Tokyo Grind

I look terrible in that photo Frank took. Gray, wrinkled, the beard a disaster. I’m not going to list everything else wrong because that’s not really the point. The point is I’ve been home for months grinding work to save money for Tokyo, and it shows. The whole thing is library, apartment, repeat. No actual life, just working toward the one place that doesn’t feel like wasting time.

I went to Rotterdam with Thang for the festival and that was three years ago now. Everything since has been work. Studying kanji that were definitely invented as psychological torture. Neighbor Ute who’s losing her hearing. Cheap cola from the corner. U-Bahn rides to nowhere and back. This is what the old posts used to joke about—parties, sex, pills—but the actual version is just sitting at home and dreaming about Tokyo.

Janos, Anika, and I went to the Berlin döner exhibition. It was one of the most boring things I’ve ever done. Maybe five thousand people in line, vendors ran out of meat in minutes, everyone shuffling around like it mattered. I was too tired to even get annoyed about it.

Tokyo is the only place that actually works. I will get back there. When I do I’m going to kiss the Shibuya crossing. Until then, it’s studying the language, working, and not much else. That’s the whole thing right now.