Tokyo Disneyland: 2011 pt.2


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Penthouse photo album: Day 3 of my 2011 visit to Disneyland. Already I had fulfilled life long wishes in my first weekend trip to a Disneyland resort. A ride on the Star Jets. A round at the shooting arcade. 3 days at Disneyland!

What could be left to do? How about photos with many more face and costumed characters?! How about meeting some cute girls who were Disney fans like me?! How about a trip to old school Tom Sawyer’s Island?!

Coming right up!



Day 3: Tokyo Disneyland


Outside the main gate, Pinocchio greets me.



Flashback: I did the same pose at LA Disneyland. Go back to my old post to check it out:



Even the pets aren’t safe at the Haunted Mansion.



Spookyville Halloween Parade, we meet yet again!



I haven’t been on this island since a trip to LA Disneyland when I was 6.



Hi Ho, off to the bathroom I go!

I got lucky during a trip to the bathroom. I stumbled onto the face and costumed characters as they began walking into the park. They are coming from that gate at the back of the photo.



Chim Chim Cheere, it’s me and Mary!



Bibbidi bobbidi boo, Cinderella is with the prince and not you.



An actor’s life for me, low pay and misery!




I finally made it to the bathroom only to find Peter Pan ahead of me in the line. lol



Stitch is uber-popular in Japan.



No trip to Disneyland is complete without Mickey.



Their dance routine is terrible: no BONES about it.

They are skeletons. With lots of bones. See, it’s a pun!



Spookyville Parade yet again. She keeps following me everywhere!



Pluto! Good doggy.



Stage show for children.



Look who made a new friend. 



Hamming it up! Everyone needs to Vogue occasionally.



Where there’s Woody…



… Jessie can’t be far behind.


That is all for now. Be Well.


Tokyo Disneyland: 2011 pt.1


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Penthouse photo album: I was a California child. Birthdays, Grad Night (special night for High School Seniors) and special family outings often meant going to Disneyland. A trip there meant strategically planning when to hit the e-ticket attractions (early in the morning or the last hour of the night) and how to best use the rest of the day to avoid the inevitable crowd in the park. It was a childhood dream to spend a weekend at the park. How great it would be to be able to hit every major e-ticket in the park in a single trip and then spend time doing some of the more unusual attractions there, like the shooting gallery in Frontierland or the arcade in Tommorland.

What could be better than that?

How about 3 days at Tokyo Disneyland instead?

In 2011 for my birthday I took a trip to Tokyo and, for the first time, spent 3 days at Disneyland. Not only did I get to return to Tokyo Disneysea, which I had visited in 2007, I got to go to Tokyo Disneyland for the first time… and during the Halloween season!

Not only is the park well maintained and run, it has a number of attractions that no longer exist back in the states: such as the Star Jets ride. In one trip I got to fulfill 2 wishes – a weekend at Disneyland and a ride on a Star Jets rocket! Pure Bliss!


Here then is my photolog of my first two days at the Tokyo Disneyland Park, October 2011.


Day 1: Tokyo Disneysea


Tokyo Disneysea Maritime Band. It was the park’s 10th Anniversary.



Time for a little drum solo.



Photo spot in Mediterranean Harbor.



Children posing with The Genie in The Arabian Coast.



Max Goof in his South American outfit, and me in my Japanese outfit.



Chip and Dale’s Day of the Dead parade.



Be Magical nighttime show.



Time for dinner: at the Zambini Brothers’ Ristorante.

One of the few vegetarian dinners I’ve found on the menu at the park.


Day 2 Tokyo Disneyland



My new best friend.

Outside the Country Bear Theater in Westernland.



Cinderella’s Castle, World Bazaar.


TKD 10

Busy day, as you can see.

Apparently it was a school holiday, so the park was crammed.


TKD 11

Good old Jungle Cruise.


TKD 12

Swiss Family Robinson Tree.

One of the great things about Tokyo Disneyland is it still has some of the attractions that LA Disneyland no longer has.


TKD 13

My dream is to live in a tree house.


TKD 14

Log riding down Splash Mountain FTW.


TKD 15

Welcome to the Spookyville Halloween parade.


TKD 16

Taking the pole position at Autopia.


TKD 17

End of Day 2: Cinderella’s Castle.


That is all for now. Be Well.

The Magic Journey

From the Living Room:

The Magic Journey

 living-room bw


The Princess Wanders the Castle Halls

A long night together. Their first night. A special night?

In the morning, still in the afterglow of last night’s passion, they made love again. Last night was sloppy. This morning was soft… and a little kinky, too?

Afterwards she went into the kitchenette to make some coffee, leaving him sitting on the living room carpet, looking over the books in her dainty bookcase: some volumes of Beckett, some books by Edith Wharton, and other odds and ends. It was a small selection of books in an even smaller bookcase, but they were all significant to her.

What was he to her?

She had wanted to doom and redeem him in one gesture for months. She had talked about him to all her friends. She had written pages and pages in her journal about him; many sentences and paragraphs ending in rhetorical question marks that had no answer, such as:

Does he notice me?

Why do I feel this way?

or simply, What?!?

It seemed incredible that he was now here, in the living room of her all too cramped apartment.

She composed in her head the final question for her journal: was he for one night, or all the nights.

She couldn’t decide.


The Prince Encounters a Riddle

“Which book is your favorite,” he asked when she came back with two mugs of coffee, one each for them both.

She couldn’t tell if he wanted to know more about her books or about her. She sat on the small sofa and took a book from the tiny bookcase. It was a thin, old paperback. She had owned it since she was a young, awkward teenager.

It was a fantasy novel. It was a book he had never read.

Question: did he want to hear her favorite part?

Answer: he did.

She began to read. The soft morning light coming from the window behind her cast an aura all around her. It was beautiful. It was magic.

He had given up believing in magic, hadn’t he?

So many years of hurt and disappointment and now, here he was, faced with something he had stopped looking for.


The Princess and the Prince Face the Darkness

She had opened the book to nearly the last page. It was the last passage in the last volume in a series of novels about a magic prince in a far away kingdom.

Here at the end of his long journey, the prince stood at the shore of the endless sea. The dragon had been slain. All the lost lands had been discovered. The heart of the princess had been granted to him.

He had only one lesson left to discover. He sat down and stayed there in meditation until the sun fell into the sea and moon flew into the sky. He ruminated on the luminescent moon in the dark sky until his final lesson became clear to him.

Without light there can be no darkness; without darkness there can be no light. Both are equal in all things.

The prince then became a man.

The girl stopped reading and stared into the boys eyes. The boy stared back.

In that moment the magic journey truly began.

Late Night: a Love Affair


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Penthouse TV: San Diego: 1985

Around the turn of the 21st century a friend and I had the grand idea of starting our own public access show.

At that point in history, cable TV was the Iron Throne of power in the digital kingdom. In my local fiefdom, Bay Area CA (representin the 415!), there were such hella outré gems as the Viking Wrestling Bonnaroo, the Lesbian Nerds Fantasy Book Club Pajama Party, and the Pirate Indie Music Cavalcade (the views expressed in this sentence are the sole responsibility of the authors imagination and in no way reflect with any semblance of historical accuracy the real programming on public access of the time in question – but come on man, I swear the pajama party… that was a thing).

So a public access show for two Gen X, schlubawamba slackers with too much free time seemed like a no-brainer, kind of like a flamethrower in a zombie cocktail party. We shot the footage for our pilot episode guerrilla-style: with too much perspiration and not enough preparation. The M.O. for our caper was to marshal the troops (our friends) with 24 hour notice and then go out into San Francisco and just starting shooting: grab some remote stuff from Golden Gate Park and the blocks of the Inner Richmond District, do the desk stuff after hours from our job (the views expressed in this sentence are the sole responsibility of the authors imagination and in no way reflect with any misdemeanor activities involving shoe races in high heels between myself and my friend at our work place after midnight – but come on man, I could totally kill it in a nice set of pumps).

In a frantic whirlwind of activity we willy vanilli got anything and everything that crossed our mind onto video. Later we would try to Cuisinart it together in the editing.

The desk stuff was the easiest and the best: I’d spent most of my college years staying up until the early morning hours watching the late night talk shows. The one that was my jam was, of course, Late Night with David Letterman.

My infatuation with Late Night (later it became The Late Show) began in high school. The show aired at 12:30 A.M. and for a teenager like me who had to be up at 6:30 A.M., it was much too late for me to watch. However, I was able to catch it on Fridays when I would go spend the weekend with my dad and my grandparents. Part of the routine of hanging out with my dad was tuning into Late Night together on Fridays: the NBC years were scrappy and ironic — it was the kind of program your parents weren’t supposed to get. The show didn’t feature glamorous A-list celebrities; it had Andy Kauffman or Harvey Pekar. It didn’t have remote spots from far flung locales; it had watermelons being tossed from rooftops.

The part of the show that I had the most interest in was the interviews at the desk. I was an introverted, socially awkward, radioactive teenage nerd. I was one super power short of being an X-Man and that super power was social skills. I tried to find my solution in comedy.

The old saw among comedians is they became funny to avoid getting beaten up. I am living proof that this is a goddamn lie. I tried to be funny and all it got me were two black eyes instead of one. To my surprise and astonishment my humor seemed to make the beatings worse instead of better.

“You take back what you said about my mother.”

You take back what you said about my mother.”

“Stop repeating what I say.”

Stop repeating what I say.”


I studied how Letterman interacted with his guests. When he was gracious with his guests, and when he teased them. When I got into college and could burn the midnight oil, I watched Letterman every night. I eventually learned about his antecedents: Jack Parr, Steve Allen, Johnny Carson, Dick Cavett – the one I always like the most was David.

My friend (Brian Gathy) and I never got our public access show off the ground. We were unable to navigate our way out of development hell. In the end it was probably for the best – it left me with more time to work on my writing. However, I did eventually manage to develop some social skills and for that, in part, I have Dave to thank.

So now he is passing into the not so gentle night. No more top 10. No more stupid pet tricks. No more Paul. No more cue cards tossed into the back drop.

For the good you’ve done for me Dave: in being part of my bonding with my father, for helping me develop social skills, for just making me laugh when I needed to laugh… thank you.

مكالمة هاتفية

مكالمة هاتفية

عملت يديه أرقام الهاتف. الأصدقاء وأفراد الأسرة الكثير، كل ذلك بعيدا. لذلك العديد من أرقام الهواتف للاتصال. الكثير من الشكر يوس ل… أصابعه ضغطت على أزرار أضاءت. إشارة مشغول. لا أحد المنزل. لا أحد التقاط. لا شخص واحد للوصول على البارد جدا ومظلمة يوم عيد الشكر.

انه تعديلا في مطبخه وأخذ غلاية الشاي صفير قبالة موقد ساخن. الماء المغلي على البخار في حين يجري سكب في القدح ثم … KACHOO، وقال انه عطست. أولا كان الشهيق في المطبخ، ثم مع أنف تهب في الحمام، وانتهت مع وضع في غرفة المعيشة. لعبت التلفزيون تيار لانهائي من مباريات كرة القدم، ويظهر الكلب، والمسيرات التي لا تنتهي – لكنه رأى أي من ذلك.

وكان الكثير من المرضى للغاية، والكثير وحدها أيضا.

عملت يديه الهاتف. الأصدقاء وأفراد الأسرة الكثير، كل ذلك بعيدا. الهاتف التي تم الاتصال بها والتي تم الاتصال بها دون أي تأجيل، لا أحد لإنهاء له محاولة غير مجدية لنتحدث، له محاولة غير مجدية لتخبر أحدا أن الأمور كانت مختلفة الآن، وأنه كان مختلفا الآن.

وأعرب عن أمله أن تخبر أحدا، أي شخص، إنه سعيد لوجودي هنا، وانه كان من الشاكرين … شاكرين للتنفس آخر، على فرصة أخرى للحصول على الأمور في نصابها الصحيح، لابتسامة أخرى، تنفس الصعداء آخر، يوم مشمس آخر، أثار الفودكا آخر عيد الغطاس الحلو ، والنشوة آخر، لحظة أخرى حيث الكون يقول بصمت نعم، لحظة أخرى من الحب، فرصة أخرى لأكون معكم.

الكثير من الشكر أبدا قال من قبل، والتي تحتاج الآن إلى أن التعبير عنها.

ومع ذلك، فإن الإشارات المزدحمة تضاعفت، كثفت الاتصالات غاب، ويشهق تضخيم.

وهناك عدد قليل رشفات من الشاي القدح، التحديق فارغة في جميع أنحاء الشقة فارغة، ثم ألقي القبض عليه عينه من النافذة فوق التلفزيون. ذلك التغاضي عن الشارع، وعلى الجانب الآخر كان منزل جاره. في الداخل، جلست سيدة تبلغ من العمر وحيدا في غرفة المعيشة لها،
يحدق في التلفزيون. جلس هاتفها مكان ما إلى جانبها، قتلى ودون مساس.

كان يشاهد لها للحظة واحدة، ومن ثم إيقاف التلفزيون له، أدلى
له مكالمة هاتفية النهائية. النجاح: جوابا، محادثة، ثم وضعت الهاتف بعيدا. والترتيب والتنظيم قليلا حتى، يضع قليلا من هذا وذاك وجبة خفيفة لمونش على، ثم وضع على الأريكة لممرضة أن البرد مستعصية على الحل.

وجاءت سيدة تبلغ من العمر وحيدا للخروج من منزلها، الخروج من الباب الأمامي تحمل
شيء كبير في يديها. وقالت انها قدمت رحلتها مع التقدم بطيء وثابت: أولا القادمة عبر الشارع، ثم يصل له ممر طويل، وأخيرا تصل إلى باب منزله … يطرق بهدوء قبل ان يأتي في الداخل. وكانت تمسك وعاء من حساء الدجاج، ورائحة غزت عجبا له الجيوب الأنفية مسدودة.

ذلك أشياء كثيرة ليقول، لذلك كثير من الأفعال للتكفير عن وانه يريد بطريقة أو بأخرى
بدء، لجعل بطريقة ما هذا الزمان والمكان حيث بدأ كل شيء. وقعت له أن اليوم، عيد الشكر، وكان أكثر من يوم واحد فقط على التقويم، أكثر من مجرد عطلة لتناول كميات كبيرة من الطعام ومن ثم تغفو … كان من السهل جدا أن تنفق كل حياتك تفعل ذلك.

وأصبح من الواضح تماما ما كان ينبغي القيام به.

وقال “شكرا لك”، وقال لها.

كان كما لو انه لم قلت ذلك من قبل في حياته.

“لا”، أجابت بصوت مرتعش. “شكرا.”

– ترجمة من جوجل ترجمة في محاولة لنشر الوعي والتفاهم عبر الثقافات من خلال التعاطف الفن. هي محل تقدير كبير أي اقتراحات لتحسين الترجمة.

– Translated from Google translate in an effort to spread awareness and understanding across cultures through the empathy of art. Any suggestions to improve the translation are much appreciated.

The Shortest Way to be Happy

Dear Madam (or Sir) —

The shortest way to be happy
is to build some long-awaited pseudo physician
his sea lovage a sleeping carriage of world weariness,
his three and a quarter inch Ta Ching four way bending cockatrice
a loose cannon whose curls go off and become new window decorations
whose power is strong enough to cause a gulleting, deck piercing fire
the frost colored smoke a sun-bright modern looking
vaguely menacing fipple flute food package of enormous proportions.

Dear Madam (or Sir)

it is our humble pleasure to offer this happiness
in white, aurora, or tubercular yellow.

Dear Madam (or Sir)

We also sell Cialis… cheap!

Allen Ginsberg: San Francisco, 1994


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Penthouse Scrapbook:

San Francisco: 1994

It was my first year in writing school. It was my first year living away from my home city. It was a year of discovery and exploration. Finding my voice. Finding my place.

I was given the assignment of reviewing a poetry reading. One of the giants of contemporary poetry, Allen Ginsberg, was doing a reading that year and I wrote my review about the reading.

Here it is, 20 years after the fact. I am happy to share it with you.



On Sep. 18th, Allen Ginsberg gave a poetry recital at the Cowell Theater. Spanning 2 hours and covering his career from 1972 to the present [1994 – Editor], the reading represented many styles of poetry: ranging from lyrical to free verse and from spoken to sung with musical accompaniment. Even the music was in many different genres: including blues, American folk, Hungarian Folk, rock, bluegrass, and country. The topic of the poems also captured a broad emotional spectrum: from the perverse to the political, from the light to the serious, and from the personal to the hallowed.

In short, Mr. Ginsberg attempted to portray the many aspects of his body of work in many different registers and styles.

The occasion for the reading was the release of Ginsberg’s 4 CD compilation of his spoken poetry, Holy Soul Jelly Roll, which spans the time period of the 1940’s to the 1990’s. Much of the poetry in the collection is set to music and so Mr. Ginsberg performed much of the poetry during the reading to music as well, usually on the harmonium — his instrument of choice. On all of the songs he was backed by a musician who variously played the violin, the guitar (plain and slack key), and the banjo. Twice in the evening this musician performed on his own, and both times it was to good effect.

Mr. Ginsberg started the evening by explaining that most of the material was going to be from 1974 on, as he had spent the previous evening performing material up to 1974. He had finished the previous evening with a performance of “Father Death Blues”, and he began this evening with a reprise of that poem. He explained the song was originally written on an airplane from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics, near Boulder. to New York where his father was on his death bed. Looking at the event with a Buddhist perspective, the song was written to capture both the sadness of loss and the joy of release that is brought by death. The song of the poem was written in 12 bar blues form and Ginsberg used his harmonium to perform the chord changes. The accompanist played the violin, punctuating occasional notes in staccato bursts to give them emphasis. While Ginsberg does not have a natural born singing voice, it does hold the notes and he used his range to good effect: the small range of 12 bar blues being a natural fit for his range. The poem itself, as with most of his poems, used metaphors that were wildly disconnected from conventional meaning. However, this poem was more accessible than many of Ginsberg other poems, as the sadness of his fathers passing gave the metaphors an ample hook for the readers to find meaning in.

Mr. Ginsberg performed songs in many different music styles over the course of the evening e.g. “Do the Meditation Rock” was a rock song. Although the harmonium is limited in some ways in conveying different styles, the accompanist did a lot of work to fill in the gaps, changing instruments through out the evening. For the most part, the songs were succinct and sharp — although “Cigarette Rag” went on for about 4 minutes too long.

The spoken poetry didn’t carry the same energy as the songs for me, and perhaps part of that is I have never liked Mr. Ginsberg’s reading style. I find it too mannered and it doesn’t capture my attention. Where his reading style was lacking, at least for me, he made up for it in his selection of poems. Not only did he cover the major poems of the period, he also brought in some poems fresh enough that he read them from manuscript pages. These two poems ran with the theme of food being eaten, much of it unhealthy and decadent, and food being excreted, comparing the bowel movements of the common person to such celebrities as Marilyn Monroe and President Kennedy. Both of these pieces were amusing and light.

Mr. Ginsberg finished the evening by singing a William Blake poem, using the last line of the poem as a refrain with which he enjoined and cajoled the audience to join along in singing. It provided the final touch to what was a varied and diverse view of Allen Ginsberg poetry.

Au Revoir, Thailand


Penthouse Photobook:

Thailand: 2009- 2014

Thailand, Land of Smiles, country of the elephant, hub of South-East Asia.

My 5 years living and working in the Oz of Asia has come to a close.

Here then are photos from my 5 year sojourn in Thailand.


In 2010, the political faction known as The Red Shirts, marched into the capital for a 2 month demonstration. As they came into the capital from the North and North-East, the roads were filled with long trains of their supporters.



Walking Street, Pattaya. Nighttime club and bar district where a mix of entertainment and illicit prostitution co-exist.




The orange robe signifies that this young boy is a monk.




Bangkok at night. A mix of haze and smog fills the night time sky.




A mock sumo competition at a Nippon cultural event. Japanese culture and anime are very popular in Thailand.




In 2011, Thailand had a massive flood during the monsoon season and large parts of Bangkok were effected by the flooding.




Thai taxi drivers often decorate the inside of their cabs with tokens of good fortune or shrines seeking divine favor. This driver had a number of coins stuck to his dashboard for good luck.




Elephants are widely revered and seen as an important symbol of Thailand. This one is from the Chiang Mai Zoo.




Thailand on the right, Cambodia on the left. Any foreigner living in Thailand can become quite familiar with this view as their stays here often necessitate visa trips to Cambodia.



The Grand Palace, Bangkok. The historical residence for the king of Thailand.

That’s me in the photo, of course.



Yee Peng; Chiang Mai. These lanterns (Khom Loy) are set into the sky during Yee Peng. They are meant to carry away bad luck.



That’s it Thailand: now I ride off into the sunset.

Au Revoir and be well.