Karate Kid

I had a dream last night about an old, wise Japanese man who was teaching me how to make a traditional, yet completely fictitious Japanese dish. It looked like a dumpling made of rice paste, with fresh green-colored pasta cut into small squares that I used to wrap it like ravioli.

I asked him how to make the two sides stick together and he dipped the ravioli in a bowl full of beaten eggs. Voila! Rice paste ravioli or something like that. I'm not sure it's even real. It's probably not real. If it was, I can't imagine it could taste much better than gnocchi.

I recall being genuinely interested in what the wise, old Japanese man was teaching me, and I was eager to learn how to make this interesting creation. Then when I woke up the first idea that popped into my head before I could unleash my stewing dragon breath into the unsuspecting air in my room, I realized that Daniel LaRusso from The Karate Kid was an ungrateful bastard.

If I was some punk kid getting my ass handed to me every day by some douche-thugs in a group called Cobra Kai, I would've been a little more willing to put up with an old man who taught me self-defense.

In my dream, i was learning how to make some crappy dish that doesn't even exist, but I didn't complain. Danny LaRusso on the other hand throws a temper tantrum when Mr. Miyagi tells him he's not ready to learn how to sweep yet, though in his own corny/sarcastic, yet endearing way.

Go to hell Danny LaRusso! You get free room and board, not to mention free ass-kicking sessions from a martial arts master, and you still manage to be more of a punk-bitch than Ralphie from Lord of the Flies.

~~

I'm getting on a plane Thursday to go back to Japan, which is probably the reason for the strange dream I had the other night.

During my stay I'll be on a farm near where I used to live in Hagi, learning the types of things Danny LaRusso learned, except how to kick someone's ass which I'm already well-versed in anyway.

The host I'm staying with says we'll probably go boar hunting, which not only is another reference to Lord of the Flies in this blog, but is an entirely badass situation in and of itself.

While I'm gone I'll be doing some writing/posting, song-composing, reading, lots of thinking, and all the other creative stuff I was unable to do while working for the man in NYC.

~~

Something funny I thought about while on the train.

Three middle-aged women were sitting in front of me in the last car of the Long Island Rail Road, talking about inane things middle-aged women talk about, when I heard one of them say, "Boy Louise, I really got a bad headache."

Just then, as I got ready to get off the train I pulled my journal from my bookbag, and a travel size packet of ibuprofen fell into my lap. I started thinking, "What if I were to be a nice gentleman and offer the woman the packet of ibuprofen as I left the train."

"Thank you young man.." she probably would've said along with other generalities about how there aren't enough nice young people like me left in the world.

She would've changed her mind though, when she found out that instead of the ibuprofen I had slipped her some acid.