Back in Kyoto

Back in Kyoto with no Internet for a while. Late plane in JFK then over the North Pole and Siberia to flight delays and a free hotel room. Rental car to old shithole where the boxes come out like newspaper deliveries and no one who lives there is upset. No landlord fights and a lot of junk that wasn't mine after all. Question; Where are my clippers? My latent proto mullet reaches Miguel Angel Torres proportions. My chest hair turns gray. Jet lag allows for early morning running. The river is spectacular and Daimonji looms over my new address. Five minutes to the river, across the street to the imperial palace. First priority; bookshelves. I decide that The Hobbit and Prince of Tides go in the classics section. Am I wrong? Usually not. Kyoto University calls to harangue me about not picking up my mail that I have told them at least four times that I am not in the country to receive. Harangue I tell you. The new neighborhood is awash in grocery stores, all of them designed for old people by old people for the benefit of old people. Cheap canned tuna. Inexpensive mercury. The old hunchback with he fruit stand is the only guy up as early as me. We aren't on terms yet. Due to PSP I have become a full time Scrabble addict but can't understand why every Egyptian term for the human soul is a word, yet "ken" isn't. "Kip" is. Why can't I stop singing Chicken Fried? Thank you James. Country music invades my being, but why the obsession with homemade wine? I must have missed out on that. Cheap cappuccino in the mangakisa and I enjoy paying by the hour, Internet that is. As Ryan points out, "You are paying either way, sometimes it is just at the time." He was referring to his shower. Mission America to a large degree accomplished and as usual at this point I would rather go back although cutting through the palace grounds, vacant and dark, to retrieve my bicycle is a compelling argument.