///Indie Journal Daily///

Saturday, February 14, 2004

Sunday; The Complete and Unabridged History of Japan, part one hundred seventy-five

Shogun Minamoto Yoritomo, according to Akira Yakamoo in my exclusive session recording of his account of the history of the Yakamoo family in Japan, would rule without any interference from Shaki. So would Yoritomo’s son and other shoguns, as Shaki’s imbroglio with China ensued into the 1190s. “But,” Akira said without footnote, "in 1191 the Zen sect was introduced from China."

Historians agree with Akira’s timeframe in this reference. The noted Zen expert, Shi Baracuda Tembara Siamese, often called Shorty for short, lectured far and wide on the introduction of Zen to Japan from China. Although Akira insisted that China sent Zen to Japan in retaliation of the sale debacle, Shorty believed the Japanese caressed the complicated Zen theories because they were getting sick and tired of simplicity for simplicity’s sake.

I attended many talks by Shi Baracuda Tembara Siamese when I was a youngster. I taped many of them without his permission and listened to them over and over again. I never charged anyone to listen to them and I never made copies of them. All right, once I did make a copy but that is because the original tapes were beginning to fray. Shorty’s talks were later marketed and sold by a non-profit organization that was eventually traced to a leg of the Bardozio crime family. In any event, I never made a dime from Shorty’s talks but gained much wisdom. Here, in context with where we are now in the stream of history, is what Shorty said about the introduction of Zen to Japan circa 1191.

“According to Zen teachings, one can achieve self enlightenment through meditation and discipline. This is true and I did this once. It was beautiful but painful. I mean to say when it was over it was painful. I needed a strong beverage to make me forget how miserable I would be once the enlightenment ended.

“The Japanese, when Zen came into their lives, were begging for enlightenment that came from something other than food or sex or the beauty of nature. The poor people were hungry for something that they could not put their fingers upon, something spiritual. Along came Ting Tong, a Zen master from China who told the poor people things that made their heads spin and their hearts flutter. They were smitten by the teaching of Ting Tong.

“He told them things like, ‘The flavor you taste is not that which is on your tongue,’ and ‘More of what you need to survive is on the head of a pin than is in the mountains,’ and ‘Without back there is no front,’ and the kicker, ‘What you think is what you are.’

“'What you think is what you are' turned out to be the phrase that sold Zen to the Japanese in 1191. In no time, thousands of Japanese people were saying this over and over, to one another, to strangers, to sons and daughters and to yaks in the field. No one admitted to understanding it, but it made such a deep impression that everyone knew Zen was here to stay.

“Zen temples began to pop up everywhere by 1200 and Ting Tong stayed in Japan to help build them and keep Zen alive. Already over a hundred years old, Ting Tong, who lied about his age, thrilled Zen-seekers with delightful phrases like, ‘Ordinary is strange,’ and ‘To each son there is a daughter and to each daughter a fine silk dress often worn by the son.’ The people went crazy over this, over him, and eventually constructed a statue in his honor.

To be continued

Frank Cotolo 9:53 PM

Friday, February 13, 2004

Saturday; The Complete and Unabridged History of Japan, part one hundred seventy-four

And so I sat down and continued with the text of my history.

From a documented historic point of view and Akira Yakamoo’s point of view, things became very complicated during the 1100s in Japan. It is impossible to verify most of what has been written about these times and what is told about these times.

Historically documented, the 1100s were powerful times for shogun. The word "shogun" is a title that was granted by the emperor to the country's top military commander during the Heian period, which went from around 794 to the 1180s, give or take a decade. Historians tell us that with the Imperial family fallen, the shogun became the all-powerful political figure.

Shogun Minamoto Yoritomo took control of the whole government in 1192 and he set up his own capital in Kamakura, far to the east of the Imperial family’s capital in Kyoto, near present-day Tokyo. This shogun method of political leadership would change hands many times over the next 700 years. Whenever a shogun became weak, some other strong person came along and took over. If a shogun remained strong enough long enough, he could pass on his shogun status to his son.

But, as shogun Minamoto Yoritomo set up his new government, Akira Yakamoo revealed how this was possible. “Yoritomo,” Yakamoo said in my exclusive session with him, “wasn’t all that tough. Shaki had members who claimed to eat his kind with chopsticks for lunch. However, Shaki concentration on the Chinese market, since the contrived takeover of China, was taking its toll on the body count of Shaki.”

Akira said that for thirty years Shaki was setting up an elaborate network of activity in China while running the country secretly. Since Shaki murdered Wang, it set up a fictional ruler that no one ever saw but everyone believed existed. This was a character known as Tu Ping. He was married to a beautiful, yet fictional woman named Sing. Tu Ping and Sing Ping fictionally held court over China with staunch laws and great secrecy.

But this charade, as well as the extensive network of crime set up, called for manpower and Shaki sent many strong and willing and intelligent members to China to run the deals. “This,” said Akira, “left Yoritomo a significant amount of power in Japan. He was hardly aware that Shaki existed and it was obvious that the Shaki’s Chinese deal was weighing heavily on its strength in the home country.”

Ferdinand Sipolla’s writings about that time are quite the contrary to Akira’s assessment. Sipolla wrote that Yoritomo was a very strong and competent man. In fact, Sipolla wrote, “He was twelve-foot tall and had hair like dagger blades. He was the shogun by which all shoguns would measure themselves. He had the strength of ten large soldiers clad in armor and he could hurl a normal sized human being a half mile using only one arm. Yoritomo was also a great lover and could make love to twenty women at once using only one arm.”

Sipolla’s account of Yoritomo also claims that Yoritomo was the only shogun who could fly. Were it not for fellow historian Biff “Canopener” Jones, the fable of Yoritomo would have prevailed. Jones discounted the mighty shogun’s powers and made Sipolla write about the figure without the influence of opium. Then, Sipolla’s text about Yoritomo read, “He was a strong shogun. Big fellow.”

To be continued

Frank Cotolo 7:07 PM

Thursday, February 12, 2004

Friday; The Complete and Unabridged History of Japan, part one hundred seventy-three

I stood before the crushed and despaired body of Smithblanket. Compassion, I thought. Yes, do as his aunt says and lie. Tell him his mommy is coming and sooth him. He is an unfortunate man, having been dropped on his head so many times as a child. Have pity, have mercy.

I bent down and held his head softly. I put my lips to his ear and then I remembered I am Japanese and the strength within me is the eternity of the lightning bolt and the honor of existence. So, I shouted as loud as I could into Smithblanket’s ear, “Your mommy is dead and you know it! Now stop crying, get up and be a man!”

In an instant, Smithblanket stopped crying, sat up and then stood up. He became quiet and was no longer crying.
“Listen up, Smithblanket,” I said sternly. “You ain’t falling apart on me now. You want to sissy out on me, then fine, you know where the door is. Find it, open it and walk through it. Better still, don’t open it and walk through it. And keep walking, then, if you are going to surrender to baby fear and childish emotions. Yeah, you wanna be a baby, go ahead and keep walking and walk to the nearest pediatric ward and commit yourself. Tell them you are a baby, a widdle boy who needs his mommy. Who is dead, don’tchya know.”

Smithblanket stood there frozen.

“So yeah,” I continued, “the big, bad villains are out to kill us dead. How else would they kill us, if not kill us dead, then? Huh? No, you wouldn’t know. You are way too busy crying and screaming and having a baby fit on the floor. Did you poop your underwear? I wouldn’t be surprised. You fell apart like a child in a beanbag factory. You gave up your adulthood and everything you ever learned as a man, an adult, a person who can toss people off of a roof. You just imploded. You go ahead, then, if that’s how you want to be. You leave here as your mommy’s bones turn to dust in her grave and you go crying and screaming at the world and dribbling at the mouth and believing in Santa Claus. Go ahead.”

Smithblanket whispered, “I want my mommy.”

“I heard that, you whimpering little excuse for a school boy. Your mommy ain’t coming no matter how much you want her, hear me? Your mommy’s dead. My mommy’s dead. A whole lotta mommies out there are dead and us boys must carry on or forever become little pictures of skunk tail that blows in the morning wind. Lost and walking in circles. Forever needing to go to the circus. You hear me?”

“No mommy?” he said.

“That’s right. You are forced to grow up and be armored by your Japanese warrior self. He is inside of you, waiting to take over, waiting to don his irons and swing his sword and be a champion. A champion without a mommy!”

“No mommy,” he said.”

“Now you are getting it. So march outside and wait for the next threat to come. Go outside with your fists and that courage you had before you cried for a mommy you no longer have. For goodness sake, Smithblanket, put yourself back together.” And with that I hauled off and belt him in the face with a closed fist as hard as I could.

He didn’t budge. He absorbed my punch. Then he turned and headed for the door and just before he reached it he turned to me with his fists up and he said, “Thank you. I needed that!”

To be continued

Frank Cotolo 7:22 PM

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

Thursday; The Complete and Unabridged History of Japan, part one hundred seventy-two

Once I got into Smithblanket’s wallet I had no trouble finding his mommy’s telephone number. There was a large white card stuffed inside a plastic strip that was meant to hold a photograph. The card read: IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, CALL MY MOMMY AT 555-424-5555.

I went to the phone and dialed the number. In the background, Smithblanket was rolling around the floor crying.
“Hello,” said a sweet voice, a woman’s voice, on the other end of the phone.
“Hello, is this Mrs. Smithblanket?” I asked.
“Why no, sir,” the kindly voice said, “this is her sister Brilderhorn.”
“Oh. Do you know where Mrs. Smithblanket is?”
“My goodness, sir, I am afraid to say she has been dead for a good ten years now, though I wouldn’t call every one of those years good, really.”
“Dead?”
“Deader than two rusty nails lodged in the head of road kill, sonny.”
“Well, then why did her son ask me to call her? Doesn’t he know she is dead?”
“You mean Smithblanket?”
“Yes.”
“My goodness, it has been a while since Smithblanket called. Poor boy.”
“What do you mean, poor boy?”
“He has never been right, you know.”
“Not right? Why?”
“He fell on his head when he was three.” She paused and then said, “Four, five, six and seven.”
“Yikes. But what about his mommy?”
“She never fell on to her head.”
“I mean what about her being dead?”
“Happens to us all, sonny.”
“But Smithblanket knew she died?”
“Yes, the boy knew.”
“Listen,” I said and held the phone so that it picked up Smithblanket’s crying and ranting. “That’s him crying for his mommy.”
“Poor boy.”
“Why does he want his mommy if he knows she is dead?”
“Oh he’s so silly. Never heard him cry though. Is that really him?”
“Yes. He is hysterical.”
“Well I wish I could help.”
“What should I do then?”
“Tell him his mommy is coming.”
“Lie?”
“You have a better idea?”
“No.”
“Then lie until he calms down. He will come around, sweet thing. He is a strong boy for a boy hit so often in the head. Bye.”

And she hung up.

To be continued

Frank Cotolo 6:29 PM

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

Wednesday; The Complete and Unabridged History of Japan, part one hundred seventy-one

This was amazing to me. Smithblanket afraid? No less admitting it to anybody; to me? And there I was with rock-solid consciousness, in all my Japanese-ness, going through my moment without fear or even motivation. Without a future. And poor Smithblanket was breaking down. He was scared, maybe for the first time in his life.
“My goodness, Smithblanket,” I said. “It’s all right.”
“No it isn’t,” he said, half crying. “It is all bad and we are going to die here, together.”
“No, no, it’s all right,” I said.
“That is not comforting, you saying that,” he said. “I am feeling so strange, like I ain’t never felt before. Look, I am shaking and crying. I don’t understand this, this, this, this, this, this …”
“This what?”
“This, this, this. It is so hard for me to say it.”
“You are afraid, I know.”
“Yes, but I cannot say the word.”
“What word?”
“The one that I feel.”
“You feel afraid.”
“Not afraid, I mean this, this, this, this, this, this, this … See, I cannot say it.”
“What letter does it start with?”
“F.”
“You mean fear?”
“Yes, that’s the word. I cannot understand this f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f…oh darned,” he said, sobbing.
“Relax, Smithblanket, it’s going to be all right.”

I lied, of course, because it didn’t look like it was going to be all right. It appeared that Smithblanket was in the throes of a nervous breakdown as years of submerged feelings, tensions and fears surfaced. They had been ignited, I imagined, from this strange experience, as it seemed most everyone around us wanted to kill us. And we were sitting ducks at my house, where the last attack had taken place; where Akira told us to leave or else live every moment in peril.

Smithblanket fell to his knees and held his head in his hand and sobbed like a four-year-old. In between the wails he said, “It ain’t gonna be all right.”
“Yes, it will, believe me,” I lied again.

The big lug finally broke down big time. He lay on the floor in convulsions, crying and dancing on his side with his legs and arms moving rapidly. I went to the bathroom and got some towels, soaked them in cold water and went back to Smithblanket and wrapped them around his head. Then I went to the fridge and got some ice and tossed some cubes down his pants and shirt. I knew he needed some shocking, that he was feeling numb and disoriented beyond his own control. The cold towels and the ice would get him to feel again and keep his circulation going.

“I can’t feel nothing,” he said between weeps.
“Just take deep breaths,” I said.
“It’s no use,” he said, “I’ve lost it. I want my mommy!”
“What?”
“I want my mommy!”
“Where the hell am I going to get your mommy?”
“Call my mommy, make her come here. Please!” He cried louder and began stomping his fists against the floor.
I said, in a loud voice right into his ear, “How do I call your mommy?”
“The number is in my wallet,” he shouted back, “so call her and tell her to hurry!”

To be continued

Frank Cotolo 7:13 PM

Monday, February 09, 2004

Tuesday; The Complete and Unabridged History of Japan, part one hundred seventy

There was only one thing to do and that was the Japanese thing to do. So, I came out of my pensive state and went back to my desk to continue writing the complete and unabridged history of Japan. No matter what might happen, no matter what fate presented itself, no matter how the ripples of time broke the shore of my consciousness.

I sat down and knew only the moment, that moment, the one I was sitting in, far from the moment I am now, when I present to you the continuation of text that at that time, that moment, I had no idea and did not even think about the moment that is now, as I write this moment about that moment.

And your moment, now, as you read, is another whole moment.

And so I wrote during my moment and never flinched, did not sweat, breathed easily and felt no tension.

I wrote as a Japanese would write. Steadily, in focus. And just then, Smithblanket came in the room. “Hey,” he said, breaking the delightful high of the moment I was experiencing, “what’s up now?”
“Jesus, Smithblanket,” I said, “you just broke the delightful high of the moment I was experiencing.”
“Well I just want to know what now,” he said.
“Now, go protect me. Just leave me to work.”
“All right then, but I’m telling you right now that if there is another attack like last time I am going to be tossing people off of the roof.”
“Fine.”
“I know that might disturb your work here, but that’s what I am hired to do.”
“Fine.”
“So there.”
“All right, now go.”
“I’m going to be around here.”
“All right, go.”
“Ok.”

He just stood there, though. And I looked at him just standing there, sighed and finally said, “What is the problem, Smithblanket?”
“Truth?”
“Yes, of course. What is the matter?”
“You won’t tell anyone?”
“No. Just tell me what is wrong.”

Smithblanket’s head slumped to his chest. I thought I saw a tear fall from his eye. He lifted his head and for sure he was misty. He said to me, “If you tell anyone what you are making me say right now I will do something very bad.”
“Trust me, all right?”
“I have never trusted anyone. But now I’m gonna trust you.”
“All right. So, what is the problem?”
“I’m afraid.”

Tp be continued

Frank Cotolo 6:54 PM

Sunday, February 08, 2004

Monday; The Complete and Unabridged History of Japan, part one hundred sixty-nine

It was quiet when we drove into the carport at my house. It was windless and the fields were empty. No sign of any living thing. Smithblanket had slept the entire trip except for one stop to get coffee and another few moments he made me pull over to the side of the road so he could heave the hot dogs he ate at Simcoe’s house.

I was not afraid of going home and when I went into the house I was not careful in case there was a planned ambush. I went right to my office and everything was in place. No one had been there, nothing had been touched. I placed the material I had gotten on the trip in a few folders on the desk and I sat down. I looked out the window. Smithblanket was still sleeping in the car.

I am not usually introspective, but at that moment my mind wandered, floating along like a leaf on the Ginza. I should be worried, I told myself, because Smithblanket was right and Akira was right. People wanted me dead. People high up in the government; criminals disguised as red-blooded Americans. And my only ally was my enemy’s enemy, Akira Yakamoo. What is it they say? The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Of course I thought, also, at that time, that this history would never be completed by me. This would be the storm that killed me. And a voice inside me then said, “What? You will surrender to the forces of evil?”
“I guess,” said a second voice in me.
“Don’t guess,” said voice three to voice two, “make a decision.”
“And why?” my first voice asked. “I have no say about my fate.”
“Says who?” said the second voice.

And my first voice said to the other voices, “You guys are all mixed up. Voice two doesn’t know what voice three is saying.”
“I’ll fix that,” said voice four, suddenly appearing and sounding a bit like Roy Rogers’ voice did when he was a young, vibrant cowboy.
“How?” my first voice said.
“By letting you know that confusion is not an option here.”
“Really?” said the first, second and third voices together.
“Right,” said voice four. “When things get tough, your American self takes over and that self is so confused. But your Japanese self should rule in times like these and you should think Oriental. Don’t think through the mind fed by processed food and emotions compressed. Think Japanese. Don’t see through the eyes that wish for artificial 3D, see through the eyes of Vishnu. Don’t swallow with the esophagus of a child raised in a concrete jungle, swallow like a bamboo tube in a clear stream of evening rain.”
“Yes, yes,” said voice one.
“Be Japanese and all will fall into place.”
“Of course.”
“Honor.”
“Loyalty.”
“Surrender.”
“Acceptance.”

To be continued

Frank Cotolo 7:12 PM