people advise against drink blogging, all the time, i've heard it before, i know the risks, and yet still i'm about to do it. just because i'm sat in front of a screen that's begging to thread the thoughts out from my head: which shouldn't take much doing.

tonight was a wine tasting with bruce jones from australia, from swan hill, and just about every bigwig big cheese in this town and i found myself thinking, what the fuck? again. really. in spite of being here nearly half a year, it's shocking how suddenly you can tug away all your experiences, that flimsy sheet of all everything you've learnt, anything you've found out about your peers, how you can just look up and think, 'what the fuck? i'm surrounded by japanese people, i have no idea what they're talking about.... and how did i get here?' and nowmatter how precisely, how detailed you back track and retrace your steps, it still doesn't seem to satisfy that itch for explanation. that's something i think never leaves you, here.

so i stared long and hard at bruce jones' big pork chop cheeks and a little later i went and said hello to him. taro komatani, my friend, my boss at school, is his friend too, you see. bruce jones was going home at the end and it was all an adventure to him still, you see.