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About Tokyo

I tried it once—don’t tell Jill! Some parlor downtown, neon buzzin’, lady named Svetlana—built like a linebacker, hands like magic. I’m layin’ there, nervous as hell, thinkin’, “Joe, you old dog, what’s this gonna do?” Then—bam!—she’s kneadin’ me like dough, and I’m floatin’. Happiest I been since Obama hugged me in ’16. But, folks, here’s the kicker: cost me 80 bucks! Eighty! I was steamed—thought I’d get a deal, y’know, senior discount or somethin’. Nope. “Pay up, dedushka,” she says—Russian for gramps. Total rip-off, but damn, I’d do it again.

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First off, I hit up the local konbini on Kōen-dōri for my usual coffee fix. You know, the one that’s basically rocket fuel? I’m standin’ there, half-asleep, and this old dude starts talkin’ to me about the weather. Like, c’mon man, it’s Japan, it’s either rainin’ or it’s not. But he’s goin’ on about how the cherry blossoms are late this year. I’m like, “Yeah, yeah, nature’s got its own schedule.”

Exhibition | Keiichi Tahara, 'Existence' at √K Contemporary, Tokyo, Japan