Yes I lived in Japan, but I swear I'm not an anime nerd, a martial arts dweeb or an asian fetishist. I met plenty of them during my time there though...

My absolute favorite party of the year is this annual get together where a bunch of folks who ferment stuff at home have a big pot luck and talk yeast starters while consuming sour-dough, yogurt, pickles and homebrew. I tried a beer there this year that smelled like a reisling and tasted like an awesome. Mind. Blown.

I bike the hell out of this city. Mostly because it's faster and cheaper than the subway and I love gliding across the emptiness of the Brooklyn Bridge at 2am.

どうもです。アメリカに帰国したばかりが、５年前後日本で暮らしていました。日本語は使えるが、日本語よ­​り僕の性格は英語で伝えられるので、上に書いてある英語の自己紹介読んだほうがいいかもしれない。よろし­​く。

After a few years hiatus scrambling as a freelance translator I'm back in my original home: the restaurant industry. After periods as a line cook and server I've returned as a manager, juggling a pirate crew of people in a truly awesome restaurant I am honored to be a part of.

Also I have become a total running nerd since I moved back to New York. As someone who has been profoundly unathletic for good chunks of their life it is hard to jive this with my self image as a book worm.

Over the course of my 20s I taught myself Japanese to reasonable fluency. I can read novels, talk naturally to folks and get paid for translations. I am really proud of that.

I used to work in restaurants in Japan, which taught me to quickly reduce veggies to uniform chunks and slices.

I tend to bounce when I walk.

Aside from zoning out to the New Yorker on the subway the hours of my current job have pretty much killed my free reading time, and I haven't read anything that moved me in ages, but past favorites include Paul Theroux's travel writing, Marilynne Robinson's first two novels, popular science by the likes of Steven Pinker and Jared Diamond, and the greatest book ever written about New York: The Power Broker.

One summer a few years back my subconscious must have curated the Prospect Park music series: David Byrne, Dr. Dog and Animal Collective all killed it. Throw in Debussy, Mahler, Bach and 70s Miles Davis and we're talking the summer music series in heaven.

I am a total sucker for post-apocalyptic fiction/movies. "The Road", Paul Auster's "In The Country of Last Things", and Samuel Delany's "Dhalgren". Especially Dhalgren.

My ideal interaction with movies is spent scrunched into the seats at Film Forum marveling at some random ass film noir masterpiece from the 40s or Japanese surrealist gangster flick from the 60s. Although I inhale Netflix before bed just like you do.

Outside of spending Sundays in fall and winter agonizing over the New York Football Giants I don't watch much TV, but just in case no one told you the great American novel has been written, and it's a TV show called The Wire.

I can do without a lot, but these things make life worth living:

1) a decent bicycle in working order 2) two or three books I haven't read yet 3) a pen and a ruled notepad 4) beers after work 5) a good sweater 6) oh hell, internet access.

My job: how to take all the chaos and entropy inherent in the world and carve out a beautiful piece of it in the shape of a well functioning restaurant.

How to focus all the usual mental clutter of jobs, girls, friends, science, frustration and politics into clear and moving prose.

That I should bite the bullet and make time to print pictures from all that film I have lying around.

Easy answer: trying to steer my awesome crew of servers, cooks and dishwashers through weekend restaurant service and get them to create a beautiful experience for every customer that walks through that door.

I tear up at movies (and dramatic sporting events) more often than I care to admit.

I have a list of restaurants I'm interested in on my phone and have been working through them every Sunday night. However, I'm getting sick of my dining companion being my awesome brother and not a scintillating date.

Also, if you are one of those lovely ladies I see biking across the Manhattan Bridge in the dead of winter, be forewarned that I am already in love with you.