people of African descent, and find salvation in this recognition.

It was a brilliant plan.

(Japan, in particular, could use a little black history in their curriculum. At least I know my students in Yokohama are getting it, and getting it good from yours truly!)

So, on behalf of all conscientious people of the world, I want to say thank you for your sacrifices and efforts, Mr. Woodson. 

Coming soon, I will begin this series with a writer who I feel perhaps the strongest kinship with:

His name…is Chester Himes.

Brace yourselves!

Stay tuned… and  please:

Loco

PS: In case you didn’t know, your boy Loco is looking a place in black history right in the face with the publishing of his critically acclaimed first book: Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist! (now available from both Amazon and Barnes & Noble online!).

This book reflects my own knowledge and love of black history, which began with my parents making sure I learned it in lieu of ”American” or ”Eurocentric” history from the tender age of six.

This book is more than about life in Japan. It is a memoir of  my active participation in several major movements and events in modern day history, both black and otherwise, both beautiful and horrid, and how these events have helped shape my current world view for the better! Don’t take my word for it.  LET READERS TELL YOU: See what they’ve said here on Amazon  

Get your copy here. 

For more info, check out the book webpage here: www.himynameisloco.com

Like many people of my generation, the highlight of my weekend was waiting to see who would be the guest on “Soul Train.” Saturday morning was dedicated to the Don! The music he played was the soundtrack of my life! I grew up with the deep bass of Don Cornelius’ voice embedded in my head. I adored every variation and version of the show’s opening theme music and each time it changed I can still feel the disappointment in letting the previous version go.

I just wanted to say a special thank you to this incredible man. His show was MTV, BET and a half-dozen currently successful reality shows all wrapped up in one before any of them were even conceived. He not only introduced the world to black music, culture and dance, but, in a strange way, myself as well. Sure, I knew most of the songs and acts that he had on the show before they came, but I’d never seen them in their full glory until he put them on display.

When I was young, for example, he had The Spinners” on the show one time and they were singing “Games People Play” which was a song I was crazy about!. And another day, Blue Magic, singing “Let the Sideshow Begin” were there.

 Blue Magic

With both of these groups I had gotten a big shock when I saw that neither group had female members. In both cases it was a GUY doing a falsetto. It was a helluva moment for me, cuz my pre-adolescent mind was so confused why would a woman be singing all these lovely things about another woman!! LOL!

I remember one day, I turned on Soul Train expecting to see the usual fare of celebrated black acts and up on the stage comes this guy:

This was the day I fell in love with Elton John!!

I owe it all to the Don!  He was much more than the black alternative to Dick Clark and his American Bandstand (which I also watched).  He was The Don of Soul and a legend in his own time. Thanks you sir, for clearing up my gender confusion and showcasing the above and many other black & white entertainers for People All Over The World to see and hear and love.

Rest In Peace!

Loco

I was kicking it with a friend about my book, Hi! MY Name Is Loco and I Am A Racist, when I got an email. When I saw that the email had come from someone named Chris I naturally thought it was from my boy, THE Bad Boy himself, Chris over at Confessions of a Bad Boy in Japan…but the last name was different…

And familiar…

In part, it read:

Hello Unique!

I just stayed up the better part of the night, and am now about three-quarters of the way through your GREAT book. Congratulations on creating such a personal, honest, and compelling piece of work. It’s a fantastic achievement, and I’m proud to have known you; proud to be in those pages. Thank you for writing that bit about me, which may be the most moving thing I’ve ever read.

All best,

White Boy Chris

For those of you who have read my book, then you’re familiar with this person and know, though brief, how pivotal a role he played in my story. So much that I dedicated a chapter to him. (If you haven’t read the book yet, don’t worry, I’m not about to spoil it. And don’t any of you who have read it spoil it, either!)

Suffice it to say that receiving this email was a moment! You know, like those times when you feel like you’ve received a Direct Message from the Almighty Himself informing you that you’ve done something great and you’re on the right path, one that leads to atonement and reparation? It was one of those moments…almost 30 years in the making. 

Still a little freaked out, to tell you the truth. 

Thought I’d share that with you guys…let y’all know how real this shit is!

For those of you who haven’t read the book yet, the above is just another reason for you to get your copy right away!

And to my old friend, White Boy Chris: your email was one of the most moving things I’VE ever read!

Thank You!

Loco

The highly anticipated first book by Baye McNeil (a.k.a. Loco of Loco in Yokohama) is now available from both Amazon and Barnes & Noble online!

The Kindle version of this controversial new book is available from anywhere in the world at Amazon.com. Just follow this link: Kindle Version. You don’t even need to buy a Kindle. Just go to the order page and download (for FREE) a Kindle Reader for your Mac, PC or smart phone.

Hi! My name is Loco… is also available on Barnes and Nobles’ Nook: Click here to download the Nook version. If you need a Nook Reader for you PC, Mac or Smartphone, you can click here to download a Nook App, also for FREE!

Me: Hey Ma!

Ma: My baby! How are you?

Me: I’m great. You?

Ma: Oh, your mother is doing pretty good these days, thank the lord.

Me: Well, guess what?

Ma: What??

Me: My book…it’s finished!!

Ma: Oh that’s wonderful! My baby is a writer!

Me: I’m an author, now!

Ma: Well, excuse me, Mr. Author. My baby is an author! I love you so much and I’m so proud of you!

Me: Thank you Ma. I love you, too.

Ma: So, when will it be published?

Me: I published it last week!

Ma: Oh My God! That’s amazing…so fast!

Me: Yeah, only 3 years LOL

Ma: Smart ass! Hrmph! So, I can go to the book store and see my baby in the window?

Me: Ummm…not quite. But, I’ll send you a copy once I get the paper version done. Right now it’s available in E-book version. You can read it on a computer or smartphone or…

Ma: Oh…well you know your Mama don’t know nothing about that stuff…but I’m still so proud of you…

Me: Thanks!

Ma: So what’s it called? Does it have a name?

Me: Ummm…yeah, it has a name…

Ma: Well, what is it?

Me: It’s Hi! My name is Loco and I am a Racist!

Ma: Say what??? Your name is what? And you’re a what???

I laughed my ass off…

Since the launch of my book, Hi! My Name is Loco and I am a Racist, TWO days ago (seems like much longer doesn’t it?) I have received quite a few accolades and some of them have, frankly, floored me!

Sometimes, you don’t know who your real friends are until you’ve been placed into a crisis with them. Usually a crisis will bring out the best and worst in people. At a minimum, you’ll have a chance to see what they’re really made of.

I’m not in a crisis now. I’m in a situation where I’m positioning myself to achieve the dream I’ve retained for many years: of being a successful writer! I don’t know how crucial this very moment will ultimately be in achieving that aspiration, but I’m inclined to believe that my first book is at least important.

And, the outpour of support from not only my friends and family abroad, but particularly from the Japan Blogosphere, has been tremendous!! I mean, with the sensitive nature of the subject matter often covered on my blog, and the reception it sometimes received, I was not fully expecting this! I was expecting some, of course, but over the past two days, I’ve been getting support from places that I had no idea it resided.

Seeing that this is the most important endeavor I’ve undertaken in my LIFE, I’m overwhelmed…I’m filled with this continuously swelling feeling of validation, vindication, and optimism encased in an expanding locket of love and respect…and what makes it more potent and amazing, is that, in MOST cases, it’s being powered by people I have never personally met nor spoken to except in tweets and responses to comments.

This deluge of support makes a powerful statement about the age we are living in, and the almost otherworldly generosity and ultimate goodness of people in general. In this apparently cynical world we live in, this is beyond refreshing to see. This is healing!! I can actually feel open wounds I’d neglected scabbing and mending as I bathe in this flood of well wishes and support!

Sorry, but I just felt compelled to try to convey what I’m feeling now. My time is tight. The iron is hot and I gotta make this thing do whatever it’s gonna do during this launch period. So I can’t tell you all individually what this means (rest assured I will) but I just wanted to take a moment and say, from that clichéd bottom of my heart: THANK YOU!!

I haven’t felt so much reaffirming love and insecurity-smashing support, at such an elevated level, coming from so many sources simultaneously, in my life! Could this all be inspired by me? By my writing? I don’t know… Wherever it’s coming from, it’s a beautiful thing! Something I feel blessed to have seen for myself.

May the Creator bless all of you, too. That you may one day feel, or feel again some day, or constantly feel this way, about anything you do!

Cuz  it’s to die for…

What’s the greatest feeling you’ve ever felt?

Share your thoughts below.

Sincerely,

Loco

PS: Now back to the grind!

And, oh yeah, make the world a better place (by saving trees, etc…) and buy my book! On Sale Now  RIGHT HERE

The wait is over!

Hi! My Name Is Loco and I am a Racist

has arrived!

ON SALE NOW!!

The highly anticipated first book by Baye McNeil (a.k.a. Loco of Loco in Yokohama) is now available from both Amazon and Barnes & Noble online!

The Kindle version of this controversial new book is available from anywhere in the world at Amazon.com. Just follow this link: Kindle Version. You don’t even need to buy a Kindle. Just go to the order page and download (for FREE) a Kindle Reader for your Mac, PC or smart phone.

Hi! My name is Loco… is also available on Barnes and Nobles’ Nook: Click here to download the Nook version. If you need a Nook Reader for you PC, Mac or Smartphone, you can click here to download a Nook App, also for FREE!

You’ll be reading this future classic in minutes! Gotta love the modern world!

The Trade paperback version is still being perfected, but once it’s available I’ll be having a book launch party and doing some signings around Yokohama, Tokyo and Kawasaki. So stay tuned for that in the coming weeks.

In the meantime, enjoy your E-version and don’t forget to leave reviews at the Amazon and Nook pages so that others can know how much you enjoyed the book–as I have every confidence you will!

Also, if you have a chance, please check out my new website dedicated to the book. It has information about the author, publisher, excerpts from the book, and more!

http://www.himynameisloco.com/

Thank you, and brace yourself for a game-changing experience!

I’m on the brink of making the transition from writer / blogger to Indie author and publisher. The countdown to my first book’s launch  has already begun, and t’s in the single digits.

I’m not religious, but I feel compelled to say a quick agnostic prayer to the Creator of all things:

Thank you for blessing me with the wherewithal to see this project through to completion, and for placing supportive and inspiring friends and loved ones in my path, like people lining the route of a marathon with bottles of water and shouts of encouragement. I don’t think I could have gotten to this point otherwise.

I won’t ask for success, Lord, cuz you’ve already given me the tools I need to bring that about on my own. It’s just a matter of my utilizing them effectively and staying focused. And I won’t ask for strength to endure the challenges yet to be faced, either. Again, I think you’ve already done more than enough in that department.

What I will ask for though is that you bless my readers with the ability to grasp and understand the purpose of this book, and not to misconstrue it. The perfect world you’ve created is filled with imperfect people– like me–but we all have something to offer, a story to tell. And that story is truth! Truth that sets both the storyteller and the listener free. Please open the minds and hearts of readers, as you’ve opened my heart and mind in the writing of these stories, so that together we may enjoy your beneficence. Let it generate goodwill, and be received with the love and courage that inspired it.

Amen.

OK, with that said, here goes something beautiful. Without further delay, we have the unveiling of the cover and title of my first book:

So, what is the answer to the question: can a book be judged by its cover? I’m gonna go with an emphatic YES! This cover lives up to the book and the book lives up to the cover, and then some! 

Later I’ll get into the artist behind this work but, as you can plainly see, he’s a pro! 

***Quick advice to you writers working with cover artists: Choose the Artist Wisely and then Trust the Artist!  Oh, and You Get what you Pay For! ***

Stay tuned! If time allows, I may post an excerpt or two this weekend…

But, in the mean time, do me a big favor and TELL EVERYONE YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS!!

I’m an indie author, y’all. No huge PR or Ad campaign or Marketing machine is behind this. Gonna need some people power! The power of Word of Mouth is still the greatest marketing tool around!  So, if you’re so inclined, put your power to work for your boy, Loco! And make those social networking tools of yours do what they do!

I’ve been grinding here at Loco in Yokohama for over three years, giving it all I got for you guys. The highs and lows of life in Japan. All the while, making the hits, taking the hits, and forging a forum where real world topics could be addressed and discussed. Sometimes I hit the mark, sometimes I missed it, but if you read my work then you know I’m always aiming for edu-tainment and truth (at least, from my perspective)!

And this book is that, and more!

In conclusion, I don’t know what the future holds for this project but if the cover and the support I’ve received thus far are any indication then the future is looking mighty bright and colorful! 

This is really happening! (I’m telling myself as much as I’m telling you guys!)  And, this is by far the scariest, most exhilarating moment of my life!

Thank you for being a part of it!

My heartfelt gratitude, in advance…

Loco

I was born at Brooklyn Jewish Hospital (I think it’s condominiums now…that’s NY for you!) And, nope, I’m not Hebrew, but the doctor who administered my first spanking was. He’s been on my hit list even since! And if I ever catch him…bang – zoom!

I wasn’t the cutest baby, my mother tells me. But I had a big head so she just knew I was gonna grow up to be a selfish, ungrateful yet fairly intelligent, ex-patriotic sonohvah philandering deserter.

All mothers are prophets, aren’t they?

My first home was in a lovely little brownstone tree-lined hamlet in Central Brooklyn known as Bedford-Stuyvesant, or if you ask Jay-Z or one of them they’d say Do or Die Bed-Stuy (Or was it Crown Heights—who the hell knows? The neighborhood demarcations changed with every administration it seemed).

Some years later a film maker would put my neighborhood on the map. His name is Spike Lee (the guy holding the pizza below). You might have heard of him. He’s the one who, from his front row seat at Madison Square Garden, taunted Reggie Miller into knocking down two three-pointers and killing the Knicks back in 1994.

Here’s a video filmed in my lovely community by a group of some renown way back when Hip-Hop actually had something to say. (Chyo natsukashii)

Did you spot Loco in the crowd? I was that black guy with the baseball cap, jumping up and down trying to get my face in the…ah, nevermind.

I was the 4th child of six. Yep, one of them happy middle kids. Look at that smile!

And I grew up to be the quintessential prodigious middle child. Here’s a photo of my graduation from University at 13. (Or was that kindergarten? Shit, I should have hired a biographer to do this.) Doesn’t matter, I was a still a virgin, I think.

I spent High School higher than Method Man, so I don’t remember much! And not a pic to show for it. Oh well. Doesn’t matter much. Wasn’t much proper education going on in there, anyway.

My mother is an artist and my father was a Jazz guitarist / truck driver. He was a handsome one, wasn’t he? I can see why mother fell for his game like a ton of bricks.

Yes, I used to wear a lot of gold. Two finger ring, a pinkie ring, and a herringbone bracelet. Must have inherited that from my father. He was a gold guy, too. I think I might be inheriting his pouch now, as well. Thanks a lot Dad!

Between graduation from HS and graduation from University I did a lot of stuff, I guess, but I can’t remember most of it. I worked here and there. Who cares? Not the one of those jobs did I like. Wait, that’s not true. I liked writing for the newspaper…no, actually I hated that, too. But, I loved the writing part (-:

I made many friends and thank god I still have some of them, and their memories are intact. Otherwise I could never fill in all the holes in mine. I could plaster their pictures all over this page but I don’t think I can handle the heartbreak of another close friend suing me (Charlene, the check’s in the mail, and no it’s not in Yen this time) (-:

Then I came to Yokohama. And y’all know the rest: Yep. I lived happily after.

Hope you enjoyed this trip down Loco’s tainted memory lane.

Loco

PS: The holes will be filled in within the pages of my soon to be released first book, so brace yourselves!

Follow me on Twitter here for updates on the release date: Hi! My Name Is Loco

Between earthquakes Tsunamis and Nuclear meltdowns, I feel so blessed to still be around to welcome in the new year!

And I have the audacity to be hopeful about what this year will bring!

I just wanted to take out a moment to thank you guys for the support you’ve given me in 2011 and for hanging in there while I put the finishing touches on my book.

Though I had planned to have this baby on the market by now, I guess it’s right that I start the new year this way. I’m not a big resolution guy, but I do like to promise myself that I will  endeavor to be as creative and productive as possible, and so once again I reaffirm that promise.

Happy New Year, everyone!

May your 2012 be peaceful, joyous and prosperous!

I love you guys and I wish you all a magnificent 2012!

Sincerely,

Loco

Tuesday, December 6th, 2011

Friends,

And now it is winter. Wall Street rejoices, hoping that the change of seasons will mean a change in our spirit, our commitment to stop them.

They couldn’t be more wrong. Have they not heard of Washington and the troops at Valley Forge? The Great Flint Sit-Down Strike in the winter of 1936-37? The Michigan Wolverines crushing Ohio State in the 1950 Blizzard Bowl? When it comes to winter, it is the time historically when the people persevere and the forces of evil make their retreat!

We are not even 12 weeks old, yet Occupy Wall Street has grown so fast, so big, none of us can keep up with the hundreds of towns who have joined the movement, or the thousands of actions — some of them just simple ones in neighborhoods, schools and organizations — that have happened. The national conversation has been irreversibly changed. Now everyone is talking about how the 1% are getting away with all the money while the 99% struggle to make ends meet. People are no longer paralyzed by despair or apathy. Most know that now is the time to reclaim our country from the bankers, the lobbyists — and their gofers: the members of the United States Congress and the 50 state legislatures.

And they’re crazy if they think that a little climate chaos (otherwise known as winter in the 21st century) that they’ve helped to bring about is going to stop us.

I would like to propose to my Occupying sisters and brothers that there are many ways to keep Occupy Wall Street going through the winter months. There is perhaps no better time to move the movement indoors for a few months — and watch it grow even bigger! (For those who have the stamina to maintain the outdoor occupations, by all means, keep it up — and the rest of us will do our best to help you and keep you warm!)

The winter gives us an amazing opportunity to expand our actions against the captains of capitalism who have occupied our homes with their fraudulent mortgage system which has tossed millions of families out onto the curb; a cruel health care system that has told 50 million Americans “if you can’t afford a doctor, go F yourself”; a student loan system that sends 22-year-olds into an immediate “debtors’ prison” of working lousy jobs for which they didn’t go to school but now have to take because they’re in hock for tens of thousands of dollars for the next two decades; and a jobs market that keeps 25 million Americans un- or under-employed — and much of the rest of the workers forced to accept wage cuts, health care reductions and zero job security.

But we in the Occupy Movement reject this version of the “American Dream.” Instead, I suggest we shift our focus for this winter to the following actions:

OCCUPY THE WINTER

A proposal to the General Assembly of Occupy Wall Street from Michael Moore

1. Occupy Our Homes. Sorry, banks, a roof over one’s head is a human right, and you will no longer occupy our homes through foreclosure and eviction because well, you see, they are our homes, not yours. You may hold the mortgage; you don’t hold the right to throw us or our neighbors out into the cold. With almost one in three home mortgages currently in foreclosure, nearing foreclosure or “underwater,” the Occupy Movement must form local “Occupy Strike Forces” to create human shields when the banks come to throw people out of their homes. If the foreclosure has already happened, then we must help families move back into their foreclosed homes — literally (see this clip from my last film to watch how a home re-occupation is accomplished). Beginning today, Take Back the Land, plus many other citizens’ organizations nationwide, are kicking off Occupy Our Homes. Numerous actions throughout the day today have already resulted in many families physically taking back their homes. This will continue every day until the banks are forced to stop their fraudulent practices, until homeowners are allowed to change their mortgage so that it reflects the true value of their homes, and until those who can no longer afford a mortgage are allowed to stay in their homes and pay rent. I beseech the news media to cover these actions — they are happening everywhere. Evictions, though rarely covered (you need a Kardashian in your home as you’re being evicted to qualify for news coverage) are not a new story (see this scene I filmed in 1988). Also, please remember the words of Congresswoman Marcy Kaptur of Toledo (in ‘Capitalism: A Love Story’): Do not leave your homes if the bank forecloses on you! Let them take you to court and then YOU ask the judge to make them produce a copy of your mortgage. They can’t. It was chopped up a hundred different ways, bundled with a hundred other mortgages, and sold off to the Chinese. If they can’t produce the mortgage, they can’t evict you.

2. Occupy Your College. In nearly every other democracy on the planet, students go to college for free or almost free. Why do those countries do that? Because they know that for their society to advance, they must have an educated population. Without that, productivity, innovation and an informed electorate is stunted and everyone suffers as a result. Here’s how we do it in the U.S.A.: make education one of our lowest priorities, graduate students who know little about the world or their own government or the economy, and then force them into crushing debt before they even have their first job. That way has really worked well for us, hasn’t it? It’s made us the world leader in … in … well, ok, we’re like 27th or 34th in everything now (except war). This has to end. Students should spend this winter doing what they are already doing on dozens of campuses — holding sit-ins, occupying the student loan office, nonviolently disrupting the university regents meetings, and pitching their tents on the administration’s lawn. Young people — we, the ’60s generation, promised to create a better world for you. We got halfway there — now you have to complete the job. Do not stop until these wars are ended, the Pentagon budget is cut in half, and the rich are forced to pay their taxes. And demand that that money go to your education. We’ll be there with you on all of this! And when we get this fixed and you graduate, instead of being $40,000 in debt, go see the friggin’ world, or tinker around in your garage a la the two Steves, or start a band. Enjoy life, discover, explore, experiment, find your way. Anything but the assistant manager at Taco Bell.

3. Occupy Your Job. Let’s spend the winter organizing workplaces into unions. OR, if you already have a union, demand that your leaders get off their ass and get aggressive like our grandparents did. For chrissakes, surely you know we would not have a middle class if it weren’t for the strikes of the 1930s-1950s?! In three weeks we will celebrate the 75th anniversary of the workers in my hometown of Flint, Michigan taking over and occupying the General Motors factories for 44 days in the dead of winter. Their actions ignited a labor movement that lifted tens of millions out of poverty and into the middle class. It’s time to do it again. (According to the Census Bureau and the New York Times, 100 million Americans either live in or near poverty. Disgraceful. Greed has destroyed the core fabric of our communities. Enough!) Here are two good unions to get your fellow workers to sign up and join: UE and SEIU. The CWA are also good. Here’s how to get a quick primer in organizing your place of employment (don’t forget to be careful while you do this!). If your company is threatening to close down and move the jobs elsewhere, then it’s time to occupy the workplace (again, you can get a lesson in how to successfully occupy your factory from my movie).

4. Occupy Your Bank. This is an easy one. Just leave them. Move your checking and your credit card to a nonprofit credit union. It’s safe and the decisions made there aren’t based on greed. And if a bank tries to evict your neighbor, Occupy the local branch with 20 other people and call the press. Post it on the internet.

5. Occupy the Insurance Man. It’s time to not only stand up for the 50 million without health insurance but to also issue a single, simple demand: The elimination of for-profit, privately-controlled health insurance companies. It is nothing short of barbaric to allow businesses to make a profit off people when they get sick. We don’t allow anyone to make a profit when we need the fire department or the police. Until recently we would never allow a company to make a profit by operating in a public school. The same should be true for when you need to see a doctor or stay in the hospital. So I say it’s long overdue for us to go and Occupy Humana, United Health, Cigna and even the supposed “nonprofit” Blue Crosses. An action on their lawns, in their lobbies, or at the for-profit hospitals — this is what is needed.

So — there are my ideas for the five places we can Occupy this winter. Help the foreclosed-upon to Occupy their homes. Occupy your college campus, especially the student loan office and the regents meetings. Occupy your job by getting everyone to sign a union card — or by refusing to let the CEO ship your job overseas. Occupy your Chase or Citi or Bank of America branch by closing your account and moving it to a credit union. And Occupy the insurance company offices, the pharmaceutical companies’ headquarters and the for-profit hospitals until the White House and Congress pass the true single-payer universal health care bill they failed to pass in 2010.

My friends, the rich are running scared right now. You need no further proof of this than to read this story from last week. The Republicans’ top strategist met privately with them and told them that they had better change their tune or they were going to be crushed by the Occupy Wall Street movement. They didn’t have to change their greedy actions, he assured them — just the way they talk and PR the situation. He told them never to use the word “capitalism” — it has now been made a dirty word by the Occupy movement, he said. Only say “economic freedom” from now on, he cautioned. And don’t criticize the movement — because the majority of Americans either agree with it or are feeling the same way. Just tell the Occupiers and the distressed Americans: “I get it.” Seriously.

Yes, in just 12 short weeks we have killed their most sacred word — Capitalism — and we have them on the run, on the defensive. They should be. Millions are coming after them and our only goal is to remove them from power and replace them with a fair system that is controlled by the 99%. The 1% have been able to get both political parties to do their bidding. Why should only 1% of the population get to have two parties — and the rest of us have none? That, too, is going to change. In my next letter, I will suggest what we can do to Occupy the Electoral Process. But first we must start with those who pull the strings of the puppets in the Congress. That’s why it’s called Occupy Wall Street. Always better to deal with man in charge, don’t you think?

Let’s Occupy the Winter! An #OWS Winter will certainly lead to a very hopeful American Spring.

Yours,

Michael Moore

MMFlint@MichaelMoore.com

@MMFlint

MichaelMoore.com

God bless the Occupy Movement, and God Bless you too, Michael!!

Tuesday, November 22nd, 2011

Friends,

This past weekend I participated in a four-hour meeting of Occupy Wall Street activists whose job it is to come up with the vision and goals of the movement. It was attended by 40+ people and the discussion was both inspiring and invigorating. Here is what we ended up proposing as the movement’s “vision statement” to the General Assembly of Occupy Wall Street:

We Envision: [1] a truly free, democratic, and just society; [2] where we, the people, come together and solve our problems by consensus; [3] where people are encouraged to take personal and collective responsibility and participate in decision making; [4] where we learn to live in harmony and embrace principles of toleration and respect for diversity and the differing views of others; [5] where we secure the civil and human rights of all from violation by tyrannical forces and unjust governments; [6] where political and economic institutions work to benefit all, not just the privileged few; [7] where we provide full and free education to everyone, not merely to get jobs but to grow and flourish as human beings; [8] where we value human needs over monetary gain, to ensure decent standards of living without which effective democracy is impossible; [9] where we work together to protect the global environment to ensure that future generations will have safe and clean air, water and food supplies, and will be able to enjoy the beauty and bounty of nature that past generations have enjoyed.

The next step will be to develop a specific list of goals and demands. As one of the millions of people who are participating in the Occupy Wall Street movement, I would like to respectfully offer my suggestions of what we can all get behind now to wrestle the control of our country out of the hands of the 1% and place it squarely with the 99% majority.

Here is what I will propose to the General Assembly of Occupy Wall Street:

1. Eradicate the Bush tax cuts for the rich and institute new taxes on the wealthiest Americans and on corporations, including a tax on all trading on Wall Street (where they currently pay 0%).

2. Assess a penalty tax on any corporation that moves American jobs to other countries when that company is already making profits in America. Our jobs are the most important national treasure and they cannot be removed from the country simply because someone wants to make more money.

3. Require that all Americans pay the same Social Security tax on all of their earnings (normally, the middle class pays about 6% of their income to Social Security; someone making $1 million a year pays about 0.6% (or 90% less than the average person). This law would simply make the rich pay what everyone else pays.

4. Reinstate the Glass-Steagall Act, placing serious regulations on how business is conducted by Wall Street and the banks.

5. Investigate the Crash of 2008, and bring to justice those who committed any crimes.

6. Reorder our nation’s spending priorities (including the ending of all foreign wars and their cost of over $2 billion a week). This will re-open libraries, reinstate band and art and civics classes in our schools, fix our roads and bridges and infrastructure, wire the entire country for 21st century internet, and support scientific research that improves our lives.

7. Join the rest of the free world and create a single-payer, free and universal health care system that covers all Americans all of the time.

8. Immediately reduce carbon emissions that are destroying the planet and discover ways to live without the oil that will be depleted and gone by the end of this century.

9. Require corporations with more than 10,000 employees to restructure their board of directors so that 50% of its members are elected by the company’s workers. We can never have a real democracy as long as most people have no say in what happens at the place they spend most of their time: their job. (For any U.S. businesspeople freaking out at this idea because you think workers can’t run a successful company: Germany has a law like this and it has helped to make Germany the world’s leading manufacturing exporter.)

10. We, the people, must pass three constitutional amendments that will go a long way toward fixing the core problems we now have. These include:

a) A constitutional amendment that fixes our broken electoral system by 1) completely removing campaign contributions from the political process; 2) requiring all elections to be publicly financed; 3) moving election day to the weekend to increase voter turnout; 4) making all Americans registered voters at the moment of their birth; 5) banning computerized voting and requiring that all elections take place on paper ballots.

b) A constitutional amendment declaring that corporations are not people and do not have the constitutional rights of citizens. This amendment should also state that the interests of the general public and society must always come before the interests of corporations.

c) A constitutional amendment that will act as a “second bill of rights” as proposed by President Frankin D. Roosevelt: that every American has a human right to employment, to health care, to a free and full education, to breathe clean air, drink clean water and eat safe food, and to be cared for with dignity and respect in their old age.

Let me know what you think. Occupy Wall Street enjoys the support of millions. It is a movement that cannot be stopped. Become part of it by sharing your thoughts with me or online (at OccupyWallSt.org). Get involved in (or start!) your own local Occupy movement. Make some noise. You don’t have to pitch a tent in lower Manhattan to be an Occupier. You are one just by saying you are. This movement has no singular leader or spokesperson; every participant is a leader in their neighborhood, their school, their place of work. Each of you is a spokesperson to those whom you encounter. There are no dues to pay, no permission to seek in order to create an action.

We are but ten weeks old, yet we have already changed the national conversation. This is our moment, the one we’ve been hoping for, waiting for. If it’s going to happen it has to happen now. Don’t sit this one out. This is the real deal. This is it.

Have a happy Thanksgiving!

Yours,
Michael Moore
MMFlint@MichaelMoore.com
@MMFlint
MichaelMoore.com

They’ve got a great selection and the atmosphere is mad inviting. Sick of the Tower experience, and got a taste for what record stores used to be about? Here you go!

And, oh yeah, I love the name, too (-;

 (Okay, I might be a little biased)

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hGIYiWXq2s&feature=related

They’ve got an online Store as well! Check it out, click below (it’s in Japanese though) 

Maybe once my book is published, I’ll get a little collab on with these guys (-; Cuz I know they got soul!

Loco

Who is this guy, Loco, anyway? Click here!

PS: Wanna chance to win a Kindle WiFi from Loco? I bet you do! Peep the rules here: How To Leave This World Better Than You Inherited It

Friend: You’re having fruit for dinner??

Me: Yeah, I love fruit…

Friend: Do all black people like fruit?

Me:  Do, what? What kinda….? I don’t know. I guess so… Do all Yellow People like rice?

Friend: Yellow People?

 She looked at her skin like it was first time she’d ever seen it and scratched her head.

Loco

Who is this guy, Loco, anyway? Click here!

PS: Wanna chance to win a Kindle WiFi from Loco? I bet you do! Peep the rules here: How To Leave This World Better Than You Inherited It

Click here for part 1

and here for part 2

And now Part 3

Most everyday, by the time I get to work, I’m either a case study in apathy, nauseous from the obscenities I’d endured moments earlier or, on a good day, focused on a word, sentence or idea that will  improve my book  or make my latest post more concise.

Only, when I arrive at the gate of my school, I do so to a chorus of good mornings and ohayo gozaimasus.

The baseball team, out on the field practicing, stop practicing to say in semi-unison, “Ohayou Gozaimasu.”  One might add something funny like, “did you buy condoms?”

Some of the girls, out practicing tennis to a hail of cadences, do the same.  One might shriek “I love you, Loco sensei!”

This even before I even cross the threshold.

Once inside, the sound of the band practicing scales and various other tunes wafts through the halls. Students headed for home room notice me in the foyer taking off my street shoes and slipping on my school shoes, greet me with varying levels of enthusiasm.

It’s hard not to think of Mr. Rogers at these times. I even hum the tune unconsciously sometimes (-;

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aU079Mdkenw&feature=related

Sometime I take all the pleasantry for granted and grunt a greeting like a grumpy boss’ arrival at the office, but mostly I can’t but recognize that this warm, giggly, musical welcome is the trigger that allows me to let go of all that baggage I ‘d arrived with. The people within these gates and fences, walls and hedges, are not deserving of the animosity I bear. I’m aware of this the way you’re aware when you’re dreaming that the chirping sound that suddenly pierces your subconscious is not derived from your subconscious but from your Smartphone’s alarm.

The song of children, even teens, especially here, is sung in the key of innocence with chords of hope.

Anger, animosity, hate, bitterness, stand little chance of maintaining their hold under these conditions.

From 8:30 til sometimes as late as 5pm, on a daily basis, I’m a free man!

My school is my sanctuary. And my kids are the custodians.

Not to suggest that the kids aren’t a pain in my ass, sometimes. They’re teens. By divine decree they are. Nor do I want to give the impression that my co-workers don’t challenge my patience (as I do theirs) . Indeed they do.

All I’m saying is that whatever issues I have with life in Japan and Japanese people applies almost solely to strangers…and there are no strangers in my school.

I am not a big scary foreigner I’m not a criminal or something to be shunned, snubbed, escaped from or run off. I’m not to be dehumanized in any way.

I’m a person, as much as a foreigner can be a person here, replete with thoughts and feelings. These are attributes I took for granted until I came to live in Japan.  I will never take them for granted again.

The kids and I inspire and learn from one another. It’s almost a symbiosis, as magical as a Stevie Wonder song.

Case and point, the other day I walked in to work to find these, and many more, adorning the walls:

So, what have my kids taught me about myself?

A-That I’m a real teacher and that teaching is truly a blessing!

B-That my soul is healed by being with children

Thanks kids!

To be continued…

Loco

Who is this guy, Loco, anyway? Click here!

PS: Wanna chance to win a Kindle Wifi from Loco? I bet you do! Peep the rules here: How To Leave This World Better Than You Inherited It

Noam Chomsky

Sorry, off topic, but I love great thinkers who can take complex ideas and make them plain. Chomsky is one such thinker. Here are his words from yesterday on the Occupy Movement:

Delivering a Howard Zinn lecture is a bittersweet experience for me. I regret that he’s not here to take part in and invigorate a movement that would have been the dream of his life. Indeed, he laid a lot of the groundwork for it.

If the bonds and associations being established in these remarkable events can be sustained through a long, hard period ahead – victories don’t come quickly – the Occupy protests could mark a significant moment in American history.

I’ve never seen anything quite like the Occupy movement in scale and character, here and worldwide. The Occupy outposts are trying to create cooperative communities that just might be the basis for the kinds of lasting organizations necessary to overcome the barriers ahead and the backlash that’s already coming.

That the Occupy movement is unprecedented seems appropriate because this is an unprecedented era, not just at this moment but since the 1970s.

The 1970s marked a turning point for the United States. Since the country began, it had been a developing society, not always in very pretty ways, but with general progress toward industrialization and wealth.

Even in dark times, the expectation was that the progress would continue. I’m just old enough to remember the Great Depression. By the mid-1930s, even though the situation was objectively much harsher than today, the spirit was quite different.

A militant labor movement was organizing – the CIO (Congress of Industrial Organizations) and others – and workers were staging sit-down strikes, just one step from taking over the factories and running them themselves.

Under popular pressure, New Deal legislation was passed. The prevailing sense was that we would get out of the hard times.

Now there’s a sense of hopelessness, sometimes despair. This is quite new in our history. During the 1930s, working people could anticipate that the jobs would come back. Today, if you’re a worker in manufacturing, with unemployment practically at Depression levels, you know that those jobs may be gone forever if current policies persist.

That change in the American outlook has evolved since the 1970s. In a reversal, several centuries of industrialization turned to de-industrialization. Of course manufacturing continued, but overseas – very profitable, though harmful to the workforce.

The economy shifted to financialization. Financial institutions expanded enormously. A vicious cycle between finance and politics accelerated. Increasingly, wealth concentrated in the financial sector. Politicians, faced with the rising cost of campaigns, were driven ever deeper into the pockets of wealthy backers.

And the politicians rewarded them with policies favorable to Wall Street: deregulation, tax changes, relaxation of rules of corporate governance, which intensified the vicious cycle. Collapse was inevitable. In 2008, the government once again came to the rescue of Wall Street firms presumably too big to fail, with leaders too big to jail.

Today, for the one-tenth of 1 percent of the population who benefited most from these decades of greed and deceit, everything is fine.

In 2005, Citigroup – which, by the way, has repeatedly been saved by government bailouts – saw the wealthy as a growth opportunity.

The bank released a brochure for investors that urged them to put their money into something called the Plutonomy Index, which identified stocks in companies that cater to the luxury market.“The world is dividing into two blocs – the plutonomy and the rest,” Citigroup summarized. “The U.S., U.K. and Canada are the key plutonomies – economies powered by the wealthy.”

As for the non-rich, they’re sometimes called the precariat – people who live a precarious existence at the periphery of society. The “periphery,” however, has become a substantial proportion of the population in the U.S. and elsewhere.

So we have the plutonomy and the precariat: the 1 percent and the 99 percent, as Occupy sees it – not literal numbers, but the right picture.

The historic reversal in people’s confidence about the future is a reflection of tendencies that could become irreversible. The Occupy protests are the first major popular reaction that could change the dynamic.

I’ve kept to domestic issues. But two dangerous developments in the international arena overshadow everything else.

For the first time in human history, there are real threats to the survival of the human species. Since 1945 we have had nuclear weapons, and it seems a miracle we have survived them. But policies of the Obama administration and its allies are encouraging escalation.

The other threat, of course, is environmental catastrophe. Practically every country in the world is taking at least halting steps to do something about it. The United States is taking steps backward. A propaganda system, openly acknowledged by the business community, declares that climate change is all a liberal hoax: Why pay attention to these scientists?

If this intransigence continues in the richest, most powerful country in the world, the catastrophe won’t be averted.

Something must be done in a disciplined, sustained way, and soon. It won’t be easy to proceed. There will be hardships and failures – it’s inevitable. But unless the process that’s taking place here and elsewhere in the country and around the world continues to grow and becomes a major force in society and politics, the chances for a decent future are bleak.

You can’t achieve significant initiatives without a large, active, popular base. It’s necessary to get out into the country and help people understand what the Occupy movement is about – what they themselves can do, and what the consequences are of not doing anything.

Organizing such a base involves education and activism. Education doesn’t mean telling people what to believe – it means learning from them and with them.

Karl Marx said, “The task is not just to understand the world but to change it.” A variant to keep in mind is that if you want to change the world you’d better try to understand it. That doesn’t mean listening to a talk or reading a book, though that’s helpful sometimes. You learn from participating. You learn from others. You learn from the people you’re trying to organize. We all have to gain the understanding and the experience to formulate and implement ideas.

The most exciting aspect of the Occupy movement is the construction of the linkages that are taking place all over. If they can be sustained and expanded, Occupy can lead to dedicated efforts to set society on a more humane course.

Thank you Mr. Chomsky for making it brilliantly plain, as always. You’re a giant among men!

Loco

Who is this guy, Loco, anyway? Click here!

First, a little about the venue!

The restaurant, aptly called Biervana (meaning Beer Heaven), is like a cross between Oktoberfest and Chez Cool! The food was on point (had myself two helpings), the wine was tasty (drank myself one too many glasses) and they’ve got a beer selection that even a German would appreciate! And, one whole wall is a projection screen flashing flicks of beauties bearing beer and other tasteful sights.The owner is the kind of quick-witted seasoned veteran that you just know is gonna know your name, or your beer, by the second visit and make you feel at home

I dug the whole vibe up in there! I’ll definitely be back!

For more info, here’s  a link to the Biervana Twitter Page and here’s a link to the website Biervana.

Next, big shout out to Mark Hiratsuka, Editor of CNNGO Tokyo, for the invite! Much obliged, sir!  You can follow Mark on Twitter @Japanized.

Here I am with Don J. Anderson, Sales and Marketing Director for CNNGO/Hong Kong   (Twitter page: @D_AndersonHK) and Mark Hiratsuka.

And, if you don’t know about CNNGO, then you best get in the know! It’s a hecka resource for finding out what’s going on in and around Tokyo, chock full of news on travel, entertainment, food, drink, lifestyles, you name it! A whole slew of very talented writers, editors, photographers and other contributors (some of whom I met last night) collaborating to provide readers with informative, accurate, and timely content. Check it out for yourself: CNNGO Tokyo

I also came across a few people I knew from Twitter, like Rob Goss (@tokyofreelance) with whom I had a very enlightening chat about writing, publishing and the most interesting things in Japan (-; What a great guy! Living my dream life!

I finally got a chance to meet the great Dave Perry of In Praise of Izakaya who’ve I’ve known since the inception of Loco in Yokohama, and turned out to be even cooler than his twitter photo; the kind of guy I’d love to go hang out with and hit Izakaya sometime. You can follow his tweets at: Tokyodrinker

Some other folks I had brief chats with included:

Bikram S. Sohal, Vice president & General Manager at CNNGO

Noriko Yamaguchi of Nori Photography who does a bit of photography for CNNGO

Wes Lang of Hikinginjapan. com

Rick Martin, Editor at Penn-Olson.com

Marcus Lovitt  a content creator at Japaneats.tv

And, Alex Brooke, founder of Learn Japanese Pod

And many other good folks to know. It was actually a helluva turnout and I met too many people to mention just now unfortunately )-: (plus, I should have eaten before I got at that wine)

If you were there and  read this post, please do me a favor and drop me a line with your particulars!

Best regards,

Loco

Who is this guy, Loco, anyway? Click here!

PS: Wanna chance to win a brand new Kindle Wifi from Loco? I bet you do! Well, just follow my new Twitter acct: Hi_MyNameIsLoco set up especially for updates on my upcoming book!

My Facebook Page hit 500 Likes!!

LOCO IN YOKOHAMA FACEBOOK PAGE

And 1500 Followers on Twitter!!

LOCOHAMA ON TWITTER

Some wise folks have said you should celebrate every accomplishment, large or small, and I happen to agree with them!

I couldn’t have done it without the support of you guys so THANK YOU!!!

Now it’s time to Pop Champagne!

You only get one life so we gotta live it up!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0TTf8-fWkYI

Loco

Who is this guy, Loco, anyway? Click here!

PS: Wanna chance to win a brand new Kindle Wifi from Loco? I bet you do! Well, just follow the new Twitter acct: Hi_MyNameIsLoco

You can peep the rules for the contest here: How To Leave This World Better Than You Inherited It

I thought about what to write for her festival’s theme (Important things I’ve learned living abroad) for about all of 10 minutes before an idea jumped into my head and wouldn’t release me. It started as thoughts for a single post and expanded in a matter of moments into an idea for a whole new series!

So, without further ado, here’s part 1 of my new series: Five things I’ve learned about myself as an expat living in Japan!

*****

Japan is a wonderful country to learn about oneself. It really is! Ask most any foreigner who has lived here for a time and, with varying levels of enthusiasm, they will attest to the same. Living in this country, for better or for worse, will rock your world!

There are a lot of firsts to be experienced, especially for the westerner who sets up shop here. And, as many of those firsts back in your homeland helped mold you you into the person you are today, the firsts you experience here will continue that lifelong process.

I’m sure you remember, for instance, that first unprotected roll in the hay, right? The one that informed you that, while you did believe in the Good Book, and the Higher Power that inspired it, your faith was flexible enough  to allow some moral wiggle room when it came to self-gratification…right? Which, in turn, may have lead you to question which of its other doctrines you weren’t prepared to strictly adhere to when they conflicted with your ambitons and desires, am I right? And, of course you recall that resulting first trip to the abortion clinic…Now, tell me that didn’t help solidify your position on the Pro-Choice / Pro-Life debate. If not, I’m certain it at least had an impact.

Yeah, in my experience, firsts can be catalysts for growth and wisdom.

Japan has been the arena for a plethora of firsts for me. Some of them have had subtle ramifications while others  have been of a profound nature. Sometimes I wonder if I had known in advance what I would be subject to living here,  if I would have still come or punked out and remained in my comfy little  hamlet in Brooklyn. I’m thinking the latter.

However, now that I find myself on the far side of  these firsts,  I can say with confidence: I’m a better, stronger person, with a more comprehensive knowledge of not only who I am and what makes me tick, but of this enigmatic world we live in, for having endured them all!

So, what are these firsts that have had such an effect? Well, they are as follows:

1-My first (and last) trip to Soapland

I used to have a private student- let’s call him Hiroki- who was a really cool guy! Hiroki confessed to me at our first meeting (more like stated matter of factly) that he had chosen me from a number of available teachers in the area because I was black, and he liked Hip-Hop. Lucky for me, I liked Hip-Hop, too. He was a pretty high level English speaker from the get go, so, instead of studying English, on Saturday afternoons we’d sit around Starbucks for an hour talking about Hip-Hop; me schooling him on the old school and he bringing me up to date on the new. Easy Money!

Sometimes our conversations would wander into the area of girls. He fantasized about getting his hands on some big-booty black chick like the ones he saw in the Hip-Hop videos, and I told him I felt the same about the Japanese girls walking past us every couple of seconds, sipping on Frappacinos. Japanese girls are mendokusai (too much trouble) he’d say and I’d tell him you ain’t seen trouble until you’ve crossed one of those big-booty video chicks you’re fantasizing about. ” Just stick to your fantasies, yo!”

Yeah, we hit it off.

One day while I was admiring some of the abundant eye-candy strolling by, he told me that the girls at the Hostess clubs looked much better and were much less trouble. Just pay and have fun and go home.

“Really?” I said, like I hadn’t been hoping he’d take the conversation in that direction one day. I wouldn’t have dared do it myself. Sometimes it’s hard to tell where that line between acceptable and unacceptable is with private students, so I often follow their lead.

“Soaplands are even better! Have you ever been to one?”

“Why, no…what’s that?” I asked, thinking ‘YES! Now we’re cooking with Crisco!

He explained that a Soapland was a sort of sex-free sex shop where customers can have good, clean fun with beautiful Japanese girls…with a guaranteed happy ending within the loopholes in Japanese laws regarding prostitution.

“There’s no intercourse, sorry, but I’ve never left a Soapland disappointed,” he said, grinning broadly, like I needed a little arm-twisting.

I’d seen the Soapland process in several porno movies and it looked intriguing to say the least. And there was little chance of catching anything funky if there was no intercourse taking place, so it sounded great to me. Something to write about one day or one of those quirky Japan stories to tell my friends back home.

We met up the following Friday night and he took me to a spot in Ikebukuro he frequented, where he said the girls were top-notch.

We got to the door and I followed him into the vestibule where a bouncer- earphone in one ear secret service style and a I’m a LOT tougher than I look posture, was standing in there. As we passed the bouncer at the door, the man stopped Hiroki.

At the time, my Japanese was much more limited than it is now (which is why I had never braved one of these places alone and was waiting for a Japanese guy to offer to escort me.) But, I’d been fluent in body language for decades. And, what I heard from the Bouncer’s finger, aimed derogatorily at my face like I was a photograph or across the street, was, “this guy’s with you??”

“Yes, he’s my friend,”Hiroki said, smiling proudly. He had been giddy up til that point, just thrilled to death that he was going to introduce me, his black foreign friend, to one of the aspects of his world that made his world the envy of the world’s men.

Mr. Soap gave me another disapproving look. “I see…”

I was beginning to see, too. But, Hiroki…he’d probably never been stopped at the door before.

“Is there a problem?” he asked the doorman.

“Well, the thing is….you see,” the Bouncer began, with a pantomime mask of deep regret on his face, which failed miserably to melt the ice in his eyes. They were frozen to Hiroki as if I were merely the topic of discussion, not standing before them. “We don’t usually serve foreigners here! None of the girls can speak English and…well, they are really afraid of foreign guys.”

Between his gestures and the few words I could pick out of his explanation (gaikokujin, Eigo, syaberarenai, kowai…) I got the gist.

“I see,” Hiroki nodded. “Well, I’ve already explained all the club rules to him. And he’s a very nice guy. And he can speak Japanese a little. So, there won’t be any problems.”

“Yeah, but, you see, the club has special rules, and…you understand, no?”

Hiroki didn’t get it, actually. But, after three minutes standing in a doorway, I fully comprehended the situation. And started feeling bad for Hiroki. Especially when he turned and gave me a look that would break Hitler’s heart.

“Come on, man, let’s go!” I said, reaching for his arm. “Fuck this place! Let’s go get some brews!”

Hiroki turned once more to Mr. Soap and said, “I’m never coming here again!”

We went to a bar down the street, and ordered some beers. Hiroki was depressed as hell. I kept trying to cheer him up, trying to change the subject from “That fucking place!” which is what he kept repeating. I felt responsible for putting him in that position. If it weren’t for me he’d be on an inflatable mattress with some soaped-up  hottie sliding all over him by then.

If it weren’t for me…

And that’s when I realized that, remarkably, for the first time in my life I had been the victim of outright, Jim Crow-style racial discrimination, not so much because I was black (actually I’ll never know if my color was a factor) but because I wasn’t Japanese (or Asian.)

And, ironically, instead of feeling a victimized rage in the pit of my stomach, and an irrepressible urge to do harm to someone (which up til that point I imagined would be my reaction whenever this dark day came to be) there I was consoling a friend.

I learned something important about myself that night, thanks in part to this first. Something it would take me some time to process.

You see, I didn’t feel victimized because at that point I had been living in Japan long enough to believe that it was only a matter of time before something like that happened. I mean, it was simple to surmise that in a country where the natives routinely avoid standing, sitting or even walking near you whenever possible, that they just might have a problem “cleaning” you which would require actual physical contact. The irreverence of daily life in Japan had groomed me to look indignity in the face and say, “Fuck these people! let’s go get a brew!” I could just roll with the blows because I was already punch drunk, and one more punch wasn’t going to kill me.

Hiroki however took the blow right in the solar plexus of his pride and national self-image, and it left him reeling center ring.  You could have performed the coup de grace with a pillow after that.

The rude awakening he’d suffered for some reason overshadowed whatever humiliation I felt. He knew that his people were “shy” around foreigners, but it’s a good bet he didn’t know that that “shyness” clause in Japan’s contract with humanity had a loophole in it wide enough for blatant discrimination to slip through. Or, maybe he did but hadn’t really considered how those consequences might play out in the real world because he would never be at the business end of them.

But I’m no mind reader and that night Hiroki couldn’t really put into words why he felt the need to repeatedly curse the establishment, but I imagined that considering how he felt about his country, it must have felt like he’d gone to his a Soapland with his Japanese co-workers (as he did often) only to find out- in the worst  possible way- that his mother was Mermaid of the Month there.

As for me, in no uncertain terms, this first taught me that I had a very low opinion of the people here.

Dangerously low!

here’s part 2: Teachers teach and do the world good!

Loco

Who is this guy, Loco, anyway? Click here!

PPS: Wanna chance to win a brand new Kindle Wifi from Loco? I bet you do! Well, just follow the new Twitter acct: Hi_MyNameIsLoco

You can peep the rules for the contest here: How To Leave This World Better Than You Inherited It

The first phase could be called my Black Anjin-San phase.

I’d be that black guy inserting my two-yen into a Japan bashing session at a Gaijin bar, saying shit like: “Man, how can you say that about these wonderful people?” or “You know what your problem is? You think your culture is superior to their culture. You have a superiority complex. You’re the reason you feel unwelcome here. Not them.” 

I took great pleasure in interjecting platitudes and cliches like, “Be part of the solution not part of the problem,” and “be the change you want to see here!” Yep, that was me. That guy whose head you wanted to crack open with a bottle of Asahi Super Dry!

My roommates didn’t know what to make of me. They must have thought I had gone loco already. I lived with two white guys, a Kiwi and an Aussie. Both were music lovers. One, a serious guitarists, and the other a guitar enthusiast. They were two of the coolest guys you ever want to meet. However, both were heavy drinkers and a little on the “fuck that, I pay rent just like they do” tip. And here I was, a Black guy, from Brooklyn New York, no less, scolding them for being disrespectful to our neighbors and of our host nation.

I came to the defense of the Japanese in almost any situation. Although on the ground in  Japan, I didn’t see much of anything worth defending, the Japan in my head was worth dying for. It was chock-full of James Clavell and a wildly romantic image of a Japan that could be penetrated by a foreigner of some intelligence, skill, and with the right mindset; someone like, well, like me.

I felt I was in possession of the prerequisite disposition to tear through the silk kimono and say, “Heeerrre’s Loco!”

Hell, I wanted to be a Kokujin (black) Anjin-san.

Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t entirely delusional. I mean, I read Crichton’s Rising Sun, as well as Clancy’s Debt of Honor. Clancy and Crichton (may he rest in peace) were two of my favorite authors, but both I thought did a bit of Japan bashing.

And I too wasted two hours and  ten bucks on Lost in Translation. Personally I thought it was a boring, pointless movie full of the type of people who could never be Anjin-sans. They were just a couple of xenophobes abroad. No wonder they were lost.

They were the kind of foreigners I didn’t want any parts of, which is why I detested Gaijin Bars.

I felt about these bars the way Clavell’s Anjin-san felt about the place where his shipmates were being held, in the district where the “Untouchables”or “Burakumin”  lived. After he’d left from reuniting with, Anjin San shed his kimono and demanded a bath. This is how I felt about Roppongi, as well. It was the modern day version of that area, a place where Japanese allow foreigners to carry on like the barbarians they are thought to be. And where low-life skanky Japanese go to consort with and handle the contaminated flesh of Gaijin.

I felt about my co-workers the way Anjin-san felt about his crew: ignoramuses, mostly, with a crude idea of the superiority of their respective societies, whether it be America, Canada, Australia, England, France or Germany. European values, Christian morals, rigid, self-righteous, close-minded hypocrites, the majority.

I couldn’t even spend too much time with other black people.

Most were military types who held most Japanese in contempt and thus were on a mission to be as Gaijin as possible, especially those who’d been here for a while. We call it “showing your ass” back in NY, and these guys loved to show their asses.

Downright embarrassing, that Japanese would associate me, the black Anjin-san, with those malcontents!

Soapland

Most conversations I’d have with these guys would inevitably lead to a shitload of bad experiences being spewed at me. They took great delight in what they considered an imparting of the wisdom they’d acquired. Most of these guys regarded the Japanese as unblushing racist as well as proudly, inexplicably and, in most cases, intolerably ignorant of the world surrounding their tiny island.

I could understand their rage, somewhat. Here they are, told by their commanders that they are the only thing standing

between Japan and a Kim jong-il invasion, or Chinese vengeance for atrocities committed against their citizens during WWII, and as soon as they step off post they get treated by their protectorate like a disease. Any day now, that crazy Korean maverick could launch an attack, and these soldiers would be forced to risk and in some cases sacrifice their lives for people who have the audacity to refuse to serve them at Soaplands and “Fashion Health” parlors all over Tokyo and Yokohama.

But, at the time, I was all about making the most of this experience. I wasn’t about to let some disgruntled black guys rain on my parade.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ybD0KeBaK_M

Don’t Rain On My Parade

I wasn’t really a Japanophile, though. I was just being the Devil’s Advocate. Something I do to keep my mind open to the possibilities. Walking in the next guy’s shoes is a good way to do that, so to speak. It’s something I’ve found to be very useful in gaining some objectivity. Part of my motivation for coming here in the first place was to learn for myself about Japanese people and culture. Not to have it dictated to me by a bunch of disgruntled expats and haters.

But, I learned that one cannot play the Devil’s advocate for long without the Devil himself showing up.

And it wasn’t long before Japanese beat the shit out of any fantasies I may have entertained about being anything but a gaijin here.

Loco

Who is this guy, Loco, anyway? Click here!

PS: This is a re-post, kinda!

PPS: Wanna chance to win a brand new Kindle Wifi from Loco? I bet you do! Well, just follow the new Twitter acct: Hi_MyNameIsLoco

You can peep the rules for the contest here: How To Leave This World Better Than You Inherited It

Loco: CUT! CUT! What the fuck, A.D.???

Assistant Director (A.D.): Sorry Boss…I don’t know what…

Loco: You don’t know shit today, do you? Fuck do I need you for–

A.D. : Listen, there’s no need for–

Loco: Shut the fuck up fo’ I fire your ass! You told me she could do this!

A.D.: She can. I’ve seen her…

Loco: Didn’t I tell you to shut up? (Loco turns as the actress approaches him and A.D.) Tomomi, darling, what’s wrong?

Tomomi: I guess I don’t understand what you want–

Loco: I don’t…listen, Tomomi, I can’t tell you exactly how to react. You’re the actress., right? Well, Act! Or, I don’t know, be yourself…Imagine, hell, try to remember how it felt back in the days, before you came to L.A. and acquired that accent. Channel those old feelings, darling. The way you felt in the real situation–

Tomomi: But–

Loco: You think you can do that for me?

Tomomi: I think so–

Loco: Glad to hear it!  Ok, let’s give it another shot, ne. (Loco turns to the cast and crew) Alright everybody we’re losing light so let’s get it right, I gotta K-1 fight to catch tonight. A.D.!

A.D.: OK everyone, Take your positions, know your marks…Cue extras! Cue stunts! LOCO IN YOKOHAMA The Movie, Scene 20, Take 8…

Loco: Film, speed…action!

Loco, 6’0, brown-skinned, dressed conservatively in a Yankee baseball cap, a grey pullover California Berkeley University hoodie, blue jeans, and Timberlands, is walking along an unbusy shopping street, reading a text message on his smartphone. A Japanese woman walking a few yards ahead of him suddenly stops and looks at her reflection in a window. She spots Loco peripherally. She turns to get a good look at him with shock and fear on her face.

Then, from her perspective, we see the “other” Loco (a figment of her imagination): this one darker and humongous, with a dangerous look in his eyes, and has a pipe in his hand!

The woman suddenly turns and walks away at a faster pace, her stiletto heels tap-tapping against the sidewalk at a rapid pace seem to be saying Help me in morse code. Every 4 or 5 steps she looks over her shoulder and sees the “other” seedy Loco.

The real Loco, realizing what’s going on, slows his pace in order to ease her tension as she makes her escape.

She looks again and sees the “other” Loco with the pipe held high, gaining on her! She bolts into a Drug Store, checking to see if she’s been followed. The “other” Loco passes by the Drug Store entrance at a slow trot.

Loco: CUT! CUT! CUT!!!!! Tomomi, sweetheart…how should I put this? I need you to be more…more…A.D.! More what?

A.D.: More Japanese! He needs you to be more Japanese.

Loco: Yeah, that’s it! More Japanese! Can you be more Japanese?

Tomomi: More Japanese???

Loco: Or maybe you spent too much time in LA! Did you forget what it’s like to be xenophobic? I mean, scared shitless of your own imagination!

Tomomi: I’m doing my best Mr. Loco. I just… (Starts weeping)

Loco (turns and pulls A.D. to the side): I don’t need this shit, A.D. ! Not now, not ever! I can’t tell you where to put your dick. That’s your business. But your girlfriend’s fucking up my movie. That makes it my business!

A.D.: Sorry Boss!

Loco: You gonna handle this? Cuz if not…

A.D.: I don’t know what to say to her…I mean–

Loco: Fuck me! Ok, you lucky fuck! I wish you wasn’t the most competent person on this set. Cuz I’d fire your pathetic ass right now! (Walks back over to Tomomi) Err, Tomomi, take a walk with me. And please stop that crying…

Tomomi: I’m sorry Mr. Loco…I just try so hard and–

Loco: Listen, Tomomi-chan…you grew up here in Yokohama, didn’t you?

Tomomi: Yes (sniffling) In Higashi Kanagawa–

Loco: And when did you come to L.A.?

Tomomi: When I was 16, for high school, and University–

Loco: And when did you get your SAG card?

Tomomi: 2 years after that…

Loco: Commercial work, right?

Tomomi: Yes.

Loco: A little stage work, too?

Tomomi: Yes, I was in an Off-Broadway production of CATS and–

Loco: Have you done any porn yet?

Tomomi: What? (Sniffles abruptly stop, replaced by silent indignation and shock) Of course not–

T.T. Boy

Loco: Well, listen, Darling. Your boyfriend over there, my A.D., he told me you could do this, and you told me you could do this, so I just want you to do what you promised me you’d do!

Tomomi: I…I don’t understand

Loco: You don’t understand. Ok. If we don’t get this take, and I mean right fucking now, I promise you the only film work you’ll ever get will be with TT Boy and his friends doing Bukkake all over your pretty fucking face. Do you understand that?

Tomomi: (Shaking in fear at the coldness in Loco’s voice) Y-y-yes Sir, Mr. Loco.

Loco: Are you sure? Cuz I once broke a promise, and now I got one good kidney left to remind me not to do that shit again. The other one has a bullet hole in it. You sure you got me?

Tomomi: (Terror etched in her face) H-h-hai!

Loco: That face! That’s the one! Hold on to that feeling! That’s what I want…PLACES EVERYONE! Let’s shoot this thing and call it a night! Ok A.D.

A.D.: Hey Boss, what did you say to my girl? She looks like you stuck a gun in her mouth!

Loco: I just made up some bullshit…and gave her some acting lessons. Now, let’s get this done!

*****

I woke up laughing my ass off! What a dream! Probably cuz I was watching Hollywood Shuffle the other night (-;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKX4LktBI5o

Loco

Who is this guy, Loco, anyway? Click here!

PS: This is a re-post!

PPS: Wanna chance to win a brand new Kindle Wifi from Loco? I bet you do! Well,  just follow the new Twitter acct: Hi_MyNameIsLoco

You can peep the rules for the contest here: How To Leave This World Better Than You Inherited It 

The Japanese McDonald’s is different than the McDonald’s back home. And, the familiarity of Starbuck’s is like finding water on Mars.

Until you go inside, that is.

First, you’re struck by the cleanliness. There’s a gleam to everything. And there’s at least 1 or 2 staff people cleaning at all times, tweaking the clean, like they do in McDonald’s commercials, but you rarely see in real life.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKR1ScQUpcA

There are two registers open with two pretty college girls, looking handpicked for counter appeal, taking orders, and three others in the prep area waiting diligently like very disciplined, well postured and well-paid chambermaids in a castle somewhere. Very “Remains of the day” looking…only ostentatiously cheery and Japanese.

You check out the menu…most of the usual suspects are there: all kinds of Lattes and Chais and whatnot. You peruse it trying not to be distracted by the patient, smiling, gorgeous co-ed standing before you. Then, you place your order: “Yeah, let me get uh grande Iced Caramel Macchiato please.” Then you remember you’re speaking English…Being in Starbuck’s just doesn’t feel like Japan.

You get ready to repeat your order in Japanese when the staff smiles and confirms your order. Then she sings it to the preparers, who are suddenly called into action, as they sing the order in response, and in unison…with prepubescent Mickey/Minnie Mouse voices.

It’s the cutest thing you’ve ever heard…and they are the happiest staff people you’ve ever seen.

You actually believe they are happy to serve you. You’ve never felt that about the staff anywhere that didn’t stand to make a sweet commission off of your purchase. (And these guys get no tips!) You don’t know it yet but it’s a routine you’re going to be enjoying on a daily basis, with the same consistent cheer, at Starbuck’s and the majority of the businesses you patronize, consistently, for the next eight years!

Welcome to Japan…

Then you take your order to a seat. Most of them are full. You see an empty seat near the door. Bollocks, there’s a computer and a cell phone on the table, and a purse on the chair. You immediately look for the owner…they must be close. That’s a lot of value sitting there by its lonesome. But, there is no one not seated anywhere near it besides you. You look around for another unoccupied table. You spot one in the back. It’s free. It’s next to the bathroom. You plant yourself and sip your overpriced drink. A couple of minutes later a girl emerges from the restroom and strolls to the table where you’d seen the PC, phone and purse, sits, and resumes doing her homework or whatever.

You think to yourself, Man, if she had done that in NY there’s a very good chance she would have come back to an empty table. A VERY, VERY good chance. Then you wonder how true that is. You’ve actually never seen anyone so stupid before and of course you’ve never left your belongings behind while you so much as looked out the window, let alone went to the bathroom. It’s simply unthinkable, anti-common sense. It almost warrants being robbed.

You imagine that if you went to the police station in NY after being robbed and explained that “…when I came back from the bathroom a few minutes later, all of my stuff was gone,” they would laugh and say, “Jesus H. Christ!! if it wasn’t for dickheads like you, there wouldn’t be any thievery in this world, would there?”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NP8y63Ms4o

You don’t it know then, but a couple of years later you’ll be the one going to the bathroom leaving your belongings behind because you would have been living in a country where what you grew up to believe is common sense isn’t common sense, it’s nonsense, it’s almost unthinkable, and this kind of thinking eventually rubs off on you. So much that you’re almost afraid to go back to your home-world, for if you do then you will need to re-install that old paranoid software, also known as survival instincts, that it took all this time to un-install.

And you realize that you actually hated having to drag your computer to the toilet with you…not because it’s a pain in the ass, but because it indicated that no one in your vicinity could be trusted…that you lived in a trust-free environment your entire life and accepted it as the way of the world.

Well, not in this world.

Welcome to Japan…

Loco

Who is this guy, Loco, anyway? Click here!

PS: This is a re-post!

PPS: Wanna chance to win a Kindle Wifi from Loco? I bet you do! Peep the rules here: How To Leave This World Better Than You Inherited It

1- Well, it’s about that time, y’all!

Loco in Yokohama started out as an idea buzzing around my head. Soon it manifested itself as a free WordPress blog. Then, a year later, upgraded to a self-hosted blog , complete with a snazzy new banner and logo and other fine features…

Now it’s about to take a much more daring leap: Yep, (barring any unforeseeable delays) as early as next month but certainly before the end of the year, my first self-published book will be available for purchase at your favorite E-book dealer and via Kindle! And, soon afterwards, a paper version will hit the marketplace!

The Working Title of this non-fiction collection of stories and essays is: “Hi! My Name Is Loco… “

It is the fulfillment of three years of observation, investigation, soul-searching and  a lifetime of experience. The writings cover a span of four decades spent on two continents — North America and Asia — all with the central theme of the woolly mammoth in the room:

Racism.

Primarily, it is a memoir focused on how I perceived it around me, and more importantly how I identified it within me. Furthermore, this book will illustrate how I was able to recover from being a racist.

“Hi! My Name Is Loco…” details how I came to learn the true culprits behind racism: ignorance, envy, and (the mother of them all) fear. It is my argument that one’s personal relationship with fear is directly related to ones susceptibility to this worldwide plague. It is my hope and, frankly, my determination that by sharing my stories I can contribute to one day ending this madness which is at the root of many of the world’s ills. But before that wondrous day, when our collective desire for a better world where human beings are not “measured by the color of our skin”, can be achieved we must begin by individually acknowledging our own culpability and addressing our own fears. My stories are written to inspire just that.

Ambitious, I know. But, what can I say? I’m an ambitious guy!

The Creator has given each of us at least one gift, and I intend to use mine- meager as they may be- to leave this world better than I inherited it!

I have a story to tell and the audacity to expect to be heard.

*****

 2 -And, speaking of Kindle …Who’d like to get their hands on one of these?

Today, October 18th, Loco in Yokohama enters its third year!  That’s right, it’s our anniversary!

First, a little prayer:

I want to thank the Creator for his perpetual blessings, for helping me stay creative, motivated, and fairly positive;  to resist complacency and apathy and to seek to achieve balance within my sphere of influence; to grow as a writer and as a human being;  to attract uplifting and supportive people along the way, to believe in myself, and to inspire others to do the same.

I ask for nothing…you’ve already given me so much, not least of which was the strength to face the challenges I’ve endured and the  courage to face the challenges to come. Who could ask for anything more?

I’ll take care of the rest (-;

*****

So, yeah, like I was saying, it’s our Anniversary!

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STC3I6SwLp4&feature=related

And as fast as blogs come and go, I’m thinking Blog Years should be measured same as canine years, seven to one. Sounds about right, right? That would mean Loco in Yokohama has reached the legal drinking age of 21! (-;

And, on that note, I’d like to propose a toast:

Praise to the folks
The folks who’ve gotten to know us
Know us when we’re up
Know us when we’re down
Praise to the folks
Who’ve gotten to know us
Know us when we’re serious
Know when we’re just fucking around

***The above toast was excerpted from a piece entitled An Ode to Loco, and composed by a follower and frequent commenter here at Loco in Yokohama, by the name of Will. Will blogs over at Reptiles and Samurai  and you should go check  out his spot first opportunity! Thank you so much, Will. Your words move me! ***

*****

In three years, Loco in Yokohama has far surpassed my expectations!

Accomplishments to date?

Locohama has climbed, post by post, backlink by backlink, tweet by tweet, from obscurity to what the website Klout refers to as a “Specialist.” In the Japan blogosphere, and in several countries around the world, Loco in Yokohama is a recognized name and brand, identified with (among other things lol) entertaining and sometimes great writing, engaging, compelling, provocative and thought-provoking subject matter, quality, integrity, and consistency!

I have poured my heart and soul into this blog and I am PROFOUNDLY PROUD of the results! As I’m typing this I just burst into tears…fuck!

OK…

475 Posts / 10,000 Comments/ 600,000 Visits

Incredible, right? Something I couldn’t even imagine happening three years ago!

Seriously. I didn’t know that I had it in me.

Blogging is about more than just writing. It’s about maintenance, building and responding to a readership, earning and giving respect, networking, sharing, caring, sacrifice, diligence, responsibility…all that stuff your parents and teachers tried to instill in you.

The only things I knew for sure at the beginning of Loco in Yokohama was that I was a decent person with a little charm and a  talented pen, and that charm often found its way into my writing giving it appeal.

But keeping Loco in Yokohama not only going but operating at a fairly high level required much more of me than I thought it would. Loco in Yokohama has put into me as much as I’ve put into it! It’s been like a friend I created from scratch, or an offspring..

Not to get too carried away…I just wanted to give you guys a sense of the gratification I’m feeling now for not only having the attention and support of thousands of readers but for successfully forging myself into the kind of human I think is worthy of it!

You know?

Anyway, I have a couple of announcements to make (ones I’m pretty sure you guys will like,) but I’ll save them for the next post later this evening….kinda hectic at the moment! For now, I just want to extend a great big cyber-hug of  thanks to all of my friends and fam that have blessed  Loco in Yokohama with your spirit and energy over the past three years.

This song is STILL my favorite song.! Still Ray by Raphael Saadiq (formerly of Tony! Toni! Tone!)

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ooz85nVYfiU

Still Loco

Who is this guy, Loco, anyway? Click here!