It's Friday night, and it's around 10 degrees here in Japan. It's been pretty cloudy these past few days, hence the cold weather. Which I absolutely love. I do not envy my countrymen right now, stuck in the sweltering Philippine summer season with no way out, except maybe a trip to the highlands. The heat was wreaking havoc in my already erratic sleep cycle. This trip is turning out to be a blessing in disguise.

I'm about to finish my Vodka Ice courtesy of Jae, who has been kind enough to let me use his PC and broadband internet connection. It's lemon flavored and ice-cold and absolutely heavenly.

Radioactive Sago is on the player right now. Ugh.

I've been here just 5 days and I can't wait to get back. As I told my legendary friend, I have some unfinished business that I want to take care of ASAP. Time is not on my side.

My must urgent prayer these days is that I'd be able to return before it's too late, before I lose my opportunity forever.

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I made some important purchases yesterday. I bought Celso Fonseca's new album, and an old one by Airto. Both are awesome and will be great additions to my library.

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There's this Japanese colleague of mine who's real pretty (at least by Filipino standards). I personally think she's prettier than most simply because she has slim legs and good teeth, aside from the standard fair skin the Japanese are gifted with.

So what?

Our bosses treated us out a couple of days ago and she was invited. During the course of our halted convesation I was able to mention that I formerly sang for a rock group and that I now play percussions for a jazz band. It turned out that she played keyboards (once a year before an audience). I asked her what bands she liked. She said I probably haven't heard of them and I said try me. She replied "Dream Theatre." Of course I knew Dream Theatre. Well not really. I haven't listened to a single song of theirs and all I knew about them was that they're supposedly "progressive" and that they are VERY technical, and I said so.

Fortunately she seemed satisfied with the look of recognition in my face. To cut the long story short, she asked me (in passing) if I could teach her about American rock bands and Jazz.

Of course as a musician, there's nothing more flattering for me than to be asked to guide someone in her musical journey. I gladly obliged and lent her my Jazz mp3 CD this morning. I listed Celso Fonseca, Airto, and Incognito as must-hears.

What's ironic is that at around the same time last year, I also asked V for an intro to Jazz, which started this whole heavenly fiasco I'm in right now. Today the student became the teacher.

I also instructed her to listen to Wolfgang's Acoustica. It's one Filipino album I am not afraid to recommend to the world. Hopefully she'll take my advice and listen to the albums I listed.

And with that I empty my bottle of Vodka Ice and turn in.

Here I am again in Jae's pad, taking advantage of his unlimited broadband access. After going to church this morning, we ate tabehodai (eat all you can) at Shakey's Shibuya (where the Mojo's are humongous), explored the narrow alleys, and stumbled upon Shibuya's red light district. Fortunately the area was deserted, as it was high noon.

Before going home we passed by Maruimarui (fondly called 'oy-oy' because the kanji looks something like 'OIOI') in Mizonokuchi, grabbed copies of Metropolis (a free English magazine), and watched the Japanese exhibitionists display their wares along the elevated sidewalk.

To clarify things, these exhibitionists just play music and sing their hearts out, hoping that they'd attract a goodly-sized audience to satisfy their (tiny) egos and their hunger for recognition.

There was this duo of teenage-looking guys who strummed their acoustic guitars, sucking big time in the process. No one ever stops by their corner. We left feeling very sorry for them indeed.

There's this cute girl on keyboards, who I thought would play some eccentric J-Pop, but then belted out a sappy-sounding balled. She was better-looking than the boys, at least.

Now, Jae is snoring behind me while sprawled on his sofa.

Yesterday was spent mostly sleeping and watching incomprehensible Japanese TV. There's this crazy cartoon that made me laugh out loud despite the language barrier (silliness, maybe, is the universal language). The title was Baka Survivor which means 'Stupid Survivor,' if my crude Nihonggo serves me right. Coincidentally, the main character's name is Bo Bobo (I'm pretty sure that the Japanese meaning of 'bobo' is entirely different from the Filipino one). Here's the plot summary:

Plot Summary: Bo Bobo is a man with the incredible power of hearing the voices of hair and using his own to fight. He uses his power to fight off the Margarita Empire and all of Emperor Tsuru Tsuruiina's minions who are stealing the hair off of anyone they find to power up their emperor.

That, my friends, tells it all.