TOKYO OUTSIDER
clocking mad sleep deprived fumes now and the noise lights are poking holes of discomfort. ellen and i collectively regret choosing the smoking section. convenient, but ashtray is not the new smell of 2005. tokyo station and a quick payphone sucked down my hyaku yen like nobody's business so mind your own.
the noise is noisier, lights are lighter, vice is vicier and social etiquette are social absolutes. first notice: stairs have designated up/down traffic zones. second notice: one is to refrain from talking on cellphones. third notice: more of an observation, there are designated spots along the platform to form a line, and when the train pulls in almost exactly on time, everyone stands on either side of the door like some ritualized procession for the exiters.
ah the train arrived in kokubunji and i'm off to meet yoko for a drink cause i'm finished like smoke, one of the few vices i can afford.
did anyone ever warn you about the neverending izakaya's? these innocuous little bars will knock you flat on your feet before you can memory spit the few japanese words (nihongo) you've manage to scrape together. terribly endearing is the way all the staff must compulsively yell "modotte来rareru" whenever some hedonist gets the nerve to leave with "arigato gozai masu". and i mean all of the staff yells "modotte来rareru" like OCD patients working in an izakaya. ah but the sake must flow and truly i'm finished like ashes.