Author: musevassal

Format Change

Those few people who follow this blog may at some point have asked themselves what the hell it is I am up to. This is a valid question. Basically, the content is all over the place, and little or no effort has been made to organize it, or my wider approach, into something more cohesive.I … Continue reading Format Change →

The Bright Side

Things might look bad right now, but the important thing is to remember… that thing. You know, that important thing. With the feelings and stuff. Shit. Maybe if I go back into the room where I first thought of it, I’ll remember. No. Oh well, I guess if it’s really important it’ll come back to … Continue reading The Bright Side →

Abroad

I sometimes reflect on my life and wonder: at what point did I stop living abroad? It’s not as dumb a question as you might think. I am, and have consistently been, aware of what country I live in. The question concerns my perceptions of where I live in relation to where I am from. … Continue reading Abroad →

On Japanese Wives

First of all: shame on all of you who read the title of this piece in a dirty-minded, lascivious way! Shame! Now, if we can get our mind (at least slightly) out of the gutter. There are those who think Japanese women are demure, passive, and subservient. As a husband to a Japanese wife, I … Continue reading On Japanese Wives →

Move

This here's a bit of a shout at any youngsters who have the privilege of living in a free country that isn't an active war zone.As you mature, you may start to suspect things that make it difficult to accept where you are. That your teachers and elders don't know shit and yet are completely … Continue reading Move →

Party Time

One time I was at a little backyard fire pit party thrown by this Japanese pot fiend in Vancouver. One of the guests was a Russian pseudo-gangster (maybe a real G, it's hard to tell sometimes). The Japanese guy was friends with the Russian because he couldn't understand what a total douche the guy was, … Continue reading Party Time →

Dumpster Fire Chique

A huge industrial dumpster. Plumes of toxic black smoke roil out of it into the sky over tongues of orange flame. Nubile models with dead sooty eyes feed the flames with pitchforks from atop piles of designer goods. Gucci. Louis Vuitton. Hermes. Handbags. Clothes. Shoes. All speared and thrown to the flames. At one end … Continue reading Dumpster Fire Chique →

Papa on Tickling

Papa. My grandfather.He was full-on German. And by full-on, I mean full-fucking-ON.Born and bred Prussian aristocracy: a real Von from Berlin. I'm not bragging, it just is what it is, and very relevant to who he was. Unless you've been pinned under the gaze of a man who's had that kind of upbringing, you can't … Continue reading Papa on Tickling →

Party Time With the Cool Kids

At the first drinking party I went to in high school, everyone was going on about how great the last party was because some chick blew some guy, threw up all over herself, passed out in a bathtub, and then shit her pants. “And you know what? She's coming to the party later! Her brother … Continue reading Party Time With the Cool Kids →