That's the museum, that's all I've got. Hey, sometimes when you live in a big city for awhile, you get used to it and you get bored and you forget about all the cool shit that big cities get, like in museums, like paintings and fossils and artifacts. I try to get out once in awhile and catch whatever's in town. Or just the dinosaur bones in the Nature and Science Museum.
It was just getting cold that day.
Most people might have figured this out sooner than I did, but the top floors and rooftops of department stores in Tokyo almost always feature an indoor/outdoor space to chill out up high, drink some coffee, read a book, smoke a cigarette, whatever. There are benches, plants, and usually a decent view.
This is from the 12th floor of Takashimaya Times Square on the South side of Shinjuku Station, overlooking Shinjuku Park. You can test your cred by picking out the distant landmarks of all the neighborhoods you've been drunk in. Or taken walks or something, whatever, I don't know what you sickos get up to.
One floor up is a patio space. The top three floors are all restaurants and cafes so you can grab a coffee, although after nearly 3 years in Japan I still make a face at paying $4 for a little cup of iced sludge.
I've always had a weird relationship with Shinjuku.
AKB48 members usually appear as schoolgirls, popping cute little blinky faces and wiggling their limbs in talent-show dance moves. When they're not dressed in school uniforms, they're in bikinis or sexy (but sweet) lingerie.
AKB48 is used to promote an incredible variety of mainstream products, and you see images of the group in convenience stores, on train platforms, on magazine covers, on drink bottles. Sometimes it seems like AKB48 is everywhere. This distresses me because in my dreams, Akihabara is a quarantine for this kind of gross lolita bullshit.
This is a group that was invented specifically for otaku men who fetishize young girls. The idea was to assemble a bunch of fresh young female faces and bodies to be sexually idolized, and keep them close and accessible to the guys who idolized them. AKB48's fans get chances to meet them at events in Akihabara all the time, and, like most idol groups, AKB48 makes it a point to acknowledge its otaku fanbase and ply them with sweet comments like "I consider myself an otaku, as well!" 
That was a lovely winter day.
This time I made it to Saki no Yu, an outdoor hot spring in Shirahama, one of the top 3 in Japan I guess. Look at it! It's amazing! A week ago I was in that far pool at the edge of the ocean, naked and simmered and splashed by the waves, yelling "POSEIDON!" It was excellent. I've wanted to go to this famous onsen for a long time and now I've been and it was awesome. Mid-April was the perfect time to go to Shirahama. No crowds at all, and it was just warm enough to kick back.
Post-earthquake/tsunami, we've been threatened with blackouts, so everyone's trying to save power, and the city's been dimmed. At first I sort of liked it -- and still kind of do, I mean, my eyes are spared the usual florescent assault, and we're saving electricity, and it gives a sense of community, kind of, like we're all working together to get through this.
Then I went to Shinjuku tonight, and here was the neon jungle, switched off, in the dark.
You know where this is. It's where Bill Murray first arrives in Lost In Translation -- one of the most recognized tacky blinking flashing electric vistas in Tokyo. And now the screens and signs are shut off, and you can barely see the faces of the loiterers.
It's spooky. See Kimura Takuya up there atop the ALTA? He's been there for as long as I can remember. He is the holy guardian of the East Exit and his majesty is now cloaked in shadow! You get used to seeing things as they essentially are, and then you see them like this, and it makes you uneasy. You know?
Here in Tokyo, we're just reading the news, hoping for the best, mourning for those up north. Some have left for other countries or for the south. Some of us still have emergency bags packed. Most of us are fielding scary emails from abroad, pleas to get away from here. It's a strange time to be here, but me and mine are okay, and I hope the same for everyone else. Best wishes, best luck.
If you buy a per-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rsonal item at Don Quixote, it is lovingly wrapped in very discreet cloud-patterned paper. Then it goes into an opaque black bag. Duh. I guess ran into some apathetic cashiers in Shibuya on this particular day. Thanks, Donki. Let's have no shame. Surely my reputation was only mildly affected among salarymen-in-the-know as I wandered home.
