When you start dating a model, a Japanese one, it means that blogging becomes less and less important in your life. However, Golden Week was a return to the madness and I especially want to share this with my favourite PolishTwins.
FuckingSalaryman organised a ridiculously cheap go-where-you-like shinkansen ticket for me which basically meant I could hop-off and hop-on anywhere I chose. I used it twice. Still got more mileage for my Yen though. I was living in fear of bumping into
SoccerMom, the
QueenOfCruft or another of the hopeless losers I have served time with here in the Iwate State Penitentiary. Just one brief encounter could upset my unique balance into disarray and find me stuffing chopsticks up their noses then banging their heads off a table.
Right, so I arrived in Tokyo and hit Shibuya. My first time here whilst sober. If aliens are looking at us under a microscope from above they’ll surely think that this place is a genetic hotbed packed to the membrane with lively amoebas bouncing off one another. They wouldn’t be far wrong, too. The homogeneity of Japanese culture still shines through amongst the neon blasts of central Tokyo. There were more westerners here than I’d seen before and the one thing they shared in common with their Japanese counterparts was the rush to western lifestyles. Starbucks and McDonalds teemed with both; one trying to get a taste of home, the other trying to taste something different. Ad’s blinked on gigantic screens promoting all things American, fronted by ridiculously shiny Japanese personalities. I had my first Iwate Jet spot in the form of
WeirdestManOnThePlanetAndNotInAGoodWayOhMyGodHeIsSuchAFreakIAmScaredAtHisPotentialToSpawnAndKeepHisGenePoolAlive, this was not a good sign of things to come. I ducked behind a group of High Schoolers and managed not to be seen. I then waited for two hours for LadySnapper and FriendOrFoe to show up. I waited so long that my ass formed a groove in the stainless steel bar by the abstract dog/owl I was sitting beside.
We were immediately on to the path to boozeonia, under LadySnappers guidance. First docking port was some erratically styled niche bar, with a hermaphrodite waiter/ress, for a couple of tasty beverages. We chatted about where we would ultimately end up that night. We were still chatting about it when we got to the 7-Eleven when we bought three bottles of vinegar masquerading as wine. We walked the backstreets, crossed a bridge which LadySnapper decided to hang off of, still talking about it until we came across a new breed of Lawsons(the equivalent to Centra in Japan) called Natural Lawsons. This freaked us out so we went in and bought some beer, then left still talking about where to go.
We ended up at a bar in who knows where under FriendOrFoes direction. Dirty Vegas were supposed to be playing that night, they weren’t. The bar was full of western models, although my Japanese girlfriend who is a model wasn’t there, and one of those champagne pyramids by the bar. We left. We ended up in Roppongi, the root of all evil in Japan. We went to a cake shop and bought some cake. Vanilla bar played host to our next round of beers. Cheesy music, cheesier Americans and slutty Japanese girls embodied this waste of space. We left having not yet ate our three equal slices of cake. We ate our cake whilst walking down the street towards Unit, a new club for me was the last roll of the dice after traipsing across every ward of Tokyo, by foot, in one night. The cake was very delicious and gave us lots of energy to dance all night. I would recommend this
type of cake to anybody who likes eating cake before going out.
The club wasn’t as raucous as Womb, but had an attractive edge to it. The people were a hybrid of ultra-trendy, ultra-hardcore Friday night revellers. I danced until the taste of the cake faded away then sat beside the cigarette machine with two sleeping beauties. They were immediately awoken and taken to the dance floor by myself and FriendOrFoe, who also has a Japanese girlfriend who but is not a model like my girlfriend. Rump to lump dancing was in full swing till I lost interest and left. Eventually we all left in the morning sun, exhausted and satisfied from the delicious cake we ate. Unit was a worthwhile experience but not as frenetic as I would have liked, but definitely worth a return.
I boarded the first shinkansen bound for Osaka, I think. I was wired and pretty much had no idea what was going on until I woke in Osaka five hours later; the journey should take two. I checked into the skank whore hotel where JohnnyAwestruck and BrassBalls had previously stayed and then set off on the tourist trail. I squeezed in the castle alongside, a mentalist ventriloquist, some live Chinese mentalist guitar players and some menatilist Japanese rope skippers. I was liking the theme, and the dirty streets, of Osaka so far. Having not eaten in about 24hours I settled on an English pub, just out of lack of desire for all things Japanese. Within five minutes of sitting down and enjoying my pint of Tetley’s with some fish’n’chips some fat yank sat down and asked could he join me, I said no so he left. Three hours later I left, a little tipsy and ended up solo in a Japanese rock/punk bar. I split back to the hotel and creamed the bed with some love paste for the next resident to soak up.
After a brief exchange of grunts with the elephantitis afflicted mongo on the pc next to me I headed to Kyoto for the day. This place has more temples than Charlie Sheen has had prostitutes, which is saying something. I came across a bike rental shop and decided to go for that option. After looking through what was available I opted for the all-terrain 17speed, 9 suspensioned, NASA designed, plutonium framed, ultra lightweight folds up in your pocket mountain bike. I opted not to take the helmet. The pristine concrete of Kyoto had no idea what was going on as my 27inch tyres glided in and out of the cars and buses. I stopped off at the palace, the something-or-other-gardens, the whatyoumaycallit gardens and some other zenned out places. My favourite pitstop was an antique book fair complete with a menagerie of scrolls and documents from when samurais didn’t look like Tom Cruise. Unfortunately I didn’t have a spare 100,000yen to splash out on an ancient war parchment depicting the decapitation of some hapless Chinese merchants. I then had the misfortune of paying an entrance fee to the Museum of Modern Art and followed that up with a cycle in and around the grounds of Kyoto University. My day at Kyoto had been mildly disappointing as I’d been expecting a lot more from it. At this point, though, I’m templed out of my mind so it’s a little unfair to say that Kyoto is shit, but I will.
I met up with JohnnyAwstruck outside his new abode and we purchased some six-packs of Draft One. A HUGE MISTAKE. We drank and caught up on his balcony as we listened to the fat chick next door watching TV till the small hours. Next morning I felt like someone had poured acid into my eardrum, mental note: never drink that stuff again. Dragging myself onto the train for Kobe, JohnnyAwestruck lives ten mins away by train, I walked around this almost brand new city. It’d had a major overhaul since the earthquake of 1996 so it was strange walking around a city where almost everything is new, I was almost expecting to bump into Xzibit and some local residents shouting 'Thank you MTV for Pimin' My City'. I opted not to view any more temples so just meandered around the marine park and the huge shopping malls. I then had to go and study for an interview, a phone one luckily, that I had the next day. Bumrush. Johnny Awestruck finished work so we met and played in Chinatown with numchuks and Bruce Lee costumes before climbing the Kobe Tower Of Shit, don’t ever go up it.
Kobe’s nightlife leaves a lot to be desired and we blew into the city’s ubiquitous Irish bar, where there was actually one set of Irish eyes smiling at me. We drank some free booze and chatted with the owner before he left and his mongoloid henchman didn’t realise the importance of who I was so decided to start charging me for my booze. A drunken Japanese barfly, female, started chatting with us in perfect English and soon we were off to a club together with Johnny Awestruck deciding that he wanted to fuck her, some things don’t change. Some gangsta styled midgets paraded on the stage warbling some R&B horseshit to the delight of the assembled few. Eventually the comedy show ended and the DJ took charge with some decent enough music. BarFly was too drunk to stand so decide to leave, Johnny Awestruck decided to leave with her but struck out at the door. I had chatted to almost everything with a rigid nipple and an ovary sac in the place to no avail. It didn’t bother me, I was having fun and I am going out with a Japanese model.
The night drew to a close at 5 and we ended up having express ramen beside a sleeping degenerate who pissed his pants, the smell was a nice compliment to the shit tasting express ramen. I had two hours sleep before I had to wake up for my phone interview, not ideal preparation by any means, but a satisfying first half of the trip nevertheless.
Hate and D rolled in ext day, madness ensued. Will be documented tomorrow should I have time. But, like I said before…going out with a Japanese Model takes a lot of time away from blogging. It’s funny though, I have the conversational skills, in Japanese of course, of a 7yr old who may get held back for another year. She has the intelligence of a 7yr old and an unnerving affection towards all things pink. A match made in heaven as far as I’m concerned.
