Crabwalk

I doubt much of what I write appeals to a particularly broad audience, but I worry most about the times I write about sports — I imagine most of you couldn’t care less about problems on the Saints‘ offensive line or Erubial Durazo‘s postseason stats. But hey, it’s my blog, so I’ll post what I want.
But the sportsphobic among you do have one thing to be grateful for. The estimable Jason has set up a blog dedicated to our shared obsession, North Carolina basketball. Each fall around this time, UNC hoops becomes an addiction, and I’ve bored countless girlfriends over the years with tales of Shammond Williams heroics, Derrick Phelps’ defense, or other such madness. (Okay, not countless, but several.) College hoops is, without a doubt, the finest sport of them all, and you’d probably be hearing about it in the coming months if Jason hadn’t set up this blog. Now, I’ll just post my thoughts there and spare you the bother. (My first post just went up.)
And, in case you can’t tell, I’m still on Japan time, which is why I’m posting at 3:12 a.m.

If you’re not as jetlagged as I am, get up a little early in the morning and go run the Freedom Run 5K. My friend Dena is helping organize it; your registration fee goes to the American Red Cross. Just don’t go and pull a Rosie Ruiz.

As a former Professional Rock Critic, I have too many CDs (over 1000 at last count, all anally sorted alphabetically and by genre). About a month ago, I pulled out about 70 to sell, but CD Warehouse on Oak Lawn (since closed) only wanted about 50. So I offer the remainder to you, my faithful readers, free of charge. Let me know if you want any of them. (If you’re in the Dallas, Toledo, Rayne, Boston, or Rochester area, I’ll give ’em to you when I next see you; if you’re not, you pay for shipping. Starred ones might be worth a little extra consideration. And the first five takers get — free! — a one-yen coin. With variable exchange rates, that could someday be worth as much as $8 million.)
Deckard, Stereodreamscene / The Ernies, Meson Ray* (slightly smarter Blink 182 wannabes) / The Gufs, Holiday From You / Portable, Secret Life / Wade, Odd Man Out / Home Grown, Act Your Age* (ska punk) / Rob Dewar, Opening Night Jitters (Ann Arbor singer/songwriter) / lisahall, isthisreal? (and isherspacebarworking?) / Mansun, Six / Dan Bern, Dog Boy Van EP* (cranky Jewish Minnesotan songwriter not named Dylan) / American Lesion, American Lesion* (side project of Greg Graffin of Bad Religion) / Emm Gryner, Public* / Michelle Lewis, Little Leviathan / Getaway Cruiser, Getaway Cruiser (Detroit band) / Mary Cutrufello, When the Night is Through* / Mister Jones, Hail Mary* / London Suede, Everything Will Flow (single) / Arnold, Hillside / Bond, Bang Out of Order*

Is there a more horrifying prospect than to have a woman you had an unreturned high school crush on end up making a movie about you? Ben Greenman (who edited my college newspaper, although a few years before I got there) had that happen to him, and wrote a great piece about seeing his life played out on the big screen. (The article’s a couple years old; found via an interview with Ben [now a New Yorker editor, McSweeney’s contributor, newly published author, and new dad] at the excellent themorningnews.org.)

The best thing about coming back from overseas is that no one has the right to complain when you sleep 13 hours the next day. (That, and better availability of burritos.)

Oh, man — according to my referer logs, I just got my first hit from the nice folks at www.toledoblade.com, my old employer. My secret’s out. (Hi, Kelly!)

When I get old, I want to be Seymour Hersh. (Actually, I’d be thrilled to be Seymour Hersh now.) He’s what a reporter should be, kicking ass, taking names, then kicking some more and taking whatever names remain.

It’s a damned shame that Northwest Airlines got to www.nwa.com before the real N.W.A. It must lead to some interestingly misdirected search engine queries, though. (Of all the major carriers, Northwest has always seemed the most straight outta Compton to me.)

Well, after a 10-hour flight, a two-hour layover in the Twin Cities, a two-hour flight, 30 minutes of waiting at baggage claim, and an hour of SuperShuttle fun, I’m back home. And I discover I left the kitchen lights on for two weeks. Damn.

There’s nothing quite like blogging against the clock — my 30 minutes of rented Internet access come to a merciful close in a few minutes, and I’m racing to hit submit before having to offer up another 500 yen. Japan’s been great, if a little too Westernized for my taste. Anyway, it’s back to the lap of business-class luxury for me, in a few short hours. Now it’s time for a quick postcard-writing marathon. See you all soon back on the other side of the big puddle.
Final Japan aside: On the walk from my hotel to the Foreign Press Center every day, I pass the Bank of Pakistan’s Tokyo branch? Who’s their customer base nowadays? What kind of CD rates and home equity lines must they be offering to make Joe Tokyo think, “Boy, that’s where I want to put my money — it’ll surely be safe there”?
Final blog-format aside: I hereby promise fewer blog posts in the form “Declarative phrase: pithy commentary after the colon. Rhetorical question? Rhetorical question?”