MJG's Feed - Page 3 of 3

var fbShare = {url: 'http://www.michaeljohngrist.com/2010/01/fukuoka-by-night/',size:'large'}SY and I went to Fukuoka last week for onsen and haikyo- here’s a night shot from the 24th floor of the massive JAL hotel. That’s Fukuoka Tower on the right....

var fbShare = {url: 'http://www.michaeljohngrist.com/2010/01/return-to-the-ruins-asama-volcano-museum-3/',size:'large'}This was my second time to go to the Asama Volcano Museum. The first was on my first haikyo road trip back in 2007- back when I was...

var fbShare = {url: 'http://www.michaeljohngrist.com/2010/01/new-year-2010-in-shakuji-park/',size:'large'}First off, Happy New Year!  Me and SY have been taking it easy since getting back from a busy four days of onsen and haikyo in Kyushu. We watche...

var fbShare = {url: 'http://www.michaeljohngrist.com/2009/12/tjwl-winner/',size:'large'}Has it already been (over!) a month since I announced this contest? Sorry to keep everyone waiting so long, and thanks again for your efforts to help pimp my site...

var fbShare = {url: 'http://www.michaeljohngrist.com/2009/12/asama-volcano-museum-2-history-of-the-haikyo/',size:'large'}The Mt. Asama Volcano Museum was a mould-breaking facility opened in 1967, offering insight into the life-cycle of the most activ...

var fbShare = {url: 'http://www.michaeljohngrist.com/2009/12/chutes-and-ladders-of-a-haikyo-cement-factory/',size:'large'}It was the third time for me to set out in search of the Hume factory. The first time was on our inaugural haikyo road trip- we...

Haikyoing is kind of an addiction. Every time I get back from a long haikyo weekend, trudging through dusty overgrown schoolhouses and factories, I say to myself- 'that'll do, pig'. But then a few weeks or months later I'm always out there again, doi...

Months ago now I ventured out on a slow work day to meet fellow haikyoist and photographer Adrian Tan. He had the low-down on a haikyo in central Tokyo, something fairly unusual to stumble across, and rarely worth going to once you do- as city center...

The Earth's face is a pock-marked, scarified thing, riddled with enormous holes dug by human hands or caused by the caprices of nature. Deep 'blue hole' lagoons accrete within coral reefs, volcanoes tear the earth apart leaving enormous smoking crate...

Back in December of 2007 I rented a car with 2 friends and we set off into the mountains of Gunma on our first haikyo trip. It kicked off a boom in interest in haikyo that has led to articles decrying us, book chapters written by us, articles showcas...

Last night was the premiere of my buddy Mike's art show at the Pink Cow in Shibuya. He had invited a hotch-potch mix of our old frisbee friends, students, work-mates, and also a few guys from the Japan blogosphere. The event was a blast and I believe...

The impact is immediate and massive. In a second the fireball of flame, earth and smoke spreads almost four and half miles wide, engulfing everything within its path, visible over 250 miles away. After one minute the atomic mushroom cloud reaches 47,...

Makuhari Messe is one heck of a ginormous exposition facility, big enough to accomodate the Millennium Falcon, Jabba the Hutt, numerous Darth Vaders AND Han Solo's ego all at once. When Star Wars came to Tokyo, I had to go along to help celebrate.

Japan is riddled with shrines, in the city-center, in the countryside, suspended out over harbors and on top of mountains. From time to time these wooden complexes go bankrupt. The monks pack up and move out like franchisees out of rent money.

Worse than a monkey on the loose in Shibuya station is Catman on the loose with his bag of cats. Catman wanders the station's underground aisles dropping kittens on various statues wherever he goes.

On toilet doors you sometimes see fancy graphics, stylized versions of the little dude and chick that tell us which little room to go in to do our business. I've seen Picasso-esque renderings, melting-egg Dali versions,

by Michael John Grist. I found him one mad marsh-walking night. I was out in the bogs, I don't know why, crossing wet rivers and wading through peat mulberry patches, dashings of filth worming their way into the cuffs of my suit turn-ups, smidgeons...

This is where planes go when they die. Vast hulks of metal that cost millions to build, now grounded in obsolescence, taken out to the boneyard to be shot in the head like Old Yeller. Their long neat lines look a lot like the white tombs of fallen so...