Rrrrrraaaaadies and genteruman...

Well howdy frickin doody all you blogging mollys and misters,

I'm not really sure if it is my turn or not to blog here yet, but as per previous instructions I'll henceforth and heretofor follow in Glenn's bearded footsteps... not of course that the footsteps themselves wear beards, nor the feet (although I know my toes are hairy)... uh... what I'm trying to say is that I dig the beard man. I've actually lost mine recently in a terrible boating accident that involved no boats. I think it must have found its way over to you (the beard, not the boat). But as this weeks topic is public transportation and not facial vibrissation, I'll stick to the cold hard facts of the Japanese underground, overground, and interground. Bottom line; trains planes and automobiles, or was it the other way around?

But first, perhaps a word to describe this hooligan with the audacity to place before you all these odd shapes conventionally known as letters, arranged in small blocks of meaning colloquially referred to as words, and further combined in elaborate strings of print to form complete thoughts (if thought to be complete), a bit of explanation about this beast who babbles like an uphill stream and somehow says less, this (dare I say) man in the midst of things, about town and torn about, lost enough to have forgotten where he's going and found enough to always get there... (too much? not enough?)

Martin's the name. General tomfoolery, fooltuckery, and footluckery (dare I forget toolfuckery)'s the game. (we're not PG13 are we?) Born and raised in Florida and Wyoming, (that's right... I'm leavened) I am currently in the process of growing up backwards in a country of infinite awe and finite space: Japan. Although I am currently teaching English in the Japanese school system and working daily towards fluency in reading writing and rhythm-ticking, my true call to arms (as well as various other extremities) lies in the art of poetical undertakings. As such, I intend to grasp the language of this wonderful little country (as well as its history of wordsmithery) firmly between the teeth before moving on to some kind of gradumatorium (perhaps even Houston so that I may further follow in the footsteps of my beloved Glenn).

So if my words seem wrought of too dense a metal, if my long winded poppycocking rubs you wrongly, I do apologize, for it is only the poetry that pumps through these throaty veins. Really, I do. Adieu.

Otherwise, thank you for reading. I sometimes wear even myself out. But I do feel honored to be a part of the blog supergroup, to once again be sharing space with a community of writers (of whom I know only Glenn and Jen and damn it appears as though te addition of myself to this trio throws off the rhyme scheme. Sorry about that. But long winded introductions aside, as they say in Japan,

Yoroshiku Onegaishimasu (Please treat me well in our new friendship)

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And now to get down to the meat of the matter, the hatter and his puppets, the muppets and their trains, the main veins of the city that allow for the hustle and bustle, the perverbial muscle of our nominally ecological economy (a full frontal labotomy or a full bottle in fronta me, I'll take the bottle. Its more fundamentally fun to me.)

Ok, time to take it back down a bit. Sorry about all the rhymes and whatnot, I'll try to be more... serious for the rest of it. Beautiful subway stations (Russia) and rat infested piss holes (NYC) aside, I would be willing to wager that Japan has the best public transportation system in the world. But then again, the realities of existence here require it. When you have half the population of the US crammed into an island (archipelago really but whos counting?) the size of California, youd be in a frat house spanking competition with no paddle if everyone drove a car to work. Because of that, while America has screamed BIG BIG BIG, Japan has whispered tiny into the ears of teir vehicle manufacturers, and the result has been the perverbial yin to Americas huge yang.

And cars aside, te train systems here reach not only to every major city, but to most of the smaller ones as well. About a year ago, I purchased a free rail pass, packed up a bag with a tent and a change of clothes and followed Matsuo Basho's Narrow Road to the Deep North, travelling as far as the northernmost tip of Honshu... all of it by local train (with a few busses, fairies, and the occasional hitch-hike thrown in for good measure.) But for the most part, the boats and cars were only necessary to get to the really funky out of the way areas, while it is truly possible to tavel Japan tip to tail entirely by local trains. And where you can't go by train you can go by bus. And all of it is so clean you could eat off the floor (if you don't mind all the dunken salarymen staring at you and reeking of sweat and booze.) The trains in Japan from about 7PM on always have the same stringent vapors of booze mixed with the scent of dissapointment at a life wasted in a company in pursuit of material goods permeating evey available bit of space. But they'll still get you home relatively inexpensively.

When I lived in Tokyo, trains were my everyday. Now, living in Kyoto (Earth's most beautiful city), I ride my bike to work every day, unless its pissing down rain, in which case I sometimes take the bus. But its not just me. I am not the exception here. EVERYONE rides their bike. There are streets here that could be anywhere downtown USA except for the rows and rows of bicycles. I'm not making any kind of judgement call here (except that more people in AMerica should ride thier bike (even though I do recogize the difference in space).

Well, I've written too much as it is, and although there is always more to say, I will have to bid you all adieu. Good night. Which I suppose is Morning to alla yous.