The Ramen King And I : How The Inventor Of Instant Noodles Fixed My Love Life Part 10

"That's a great name for a hotel," she said, and when we finished our mojitos, the owner called us another taxi.

At the Hotel Excellent, the driver flung the rear door open with his remote control, and Masako got out of the car. We rode the escalator together to the second-floor lobby.

"Do you want to hang out in my room?" I asked, even though it was not yet Day Seventy of my ninety-day commitment to Matt.

She walked into the elevator without answering, and when we got to my room, she headed straight for the bathroom, where she proceeded to take a shower. When she came out, she was wearing nothing but one of the hotel's yukata robes. The words Hotel Excellent Hotel Excellent were printed in katakana, hundreds of times, all over the robe. She said she hadn't been with anyone since her divorce, which meant in over a year. were printed in katakana, hundreds of times, all over the robe. She said she hadn't been with anyone since her divorce, which meant in over a year.

For the next hour, I didn't think at all about failing to meet Momof.u.ku Ando.

When we fell asleep, I dreamed that Yamazaki called and invited me to partic.i.p.ate in the training on Futonjima, the deserted island. The managers and I were pitching tents on the beach when I heard a helicopter above me, and looking up, I saw the Chikin Ramen Tweety Bird-like mascot painted on the helicopter's tail. A rope ladder unfurled from the helicopter, and Nissin CEO Koki Ando, in sweat-pants and a T-s.h.i.+rt, descended on it, then jumped onto the beach. "What do you want?" he screamed at the managers. The managers shouted answers. "I want an instant T-bone steak!"; "I want instant lobster!"; "I want instant world peace!" Staring right at me, Koki repeated his question, but I awoke before answering.

It was five o'clock in the morning, and I was alone in the twin bed. Masako lived in the neighborhood, so she must have walked home. The yukata robe lay neatly folded on the desk.

I got out of bed and jumped into the shower. The nozzle was higher than the one in the Osaka business hotel, so the water hit my chest instead of my belly. The soap smelled sweet, like apricots. I scrubbed it into my skin with a small cloth. I scrubbed hard, as if I could wash away the fact that I had broken my promise to Matt.

A VERY BRIEF HISTORY OF MOMOf.u.kU ANDO, PART 12 : A MIND TORMENTED WITH REGRET

All of Ando's accounts are vague about how he became the chairman of the credit a.s.sociation, the demise of which led to his year in the backyard shack. He states only that he initially turned down the post but was eventually "sweet-talked" into it.

"Just lend us your name," someone from the a.s.sociation said.

Although Ando lost most of his wealth during the two years he was held in Sugamo Prison, his reputation remained intact. Making the rounds of his business contacts and friends in downtown Osaka, he gathered nearly half a million dollars in deposits in just one day.

Unfortunately, his credit a.s.sociation made many bad loans. Ando claims they were executed by subordinates without his knowledge. Nevertheless, when the a.s.sociation declared bankruptcy, depositors went after him to recoup their losses. They took almost everything he had.

"I was left with only my house in Ikeda City," he writes in Magic Noodles Magic Noodles, "and a mind tormented with regret. I wondered if this was what it meant to be punished by heaven."

PART III

THE FUNDAMENTAL MISUNDERSTANDING OF HUMANITY

Let me tell you a little about Andrew. That's his real name, by the way.When he says that he works for a "nationally published business magazine," he's trying to imply that it's a magazine you've heard of, like Fortune Fortune or or Forbes Forbes or or BusinessWeek. BusinessWeek. Trust me, you've never heard of it. Did you know that he's disliked by many of the editors and writers he works with? It's true. One reason is that he's conceited, as evidenced by the fact that he often gets upset when his story ideas are criticized. Every Thursday morning at eleven o'clock, Josh presides over the story meeting in the large conference room, and writers and editors like Andy pitch their story ideas. While one person is pitching, others around the table chime in with their objections. Things like " Trust me, you've never heard of it. Did you know that he's disliked by many of the editors and writers he works with? It's true. One reason is that he's conceited, as evidenced by the fact that he often gets upset when his story ideas are criticized. Every Thursday morning at eleven o'clock, Josh presides over the story meeting in the large conference room, and writers and editors like Andy pitch their story ideas. While one person is pitching, others around the table chime in with their objections. Things like "BusinessWeek did that story last week" or "If we do that story it might not work out because" of x, y, or z. But Andrew is so sensitive that he can't handle the objections. His ego is so fragile that he gets upset hearing this kind of honest, constructive criticism. I mean, please. This is how idea meetings work at every magazine and newspaper on the planet! did that story last week" or "If we do that story it might not work out because" of x, y, or z. But Andrew is so sensitive that he can't handle the objections. His ego is so fragile that he gets upset hearing this kind of honest, constructive criticism. I mean, please. This is how idea meetings work at every magazine and newspaper on the planet!He's not so in shape anymore. There is the beginning of a paunch. A layer of flab has appeared on the insides of his thighs. I tell him YOU SHOULD BE THINNER, but he says he can't do long-distance running because he feels pain in his s.h.i.+ns from so many marathons. I always tell him, YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE RUN SO MANY MARATHONS. I used to tell him, YOU SHOULD DO YOGA, but that was a disaster. He tried it, and aside from downward dog, he couldn't do the poses. He couldn't even do downward dog properly, and the teacher had to come around and make adjustments. Did I say anything about that? No, I didn't. I kept my mouth shut. Until one day Andrew's in yoga and it's the end of the cla.s.s and the teacher is doing the shavasana shavasana and she's saying, "Breathe in compa.s.sion for yourself, breathe out compa.s.sion for others," and before she's finished, he farts. He farts in yoga, right in the middle of this very contemplative time! Everyone hears it, and trust me, everyone knows it was him. So I tell him, DON'T GO BACK TO YOGA FOR A COUPLE OF YEARS UNTIL THE PEOPLE CHANGE OVER AND THEY WON'T REMEMBER YOU. and she's saying, "Breathe in compa.s.sion for yourself, breathe out compa.s.sion for others," and before she's finished, he farts. He farts in yoga, right in the middle of this very contemplative time! Everyone hears it, and trust me, everyone knows it was him. So I tell him, DON'T GO BACK TO YOGA FOR A COUPLE OF YEARS UNTIL THE PEOPLE CHANGE OVER AND THEY WON'T REMEMBER YOU.Andrew's hair is falling out and it's graying. His father has all of his hair. How embarra.s.sing is that? I always tell him, YOU SHOULD NOT BE LOSING YOUR HAIR.He tells people he's fluent in j.a.panese. Well, sort of. He can read a lot of kanji characters, yes, but he's forgetting how to write them. And he spent all that time in j.a.pan studying how to write!Andrew plays the trombone. Is there any instrument less cool? Let's face it. No one sits around the campfire playing the trombone. In jazz ensembles, the trombones are sandwiched between the trumpets and the saxophones, so no one sees them. In orchestras, they're in the back. Talk to any trombone player, and more likely than not, that person did not choose the instrument. Usually the band director didn't have enough trumpets to go around. I remember when Andrew got put into a cla.s.s to start instruments, and the band director said, "What instrument do you want to play?" And I was like, YOU SHOULD SAY NOTHING BECAUSE YOU TRIED PLAYING THE PIANO AND THE DRUMS AND YOU WEREN'T VERY GOOD AT EITHER ONE, SO WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU'LL BE GOOD AT ANOTHER INSTRUMENT? So Andrew was silent, and the teacher said, "Sit down for a surprise." The surprise was a trombone. When he moved to San Francisco, he answered an ad for a funk band, and I was thinking, OK, that might get him some exposure because horn players stand in the front in funk bands. But Andrew is a bad dancer and a bad soloist. I keep telling him, YOU ARE A BAD DANCER AND A BAD SOLOIST, SO DON'T DANCE AND DON'T TAKE SOLOS BECAUSE IT'S GOING TO BE EMBARRa.s.sING.Andrew has very few male friends. There's Andy, who Andrew met in summer camp, but Andy has a wife and two children and has moved on to adult stages of life, while Andrew remains stunted and single. Andrew used to have three good friends from high school named Dan, Dave, and Sam, but when the four of them would get together as adults, Dan, Dave, and Sam would reminisce about how they went on a backpacking trip to Maine after high school graduation and how the three of them canoed and smoked pot and had all kinds of adventures that Andrew wasn't part of. Sometimes Dan, Dave, and Sam reminisced about a game they played in junior high school with Ritz crackers, where they would sit around and jerk off onto the crackers and the last one to do it had to eat all the crackers. Now I'm not saying those guys actually ever played the game, but Andrew was certainly never invited. So rather than watch him suffer the humiliation of being the odd man out during get-togethers, I told Andrew, YOU SHOULD BREAK OFF ALL CONTACT WITH DAN AND DAVE AND SAM. In San Francisco, Andrew plays Ultimate Frisbee every Sat.u.r.day morning with a group of thirty- and forty-something men who have known each other since college, and they all go out for beers or burgers after the games. But they never invite Andrew. Which is probably for the best, because if Andrew were going to hang out with them, he wouldn't know what to say. I guess he's still friends with Zen, but that relations.h.i.+p is strained. Zen is in j.a.pan making tons of money as a management coach, so it's obvious which of the two of them has skills and value.It's a shame, really, because Andrew was born with so much promise. He had so much of what I'll call "life potential." But I'm like, make something of that already, will you? When he didn't get to meet Ando, I said over and over, YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE TRIED BECAUSE IT WAS CLEAR THAT YOU WERE GOING TO FAIL AND ANYWAY NO ONE REALLY CARES ABOUT HIM. Then, when he broke his promise to Matt, I told him, YOU SHOULD JUST GO HOME NOW BECAUSE IT'S PRETTY CLEAR THAT YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO HAVE A REAL, COMMITTED RELATIONs.h.i.+P WITH A WOMAN, NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU PRAY TO THE INVENTOR OF INSTANT f.u.c.kING RAMEN FOR HELP.

Masako and I had planned to visit the Yokohama Ramen Museum, but I decided to change my plane reservation and fly home instead. In the morning, I called her to say I was leaving, and she walked to Ebisu Station to see me off. She let me know that she was disappointed and confused.

"What happened?" she asked. "Why did you change your flight?"

I was confused myself, so I didn't know what to tell her. We sat for a while in a coffee shop, and then I hugged her good-bye. As I pa.s.sed through the Ebisu Station turnstile, I looked back. Masako was dabbing her cheek with a tissue, in the area below her sungla.s.ses.

I had finished all of the Ramen Discovery Legend Ramen Discovery Legend books I was carrying, so on the flight I had nothing to read except books I was carrying, so on the flight I had nothing to read except The Story of the Invention of Instant Ramen The Story of the Invention of Instant Ramen-the Nissin-published English translation of Magic Noodles Magic Noodles that Matsubara had given me. The book answered questions about the invention of instant ramen that I didn't even know I had. that Matsubara had given me. The book answered questions about the invention of instant ramen that I didn't even know I had.

Q: Did Ando set goals for the instant ramen he hoped to develop? Did Ando set goals for the instant ramen he hoped to develop?A: Yes, he established five goals. He wanted the resulting noodles to be Yes, he established five goals. He wanted the resulting noodles to be1. Tasty Tasty 2. 2. Able to keep for a long time Able to keep for a long time 3. 3. Ready in three minutes or less Ready in three minutes or less 4. 4. Economical Economical 5. 5. Healthy and safe Healthy and safe Q: Q: What lucky developments coincided with the 1958 launch of Chikin Ramen and helped make it successful? What lucky developments coincided with the 1958 launch of Chikin Ramen and helped make it successful?A: At least three: At least three:1. j.a.panese commercial TV broadcasts began in 1953, allowing Nissin to advertise Chikin Ramen to a ma.s.s audience on shows such as j.a.panese commercial TV broadcasts began in 1953, allowing Nissin to advertise Chikin Ramen to a ma.s.s audience on shows such as Beaver-chan (Leave It to Beaver). Beaver-chan (Leave It to Beaver).2. j.a.pan's gross national product grew by 17.5 percent in 1959, and 14 percent in 1960. j.a.pan's gross national product grew by 17.5 percent in 1959, and 14 percent in 1960. 3. 3. Instant coffee was introduced to j.a.pan in 1960, helping popularize the word Instant coffee was introduced to j.a.pan in 1960, helping popularize the word instant ( instant (spelled "" in katakana).Q: What did Ando do when Nissin went public on the Tokyo Stock Exchange in 1963? What did Ando do when Nissin went public on the Tokyo Stock Exchange in 1963?A: He recalled the year in his shack, and he was deeply moved. He recalled the year in his shack, and he was deeply moved.

Q: Why did Ando almost not make his historic journey to the United States in 1966, the one during which he got the idea for Cup Noodles? Why did Ando almost not make his historic journey to the United States in 1966, the one during which he got the idea for Cup Noodles?A: There had recently been two plane crashes at Tokyo's Haneda Airport, and Masako, being superst.i.tious, urged him to stay home. "One can die even while sitting in a room," he told her, "and it's highly unlikely another accident will occur in the wake of so many." There had recently been two plane crashes at Tokyo's Haneda Airport, and Masako, being superst.i.tious, urged him to stay home. "One can die even while sitting in a room," he told her, "and it's highly unlikely another accident will occur in the wake of so many."

Q: At the offices of which supermarket did he watch American executives eat Chikin Ramen with forks out of Styrofoam cups At the offices of which supermarket did he watch American executives eat Chikin Ramen with forks out of Styrofoam cups ( (giving him his inspiration for Cup Noodles)?A: Holiday Magic, in Los Angeles. Holiday Magic, in Los Angeles.

Q: How did Ando feel while watching the Holiday Magic executives eat Chikin Ramen this way? How did Ando feel while watching the Holiday Magic executives eat Chikin Ramen this way?A: "At that moment, I understood what it meant to be awakened by the truth." "At that moment, I understood what it meant to be awakened by the truth."

The book provided practically every detail about Ando's life and his invention of instant ramen except for the one that I had wondered about in the first place. Why did he suddenly devote himself to developing an instant noodle? He said he was inspired by the line at the ramen stand behind Umeda Station and by the health ministry official who challenged him to research noodles. But why did he commit himself ten years later? I still didn't see it. It struck me, however, that aside from taking only three minutes to prepare, the goals Ando set for his noodles also described the kind of healthy romantic relations.h.i.+p that had eluded me.

When I got home, I slept for sixteen hours. Then I called Matt. We met at a Vietnamese restaurant in the Mission District, just a few blocks from Dolores Park. He hugged me when I got there.

"Welcome back! I want to hear all about it."

We ordered bowls of pho-Vietnamese noodle soup topped with thin slices of raw beef-and I related everything that had happened. I told Matt that I felt like a failure for breaking my commitment, and that I would understand if he quit as my mentor.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, buddy," he said.

I felt better hearing Matt call me "buddy."

"It was Ando's will."

I felt worse when he talked like Ando was really G.o.d. He grabbed a stem of fresh basil from a side plate and tore the leaves off, sprinkling them over his soup.

"Did you write in your notebook before you went to Tokyo?"

I remembered that I did, and I told Matt about the second-person capitalized voice that came out on the page.

"So you've started hearing your voice," he said.

He made it sound like everyone had one.

"You have a voice, Matt?"

"Mine sounds like my father."

"Really? What does your father say to you?"

"Well, it sounds like my father, but it's not my father. And that's an important distinction. Anyway, I just started dating someone, and she's great. But my voice is always telling me that she's out of my league."

"So you ignore it?"

Matt slurped his noodles.

"Ignoring it will get you into trouble. You have to listen to it."

"Then what?"

Instead of answering the question, Matt made another demand.

"I want you to commit to another ninety days of no dating and no s.e.x."

I was sure that I would be single for the rest of my life, but I still didn't know what else to do.

"OK."

"I also want you to write a few pages as if you are that voice. Be it."

"OK."

"Then I want you to think back to your childhood and try to recall when you heard the voice. Write to Ando about what you remember."

"But I just started hearing it last week, when I was in j.a.pan."

"Yeah, well, it's probably been with you for a long time. It might help if you write as if the past is happening now."

"You mean, in present tense?"

"Right."

"OK." It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. "Anything else?"

"Uh, one more thing. This time, jot down in your notebook whenever you want something that is not not related to dating or s.e.x. Then listen to what this voice has to say about what you wrote." related to dating or s.e.x. Then listen to what this voice has to say about what you wrote."

"OK."

"Repeat after me."

Before I could stop him, Matt put his hands together in what looked like the ga.s.sho ga.s.sho pose. He closed his eyes. pose. He closed his eyes.

"O Momof.u.ku."

"Matt, I'm sorry. This praying to Ando thing is a joke. It didn't work."

"What are you talking about?" Matt said. "It worked perfectly."

"No it didn't. I broke my commitment."

"Listen, by not meeting you, Ando put you in touch with your voice. This was the luckiest thing that could have happened. Don't you get it? Ando made this happen."

The waiter brought the check, and when he saw both of us with our hands in front of our chests in the ga.s.sho ga.s.sho pose, he gave us a look. pose, he gave us a look.

"O Momof.u.ku," I repeated.

"Please show me how not meeting you was lucky, how not meeting you was the way to better do your will."

I repeated it, and then I went home to write about the voice. As usual, Matt was right. It had been there for a very long time.Dear Momof.u.ku, I am seven years old, and I am walking in front of a toy store with my mother. In the window, I see Trouble, the Milton Bradley board game, and I am overcome with the desire to own it.Trouble comes with two dice encased in a plastic dome-the trademarked Pop-O-Matic. When you push down on the dome, a taut metal strip underneath buckles, rolling the dice. I am the only kid on our block in Brooklyn without Trouble, the only kid without a Pop-O-Matic."Can you buy me Trouble?" I ask my mother."No," she answers. "You'll play it once and you'll get tired of it. Then it'll sit in the closet, and you'll feel like an idiot for wanting it in the first place."I start to cry."Stop your crying," my mother says.I don't stop crying. "I want Trouble!""I told you to stop your crying!" she yells.I can't stop."Stop your crying this instant!"I don't stop, so she raises her hand. She clenches her teeth and shuts her eyes, and there is so much anger coursing through her body that she starts to tremble. As she spanks me, she punctuates each attack with a word."You"-whack-"better"-whack-"stop"-whack-"crying"-whack-"this"-whack-"minute"-whack- "crying"-whack-"this"-whack-"minutes"-whack- "crying"-whack-"this"-whack-"minutes"-whack-"you"-whack-"no"-whack-"good"-whack-"dirty"-whack-"rotten"-whack-"idiot!"She pauses to catch her breath, then continues."What"-whack-"is"-whack-"wrong"-whack-"with"-whack-"you?"There is a rhythm to her hitting, the pain and the volume of her insults rising then falling, like waves cras.h.i.+ng on a beach.I am still crying when my father comes home from work."Stop your crying!" my father says.He doesn't say anything while spanking me. He is six feet tall and built like a linebacker.When he leaves the room, Momof.u.ku, I hear the voice for the first time.YOU SHOULD NOT TRUST YOUR DESIRES, BECAUSE THEY WILL MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE AN IDIOT AND BRING YOU SO MUCH PAIN.

Sincerely, Andy

I didn't suddenly remember the spankings and the insults when I started writing the second set of letters to the inventor of instant ramen. Long before I learned about Momof.u.ku Ando, I had discussed them with my parents. We would sit together-in a park when they visited me in San Francisco, or at their house on Long Island when I visited them-and I would ask what I had done that made them so angry. My mother would rub her forehead and cry, and through her tears she would say that if there were one thing she could go back and do differently in her life, it was that. She would tell me that as a young child I was always crying and that my crying touched off a rage that she could not control. My father would apologize, too, though he defended the spankings as standard practice for the times. "People spanked their kids back then," he would say, and he was certainly right. These discussions always ended with my parents feeling blamed for something they regretted but couldn't change, and they would urge me to take an antidepressant. I would refuse, and sometimes we would stop speaking for months. didn't suddenly remember the spankings and the insults when I started writing the second set of letters to the inventor of instant ramen. Long before I learned about Momof.u.ku Ando, I had discussed them with my parents. We would sit together-in a park when they visited me in San Francisco, or at their house on Long Island when I visited them-and I would ask what I had done that made them so angry. My mother would rub her forehead and cry, and through her tears she would say that if there were one thing she could go back and do differently in her life, it was that. She would tell me that as a young child I was always crying and that my crying touched off a rage that she could not control. My father would apologize, too, though he defended the spankings as standard practice for the times. "People spanked their kids back then," he would say, and he was certainly right. These discussions always ended with my parents feeling blamed for something they regretted but couldn't change, and they would urge me to take an antidepressant. I would refuse, and sometimes we would stop speaking for months.

After writing this last letter to Ando, I made a list five pages long of all the wonderful things my parents did for me, and while I thought about reproducing the list here, suffice it to say that I have been very lucky to have them. Nevertheless, when I tried to remember the first time I heard the voice, it was after one of the spankings.

Meanwhile, my second abstinence period went more smoothly than the first. I still had the occasional thought about placing online dating ads, but I didn't count the days. Whenever I wanted to do something-anything at all that was unrelated to dating or s.e.x-I would record it as a memo to Ando in my notebook, per Matt's instructions. Then I would listen to what the voice had to say about it.

Momof.u.ku: I want to watch I want to watch Seven Samurai. Seven Samurai.ANOTHER SAMURAI MOVIE? WHY DON'T YOU TAKE UP ORIGAMI WHILE YOU'RE AT IT?

Until renting Samurai Trilogy I: Musas.h.i.+ Miyamoto, Samurai Trilogy I: Musas.h.i.+ Miyamoto, I had never watched a samurai movie in my life. I had been proud of the fact that I had never watched any, the way I was proud that I didn't know anything about karate or tea ceremony or flower arranging. I was not I had never watched a samurai movie in my life. I had been proud of the fact that I had never watched any, the way I was proud that I didn't know anything about karate or tea ceremony or flower arranging. I was not that that kind of kind of gaijin gaijin. But because I had rented that first samurai movie, Seven Samurai Seven Samurai showed up one day in my online video store's "Movies You'll " list. showed up one day in my online video store's "Movies You'll " list.

Seven Samurai turned out to be a tale of isolated men trying to find connection and meaning in their lives. My favorite part was when the head samurai, Kambei, recruits his old deputy, s.h.i.+chiroji, to defend the farming village from bandits. As his recruiting pitch, Kambei says, "It will bring us neither money nor fame. Want to join?" To which s.h.i.+chiroji immediately replies, "Yes." What s.h.i.+chiroji values above all else is the connection to his former master. turned out to be a tale of isolated men trying to find connection and meaning in their lives. My favorite part was when the head samurai, Kambei, recruits his old deputy, s.h.i.+chiroji, to defend the farming village from bandits. As his recruiting pitch, Kambei says, "It will bring us neither money nor fame. Want to join?" To which s.h.i.+chiroji immediately replies, "Yes." What s.h.i.+chiroji values above all else is the connection to his former master.

I rated Seven Samurai Seven Samurai five stars out of five, so the online video store recommended more samurai movies, including five stars out of five, so the online video store recommended more samurai movies, including Yojimbo Yojimbo and what would become my favorite samurai movie of all, and what would become my favorite samurai movie of all, Hara-kiri. Hara-kiri. (The latter is about a castle where samurai show up-without appointments-asking if it's OK to kill themselves in the courtyard). Next I rented (The latter is about a castle where samurai show up-without appointments-asking if it's OK to kill themselves in the courtyard). Next I rented Tale of Zatoichi Tale of Zatoichi, the first film in the long-running Zatoichi series. The synopsis label on the DVD sleeve said "(1962) Blind ma.s.seur and swordsman Zatoichi (s.h.i.+ntaro Katsu) is living and working in a province that's under siege by rival warlords. . . . Unwilling to sit idle while his province is ruthlessly destroyed, Zatoichi must take matters into his own hands, regardless of the consequences."

Unable to go on dates, I had plenty of time to sit idle in my living room. I rented eighteen more movies in the Zatoichi series, watching one Zatoichi movie after the next. The online video store s.h.i.+pped the exact same synopsis label on all of them, but because the plot in every Zatoichi film was more or less the same, the description was never far off. If anything changed from movie to movie, it was Zatoichi's approach to women. In the early Zatoichi installments, when young girls fell for the main character, he tended to reject them, putting himself down as a good-for-nothing wandering samurai. But around 1970, s.h.i.+ntaro Katsu, the actor who played Zatoichi, started his own production company to make Zatoichi and other films. In these he played swaggering studs who conquered women and swordsmen alike. In Hanzo the Razor: Sword of Justice Hanzo the Razor: Sword of Justice (1972), Katsu's character is a detective who pounds his p.e.n.i.s with a stone (to keep it in shape) and drags secrets out of courtesans by suspending them naked from the ceiling, bound in a net, and lowering them over his erect member until they o.r.g.a.s.m. (1972), Katsu's character is a detective who pounds his p.e.n.i.s with a stone (to keep it in shape) and drags secrets out of courtesans by suspending them naked from the ceiling, bound in a net, and lowering them over his erect member until they o.r.g.a.s.m.

I watched Incident at Blood Pa.s.s, The Twilight Samurai, Kage musha, Chus.h.i.+ngura, The Sword of Doom, Sans.h.i.+ro Sugata, Sans.h.i.+ro Sugata 2, Hidden Fortress, Incident at Blood Pa.s.s, The Twilight Samurai, Kage musha, Chus.h.i.+ngura, The Sword of Doom, Sans.h.i.+ro Sugata, Sans.h.i.+ro Sugata 2, Hidden Fortress, and and Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart in the Land of Demons. Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart in the Land of Demons. I watched I watched Samurai Rebellion Samurai Rebellion. I watched the disappointing Yojimbo Meets Zatoichi Yojimbo Meets Zatoichi. For months it seemed like all I did was watch samurai movies. I watched them mostly at night and on weekends, but sometimes I watched them on the DVD player in my office computer. If there was one thing, above all, that surprised me about samurai movies, it was that, in general, the heroes don't do very much. A lot of the time, they just sit around. For instance, in Samurai Trilogy II: Duel at Ichioji Temple Samurai Trilogy II: Duel at Ichioji Temple, Takezo spends a good part of each day in his room, whittling. Sometimes he peruses ancient texts. Zatoichi can frequently be found sharpening his sword, gambling, or giving ma.s.sages.

Of course, this is how they prepare for battle. A silly thought crossed my mind. Was it Ando's will that I watch samurai movies in preparation for some kind of battle?Dear Momof.u.ku, I am eleven years old, and I'm at sleepaway camp for the summer. I live in an A-frame cabin with nine other boys. My best friend is Adam. Adam and I have a lot in common. We both have curly brown hair, we like to play baseball, and we're the only boys in the bunk with p.u.b.es.One night, just after the sun sets, Adam walks outside the cabin and howls. Like a wolf."Aoooooooooooooooo!"A few days later, we have what's called a boy-girl social. That's where we get together with girls and have a campfire in the woods. The counselors build the fire and play their guitars, while we kids roast hot dogs and marshmallows on sticks. Adam and I are chewing on burned marshmallows and singing folk songs like "Circle Game" and "Leaving on a Jet Plane," but I'm not singing very loud.YOU SHOULD JUST KIND OF MOUTH THE WORDS BECAUSE IF PEOPLE HEAR YOUR SINGING VOICE THEY'LL MAKE FUN OF YOU.In the middle of "Puff the Magic Dragon," a girl our age approaches us."Who did the howl?"She must have heard Adam all the way over where the girls' cabins were."It was me," Adam says.The girl walks away. Later she returns, but this time she's joined by three of her friends. The four girls crowd around Adam."Do the howl," they cry. "Come on, do the howl!"Adam acts embarra.s.sed, but then he stands up. He plants his right foot on the large rocks that surround the campfire. He tilts his head back, cupping his hands around his mouth. Even before he makes a sound, as he's doing this preparation, the girls' eyes track his every movement.Their lips tighten.Adam howls at the stars, undulating the pitch and dragging it out for what feels like forever."Aooo, aoooo, aoooo . . . !"The girls applaud and laugh and jump up and down."Do it again," they scream. "Do the howl again!"Adam is bathed in female attention. Watching this, I come to the conclusion that any reasonable person would come to, which is that what girls want, what makes them want you, is howling.I am about to howl myself.YOU SHOULDN'T TRY IT BECAUSE, WELL, YOU'RE NOT A HOWLER. YOU'RE JUST NOT. I MEAN, IT'S GOING TO BE EMBARRa.s.sING IF YOU TRY AND FAIL. BESIDES, HOWLING IS ADAM'S THING, SO EVEN IF YOU CAN DO IT, YOU'LL LOOK LIKE A COPYCAT. YOU SHOULD FIND SOMETHING THAT IS HOWLING-LIKE, BUT NOT HOWLING.I try to think of something else. One idea is to memorize the names of all of the episodes of Star Trek. Star Trek. But of course that is being a copycat, too, because Adam has memorized not only the names of all the episodes, but also the order in which they were originally broadcast. Another idea is model rockets. I love model rockets. At home, I buy kits with my allowance money and after I build them, my father takes me to a park near our house to shoot them off. Sometimes they fly so high I can't see them until the parachute pops out. But of course that is being a copycat, too, because Adam has memorized not only the names of all the episodes, but also the order in which they were originally broadcast. Another idea is model rockets. I love model rockets. At home, I buy kits with my allowance money and after I build them, my father takes me to a park near our house to shoot them off. Sometimes they fly so high I can't see them until the parachute pops out.It takes time and effort to make my knowledge of model rockets a selling point to the girls at camp. The rockets are manufactured by the Estes Aeros.p.a.ce Corporation, so during rest periods I memorize the names of all the models in the Estes Aeros.p.a.ce catalog, including Big Bertha, Apogee II, and the Mars Lander. I memorize their weights and lengths, and details about which ones fly highest on C6-5 engines and which ones can handle D engines. I memorize how high each one is expected to fly with a given engine, and so on.At the next boy-girl social, I am flipping through the Estes Aeros.p.a.ce catalog next to a blond-haired girl, hoping she will notice."What's that?" she asks."It's a catalog of model rockets.""Do they really fly?""Yeah. I'm going to shoot off the Shark on the baseball fields tomorrow. My parents brought it on Visiting Day, and last week I cut the fins from balsa wood and applied the decals. I'm thinking of using a C6-3 engine on it.""I'm thirsty," the girl says, and she walks away.WHAT KIND OF IDIOT THINKS THAT GIRLS ARE GOING TO BE IMPRESSED BY YOUR KNOWLEDGE OF MODEL ROCKETS?When I get back to the cabin, I lift the Shark off the Estes Aeros.p.a.ce launchpad, and rip it to shreds.

Sincerely, Andy

Momof.u.ku: I want to learn how to paint. I want to learn how to paint.

CAN YOU EVER MATCH "THE DRIP-UP"?The last time I painted something, I was in the first grade. I tried to paint a man standing outside on a sunny day, but I mixed too much water into the watercolor paint, and the blue in the sky dripped down, obscuring the scene. I turned the painting upside down and t.i.tled it the "The Drip-Up." It's still hanging in my parents' living room.

As for where the desire to draw came from, I'm not sure. It's possible that watching Takezo whittle in Samurai Trilogy II Samurai Trilogy II had something to do with it, because there was something attractive about that, though I didn't feel like whittling. My friend Carla, who is a painter, suggested that I start out with a drawing cla.s.s, so I enrolled in one at City College of San Francisco. On the first day, the teacher placed a plastic duck on a pedestal in the middle of the cla.s.sroom. had something to do with it, because there was something attractive about that, though I didn't feel like whittling. My friend Carla, who is a painter, suggested that I start out with a drawing cla.s.s, so I enrolled in one at City College of San Francisco. On the first day, the teacher placed a plastic duck on a pedestal in the middle of the cla.s.sroom.

"Your a.s.signment," the teacher said, "is to sketch the duck with a stick of charcoal." But there was a catch. "You may not look at your hand or your paper."

"Just look at the duck," the teacher urged, over and over. "Really see see the duck." the duck."

When I was done with the sketch, I looked at my paper.