Lodo Grdzak's Japanese Story--Part 2* (*Scroll down for Part 1):

Looks like Nyoko:



A lot like Aiko:

"Well, that's Chris Potter, and he's great. And that's Antonio Sanchez on drums, so... "

“Lodo,” she said again, this time towards her girlfriend to share in the conversation. The girlfriend smiled and nodded her head.

I couldn’t really communicate with these girls, but we sat together at the bar. The dark-haired girl was Nyoko. Her lighter-haired friend was Aiko. Aiko was the softer of the two. Gentler. But Nyoko knew more English and was more outgoing.

Every so often, we’d exchange a single line or two.

“These guys are good?” Nyoko asked before the set began.

“I don’t know,” I answered as I watched her sip her drink from its narrow, red cocktail straw. It was an odd band in that the headliner was the least famous one in the group.

“...I know that guy there (pointing toward the stage),..is Chris Potter. He’s great. And that guy there (I pointed again) is Antonio Sanchez. So you kno,...

Nyoko appeared to concentrate hard on my words. I tried to slow down and looked deep into her eyes to communicate.

“...So you know,..I have to believe they’re gonna be...”

I tried to gesture how great I assumed the band would be, but wasn’t really sure how to express it non-verbally. We got a good laugh out of my failure.

After the show I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Aiko.

“You take...?” she asked like a child as she gestured for me to take a picture of her and Nyoko. I took their picture. Showed it to them. Took a few more. I happen to take really good pictures.

After the last photo, the two girls nodded in approval. Nyoko gestured for a guy behind me to take a picture of her and I. Then Aiko jumped in for a few, so it was the three of us. We inspected the pics together on the camera’s small, digital screen. The girls giggled as we examined our expressions and faults. We had fun even without talking.

At some point, Aiko turned from the camera toward me. As though she wanted confirmation of something she’d seen in the display window. Her soft eyes absorbed my face, until she unexpectedly smiled and pushed the pad of her thumb into the cleft of my chin. Kind of...nudged it in there like girls will sometimes do and made a comment in Japanese that made Nyoko laugh hard.

I really wanted to talk with those girls.




* NOTE: I'm going to have to split this post into at least one more part. I'll have Part 3 in a few days. Apologies y'all--but its the weekend. Thanks for reading!!

* *ADDL. NOTE: All pics included herein are used simply to enhance the narrative. Don't assume any of the girls (or anyone for that matter), is actually from the story.

My personal photos are # 3 and # 4 from the top. The rest are probably copyrighted by the professional photographers who took them. Don't get me in trouble now!

Lodo Grdzak's Japanese Story (Part 1):

As an investigator I probably interview at least 10 people a week. In-depth. Its a good job if you like people, but unlike David Letterman or Terry Gross, I don’t get to interview the Johnny Depp’s or Kanye West’s of society. I get to interview the guy who got his arm stuck in the combine or slammed the gas pedal instead of the brake.

In the course of my years as an investigator, I’ve discovered I’m not a huge fan of the human race. Sure I get some good stories; but I deal with too many stupid people on both sides of my assignments. And I’ve seen the consequences of their stupidity too many times. Being at the Trade Center on 9/11 didn’t help; and America’s subsequent response only added to my disappointment in my fellow man.

So for the last decade its been nothing but talking-animal movies for me. Fuck you humans and smell ya later. I’m sick of your stories anyways.

Yet I have to say that this Japanese-quake thing has gotten me down. I kind of made light of it a few posts ago; but I’m a little sorry about that now. I actually feel bad for Japan. And especially the Japanese people.

I like the Japanese tourists I meet in New York. They’re big jazz fans--definitely more knowledgeable than Americans. And their girls are cute. They usually have little pixie bodies that they doll-up in bobby-socks and pig-tails. Or maybe they’ll dye their hair pink and where it with bangs. A pedophile’s wet dream.

But most of all, they’re just real friendly. Quick to smile, easy to make giggle or laugh. And always wanting to take pictures! They love that kind of stuff.

Last summer I met a pair of Japanese gals at a jazz club. Smalls. They didn’t speak more than a dozen words of English between them; but they were eager to have a good time and meet people. I bought ‘em a round of drinks.

“What your name?” the darker-haired girl asked me.

“Lodo.”

“...Lodo?” she asked with a confused expression.

“Yeah, Lodo “ I said with a laugh, “...no one gets it the first time.”

* NOTE: Due to certain time constraints, I'll have to split this post into at least another part. I'll have Part 2 in a few days.

** ADDL. NOTE: Any and all pics seen in this post have been included simply to enhance the story. Don't assume the girls depicted are the one's from the story.

*** FINAL NOTE: Photographs of the 2011 Japanese Tsunami are copyrighted. They're not mine to give away.

Landmark Status* (*Double-click on pics for Full-View):

I'd planned to post new writing tonight, but St. Patrick's Day caught up with me and now I'm barely in condition to post pics. But here's a few new ones (and some old classics) from the 5 Pointz Artists space out in Long Island City. Its just been announced that their building's been sold to make way for condominiums, so...guess that's the end of 5 Pointz.

For now.


But I really won't believe it until I see it.







And some classics...



* NOTE: All pics taken by Lodo Grdzak. All rights reserved 2011. All artwork created by 5 Pointz Artists collective. They may have their own copyrights and whatnot.

Excerpt From Last Night:

Her:

Me:
Her: "So I looked at your new blog."

Me: "Really? Wow, that's flattering. ...What d'ya think?"

Her: " What'd I think?"

Me: "...Yeah."

Her: "...Well,...actually. I don't see much difference between 'Staying Put and Watching the World Go 'Round' and taking a 'Long Intermission.' I mean, there is no difference--is there? You should've just kept the old blog."

Me: "What?! Of course there's a difference. There's a big difference. A...huge difference."

Her (laughs): "Oh yeah? What's that?"

Me: "What's different? Well,...everything. Stays Put was before. It's the old blog. This is now."

Her: "Um hmm. Well, anyway, I've been waiting for something new. You haven't posted in a long time, so what's up with that? Got writer's block?"

Me: "Not at all. ...Guess I just had to get some living in this week."

Her: "How old are you again?"

Me: "44"

Her: "...Probably a good idea."




* NOTE: Photographs that depict the aftermath of the Japanese Earthquake were not taken by Lodo Grdzak and are subject to copyrights.

* * NOTE: In case you couldn't tell from my previous post, I've known a few gals from Japan in my day. Hope all are alive and well--you know who you are!. Good luck Japan!!!

They've Got Nothing On Spiffy:

Spiffy about to bark:

w/ Ike (a/k/a Spike; a/k/a/ Spiko; a/k/a/ Iko). About 20 years ago:

"Tina went on to live the brief, tortured life of a one-eyed German-Shepherd."

"Have you ever seen a 2.5 month old dog look at a person this way?"

Spiffy (right); Jake (left); Rules (center). "...Spiffy can walk a good 10 yards on her hind legs like a person..."

I’m not a native New Yorker; I moved here ten years ago when I was already over 30. Before that I lived in a lot of places: Detroit; Denver; south Jersey; Denver (again!); and now Brooklyn for the past decade.

New York’s home for me now, but I’ve spent a lot of important years outside the city and could easily leave for the right opportunity. I tried living in Denver twice, but it never worked-out. The climate’s too dry and I could never find a steady job. In fact, Denver has a rather odd economy. I made more money out there as a hotel bellman than I ever did as an investigator. Go figure.

I kind of got sour on Denver the 2nd time I lived there, but now that I live in New York I appreciate Colorado a lot more. All my people live there now; and they have huge public parks; majestic scenery; medical marijuana; mountain biking and skiing.

And everyone has a dog.

I had three dogs when I lived in Denver--Ike, Tina, and Spiffy. We don’t talk much about Ike and Tina since Ike chomped Tina’s eye out of her head (one of several transgressions) and eventually had to be put to sleep.

Tina went on to live the brief, tortured life you might expect from a one-eyed, in-bred German Shepherd.

But then there was Spiffy--the only one of the three that I actually chose as a puppy. And of course she’s the greatest dog of all time.

I got Spiffy from a puppy rescue. They’d found her all the way down in Conejos, Colorado and trucked her up to Denver for adoption. When I found her that August morning she was enclosed in a large, chain-link pen with about 30 other puppies. A large, handwritten sign was posted that read BLACK DOGS. Other pens were marked HEINZ 57’s; SHEPHERDS AND HUSKIES; and SMALL DOGS.

I locked-on to Spiffy right away as she napped near the front of the pen with her silky head between her two paws. She was without doubt the cutest pup I’ve ever seen; and after about 20 minutes of bonding I took her home.

Spiffy was my dog.

When I adopted Spiffy I had to pay $125.00 for her. “That’s a lot of money for a pound pup,” my dad told me; but it included a coupon to get her fixed.

When I took Spiffy to the veterinarian, he did a whole check-up. Looked in her eyes. Shined a light into her floppy ears. Checked her teeth.

“What d’ya think doc?” I asked him liked a worried parent. “She look okay?”

“This pup?” he asked with a wide smile as he stared at Spiffy like an artist inspects his creation “You don’t have to worry about this one,” he said as his heavy hand smacked the top of her head rather clumsily for a doctor. "This is gonna be a good one.”

And with that Spiffy wiggled-off the table, down to the floor.

Spiffy’s always running away from people. She’s a lot like me in that respect. Aloof, even with the one’s she loves. My guess is that she’s about 50% Border Collie; 40% Lab; 5% Chow; and...something else in there as well. It’s the Chow that makes her stand-offish, but she’s got a definite dominate streak. She won’t roll on her side unless you force her; and God forbid another dog should try to steal her frisbee or ball! Regardless of the dog’s size, that’s gonna lead to a throw-down in the octagon. Spiffy’s foolish that way.

But Spiffy’s the smartest dog I’ve ever met. She knows at least a hundred words: hungry; ball; bone; leash; collar; car; park; stick; speak; sit; lie-down; roll-over; outside; inside; upstairs; downstairs; frisbee; kiss; fetch; wait. I could go on and on. She was house-trained after one accident and can walk a good 10 yards on her hind legs like a person (which I’d encourage if it didn’t completely spook me out). Just look at her picture as a puppy (above). The way she stares at me with intelligent expectancy. Have you ever seen a 2.5 month old dog look at a person that way? Please.

When I adopted Spiffy I was unemployed, so we spent every purposeless day of those first 8-9 months together. We’d start the day at the coffeeshop; then get high and play fetch at the park before driving up to the mountains. She was my best girlfriend, until I got my job offer here in New York.

My original plan was to come back for Spiffy once I got settled. I always assumed we’d be together again. But now I live in a rent-stabilized apartment, which is way cheap. And they don’t allow dogs. So I left Spiffy with my friend Rules and her huge backyard; and it turned out to be a win-win for everybody. For ten years.

I still see Spiffy two weeks a year. In fact, I just got back from my most recent visit, so she’s really been on my mind. (heavy sigh). How many really good dogs do you get in a lifetime? Special dogs. Two? Maybe three? Three sounds like a lot to me. In my endless pursuit of music, new experience, bright lights, and international pussy, I really screwed-up where Spiffy’s concerned. I see that now. If I trusted my boss a little more I’d take a chance and lease a new apartment. With a yard.

But that’s a pretty big if right now.

Besides, Spiffy’s old now. She’s happy in Denver and lived there her whole life. I can’t just take her for my own purposes. I’ll have to get a new dog when the time comes. And that one won’t be the same.

How could it be?

"In my endless pursuit of music, new experience, and international pussy..."



* NOTE: All pics taken by Lodo Grdzak. All rights reserved.

Apologies to All Involved* (*Double-click on Images for Full-View):

Vintage (right) w/ Pam (but not The Anderson):

Brooklyn:

Brooklyn:

West Village:

Brooklyn:

Back in the days of my old blog, I'd have got real upset if I didn't complete a post. But now that I'm on long intermission I take things a bit easier. Besides, as I read it now, Lulu Winds Me Up stands well enough on its own w/out a Part 2.

Course my multi-part post was gonna cover a lot broader thematic territory. Its subject-matter was lifted from the roadtrip conversations I had with Vintage as we drove with Lulu down to Pennsylvania. Revolutions, the loss of love, dried-up old towns, the lack of honesty in modern relations. We really covered it all. And our conclusion? That people suck (of course). And dogs are great.

Of course.

The post was gonna conclude with a conversation that actually took place between Vintage and a woman that we bumped into at a New Jersey rest stop. She'd watched silently as Vintage walked Lulu thru the front door of the Starbucks, but eventually her apparent outrage willed her to comment with derision:

"That's a dog you know--not a person."

To which Vintage replied with a step forward,

"I know, that's why I love her bitch."

Anyway, if not for my vacation, Lulu Winds Me Up would have been one of the ten greatest blog posts ever written; as opposed to just one of any of a thousand others. So apologies to anyone who got invested. But nothing was gonna keep me from this vacation; and now I just got back. So new posts will have to wait.

In the meantime, I've posted a few pics and a clip (below) that readers of Stays Put might recognize. See you in a few days y'all!



* NOTE: All pics taken by Lodo Grdzak. All rights reserved. (5) Boroughs of NYC.

Lulu Really Winds Me Up (Part 1):

Vintage holds Lulu somewhere near Chester, Pennsylvania (this past Friday):

Chester, Pennsylvania**:

Correctional Facility located in Chester, Pennsylvania**:

"..when you bend down to give Lulu a pet she enthusiastically mashes her Timothy Bradley forehead into your palm..."**

"...she gets all the pent-up loving I'd give to my dog Spiffy if she were with me in NY."


So its the end of the weekend, but I’ve yet to go out and drink since I really need this antibiotic I’ve been taking to work on my ears. I’m scheduled to fly out to Denver on Tuesday and I’ve heard painful stories ‘bout what happens if you fly with an ear infection. So this weekend I’ve just stayed home, on intermission from the world.

Actually, this weekend I’ve had to work a lot. Get all my files current so that my diary’s clear for the week I’ll be gone. That means all my camera pics have to be downloaded and labeled; all my time has to be data-entered; all my field-work has to be dictated; all my reports that have come back from dictation need to be reviewed--then emailed to my manager; and finally all the enclosures and hard-copy documents I’ve gathered have to be mailed to the office.

Its a lot of moronic shit to do as I catch-up on last minute field-work; especially when you’re as congested and zoned-out as I’ve been.

To top it off, this past Friday I had an investigation in a shit-hole called Chester, Pennsylvania. Course my territory’s supposed to be Manhattan and the Boroughs, but what’s my boss care about a handshake agreement between men?!

Anyway, Chester, Pennsylvania is a three hour drive from Brooklyn, which meant six hours round-trip. And I’ve had severe vertigo for the last two weeks.

Luckily my man Vintage offered to ride with me. He used to be a long-haul trucker and loves a good roadtrip. So I picked-up him and his dog Lulu and we drove to Chester, Pennsylvania.

Vintage is real good company. He’s attentive to the roadway and patient; whereas a lot of times I’ll drift between lanes in distracted thought. Or hit the gas when I get excited over a point of conversation.
But Vintage was always right there. Lodo. Lodo!

I’m on it. ...Thanks Vintage.

I have to be careful around Vintage’s dog Lulu (not to be confused with Ms. Lulu, star of previous posts) 'cause she really winds me up. Lulu’s only about 20 pounds, but its all muscle; in condensed Bulldog physicality. When you bend down to give Lulu a pet she enthusiastically moshes her flat, Timothy Bradley forehead into your palm; and when another dog comes over to give her a sniff Lulu inevitably attempts a head-butt. All in good fun and everybody loves it.

When I start to pet Lulu, its hard for me to stop. She gets all the pent-up loving I’d give to my dog Spiffy if she were here in NY. But unlike Spiffy, Lulu loves a hard pet. My problem is what starts as a nice stroke builds into something else. I begin to massage and dig my fingers harder and harder into Lulu’s back muscles until she reacts with a grunt; then I’ll slap at her sides to induce her to play before I scoop her in my arms and squeeze her against my chest in an Abominable Snowman bear-hug; mashing my forehead into hers as I grit my teeth and repeat baby-talk nonsense: Who's the tough girl? Yeah, you're tough. You are tough. Lets play rough. C’mon toughie, lets be tough. Who’s cute toughie? You’re cute toughie! Yes you are. Good cute toughie! Now I'm the cute toughie. No you're the cute toughie. Now I'm the cute toughie. No you're the cute toughie. Who's the cute toughie? No you're the cute...

After awhile even the ever-patient Vintage (who's about as easy-going as they get) can’t take it,

“Hey Lodo. You think you can give it a rest already? She’s a ten year old dog and you’re beatin’ the crap out of her.”

Sorry Vintage. ...Lulu just gets me worked up.



* NOTE: Due to certain time and space constraints, I'm gonna have to split this post into a second part.

** NOTE: Photos with the (2) asteriks were not taken by Lodo Grdzak and are subject to copyrights. Abominable snowman created by Chuck Jones and I'm quite sure is copyrighted.