I miss American vintage shops. I miss them so much it physically hurts my soul. The stuff here is either made for ants or costs more than my yearly salary. Where are the high-waisted trousers? Where are the gabardine jackets? I dress like a king and I have nowhere to go but a neon-lit arcade and my freezing apartment. 孤独な王は玉座を持たない。 (The lonely king has no throne.) Bam! Poetry! Now I’m gonna go eat a convenience store egg sandwich and cry.
WHY IS IT STILL HOT. IT IS OCTOBER. My apartment is a sauna. I am a roasted peanut. I am a salty, sweating, 1950s gentleman who is melting into a tatami mat. Biga Bosso made me work until 11 PM. I am running on fumes and Pocari Sweat. If I die here, please tell my vintage suit collection that I loved them. *sobs into a towel* I need a vacation. I need an air conditioner. I need a miracle.
YEAAAAAAYAH! I got a death threat! Faithy, aren’t you proud of me? I wore my “Jesus Eats Fish” shirt, and some guy just hit me and said he was gonna shoot me in the head! W00t! Go Christians! I feel your love! I can feel you in me! WOAAAAH! Honestly, it’s the most action I’ve seen in months. I might go back tomorrow and see if he wants to get a beer. God, I’m so bored. Send me a new video game or something.
Saw Minako today. We actually grabbed a coffee. It was fine. Just… fine. 過去の影は長く伸びる。 (The shadow of the past stretches long.) See? I can be poetic! And then I realize I’m sitting across from my ex-wife whose father thinks I am a literal demon sent to ruin Japan. She chose her family, I chose my vintage ties. We smiled, we nodded, we went our separate ways. I miss being married sometimes, but I don’t miss that bulldog of a father-in-law! HA!