Wow blogspot's SpellChecker is a Psychiatrist as well!

Erotisism always results in heartache. Just ask Hesse's poor Siddharta. Additionally, lust is one of the seven cardinal sins.

I'm on a roll here - CHARON

Samehada otoko to Peach Hip (momjiri) onna

I first saw this wonderful movie, 'sharksin man peach hip girl' at 3AM after completing final exams. I was wasting away and a friend (super sleuth dvd expert) had lent it to me in bootleg VCD format. The movie originally debuted in 1998 - wow that's a long time ago - and we just watched it again in 2005. If you like Snatch/Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (Guy Ritchie) you'll love this movie. It also has Tarantino connections, stylistically (dono which way the influence goes) and the director is guest credited on Kill Bill (Vol. 1 or 2, I don't know).

Choppy throughout, unrelentingly humorous and satirical - yet there are some very down to earth scenes - this movie catalogues the escape of a rogue Yakuza member (Kuroo Samehada) and his encounter with a repressed/dejected/abused hotel clerk (Peach Hip Girl). His Yakuza rank and file pursuers are a motley crew of expert knife thrower down to epileptic bat wielder. The dialogue/translation is accessible and the overarching themes of rebirth/liberation, anti-establishment, and odd erotisism (think of Yamada-kun when you read this), make a great east-west fusion.

Final Tap: Snobs out there may think I've given this movie a over-generous commentary, but believe me it's definitely a fun view and a great cannonball-pool-dive introduction into trendy Japanese culture. - CHARON

The Satanic Verses

I've been reading Salman Rushdie's 'The Satanic Verses' for over 3 months now. It seems like an eternity. The book is amazing, however, I never thought I could read this slow and still enjoy the literature behind the fatwas and political innuendos. Salman is an amazing author, I've mentioned before that I admire him above all other reasons because in his writing I see my own and I realize that I may have an audience after all. Albeit liberal, expatriated, netherworldic souls, transmigration through life like they have no scruples, no patience, and plenty of self-doubt.

Roughly 555 large pages, its a long read, but its also dense with Steinbeck 'inner chapters' telling a pseudo-religious tale of islamism, freedom, and treachery against one's own nature. It's very much magical realism, so much so I think it takes itself more seriously than Marquez's 'Cien Anos de Soledad' or Allende's 'La Casa de los Espiritus'. The basic story is about the intersecting identities of Desiness (Indianness/South Asianess), Islam, Fundamentalism, liberal decay, cultural escapism, Diaspora, and High Tea Britiannia (aspiring to banter and gain the English mannerisms of our favorite butler in Ishiguro's 'Remains of the Day')

But its a roller coaster ride of culture, sensuality, oddity, and rejection. In some parts, quite frankly, throughout most of the book, you're essentially drowning in Rushdie's vividly portrayed sea of religious/stereotypical/Anglo-Indian cultural aphorisms and anecdotes.

I'm only on page 314. More on my progress with this 'wrestling-with-god-harrowing-tale' in the near future. Some moments in this book are as unnerving as your typical episode of Larry David's 'Curb Your Enthusiasm'. Rushdie has an uncanny knack for expressing the awkward and the unmentionable. He's also married to an extremely attractive model/cook - Padma Lakshmi