Relax. Do It.

It's my 1st day off this week- I worked 65 hours!

On Friday, the company's sales were in the 60-65 THOUSAND dollars range. Plus a 30k or so bar tab that hasn't been actually tabulated yet. Basically: Insane.

So, I went out to dinner last night with my friend, gamed at home via the internets, today I am watching football, seeing the Fantastic Mr. Fox, internet shopping/gifting (maybe a new sleeping bag for Aaron?), and eating chili.

All hail Alligator's day off!

わにのすしばか！

It was so crazy. I drove my brother's Lexus (borrowing it for a bit- a very different driving experience than the Dart let's say mildly!) down to Chinatown to have dining hour with Trever.

Sushi at Maneki, Seattle's oldest sushi restaurant. We ate like crazy.

Unagi-green onion roll (the jojo roll)

Hamachi roll, a yellowtail delight.

Nigiri: hamachi and kamapchi (amberjack)

Tempura Udon

Tako-yaki. (I once made Beth eat these at Kazu in Welly)

Miso. Sapporo. Tea.

And the health inspector came around, freaking the kitchen staff out, in general.

After dinner, T and I walked around our old hood, the original Seattle hood for me: the ID. It's such a funny neighborhood, one that contrast so much between day and night. And it's sort of boring, and it's seedy. But the food? ぐらと！

We wandered into a vintage video game store, and held controllers of outdated and once obsessed over game systems. A Panasonic 3DO? They had one for sale. The best feel of any controller in your hand? A Dreamcast's!

Afterwards, the magic was beginning to wane as we walked around, and we got stopped by someone trying to get some ducats out of us. I said "sorry." Trever actually went a different route: he said "Italiano" Thinking that the woman wouldn't hassle him further, she began to say any Italian word she could come up with. He was surprised, I laughed, and then he blew up at her in fake Italian crazy shouting.

There was a Mama-Mia in there somewhere I think....

NZ.

It's been a year since I arrived there, in case it dawned on anyone else.

Thinking back, and recalling my story, it's interesting to see where I've been since then, both emotionally, and physically.

When I left for Noo Zeelund, it was severely needed, and there were high expectations as well. Perhaps really, the highest expectations. My choice to go down there was a need for a break from my then-life, one of recovering emotionally and physically. I was beat. I was broken.

The fix? A return to the place I knew I was happy (as long as I wasn't working at the Skyline!) and where I could be in a world that was separate from one that had seemingly closed in on me, consumed me. And my return was joyous- the experience was in many ways what I needed. And, it failed, in so many ways- things that I wanted to happen.

The latter meaning that my desire to move to NZ, start a business and new life was, and still is, one of the more confounding questions in my life. I am still in the immigration system. I even sent an email to the woman (the one who gave me many headaches) in London earlier, telling her I still planned on pursuing that course. But it is not resolved yet; success is grey at best. The story hasn't been written yet, for sure.

But in terms of giving me what I needed, I had the time away from all the shit that pressed upon me, a decompression that my soul required. I was afforded the time to relax, see my friends, and camp in places that have no parallel in beauty. But above all, it was an opportunity to think. To think! What a luxury in our modern world. When we can escape all of our daily distractions, a person is allowed to go over an idea on multiple paths, allowing a comprehension or revelation. Our lives have too many distractions that can derail success in obtaining wisdom of life. I am a wiser man than I was. I have learned from my mistakes, and my triumphs, which there were actually some of.

Regrets? One can't languish in the past. Learn and apply the lessons to the future. It's not a new, original, or wild idea. But I learned it on my own, and I know it well.

With the return from New Zealand to the states, which, obviously isn't the short time I had originally hoped it to be, I've had some pretty trying times, mostly in the job searching realm. But now that I have a position that actually pays me an adult wage, and I can once again turn my mind towards the future. I have no idea what that choice is, actually, but I do know that I will be continuing along with NZ Immigrations easy 95-step process/hoop-jumping.

Because, why not?

GumBallz.

I've got some pics here from Bef's recent trip to Seattle for Thanksgiving with her friend Nat. They rode the greyhound down (late again), and we hit the P-I for a late snack.

Other highlights were Wednesday running around Seattle, notably Volunteer Park, its greenhouse, and the gumwall (pictured below).

Turkey day was grand; lots of food, cooking, fine drink, a rousing game of Balderdash, and a failed "1st Rebuttal" by Kenji and I in shuffleboard against the newbies from the North/South.

All around a relaxing time preceding the holiday madness that will consume me the next few weeks.....

Shake and Strain.

And so thus begins a week of little work (work work), out of town house guests enjoying their first American Thanksgiving (sorry folks, Take Me Out To The Ballgame is not usually sung around the turkey-table.), and multiple gravies.

But some odds n ends:

I drank 2 new cocktails last night, both featuring Rye whiskey.

Deshler's Cocktail: Rye, Dubonnet, Cointreau, and Peychaud bitters

Brooklyn Coctail: Basically a Manhatten with Rye instead of bourbon.

I'm finding that in general, I like rye whiskeys. But also, in general, I like whisk(e)y. So there.

I have also begun the search for the vehicle that will replace the world-renowned Dodge Dart from service. It's hard to come to terms with the fact that whatever I buy, it will be less reliable, more expensive to insure, fix and run. It will also be built less well, and probably contain less mass (unless I get an old Mercedes diesel or something of that ilk.....) that will make it feel like being in an aluminum can. But whatever I do get will be more fuel efficient, safer and quieter.

The Dart will be continue to serve as a "parking" car though......

Bumsville Man.

I want to tell you about my night on Thursday.

First of all, I went to see my friend Kenji's band play (for the 1st time, which was a point of contention between him and I, but that's another story...), who are called Olympus. I would describe them as a cross between Bob Dylan, Oasis, and Yes. Yes, that's right. (I have to say I am more than amused by Yes, the band, btw....)

After the show, I went to get some late-nite dining in Chinatown with my friend, as my actions earlier in the evening cancelled the planned dinner-before-the-show, and an exercise.

Jade Garden: Honey walnut prawns (not my choice), Hot 'n sour soup (my choice), and Peking duck (unanimous choice).

So after the feed, we decided Karaoke was in order, at the place where you sing in the booths. There you can drink. But we needed beer, so we went to the one place open in Chinatown- the bum gas station. It's the only one I know that after dark, all transactions are done through glass. There's a bum who thinks he knows me, and wants my change, but also an argument going on between some dudes in a car, where there's a guy in the back seat won't get out, and that's distracting the worker in the aquarium, who doesn't speak English well, who can't understand what I want, so I'm grateful for the 6 pack of Coors Light he gives me, and then I add on two singles as an afterthought, the fight is still going on, and now the transaction is taking waaaaaay too long, and another bum comes along to try to get my change, and then the car drives off, and now the two drunk bums start bickering over who deserved what, and now I'm leaving and being gang pressed for a beer, and it's desperate, and in a moment of either generosity or being devious- I haven't decided, I give the bums a single beer and tell them to share.

They are like seagulls fighting over the can of beer. Me and my friend, who's scared/concerned, says we gotta get outta here.

Entering the karaoke place, they have just closed apparently. It's 3 minutes after midnight, and they close at 12, but people can sing until 2. I ask "Seriously?" The dude replies, "well it's our policy..."

I reply, "well it's my policy to sing karaoke tonight!" That doesn't go over very well....

And all because of the dang gas station menagerie......

Shirt? Awesome!

Where oh where was this when I was a kid with my pet rat?

The kid's face is awesome.