Overtone sunout in the weekly mansion. An empty cup of instant Nescafe contains a razor and two toothbrushes. Pan right. A regulation bottle of Volvic with label gone missing (Along with once special people from the mystery frequency. I think Sami is blocking my calls. How do I say goodbye?). Worthless American hairspray hovers in the event horizon. Crumpled container of miso soup holding eight tall and proud pixie sticks of sugar. 105 yen worth of skim milk slowly coagulating in Espionage Rejects tie-up souvenir claxbox. The TV here, special only because it come from Japan. Embroidered pouch with lace up top and Lumine Flowery. And who values it? Caster five mild and double ashtray stack. Email from Gyaku Maxi: The Omodoka. Says to try out the Sunwave at Center Gai. Totally defeated by choice and the Government of Darkness. Tochomae in my brain now, beaming out the commands for some kind of consumption that will define Final EPSY. Taking the elevator sideways to the rental room where Col. Baldwin awaits with the nanodotes for child death, abortion, and disease. And still, I’m expected to pay 100 yen for each privilege.
We have to find a way to narrowcast out of here. The future sees me in brownface, mopping a floor at the Mister Donut talking sleazy movies afterwards at the Temptation Girl, where I always give in to a 4am last call.
You were like the broken Super Doll after, made so passive as to barely be there at all. Now you chant to total Death Cult and collect old newsletters in airport bought baggage. Always tired, always spent unless there’s a crowd. You, or your bird-like cyborg brethren; I wonder which I’d rather be stuck with. The new pyramids of Nishi Shinjuku holding it all together somehow, like a thin layer of red bean paste underlining cooking show setback. No white girls at the strip show in Roku-za anymore. So whatever happened to Cheryl? A system of nerves extending to the top of the Okashi house. Crawling across a G-Code Cross remote control, right all along that no money here was ever spent by chance.
Genki, and enjoying the retired life all right, but where and with whom?
Hey, I love this. It's like "Hearts of Darkness" or "Apocalypse Now," Tokyo style.
"Shibuya. Shit...I'm still in Shibuya."
Posted by: Chris | March 22, 2007 at 09:48 AM
She threw herself from the door in her
Posted by: obobygn | December 03, 2008 at 02:45 AM