Tokyo Super Bowl

The 1988 Tokyo Super Bowl

A short memoir of a life in sport…

I fondly remember, mostly, the 1988 Super Bowl. I called in sick to my office in Shibuya, and secured a 750ml bottle of white tequila and a two-liter jug of Diet Coke. I don’t remember what teams played that day, but I had the game on my TV with the SAP decoder giving me the American color commentary. So, for hours that morning my little apartment in Yushima was a haven of boozed up football stupidness.

(I lived at AD. Homes, #402, 3-28-18 Yushima, Bunkyo-ku Tokyo 113. Note the H.R. Giger poster on the wall. I still have it.)

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The age of politics

A gorgeous old fellow I encountered at the Plumbers, Steamfitters, and Refrigeration Fitters Local 467 hall in Burlingame, California during a political rally for a Democratic Party candidate in the upcoming 2016 primary election for San Mateo County supervisor.

(Picture taken on January 27th, 2015)

American pharaohs

(Dedicated to Edgar Allan Poe, some 207 years removed from the day of his birth.)

Almost a year ago, I drove into Cypress Lawn Cemetery in Colma, California. I was running an errand in the area, and I like cemeteries so visiting one just for fun is something I am naturally inclined to do. I didn’t really know what to do with these photographs until I thought commemorating Edgar Allan Poe’s birthday this year in a monochromatically macabre fashion seemed like a good idea.

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Pauchaug Brook, shot long ago on a gray day next to the Connecticut River with an iPhone 4s in Northfield, Mass. …

Mikha'il Pismo Beach Shell & Liquor

Syria and Sam Adams

Dear GOP candidates: have you ever even met a Syrian? Well here you go…

I don’t want to make you feel bad, really, I don’t, but if you oppose the relocation of Syrian refugees to safe havens within the United States you’re a fucking idiot. As a nation of refugees and immigrants, it is our creed and our sacred duty to accept and embrace, rather than reject, the tired, the poor, and the huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The current wave of Syrians fleeing the terror and violence in their home country certainly qualify on at least two of those three checklist points.

As a foreign-born American myself, whose mother came to the U.S. in 1964 but didn’t become a citizen until 1977, it rankles the shit out of me that the GOP morons running for president don’t have any coherent nor compassionate strategies for taking Syrian newcomers into our society. And I bet none of them has ever even met anyone from Syria.

So this short picture story is for them, and anyone else who thinks ‘Syrian’ and sees ISIS and terrorists instead of a human face in their feeble little xenophobic American brains…

Next to the hotel in Pismo Beach where my wife and I stayed in early January, 2015, there was an impressive liquor store called Shell Beach Liquor & Deli. The selection of booze behind the counter was a modest sampler of all the alcohol, soft drink, and junk food snack options that were available in the place.

But more interesting than the store’s inventory was this fellow Mikha’il, who also answered to Mike, a Syrian man who came to California in 2004 to escape the increasingly oppressive rule of Bashar al-Assad.

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Today I am bathed in purple fire

‘Literary-photojournalism’ from a recent trip to Tokyo, Japan…

I have been down Tokyo’s darkest streets for you.

I have lived in those streets for you.

Now I require your presence.

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