Why the Japanese Don’t Pass Food to One Another with Chopsticks

May. 10, 2012 by

So, I am standing over the skeletal remains of my Japanese mother-in-law contemplating which bone to pick from the ashes of her cremated body using chopsticks not unlike those used for cooking a good stir fry. It’s the weirdest feeling.

Sea of Blue Foliage: A Night in the Suicide Forest – Part 4

Sep. 6, 2011 by

The Aokigahara Jukai is is pure virgin forest estimated to be a little over 1000 years old. It lies on the western slopes of Fuji in the only area not covered with ash and lava in her last known eruption

Sea of Blue Foliage: A Night in the Suicide Forest – Part 3

Aug. 29, 2011 by

This my first true glimpse of the forest, and I can already tell it’s not a normal place. It’s too quiet, predator quiet, like a cat creeping up on an unguarded nest.

Short Story: Clone Improvement

Aug. 10, 2011 by

I don’t drink, which has confused the situation somewhat because I am sitting in a bar listening to a blathering drunk go on about his damaged hand, the hard times and how it could have been. I am not getting

Aokigahara Jukai: A Night in the Suicide Forest – Part 2

Mar. 7, 2011 by

Part 2 of 4 – The Forest takes Root. As we sit in the fading afternoon light eating a late lunch at the Solar Café, I get to thinking about the first time my curiosity was set adrift in the

Aokigahara Jukai: A Night in the Suicide Forest – Part 1

Feb. 28, 2011 by

Part 1 of 4 – Getting there. Sometimes, I’m about as spontaneous as a tranquilized elephant chained to a rock, so when I get a call out of the blue from my good friend, photographer and artist Levi Rinker, to

The Hardest Part of Cycling is the Pavement

Oct. 26, 2010 by

My good friend, fellow producer and DJ and Yogacharya, Nik Sliwerski aka Muthafunka fell off his bicycle recently and hit his head really, really hard on the ground. He is in hospital with concussion and a fractured skull (which thankfully

The Strength of a Simple, Symbolic Act

Jun. 23, 2010 by

My father passed away in 1997 and for reasons I won’t go into here he was absent during the latter half of my teen years, locked in a prison of his own making, so this poem resonates very deeply within