Words and Music by Dennis DeYoung

(Ed. Note: Recently we sent Stan Grossman as far away from GoldLand as we could - to the foreign shores of Nippon - in an effort to recalibrate his posting schedule and burn a few weeks' vacation time. He roundly rejected the idea of an article, and instead posted these "vignettes", most of which are outright lies)

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We awoke to a crash and a serpentine hiss. The air had gone foul with burned sake. Was that breakfast on the griddle, or a ramen bowl heated in darkness by drunks? The night was not nearly over. 3:30am, and we were in a fighting position. Jetlag, my ass. The only thing lagging is my confidence. Out onto the street by 5, and you're damn right it's smile time.

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When that virtual reality shit took hold in the 90s, we thought this sort of ad would be alive. Literally, that some stoned-to-the-bazzer-belt anime chick would walk up to us on the street and offer us a free token at Taiyo for the new Suntory game where all you had to do is get enough ball bearings down the chute and they'd let you take a picture with a bottle of whiskey. Not drink it though... that's for downstairs. Anyway, they haven't perfected it yet, so our mockings aren't being recorded. For now, anyway.

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An entire ad campaign was born this night.

"Thought things would be different by now, didn't you? Black Barrel."

"Ah, midnight and only time for one more decision tonight. You want to correct this evening's mistakes? No? Black Barrel."

"You want to improve your predicament in life? No? Black Barrel."

"Thinking you're too good for a watered down whiskey in a can? Those shoes you're wearing are telling a different story. Black Barrel."

"Like good tasting whiskey? No? Black Barrel."

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Even the dirty parts of town seem like the fair. I don't mind keeping this stuff behind white plastic curtains, but your eyes can only hide so many places. This place made us fight a teddy bear who had an ice cream in his hand in order to gain admission. Pass. They're giving away free tours down the street, at the Sony Building.

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It takes the average human brain 30,000 years to generate enough electricity to power Shinjuku for an evening. So how exactly are they doing it? Beats me.

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I didn't think I'd like a beer that was "All Malt". But then that, like most everything else, turned out to be lies. If it was all malt, it wouldn't be liquid, right? Anyway, they serve it in 60 gallon cans in Ebisu (a city which got its name from Yebisu beer), and you can't buy one unless you can run around one in less than a second. I learned after this picture was taken that the locals use the "whip" like in roller derby. Whatever, I was able to huff the fumes.

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Inside the Museum of Modern Art. Each of these is filled with a glow stick. It's called "An Homage To Rave". Pink is the national color.

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The street crossings are the only time you can stop and take a picture.... the foot traffic just moves too fast on the sidewalks. This intersection was the sight of our 3rd knife fight (our first draw, to bring the record to 2-0-1) but it wasn't a bad evening. We were given tea and shown photos of Africans in a curbside gallery. Not an english word was spoken during the transaction.

(ed. - See? Can you spot the lies?)

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Mount Fuji is revered as the God of Snow in Japanese folklore. Once a year, the snow melts under the immense heat of it's molten iron core. This is when most people just look the other way out of the trains. It is taller than Mount Everest, if you count in hectares.

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This riverwalk in Osaka is just like the one in San Antonio except nobody actually goes down to the river and one building is designed to look like a beer can. But you can get a decent burrito down here. (ed. note - YOU DEFINITELY CANNOT DO THIS)

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The quietest street in Osaka. Just an average Tuesday afternoon.

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They call him the Moss Man, and people on their way to work stop and throw water on the statue for good luck. As such, he and his friends are covered in moss, even on the driest of days. Our tour guide told us that this shrine is actually a mini-sized replica of one on the bottom of the Japan Sea. I said "yeah right, there's no such thing as the Japan Sea".

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"They do have an intimate knowledge of the streets."

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Being that this was our honeymoon, we thought it appropriate to not make a mockery of EVERY national treasure. And plus, we were in Japan JUST AS THE CHERRIES WERE STARTING TO BLOOOOOOOM.

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This was a store that sold Honda and Daihatsu tires.

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"You like sports?"
"Sure"
"You like sports?"
"Uhh, yes. Yes I do."
"You like sports?"
"YES."
(yelled from the back of room) "WHAT!!!"
"Ah yes, WHAT sports you like?"

I offended this man with crazy talk about American Baseball. He gave me what I deserve - a face-bite.

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Mocking the deer in Nara. Like they're going to do anything in retaliation. What, eat more?

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This is probably the spirit of a 3000 year old Samurai. I should NOT have pretended to give it my Kudos, only to yank it away and laugh.

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A clock tower that raised up at 5pm and began spinning and putting on a play. No, seriously. The clock tower started doing a play, with animatronic actors and fairy music.

(ed. note - Why tell the truth HERE? His credibility is shot)

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Well, yeah. It was Noodle Goo. And it's still safely wrapped in cellophane at the 100 yen store. And will be for the next 4 years.

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To call this stuff "sardines" is to imply that I have eaten sardines in my life. And, excuse me, but I think I would know if I had ever eaten sardines, thank you.

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The sign upon entering "Big Echo" said "Happy Happy Happy". Exactly. Finding Mr. Roboto on the playlist was a miracle (being that the songs were categorized by their Japanese language spelling). We gave it everything we had, and left it all in the karaoke room.

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Pagoda, temple, moon. Quote the photographer: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

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The least crazy thing we saw in all of Japan.

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"Breaking News!" : The Big Wave Diary

Memory is hazy on exactly when it happened that island life connected into my brain. Maybe it was the realization that Gold was meeting Gold, and this time it wasn't in a smoked-filled casino...or in a syrup-worn diner. I remember being in a convertible, and next thing I know I was in the water, making a big mistake by looking at the beach, and turning my back on mama earth. Had it not been for fellow Gold warning me of impending doom, I'd certainly not be typing this right now. Even with the warning, and my own "preparation," I was shoved aside. The waves had their way with us, as they did to Smiley, and to all the other people on the beach...and with everyone else for the history of time. We were good and loopy, and whatever phrase we said to each other ("Alarm clock's goin' off!" "Table for 20!" "Batten down the HUUUGHGH" "Big Jim Slade!" "Aw Hell's Bells!" "She's crestin' wide, son!") it didn't matter. Point is the ocean, like life, washed all to the shore. This meant the planning of a feast and strong drink. Hawaiian Gold's for all, even those who couldn't hack it, because we were all too happy.

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"Shakin' his hips on a G Lean! Get there!"

We shake to the rhythm of it all, unending is this wave-pound. The last thing I remember is shouting "Watch this!" and then it was all white. They say to avoid The Sick you are supposed to focus on one point on the horizon. Christ hell, is it the vanishing point? Because out here, you're on the edge of it, knowing fuck all about what rests beyond the vision. A quick glance at a map will tell you that you are thousands of miles away from any form of arable land. And that's comforting, I suppose. Knowing that we're here, and most people aren't.

When the sun shines the same every day and temperatures only fluctuate between "Gold" and "Holy Gold", it is hard to notice any time pass. Days literally melt into night, the sun softly sucked down into that glowing abyss, the night falling like rain from the hills. To look around and say nothing is the same as shouting your praises. To yelp like dogs at the dancing maelstrom taking place in the Tahiti booth is the same as quietly contemplating your reflection in a waterfall. That is to say: things change. The chemical makeup of the human body is altered every second out in the land of the blue. More salt in the air, not as much in the Bigg Dogg Burgerz, and we find ourselves floating easier, eyes clearer, sun and shade combining into one giant veil.

Raise the arms and salute. Gold used to be in the hills; now it's everywhere.

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It could be that the whole "permanent vacation" vibe that is so often refrained by those people who do actual work for a living originates here. Because, shit, it's not like motivation ever leaves your body. Even Duane in Humboldt has motivation...sure, it might be to get "extra" bacon, but at least it's there. And I knew I was on such a vacation, but it was difficult even getting the spirits to plan activities while in Oahu. We talked of things, and we did them, but it was an end to a mean: beach, drink, lounge. Occasionally, I would return to the shore and read of 1970s movie studio swankness...and if ever briefly my brain would shift east to California. But then I remembered how rare it is to say Dealville is east of anything, so back to the waves I went. Unknowingly, I had created a paradise conundrum! I want to have fun, share with all, laugh and drink and frolic. But things were SO good...the weather SO nice...I wanted silence. To feel the sun renewing my brain, to hear the waves clear the thoughts. Was nature purifying my bloodstream, or did I have too much to drink? There's nothing wrong with me, right?

No, there isn't. Guilt shouldn't shame you into anything, least of which feeling sorry for those who aren't where you are. That is not over-confidence, or a jaded mindset. You have to stop and think that if you have goals for your life, with comfort being very high in the list, you shouldn't be surprised when you find yourself in a cold but very still pond. Surrounded by tropical flowers, you deftly swim to the waterfall. You sit under it...but when you do, you face a handful of onlookers who aren't looking at you but are looking at you. And you try not to look back, because you are taking it all in. A wealth of emotion comes over me now when I think of it but at the time, it was a giddy realization that I'd made the right choice. It's nice to know that can still happen. Mr. Hamilton gave good advice.

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It's an upside down world out here... too far from shore to be considered America, and too damn developed to be anywhere else. Most things move easier in this climate, but it's backwards. You can live on the North Shore, basically the epicenter of all feel good vibes on Oahu, and know that you are sitting right on the main nerve. One look around tells you all you need to know. But the city? The attitude is twisted, disfigured. They're chasing it down there, but I don't know what. They come up here in droves during weekends and holidays, but when speaking about this place, they say it's the "country" in a derogatory way. They speak of the commute as though it is impossible, the surroundings as though I live in a stoner colony where we all do yoga on the beach while high. And shit, we DO do those things, but we also volley questions to the ocean on long walks and try to Figure It All Out, just like everyone else.

Motivation is a tricky thing here. I'm from a land where motivation lacks, but when it's shown, you get what you want. Oh, you want to be a videographer? TRY HARDER. And then, boom, you are. You want to be a teacher, a mechanic, a window washer? If you try, you will make it. This place is different. "It's not what you know, it's who you know". I live my life pretty much in complete opposite to that sentiment... it's why I read Walt Whitman and William Blake in my free time. When looking for "light", I switch to The Name Of The Rose. None of these things makes me popular, or able to talk to other human beings. But that shit bangs around in my head every night when I go to sleep, and I get good ideas from it. I'm no closer than anyone else to figuring out the natural cycle, but at least I'm keeping the brain churning. I like things like my resume to stand on their own merit... for my knowledge and experience to actually mean something. I don't want to have met the manager before hand. In order to work at a surf shop, I don't want to have had to be a frequent customer. Shit, I was my own boss once, and got out because money started to become meaningless. Now, it still has little meaning, but if there was simply a way to GET SOME, we might not have problems.

But never mind all that, we speak of these things between 'Tais at the Royal H. We memorize the closing times of liquor stores and walk in the darkened sand. For here, any worry that pops up can be immediately blunted by salt air. If this is what it takes to be a "local", it's not a hefty price to pay. Slow it down and flatten it out. So that when you come over that crest, and your goggles go foggy and you can't really make out what it is that you are seeing, you can trust in the fact that your eyes aren't even supposed to work at this depth. And eventually breathing returns to normal, and the lenses clear, and you get a good look at all this going on just beneath the surface. We're here now, short though it may be, and soon we will be there, and nothing matters in the world other than this very moment.

Drink it in. It's only the rest of your life.

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Editor's Note: Stan Grossman contributed to this report. If you don't like the fact that both members of Pacific Gold wrote one story...IT'S OFF.