DJing in Daikanyama.

Last night I spent another evening in the smoky, dimly lit bar that has become one of my semi-regular haunts. It's located in Daikanyama, a small, fashionable district near Shibuya, which is a major Tokyo hub. I have been playing there with my friend Andy and a few other acquaintances for a small, regular party, and I'd expected to arrive to the party just on time to start my set at 10pm. Well, I arrived on-site, properly in the nick of time, and discovered, to my chagrin, that my usual crew was not in attendance. Puzzled, I sought out the owner, who promptly informed me that, in fact, our usual get together had been the night before, a Friday. Whoops. Usually, it's on Saturday, but...whoops.

So, he then asked if I'd brought tracks, to which I replied in the affirmative, and he told me to take over the turntables, which I did. He likes what I do on the decks, and I found out that he's opening a new bar next weekend with a larger space with the potential for more noise. All in all, it ended up being a pretty pleasant screw up on my part, although I dislike be flaky as a general rule. I played for a little over 2 hours without worrying about the schedule or other DJs. Nice.

Today, Jun made some fish for brunner (breakfast/lunch/dinner) and it was really good, for the most part. I say "for the most part" because majority of the fish was delicious. However, I, being adventurous, had decided that the fish intestines might be quite delicious and promptly tried a nice little chunk.

Now, I don't mind being wrong, but it can be momentarily challenging to overcome the nagging disappointment in oneself in the immediate aftermath of being *that* fucking wrong. The flavor of the intestines was utterly, horrifically repulsive. I squashed the urge to light my tongue on fire, made a face at Jun that clearly said, "for the love of god, burn my tongue out of my head," and began groping desperately about for a beverage.

So, uh...be careful with fish guts.