Stories
Fe & Fi
Updates: In Fe & Fi, the fictitious establishment Nerf And Turf has been renamed to The Nerd And Surf, in light of it being a seafood and wings focused sports bar. In the world depicted in the story, so the management of the sports bar averts being sued by Hasbro over trade name infringement, despite the fact that in this fictitious bar, there are amusements that include a fastball pitching range with real radar clocked baseballs, and several other safety friendly Nerf toy based sports games that patrons of the bar can play, in addition to watching sports on the large screen televisions.
I don't often give sports the attention it deserves, and I'm doing my best to try and include it where and when I can, seeing as it is often a great source of support for many of the causes advocated for on Shhhh! Digital Media, and not to mention, a healthy way to keep active and show support to to participaction around the world.
As a result, I'll be adding ParticipACTION to my list of advocated charities over the next week. I have an Irish friend who is into sports, and always has been a supporter of sports, and though his influence certainly contributed to this decision (I miss watching hockey night in Canada), my friend is originally Irish, and I'm originally Welsh (amongst other European and Indigenous ancestry). However, we're both Canadian.
Chapters
- Johnny Sturgess (Finished October 15, 2025)
- The Wild Side (Finished October 16, 2025)
- Osaka And Keun (Updated October 17, 2025 11:30 PM EST)
- Coming soon...
This content is produced by the artists indicated on the site, including myself, Brian Joseph Johns.
I, under no circumstance will trade, barter or otherwise swap my own identity for that of another person and I protect the same right for those who've contributed their artwork to the various projects under my management at Shhhh! Digital Media, my own company, no matter the colour symbolism involved. These rights are protected by law under the Charter Of Rights And Freedoms under section 7.
Also, FYI, I don't reverse or alter the polarity or context of my expression (sometimes referred to as "blove" by some people). I say what I mean and mean what I say, and generally only joke or am sarcastic with people I really know very well.
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I'd like to point out that it was the incredible Gary Sinese Foundation that brought the issue of Veteran's rights to my attention. I've always had little respect for those who'd forget the great contribution made by those who've risked life and limb to defend those values that so many of us espouse. Perhaps the true measure of one's principles are by that for which they'd risk their life.
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The Edgar Allan Poe Museum
Because Barris told me to put it here. If I didn't, he said he'd walk. Geez. Stardom really gets to some people's heads. Maybe I could kill him and bury his heart beneath the floor boards! Or I could encase him in behind a brick and mortar wall, for shaming my family name of Amantillado!
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Grand Tapestry Of Moments 02
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Fe & Fi
Johnny Sturgess
Its not every day that you break the fourth wall, but here I am doing exactly that with a reader I've never met in my life, and someone I will likely never truly know the way that you are going to know me. You see, this is a one way medium, where the story only flows in one direction, and have I got a doozie of a story for you, and given that you're on the receiving end, you're in for a real treat. A trick or treat that is.
Who am I you might ask yourself? Perhaps I'm an egomaniac, hell bent on talking about himself for an hour. The truth is, you'd be wrong about that assumption, because the fact of the matter is, that I'm very much a people person. In fact, I'm a professional people person for a company with a long history of giving women the tools they can ply as artists of their being, and for the essence of their own look. To give their face a little colour and their eyes a little more sparkle. I'm an outside sales rep for Kawaī kao Cosmetics.
That's right. Go ahead and say it. But you're a guy, you don't even wear makeup. I mouthed the words exactly as you read them. Its true. I'm a guy. I don't wear the product, though when I'm on camera, the makeup artist might use a little concealer. Maybe some foundation as is the case with all professionals who work in front of the camera. That's not my field, but inevitably as a sales professional, I'm sometimes asked to do a presentation in front of a camera. For hundreds of thousands, if not millions on late night television a few times years ago. You know. Infomercials. Not my regular gig, but one I've done two or three times for Kawaī kao Cosmetics in the past.
So, you might ask yourself then, in the interest of authenticity, a weaponized word that is often thrown around too much of late, how does a guy who doesn't even wear make-up end up as the outside sales rep for a company whose product line encompasses the entirety of cosmetics?
First of all, what do sales reps even do? Well, they sell stuff.
In my field, there are front line sales associates, most if not all of whom are women, who do their job exceedingly well. I mean, they wear the product. They demonstrate it quite well. They're artists, every single one of them, bringing art to the canvas of the human face. They're articulate as well, which in this business is important. And, they're women. They aren't challenging any societal norms by selling make-up, and most of our clients want what we sell.
Sometimes however, there are clients, often powerful women, who run their company with an iron heel if you get my drift, and our front line sales staff don't often have the necessary tools to be able to communicate effectively with these modern vixen leaders of the corporate world.
It used to be, that men were running that show, but that is certainly not the case anymore. When it was men at the helm, a sales force of women, often very charismatic and attractive women, who knew how to play men by their two leashes: the one we got from the world of fashion known as a neck tie, and the other one that comes in a variety of shapes and sizes, that we got from nature. You know, the leash that rests just above a man's family jewels if you catch my drift.
Most women of world awareness are very familiar with how to use one or the other to control a man, and that is certainly not to say that all women are manipulators, because that definitely isn't the case. Some women don't even think like that, and of those women, most of them never end up with the cozy corner office. However, some women of particular awareness are very capable of using either leash, in addition to however many other intellectual gifts they often possess. And now, the cozy corner offices of corporate headquarters everywhere are fully populated with women at the helm of these companies. Guys, you might be thinking that its the end for us, and you'd be sadly mistaken if you dared in that direction. Remember. Its a partnership. The longest standing partnership with which we're familiar as human beings. So, us guys have to get our piece of the pie. That's where I come in.
Most of what I have to offer in terms of my delivery comes from my empathy, my intellect and my confidence. Both in the product I'm selling, and in myself. If you can't sell one, you definitely will not be able to sell the other. Its as simple as that, and when you're dealing with a woman who commands an entire army of neck ties, with one hand, and the company's pocket book with the other, you can be sure that she damned well knows how to use her heels, or her comfy shoes as the case may be.
I'm not a bad looking guy, and some might even regard me as a little bit hunky. I don't really focus on that or spend a lot of time preening that aspect of my being, except for taking care to ensure that I'm clean and professionally presentable when and where I need to be, and for the most part, that is always in front of these women at the helm, and often within their corner offices at very large companies. They're the ones guiding the direction and prosperity of hundreds if not thousands of employees globally as the one in charge at their company. I'm the guy that has something that their company cannot be without.
So how does a guy like me, one that most such women can see coming from a kilometer away, fit into the sales force of a company like Kawaī kao Cosmetics?
The answer is, that I'm a charmer. Not insincere or a con man. I'm helping these women to understand why it is that what I'm selling is going to make the world of difference for their company. I might not wear it, but I have an eye for what is appealing when it comes to the art of etching grand rennaissance paintings of colour, light and shadow on one's face. I know what gets men's attention. Not just some generic cookie cutter representation of a man, but every guy I see, I can tell you exactly what makes him tick when he sees a woman.
Most of these women who are the world's corporate leaders, almost always have a nemesis. A competitor, often one of the opposite sex, who seems to be immune to her ability to take charge or to wield his "leashes" on life. So naturally, I'm the key to solving these women's problems, despite the fact that they often don't realize that they have such a problem in the first place.
My pitch is simple. I come in. First, I listen to them. Then, I speak confidently with them, giving them the respect they deserve, and at the same time, treating them as equals. Being candid. I find out a bit about them, and after a meeting or two, I have enough to know that they have a nemesis. I just give them the tools, by way of our product and an idea of what turns the crank of that nemesis, and they're back in charge again, and I've just signed a two year deal where they'll stock, and carry Kawaī kao Cosmetics in their stores throughout North America, South America, Europe, Asia, Oceania and eventually on Mars if I'm still alive then.
I bring home the big deals. That's what I do. Or did, until things changed, that is.
Remember when I said that I don't wear the product. Well... that part wasn't entirely true, or at the very least, always true. When I was a youth, I had dreams of being a music star, and when we'd perform gigs at the school events, my bandmates and I sometimes wore stage makeup. Very common since the invention of motion pictures and way before that since the invention of live theatrical performances. We're talking hundreds, if not thousands of years in some cultures throughout the world that stage makeup has been an important part of performance arts.
What harm is there in it, if our faces are an artist's canvas, and we enjoy embellishing the art that we already clearly are. Its good for those creative souls who enjoy that aspect of their presentation. Its good for my company and their bottom line. Therefore, by the company being the means to my prosperity, its definitely good for me. We all win, and any situation where all of us win, is where we need to aim ourselves.
Now we're getting to the tricky part, where I, the protagonist of this story so far, runs into a contradiction of values that has an impact upon my future and changes the course of my life. Forcing me to make an assessment of my stance on certain issues and to reconcile where I was with where I believe I should be standing.
Before you judge me, I implore you to remember that in this life, there are forces at work behind the scenes that ensure that we end up with by way of our earning it, that which we protect. That's what we're led to believe and that's probably the case for most of us.
For some of us however, there's a more reserved and sinister set of forces behind the scenes, that creates its own alternate version of your pursued life narrative, no matter what you protect and what you don't.
Like a force that purposely tries to keep you going in the path they've chosen for you, so much so that your efforts to steer yourself clear of such a force, are rewritten in such a way that makes it appear that you support this hidden force and the place they're trying to confine you within their plan.
A bizarre conspiracy to those who've never encountered it before.
A very real and damaging obstacle if and when you are in the midst of it.
Before I continue, I should introduce myself. I am a man of thirty six years, once divorced in a clean separation and two years later, a settlement. My ex-wife Nancy and I remained friends for years beyond that time when we finally settled. When she was thirty, and I was twenty-six (I was always fascinated by older women).
I remember that night well. We called the lawyers. Had a few drinks together. Argued a bit. Reminisced some. The lawyers called us and told us they'd come to an amicable agreement, which we signed off on. Then Nancy and I had the best sex of our lives that night, but we never from that moment spent any time together alone, ever again.
We still talk from time to time, but she recently tied the knot and for obvious reasons, we're keeping our distance from each other.
She might not be my Nancy any longer, but I am still my own Johnny Sturgess. Corporate Sales. Kawaī kao Cosmetics.
At your service, so long as you'd care to sign a minimum one year retail or distribution deal.
The Wild Side
My boss, the man I report to, he's been with the company for his entire life. He started at the very bottom, first, as a clerk in the mail room (back in the days of snail mail), and then was trained as the company's first generation of computer administrators for the new email system, despite that not really being what he'd wanted for his career path. He persevered and rather than make waves, he made money, very much moving with the current rather than against it as he'd told me a few weeks ago during a company social event in Toronto at the site of one of our customers: West Meet East International, in their fashion show/ballroom.
He'd always been fascinated with women, and not strictly as part of his sexual appetite, but rather as someone with the eyes of an artist, who'd never pursued a vocation in the arts. Instead, he saw art in the faces of women, hence why he'd joined Kawaī kao Cosmetics back in the early days in Osaka, Japan.
When an opening as an ISR (Inside Sales Rep) became available, he immediately transferred from the IT department to sales, and never looked back. He spent the next ten years working as an ISR, backing up his OSR (Outside Sales Rep) Shiori Sachiko. She was eventually promoted to the head of sales for the company (the position my boss now holds), while he was promoted to the position of OSR, essentially working the same position that I currently hold with the company.
Over the following ten years, Shiori was promoted to the board of directors, while my boss, whose name I neglected to mention is Hiroyuki Hori, was promoted to the head of the sales department, whose offices had moved from Osaka, Japan, to Toronto, Ontario, Canada during that time. It took him three months to re-establish himself in his new home in a lavish condo in downtown Toronto, and another three before he made the best decision of his career: hiring me.
That was ten years ago, back when Nancy and I had the best (post-settlement) sex of our lives, which probably had at least a little bit to do with my having landed this career position with Kawaī kao Cosmetics.
A little over a year ago, I was called into Hiroyuki's office. I had up until that point, enjoyed a sort of elite status in the company, especially given my sales track record. Our top clients, had nothing but praise for me, and for our product, which carries a bit of clout in a company like Kawaī kao. However, what Hiroyuki had in mind for me was something for which I was not prepared.
It turns out that a there was a new player in town. A technology based warehousing outfit, with a sizeable warehouse storefront dedicated to everything fashion. They had locations in Paris. London. New York. Los Angeles. Toronto. Seoul. Hong Kong, and Osaka, and had accumulated all of this within the last three years thanks to their online sales and distribution model. They were simply known as Keun (Korean for enjoyably good), and even had their own dance style which was very popular in the Gangnam district of Seoul, and the Umeda prefecture of Osaka, and the Lan Kwai Fong district of Hong Kong. Toronto and Los Angeles, had their own version of the same dance, but stylized it with a bit more of a western signature.
Keun was a company whose niche market had secured them the lucrative online distribution deals for many major fashion brands. Many, except for Kawaī kao Cosmetics.
Hiroyuki Hori wanted very much to change that. And so it was that I was tasked with meeting their purchasing manager, Kazumi Fuku Chiharu, in Osaka in three days time.
It was Tuesday afternoon when I met with Hiroyuki, and my flight would be leaving on Thursday morning, from Pearson International with a stop in Calgary, and then a stopover in Vancouver, where I'd catch a second flight direct to Osaka International Airport.
I spent the rest of my day making the rounds to two of my customers, the first being the director of marketing for a retailer we dealt with, and the second being with one of the customers whom I could never read. She was one of those women I'd mentioned, who ran the show for a company with a world presence, but she also possessed a serenity that seemed, at least to me and my experience, to be otherworldly to say the least.
I met with Helayn Ying in her office at West Meet East International, and we enjoyed a good discussion about the future of our strategic alliance and where she envisioned that alliance in three years time. A time at which point she indicated that she was in negotiations with Kawaī kao Cosmetics to eventually merge one of our product lines with one of her fashion lines. A considerably bold move, that would commit our businesses to a partnership for decades to come, making our meeting more like the planning phase of a strategic marriage in the feudal era.
The meeting went successfully and we bid each other farewell, after which I ventured into the warehouse and the receiving area to meet with my good friend Braden.
"I'm on my way out of town in two days. Want to go to the Nerd And Surf have a few? Catch up on things?" I asked him.
"Are you psychic or something? I was just thinking of calling you up and asking you if you wanted to go out for few drinks myself. Unbelievable Johnny," Braden responded.
"That's my job. I can read 'em from kilometers away, and the same goes for friends too. That's why I'm at the top of my game," I said to him, already knowing that the poor guy needed a friend.
I know from working in this business for many years, that its a tight knit crew. There aren't many places or people you can talk with in this business, without it coming back at you from a different direction, let alone a tabloid.
Braden and I had a good friendship however, and one that was built on trust. We were two adventurous cowboys taking on life when and where it confronted us, always trying to leave things just a little bit better than they were before we happened upon them. Despite what it might seem to the contrary, even guys like us needed someone who knew when to listen, and when to force feed us the advice that we didn't want to hear. That was something that we could rely upon from each other, Braden and I.
"I'm done here at six. That's in like two hours. I'll be at the Nerd And Surf at six-thirty," Braden assured me.
"We'll grab a bite to eat, and then we'll see where the night takes us from there," I responded.
After saying my goodbyes to everyone at West Meet East International, I left, carried out a few errands. Made a few phone calls, and then made my way to the Nerd And Surf.
For the record, let me state that the Nerd And Surf has long been our established hang-out. The place that Braden and I often went to when we needed a quick break from the tight knit industry in which we both worked. As I stated previously, it gave us a chance to have a tasty and nutritious seafood and wings focused platter, a chance to catch up, and a chance to throw back a few, though we certainly weren't there for one of those, having the hair of the dog that bit us for breakfast nights.
When I got there, I found my way to the bar and to where Braden was seated.
"Howdy buddy. So how's life at the center of action at West Meet East?" I asked him.
"Good. Things are definitely picking up for the coming holiday season. Longer hours. More pressure from the boss. More fashion synergy events. I'm sure you know the territory. I already ordered us the shellfish and wings platter. Wanna grab a table before we pitch a few?" asked Braden.
I signaled the bartender for a pair of pint glasses of our favourite lager, each with a shot of Rose's Lime Cordial, as we are gentiles of refine I'll have you know.
"Keys?" she smiled at me with that I'm being responsible by asking you, and by paying my way through college kind of smile.
"Its a done deal, though we're only here for a couple," I responded to her as I tossed her my car keys.
"That's what they all say, but to make it up to you, your first lager is on us," she responded tactfully, and with a keep your distance sort of charm.
I had no intention of flirting, but I could entirely see where she was coming from. An attractive young woman in her early twenties, working as a bartender in an establishment frequented by the current and upcoming generation of professionals in the downtown core, as well your local college and university crowd. I'd bet you that she'd be hit on every shift that she worked, at least a hundred times if not more. Of those flirts, there might be one real sincere charmer with a future.
That's not the say that the others were or are lesser human beings. They just couldn't acknowledge the fact that they were using a woman who was to them scenery along the trip of their life, as an affirmation of their masculinity and maybe to dodge ending up being labeled as one of the sausage party crowd.
Now I know what you're thinking, especially with my thinking, not speaking, terminology like that. Sausage party. An often secretly offensive label applied to men that like to party with other men, seeking male romantic partners. Consider my use of the statement to be slang, and not slander, because in the industry in which I'm employed, a considerable population of those professionals are such women and men who for their own reasons, prefer the company of the same sex over the opposite. Not all. Not few.
Consider that I know this after the fact of the story that I'm telling you, and not before, because I didn't always see things the way that I do now. But I can tell you this much for certain, that I didn't get to where I am now in terms of my perspective by having a bunch of self-righteous, indignant zealots trying to tell me what I can and can't think. Thought? That's the secret playground in your head. Where a person comes to understand the world around them, and if they have any sort of scruples, they empathize with the world around them to some degree in order to better understand it and hopefully, to become a better person along the way.
Some, who don't yet fully know themselves, do become uncomfortable in the presence of those whom they might have labeled as part of the sausage party, or for that matter, the oyster party crowd. And so, when faced with such a conundrum which they regard almost as a form of social disease, like playground cooties but for adults, they immediately seek to disprove their association with said crowd, by behaving in a way that contradicts it. Like immediately flirting with a nearby woman, with no consideration of her individuality or person. Basically, just using her to wipe one's own self clean of the cooties of the association of the sausage party.
Men and women who've not lived and learned long enough to understand this, are often apathetic to this fact, and that's why a young woman in her early twenties who works as a bartender at a popular bar will often find herself a conveninent target for the clean oneself of the sausage party cooties kind of guy, in addition to those just feeling friendly and confident over having had a few drinks. In my experience, that lack of apathy is an injustice to both the sausage and oyster party crowd, and the women and men that those apathetic use to wipe themselves clean of their association.
All that from one glance from a pretty young bartender who was very obviously preparing herself both emotionally and professionally for the long shift ahead. That's why I'm at the top of my game in the profession that should really be called, a people understander.
"So what's shaking?" I arrived with our Rose's Lime Cordial crowned pint glasses of lager, placing one of them down before Braden and the other in front of my place setting.
"Same old story. Same old song and dance. You know Helayn. She's a workaholic," Braden held up his glass, which I also did, and our night's voyage began.
"Its her company. Of course she's a workaholic. Another thing that she has in common with you," I said to him, already knowing that there was some kind of tension between the two.
"I know, but... I'm getting mixed signals. Its like one week, she's really trying to get through that invisible wall between us. A few secret glances in my direction, which she thinks that I don't notice. Then, she comes in person to make requests of the shipping and receiving department directly to the shipper slash receiver. In a company like hers, that just doesn't happen. So she's sending these clear signals, and then the next week, she's shying herself away from me. I'm really beginning to think that she's just being diplomatic so she doesn't scare away her back-up baby-sitter, which brings me to the other side of the equation..." Braden took another sip of his pint anxiously.
"Kori?" I confirmed with him, already having an inkling of the situation given our last outting of half a year earlier. Just before the summer of the same year.
"At the same time that Helayn is doing the see-saw with me. Pushing me away and pulling me back. Kori has for the entire time, really been quite forward, and not making any attempt to keep that fact hidden. In a way, its kind of exciting because her and I are on the same wavelength in a lot of ways, but at the same time, its like..." Braden explained his current life struggles to me, and I did the best thing that any good friend would do and listened.
"Like someone marking you as their territory?" I asked him, introducing him to a concept few understood as thoroughly as did I.
"Yeah. It is kind of like that. If it were anyone else, I'd have definitely put a stop to it. But when its someone you think about with interest... albeit, occasionally. Its a bit different," Braden drew some relief from his discussing this situation.
"But you don't want to use Kori as a means to play Helayn, right? I mean you wouldn't hook up with Kori, just to get Helayn's attention. You know? Withdrawing your interest to lure theirs in. Right?" I asked him like a therapist more so than a friend.
I did have some vested interest in this situation though, both professionally and personally as Helayn was one of our best clients, and Braden, one of my best friends.
"No. I don't think so. No. I'm thinking that I want to get on with my life. I'm in a good spot right now. I have opportunity ahead of me. I think that its time that I shared my life with a romantic partner. Someone I can trust. I don't think that Helayn knows what she wants, or that she's ready to make a decision to those ends, but I'm also afraid that if I make that choice for her, by pursuing what Kori is very obviously offering, that Helayn will regret not having come forward to me to speak about this," Braden confided in me.
"But your life counts in this adventure too. You do know that I take it? I mean, you can't wait forever for Helayn, but you could approach her yourself. Did you ever think of that?" I confirmed with Braden.
"I tried that once upon a time, and she just deflected it, and spun it around, making it out to be my shortcoming. That I needed to make a choice, and then a week later, she went back to doing the exact same thing. Push-me, pull-me," Braden revealed to me.
"Look. Braden. The way I see it is that you have two choices here. You either play the same game with Helayn that she's been playing with you. Push-her, pull-her. Or, you have done with that possibility, and instead start a life with Kori, never once for the sake of the heart of either woman, looking back in regret. Move forward on this buddy. Helayn obviously wants you to play her game, but you don't seem to be interested in that. So you've really got to hucker down and make a choice yourself. Helayn was right. She just doesn't want to ruin the fun of playing her way, and maybe you're the person that finally can do that with her. If you aren't however, then don't keep her hanging on," I said to him, already preparing the imaginary invoice for my therapy session.
By that point, the seafood and wings platter had come, along with another round of Rose's Lime Cordial crowned pints.
"Man, you did it again. You totally leveled the playing field, and its like so crystal clear what I have to do. Thank you so much man," Braden and I shook.
"What are friends for? So I'm going to Osaka. Leaving on Thursday morning. You're from that neck of the woods..." I started with him before he interjected.
"I'm from China originally, though I've traveled a lot in the region. I spent a lot of time in Korea mostly, but I also lived in Japan for a couple of years, in Kyoto. I visited Osaka more than a few times so I know some stuff. What do you need to know?" Braden offered.
"I've gotta land a rather important deal. I won't mention any names, but it involves a rather large online warehousing direct to customer shipping company, but they also have a number of large storefronts in major cities around the globe. Can you share anything with me that might help me to land the deal?" I asked Braden, knowing that despite his current humble financial existence, that he'd also chummed up with many influential people over the course of his young career as an acrobat performer with a Chinese traveling show. He'd mingled with the likes of statemen and celebrities from Mumbai, to Hanoi, to Busan and Seoul, to Shenzhen, Hong Kong and GuangZhou, and of course Kyoto. Braden was one of my secret weapons when it came to getting insider information before meeting for a deal with anyone from the Mid to Far East of Asia.
"There's the obvious. Be polite. Be cordial. Don't be tardy, but you already know all of that stuff, don't you?" Braden confirmed with me.
"I'm way beyond that. I need something that will get their attention. There will undoubtedly have been an army of guys like me sent by other cosmetics suppliers. I really want to stand out from them, and be remembered by the people who count. I've got the substance of being. I've got a great brand backing me up. I want the one thing that they'll remember, that makes me stick out from all of those other corporate and territory sales mojos," I explained to him, already getting signs from his expression that his tinker was already hard at work on finding that for which I was asking.
"Alright. I've got it. Nooo. I can't send you there..." he suddenly withdrew his ingenius possibility.
"Awww, come on man. You can't do that. If you can't send me there, then you obviously have to send me there because its obviously got what I'm looking for to stand out," I coaxed him a little harder than he'd sluffed me off of the idea.
"I don't know. This isn't just some flower shop I'm sending you to in order to find a fabled pink blossom banzai or something like that to gift them, you know?" Braden backed up even further.
"Really? That's all you've got for me considering I just helped you to solve an issue that has been an obstacle for your life for the last three years. Something that was keeping you trapped in place along your life's trajectory for years. I thought friends did better than that for each other?" I really played the violin hard this time, squeezing the melancholy out of every note over the matter of a friend turning his back to a request for help from another friend.
"Its a shop, but its closed to tourists. Only the locals use it. Its in the temple prefecture. Its even hidden between two temples and unless you know exactly what you're looking for, you'll miss it. But first, before you even go, you'll need to visit another temple, and get a special sigil..." Braden began explaining to me.
"A what?" I asked him.
"A sigil. A ward," Braden paused, accenting each noun for me.
"What exactly are those?" I asked him, appearing as confused as I truly was.
"Alright. You know how when you go camping up north in Huntsville or the Bay of Lakes in Ontario, you usually make a stop to buy insect repellent? You know, so you don't get eaten alive by flies?" Braden, who'd enjoyed several company camping trips with West Meet East, who undertook such excursions on a yearly basis, every year during the July 1st long weekend to celebrate Canada Day, used a the insect repellent analogy to great effect.
"Yeah, I know. So you're saying these sigils are like insect repellent?" I confirmed with him.
"Yes. Kind of. Let's just say that to go into the place that I'm talking about, you're going to need one of these sigils, and it will cost you. However, if you do manage to go there, I can assure you that you will stand out above all others their company has dealt with. They'll definitely remember you, but you can't tell anyone else about this place, ever. I mean ever," Braden leaned forward in his seat and got in close to me, ensuring that nobody could hear him, and nobody could read his lips as he spoke.
"Then that's the place that I want to go. Tell me, what do I need to do?" I asked him, shoving a seafood sauce covered shrimp into my gullet after I'd asked.
"Alright, but rememeber what I said," Braden reiterated his request to me, and I listened carefully to his instructions.
Osaka And Keun
The flights from Toronto to Osaka had gone considerably smooth, with only a half-hour delay between my linking up with my stopover flight at Vancouver International. I'd managed to catch up on my sleep during the flights, which took a total of fifteen hours, and put me in Osaka at 11 AM on Friday, Japan Standard Time.
I was literally in the limousine at 11:30 AM with my luggage, where I met the limousine driver. He was an older fellow, very much a gentile in professional attire. Quiet and reserved, though there was definitely a spark in there somewhere. Most of his responses to my questions had an entendre, despite how short and quaint they were. Perhaps as short and quaint as was he, compared to my five foot eleven frame.
"May I ask you your name?" I asked him after I'd gotten into the limousine.
"I am Tiko-San, Mr. Sturgess. Your meeting is to take place at 3:30 in the afternoon. That gives you four hours. Where may I take you?" Tiko-San asked of me.
"Could you take me to the hotel? I need to get cleaned up first, which will take me about half an hour. I'll meet you again outside of the lobby at 12:15, after which I'll get you to take me somewhere I need to go, to find a gift," I instructed Tiko-San.
"Very well. I will remind you that whether or not you are ready, I will be at the front doors of Keun at precisely 3:15 PM. With you, or without you," Tiko-San illustrated that he maintained a strict regimen and adhered to his own code of excellence.
Perhaps, if I had been anyone else, his statement might have offended me, and I'd have sought another way to assert my authority upon him, in order to preserve the hierarchy associated with rank and privilege in society. After all, according to such concepts, he was the service, and I was the upper management.
You see, most people in the west, who contemplate or are fascinated with Japan, immediately think about power and control. About dominance and submission. Unquestionable authority. That if you're the one wearing the green badge, that you're unquestionably in charge. An idea that is based mostly upon ignorance by those who in their lives or conduct, hold nothing to be sacred, except what they protect by their keeping it hidden, hence never putting it at risk to the scrutiny of others. Though those very same people tend to trudge all over the social acumen of other cultures like Japan's, simply because the Japanese have the courage and the pride to wear their culture and history with a sense of honour that few can truly understand, and all without being condescending.
The same can certainly be said of China as well. Of Korea, Siam and India. This same humble yet profound confidence can be found throughout the civilizations of Europe as well. In the Middle East, through to where the Tigris and the Euphrates meet. One of the potential birthplaces of civilization. Places where a people's history extends back to the early reaches of civilization itself. That is not to trounce the younger of civilizations who've joined this dance of the peoples of the world. It is to say that there is something to be learned from them, those whose monuments of a thousand years in terms of structures and ideas, still stand firmly until this day.
Sure, the people born in this generation may have ridden the coat-tails of their ancestors, though most would likely argue for the fact they were on the shoulders of giants, in reference to their ancestors, once they'd come to terms with the fact that their mobile phones and internet, were the culmination of a thousands of year struggle to understand the way of things. The truth remains that they, each and every one of them, carry something about their people, both individually and as the collective sum thereof. Something that has gone beyond the boundaries of life and death, and kept their ancestors and their dreams alive. We who could learn something from them should watch, listen and feel when and where we can for what they have to share.
They wear their history, the proof of this being in the actions of their ancestors that begat what of them still stands to this day, though to them, this is not a battle of action against thought or word. They all know that the actions that yield monuments of the centuries, all of them were built from many mountains worth of thoughts and words. That is the true cost of such things that last for millennia, and some of the most durable of those monuments, have no physical form at all.
There is much more to Japan's concept of authority than just wearing a green pin on one's shirt, and declaring: I'm in charge! Its a delicately and artistically balanced appreciation of a sense of family, a sense of friendship, a sense of duty, a sense of loyalty, a sense of honour, a sense of moral direction, a sense of self-determination, and the knowledge and courage to defy any one of those things when it is called for that defines that concept of authority and those who bear it.
I suppose if I was one of those who though that by simply wearing the green pin on my shirt, and that I'd be in charge by trouncing all over this man's sense of duty and honour to his company of employ, their time and the schedule to which such foundations of commerce adhere in order to create prosperity, then I'd have been the heel of the day. Instead, I chose to be grateful, but I remind you, it took a lot of mistakes and missteps in my life to get to that understanding.
"Tiko-San my friend. I have to thank you for making sure that I look good to the people I'll be meeting with today. Their time and my timely arrival is certainly of great importance in terms of why I'm here. We'll both be there at 3:15 PM in this very limousine, barring some disaster of the cosmos," I assured him without over doing it.
"That will be, or it won't," Tiko-San responded, without giving it a vote of confidence either way. A very good indication that in that short period of time, the man had grown to understand me.
When we got to the hotel, I quickly checked in, and given the time constraints I quickly cleaned myself up with a shower. I got dressed and was out through the front door of the hotel once again before 12:10.
When I got to the lobby, Tiko-San was right where I'd asked him to be, out front waiting with the door open like I was a visiting dignitary or celebrity. The only missing elements were the flashes of camera phones and my non-existent adoring fans.
"You smell much better, Mr. Sturgess," Tiko-San immediately greeted me, though I wasn't sure if he was referring to the fact that when I'd first met him, that I smelled of a man who'd slept in a business class airliner seat for fifteen hours, or if he was referring to the aftershave I'd put on only five minutes earlier.
"If you're going to stink, you'd better stink well," I replied, throwing open my briefcase and finding the notepaper onto which I'd scribed Braden's directions.
"Precisely. If you're going to make the effort, then make the effort. Helen Keller's best poetry was etched in epitaphs of smell," Tiko-San added thoughtfully.
"Now that is profound," I responded, never before having given the matter the thought it truly deserved.
"What is your destination?" asked Tiko-San.
"Tsūtenkaku. The south side. I need you to drop me off there, and wait for me nearby," I told Tiko-San.
"Very well. There is a car stop near to where I am dropping you off. It is visible from the same corner," Tiko-San assured me as he acclerated out and into traffic.
I was about to respond, and then realized that he'd already included everything that needed to be exchanged between us. His humour I assumed, was my privilege.
The limousine drove out into downtown Osaka traffic, through a maze of tall buildings and sky scrapers, south towards Tsūtenkaku.
Its hard to describe what a trip in a limo through downtown Osaka is like, but I can tell you, having traveled through the downtowns of numerous cities in North America, especially along the western seaboard, that it has its own distinct appearance and feel. I can appreciate the fact that anywhere you go, you'll find signatures of the people who made those places, and made those places what they are, but Osaka was a perfection of function, form and contained chaos, though from what Tiko-San told me, most of it was contained in a vast network of underground tunnels and walkways through reams of shops and malls, all beneath Osaka.
Osaka was like a city, built on a mirror. It went down nearly as far as it went up, and that didn't even account for Osaka Bay, and the rivers and canals that wound through the downtown core. It was very much a case where that which was far, was obscured by everything that was near. The funny thing was that the near always included everything you'd want anyway, and you'd never realize you needed something else, until you ventured beyond it and found something new. That was Osaka.
I saw the Tsūtenkaku as we approached it from the north, though Tiko-San had taken a different, more scenic route to get there and one that added about a minute extra to our travel time. Most of the surrounding buildings had dropped in the urgency of height, to become a maze of two and three story structures, through most of which wound alleys, walkways, paths rather than roads and highways.
When we were beneath the Tsūtenkaku on the north west corner, he stopped the vehicle.
"I will be waiting over by Doremi," Tiko-San assured me, unlocking the door for me.
"What's Doremi?" I asked him.
"A café," he responded.
"Great. I'll meet you there. I shouldn't be long," I responded, without actually knowing for certain.
I got out of the limousine, grabbing only the note with the directions Braden had given me, and I was off. Once I'd gotten oriented, it was too difficult from there, though suffice it to say that if he hadn't given me these directions, I'd have been lost from my first few steps.
I walked through an alley, by a variety of shops selling everything from dried fish, to books, to cards and gambling supplies until I arrived at the corner of an alley Braden had told me was the last turn on my first trip. There as he'd described it, was a Shinto Temple. Well cared for and preserved, both a beacon of colour and minute architecture in the maze of box-like homes and shops.
I turned down the lane, a rather tight one that grew dark and forboding as I set foot within, as if something was watching me as I approached, and as if it didn't want to be seen. I walked down the lane, having to walk sideways twice to squeeze between an electrical box, and a compost. I was careful not to dirty my clothes as I did, but when I'd arrived on the other side, I bumped into an air conditioner, whose sides were covered in grease.
My brilliant white shirt and part of my two thousand dollar designer blazer was soiled with axel grease.
I was about to curse, feeling the joy of something that had been baited by the grease trap watching me and waiting for such words to leave my lips, when I recalled the Shinto Temple, and something in me stopped my tongue and vocal chords, dead in their tracks.
Across from the protruding air condition, was the doorway to a shop. A show whose sign was a tiny and eloquently hand painted work of art. It seemed to include the kanji form of writing, though there were no distinctly Japanese characters within. Despite that fact, I couldn't read any of it. I could merely tell the difference, feeling more like someone who knew a cheap parlour trick.
I walked through the front door into the shop, but whatever had been watching me did not follow. It was as if it had vanished as I stepped into the dark, antiquity of the shop.
The first thing my senses were met with was a pungent yet smoky smell. Incense.
I stepped further into the shop, down a narrow corridor of wooden walls until I arrived in the shop itself.
I looked around at the shelves, finding them populated with a variety statuettes and figurines. Each of them atop a tiny sigil, as Braden had decribed them. Basically a specially crafted cloth paper onto which someone would write a special word, that would shield a person from the boogey man. Or, what had waited with baited breath for me to curse, just outside of the shop.
The other shelves contained a variety of herbs and ointments, not unlike a pharmacy I supposed. There was a shelf full of books, most of which appeared to be very old, if not ancient. Each of the books sealed in protective wrapping, preventing them from being browsed by casual shoppers like myself.
The longer that I was in there, the more that it became apparent that this place dealt with a clientele who knew exactly what they were looking for before they came in.
"何かお手伝いしましょうか？" a man's voice spoke from behind in fluent Japanese, clearing his throat first as if to introduce his presence.
I turned to face him, and was greeted by a man of age and attire with which I was not familiar.
The best way to describe this man, would be to refer to him as Lo Pan from John Carpenter's Big Trouble In Little China. He was very old, how old was impossible to know for sure. His facial hair was very long and cared for, a moutache and tiny beard, both trimmed to precision. He wore a hat, shaped somewhat like a "T", colourful red silk and vibrant yellow writing (kanji again?) . This same motif of colour and scripture repeated itself in his outfit, and seemed to be possessed of a purpose.
"我可以幫忙嗎？" he repeated, this time in Chinese. Mandarin, I thought.
"I speak English. I was told that you might be able to help me," I spoke to him as directly as I could.
"Why didn't you say so. You looking for cleaners right?" he looked at my shirt, and the grease stains on my shirt and blazer.
"That for sure, and a special gift. I need something special, as a gift, an offering one might make, in the name of good business," I spelled it all out for him right then and there.
"I can tell you of good cleaner. Very good. Too good. They make right for you again. Gifts for business, may I suggest you go to a shop with nice pens or maybe buy a bottle of whiskey?" he said to me sarcastically as if urging me to leave.
"Look. I know somebody, and they told me to say this to you..." I leaned in and whispered what Braden had required that I remember before I went to see this man.
The look on his faced changed from one of polite sarcasm to that of familiarity and helpfulness.
"The shop you seek. It closed. A number of years ago. Maybe I can help you..." the man said to me, as another man emerged from the back, behind the counter and stepped into the room with us.
He was dressed similarly, but there was something distinctly different about him and the attire. For one, there was no kanji. The adornment of his outfit, which was very similar in the fact that it included a hat, albeit of a much different shape, and a different gown than the Longpao that the first man wore.
"You're taking my customers!" the second man bickered with the first.
"I saw him first. He clearly said he needs a gift!" the second man responded.
"But he needs a talisman in order to be able to accept anything you offer," the first man reminded the second man.
"Then get on with it!" the second man scolded the first man.
"First, let us deal with this," the first man, he stepped over to the counter, and pulled forth a tray with various paint brushes, and ink well and cinnebar.
He began mixing his ink, and then filled the well with it, after which he went through some shelves, each of which had this special cloth paper. Many different types of it labeled which Chinese characters. When he'd found the correct paper, he withdrew it from the shelf and placed it in the center of the tray.
He next took up one of the paint brushes and dabbed into the ink, and began applying it to this special paper, very precisely and with a motion he'd perfected over many decades of practice. When he was done, he replaced the brush into its holder, and began moving his hands and fingers in a dance of motion impossible to describe. This was matched by the sound of his voice, as he spoke the words of an incantation, not in his native Mandarin Chinese, but in another much older language that predated it.
He then finished, or so I assumed, and then picked the paper and writing up from the tray, and with a pin, affixed it to my blazer without warning me. The pin pierced my skin, but did not hurt, nor did it break any vessels.
"Like accupuncture?" I asked him.
"Kind of. Yes. Let's just say that. I don't want you know too much. Like accupuncture," he nodded, the sarcastic look on his face had returned.
When I looked to my blazer and shirt, both the grease and the stain were gone entirely. I had to touch my shirt and blazer to believe it.
"How much?" I asked him.
"Your first born, and ten years of your life," he said to me, with a smug look on his face.
There was a moment of silence as the shock set in, and then he began laughing profusely.
"A hundred thousand yen. A deal, considering that there are no cleaners that could have done that well," he said to me.
"Now for the other one. The one I need to be able to deal with this guy for the gift?" I asked him, already counting out a hundred thousand yen from my pocket money and handing it to him.
He silently counted it (twice) and then looked to me again.
"That one will cost you two hundred thousand yen. Pay first," he told me, holding his hand out.
"What if it doesn't work?" I asked him.
"Is your shirt clean?" he asked me.
"Yes. Obviously," I responded.
"Did you think it could be cleaned so quickly?" he continued.
"Alright, alright. I get it," I began counting out two hundred thousand yen for him and then handed it to him.
He did the same. Counted it twice, and then when he was done, he returned to the shelves of special paper, looking for what he'd needed. He ended up taking two different kinds, of paper, and quickly sewed them together at the corners and the sides.
Much the same as he had for the first one, he mixed the ink, this time including a few other ingredients, two of which had such a grotesque smell, I had to cover my nose. When mixed however, the smell quickly subsided. He then began brushing the characters to the paper. A process that seemed to take ages, though only two minutes had passed by the time he was done.
He then repeated the step where his fingers and hands danced a precise set of instructions, as if weaving something the air that I could not perceive. His voice jumped between highs and lows as he spoke this ancient language, and then he was done.
He picked up the talisman, and walked around the counter to stand in front of me.
"Always keep this with you from herein. Never lose it. Never wash it. If you do, its your mess," he asserted to me, with a very serious look on his face.
"I'm responsible. In accepting it from you, you're saying that I'm responsible herein. Alright. Fair enough. Its a deal," I agreed.
He opened my blazer and affixed it to the inside. It was at that point that I noticed that the writing he'd etched onto the talisman had leaked through to the other side, without degradation. However, the one that had leaked through, was the mirror image of the one he'd inscribed, which got me to thinking if he hadn't merely just ripped me off.
"Doesn't the writing on the other side, the side that leaked through, cancel the side you painted?" I asked him, being cautiously skeptical for my own protection.
"Oh. I see. So now you the maker of talisman. You the one who know and me, I am the amateur. When you look in mirror, do you cancel yourself?" he asked me.
"No," I replied, still waiting for his assurance.
"But isn't that the same as leaked ink? When you look in the water, isn't that you in the reflection? When you take a picture, isn't that you? You think you know, but you don't know. You get glimpse of something, and think you know everything. Now go!" he said to me, directing me towards the second man, whom I had now figured out was Japanese.
It was like a reluctant business partnership. The second man had lost his shop, and the first man, the man who'd provided the means to protect his customers from whatever it was he'd offered, had suddenly found himself in dire need. The second man could not do business without the first, and so the two formed a reluctant business relationship, that included a place to do business, and a place to reside in the second apartment of the first man. They clearly both resented and respected each other greatly.
"Don't mind him. He's the side show. I'm the main event," the second man immediately addressed me once I'd had the talisman affixed to my body.
"I'm looking..." I began, only to have the second man interrupt me.
"You're looking for a gift to secure a deal. One that is essential to the company that employs you. That's why they gave you the task of securing it. However, you will face a challenge. Let me say that what I offer you, in terms of this gift. Its a solution, and a beginning, though if you're not careful, it could potentially be an end," he assured me, having read me like an open book.
"I want, what will secure me this deal, but scrupulously," I reminded him that I was still a gentile, and that I knew that what protected me from whatever he was offering, had bound him to a certain set of rules that prevented him from cheating me in ways that he might have been tempted to cheat others of different virtue.
A grave look crossed his face, as if I'd denied him of some innate pleasure he sought. And then just as quickly as that look had arrived on his face, it vanished, only to be replaced by an earnest interest in the opportunity that might have arrived in its place.
"I have the perfect thing, considering the people with whom you're seeking such a deal," a confident smile underlined his words.
"I'm running shy of time, so can we get to the part about what it is, you wrapping it up in a box or bag for me, and then me paying for it, and leaving here?" I urged him.
"Certainly. Just give me a moment," he said to me, disappearing behind the counter and into the back room.
There arose a sudden clatter of noises, as if he were rummaging through a collection of old pots and pans. Then horrid sounds, as if he were going through a fridge of cadavers, poking them and squeezing air and liquid from them. The sound of distant moaning then followed, as lost souls echoed their cries into the living world, and then finally...
The sound of preened claws on a wooden floor. Those of a tiny animal or two.
He emerged from the back room and then from around the counter, wielding a leash which extended a distance from his hand before splitting into two ends, each one affixed to a tiny Pomeranian, both of whom were groomed to perfection and appeared perfectly healthy and happy. When he stopped, they stopped and sat themselves beside each other on the floor, looking up to me with mild disinterest.
"I'm not even going to ask where you had them stored. I didn't want a pet. I wanted something like an antique vase or an old sumi-e painting or even a haiku written on the fancy paper," I looked to the first man once again and then to the second.
"You're telling me that these wonderful little creatures don't warm your heart? So I'm assuming that you don't see the genius or merit of what I'm offering you. You obviously don't want that deal, so get out of here and go to one of the stores at the airport and buy them a mug or something like that, because you are clearly not worthy of such a deal," he said to me, ready to turn away and retreat into the back, where he'd return those poor mutts to whatever storage closet he was keeping them within.
"Wait!" I said, thinking carefully about his proposed gift.
Its true what he said. They were clearly friendly and heart warming, if not well cared for an healthy. If I walked into the office with such fine dogs, they would certainly warm even the coldest heart of those within the company, not to mention that they'd think of me every time they were with their furry micro-companions.
"What are their names?" I asked him.
"Their names are Fe and Fi. The white one is Fe [pronounced Fē], and the black one is Fi [pronounced Fē]," he told me.
"Wait. You mean they both have the same name?" I confirmed that I'd heard him correctly.
"No. This one is Fe, that one is Fe," he said to me, though both names sounded exactly the same to me.
"You're kidding me, right?" I confirmed once again.
"Not at all. It isn't a matter so much of the sound, as it is thinking to which one you refer," he explained further, making it that much more confusing.
"So you're saying that when I call them, that I also have to think of them and the spelling of their name at the same time?" I asked him, now completely baffled.
"Are they all as astute as you from where you came?" he asked me sarcastically.
"Smarter. Alright. Let me try. Fe?" I called one of the dogs, the white one to be precise, and it began wagging its tail, though it did not get up from where it was seated.
"And the other one?" the second man insisted.
"Fi?" I thought of the black dog, and the spelling of its name.
The black dog began wagging its little tail, and looked over to me happily.
"Very good. You see? You've already mastered it. So, do we have a deal?" he held out the end of the leash to me.
"Alright. Its a deal," I agreed, accepting the leash from him.
Fe and Fi immediately walked over to my side and took a seat beside me, now facing the man who relinquished them to me.
"Excellent. I will go and get the adoption papers, and their medical history for you, and you will prepare for me no less than one million yen for each," he requested.
"Two million yen?" I confirmed.
"Two million. And believe me, for what you're getting, that's the deal of a lifetime," he said before disappearing into the back.
A moment later, he returned with a paper envelope containing an agreement for me to sign, and their complete medical history.
"Sign here, please and I'll leave you with the copy," he requested.
I signed the adoption agreement and then counted out the last of my cash, handing it all to him and pocketing my empty wallet.
"Please don't forget about the dirty air conditioner when you go," the first man said to me as I collected the adoption papers and the medical history and proceeded out of the store.
"Thank you. They'll be well taken care of," I assured them as I left.
Fe and Fi followed me to the door, never once getting under my legs or tripping me up. Instead, they kept a safe distance, but never outpaced me. It was more and more clear that they were very well trained.
When I got outside again, the bright afternoon sun nearly blinded me, but I made sure to go nowhere near the air conditioner, instead taking the other way down the lane. Strangely enough, there was no sign of the eerie presence that had waited for me to curse outside of the strange shop. It seemed to be gone entirely, and then I recalled the talisman. I checked my jacket to make sure that it was secure, only to find that it was affixed by some hidden force far stronger than thread or a pin alone.
Fe and Fi led me, through the maze of this little suburb and then back out onto the street, where I quickly found Doremi.
It was true what the man had said. Everywhere I went, people smiled upon seeing Fe and Fi. Women stopped to pet them, men stopped to take pictures of them. They were quickly the center of attention everywhere I brought them and it was no different in Doremi, where I bought a coffee each for myself and Tiko-San, and a small pastry that I though might appeal to Fe and Fi.
When I got to the limousine, Tiko-San seemed unsurprised by these new guests in his car.
"Here's a coffee for you. There's cream and sugar in the bag. We have a bit of time, so I'd like you to stop at a pet store so we can pickup some food for these two fine specimens," I requested of Tiko-San as Fe and Fi sat comfortably in the seat beside me.
"Very well. Then we should depart for Keun," he responded.
"And that we will," I replied, now confident in the genius of bringing these two little fur friends as the gift that would land me this deal.
To be continued...
Credits and attribution:
Special Thanks To Rocket Fuel Lakeshore Blvd West, perhaps the best
place in history to get a coffee, circa 2001-2004. Miss you all very
much.
Special Thanks To Rocket Fuel Lakeshore Blvd West, perhaps the best place in history to get a coffee, circa 2001-2004. Miss you all very much.
Artwork: Amy Wong, Wendy Pusey, Ghastly, Birdman, Brian Joseph Johns, Daz3D, Unreal Engine...
Tools: Daz3D, Corel Painter, Adobe Photoshop, Lightwave 3D, Blender, Stable Diffusion (Easy Diffusion distribution), InstantID, Sadtalker, Google Colaboratory, Microsoft Copilot (Windows 11), Hitfilm, PhotoPea (a great web based Photoshop stand-in if you're on a low budget or in a pinch), Deepai.org, Google AI Studio, Borderline Obsession...
DeepSeek AI for suggestions on exercises to improve aspects of describing
scene and settings with a more sensory focused grammar.
InstantID by: Wang, Qixun and Bai, Xu and Wang, Haofan and Qin, Zekui and Chen,
Anthony. Research Paper Title: InstantID - Zero-shot Identity-Preserving Generation in
Seconds.
Sadtalker by: Zhang, Wenxuan and Cun, Xiaodong and Wang, Xuan and Zhang, Yong
and Shen, Xi and Guo, Yu and Shan, Ying and Wang, Fei.
Research Paper Title: SadTalker: Learning Realistic 3D Motion Coefficients for Stylized
Audio-Driven Single Image Talking Face Animation.
Gratitude: Our Mentors, Senseis, Sifus, Sebomnims, lifetime
inspirations, family, friends, the Nomads (ask Stanton about that
one), the Music, the Movies, the Theatre, the Arts, ASMR,
(both YouTube and Bilibili and the many other creators on those platforms), the Gaming
and Developer communities and of course, the audience.
Martial Arts (in the words of real experts and
at least one comedian): https://brucelee.com (home of the real Dragon and an entire
family of inspirations), http://iwco.online International Wing Chun Organization (International
presence of a very scalable intensity martial
art, protected and developed by Shaolin Nun Ng Mui) and the alma mater of Jinn Hua's own specialized variation
thereof, https://iogkf.com International Okinawan Goju-Ryu Karatedo Federation (even
Hanshi had his teachers), https://itftkd.sport International Taekwondo Federation (Here there be
Taegers), https://tangsoodoworld.com Tang Soo Do World (the path of Grandmaster Chuck
Norris), https://www.aikido-international.org International Aikido Federation (how else would Navy Chef
Steven Seagal liberate a Nimitz Class Aircraft Carrier from a
team of hijackers?), https://www.stqitoronto.com Shaolin Temple Quanfa Institute (The City Of Toronto's
own Shaolin Temple), https://www.enterthedojoshow.com Master Ken's Ameri-Te-Do presence (If we can't laugh at
ourselves, then we can at least laugh the loudest at others, and
other Zen)
Magic (performance, illusion and perhaps the real
thing): Magic Week Archive (I'm currently growing this section so stay
tuned)
Special thanks to Aitrepreneur, Mickmumpitz, Hugging Face and the YouTube educational content producers, including those catering to the AI content production pipeline and of course AlphaSignal.
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study
the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for
health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study
the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for
health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Jesse Enkamp: Karate Nerd
Jesse, a reknowned Sensei who runs his own dojo, explores
the world of Martial Arts, traveling to many exotic locations to
meet practitioners of a variety of different arts
Sensei Rokas: Martial Arts Journey
A reknowned Sensei of Aikido who in seeking to understand
the roots of Aikido and its applications, seeks to stress test its
effectiveness in a number of real world situations while studying
its history
Seamus O'Dowd
An extensive growing archive Katas, Techniques and Waza
(mostly Shotokan)
Iaido: Train For Katana Mastery Like Samurai
The original weapons focused curriculum under which
Samurai became masters of their art
Tapp Brothers Exercise For Better Motion
Extensive courses for calisthenics and body strength,
stamina and flexibility
Special thanks to Canva for inspiring other creators and giving them the tools
Special thanks to Captain Crunch and his wonderful sister!
Special thanks to Bandcamp for giving indie music artists a home under one
roof
Something to give you perspective: The very first teacher had no formal education, didn't graduate
and was self taught, but only because they had no other choice.
We do.
Tools: Daz3D, Corel Painter, Adobe Photoshop, Lightwave 3D, Blender, Stable Diffusion (Easy Diffusion distribution), InstantID, Sadtalker, Google Colaboratory, Microsoft Copilot (Windows 11), Hitfilm, PhotoPea (a great web based Photoshop stand-in if you're on a low budget or in a pinch), Deepai.org, Google AI Studio, Borderline Obsession...
DeepSeek AI for suggestions on exercises to improve aspects of describing scene and settings with a more sensory focused grammar.
InstantID by: Wang, Qixun and Bai, Xu and Wang, Haofan and Qin, Zekui and Chen, Anthony. Research Paper Title: InstantID - Zero-shot Identity-Preserving Generation in Seconds.
Sadtalker by: Zhang, Wenxuan and Cun, Xiaodong and Wang, Xuan and Zhang, Yong
and Shen, Xi and Guo, Yu and Shan, Ying and Wang, Fei.
Research Paper Title: SadTalker: Learning Realistic 3D Motion Coefficients for Stylized
Audio-Driven Single Image Talking Face Animation.
Gratitude: Our Mentors, Senseis, Sifus, Sebomnims, lifetime inspirations, family, friends, the Nomads (ask Stanton about that one), the Music, the Movies, the Theatre, the Arts, ASMR, (both YouTube and Bilibili and the many other creators on those platforms), the Gaming and Developer communities and of course, the audience.
Martial Arts (in the words of real experts and at least one comedian): https://brucelee.com (home of the real Dragon and an entire family of inspirations), http://iwco.online International Wing Chun Organization (International presence of a very scalable intensity martial art, protected and developed by Shaolin Nun Ng Mui) and the alma mater of Jinn Hua's own specialized variation thereof, https://iogkf.com International Okinawan Goju-Ryu Karatedo Federation (even Hanshi had his teachers), https://itftkd.sport International Taekwondo Federation (Here there be Taegers), https://tangsoodoworld.com Tang Soo Do World (the path of Grandmaster Chuck Norris), https://www.aikido-international.org International Aikido Federation (how else would Navy Chef Steven Seagal liberate a Nimitz Class Aircraft Carrier from a team of hijackers?), https://www.stqitoronto.com Shaolin Temple Quanfa Institute (The City Of Toronto's own Shaolin Temple), https://www.enterthedojoshow.com Master Ken's Ameri-Te-Do presence (If we can't laugh at ourselves, then we can at least laugh the loudest at others, and other Zen)
Magic (performance, illusion and perhaps the real thing): Magic Week Archive (I'm currently growing this section so stay tuned)
Special thanks to Aitrepreneur, Mickmumpitz, Hugging Face and the YouTube educational content producers, including those catering to the AI content production pipeline and of course AlphaSignal.
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study
the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for
health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study
the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for
health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Jesse Enkamp: Karate Nerd
Jesse, a reknowned Sensei who runs his own dojo, explores
the world of Martial Arts, traveling to many exotic locations to
meet practitioners of a variety of different arts
Sensei Rokas: Martial Arts Journey
A reknowned Sensei of Aikido who in seeking to understand
the roots of Aikido and its applications, seeks to stress test its
effectiveness in a number of real world situations while studying
its history
Seamus O'Dowd
An extensive growing archive Katas, Techniques and Waza
(mostly Shotokan)
Iaido: Train For Katana Mastery Like Samurai
The original weapons focused curriculum under which
Samurai became masters of their art
Tapp Brothers Exercise For Better Motion
Extensive courses for calisthenics and body strength,
stamina and flexibility
Special thanks to Canva for inspiring other creators and giving them the tools
Special thanks to Captain Crunch and his wonderful sister!
Special thanks to Bandcamp for giving indie music artists a home under one roof
Something to give you perspective: The very first teacher had no formal education, didn't graduate and was self taught, but only because they had no other choice. We do.
This content is entirely produced in Toronto, Ontario, Canada at 200
Sherbourne Street Suite 701 under the Shhhh! Digital Media banner.
This content is entirely produced in Toronto, Ontario, Canada at 200 Sherbourne Street Suite 701 under the Shhhh! Digital Media banner.
Brian Joseph Johns
https://www.shhhhdigital.com
https://www.facebook.com/shhhhdigital
https://www.youtube.com/@ShhhhDigitalAudio
Produced at Shhhh! Digital Media
200 Sherbourne Street Suite 701
Toronto, Ontario,
Canada
Inquiries: brian.joseph.johns@shhhhdigital.com, info@shhhhdigital.com
Copyright © 2025 Brian Joseph Johns
https://www.shhhhdigital.com
Produced at Shhhh! Digital Media
200 Sherbourne Street Suite 701
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Inquiries: brian.joseph.johns@shhhhdigital.com, info@shhhhdigital.com