OK. We’re in the secret hair salon deli café over looking Omotesando crossing, looking like the cover of "Do You Like Ojisan?", eating some foo foo shit, playing America’s favorite game shows, “Korean or Japanese?” "Oshare or Gay?" and “Rich or Just Faking It?” Do you know how much I dream of this view, wasted on what-passes-for-the-good-stuff in SF with a case of the Xbox controllers hand cramps and too much food in the refrigerator-stomach? Here skinny girl in pink blouse top, designer cut off jeans, and high heels, flipping her hair all over the place, picking at “gorgeous and lovely” bagel on plate, coldly assessing the humanoids scurrying and battling for power below and above. Hot status, cold status, always the pursuit of the appearance of it, no real thing left. Imaging the pink girl’s tiny cramped apartment where she sits on a makeshift throne doing make up for hours: train tracks instead of a yard, dusty ignored last gen-video game console system, and mad miniature dogs kept in cages. (The average length of stay or typical customer here seems to be about 10-20 min.)
Earlier laying siege to the 109-2, finally investing in some Coffee and Donut underwear. Sad to say that Buffalo Bobs seems to have taken the Yankee a Go Go shirts off the racks. Jack Rose making a last ditch bid for the crown with desperate “I Like Rock” shirts. A flood of high school boys, the children of Boy’s Knuckle and men’s egg youth, just out of class and still in uniform, fondling fake diamond-studded belts and imitation alligator-skin wallets. The staff and service is approximately 10.9% warmer than before, even at Vanquish, previously the paragon of “get out now” before. We’re all King of Dandy now!
Over to Harajuku. Packs of blotchy red and white folk in the Bape Cafe, little kid slouching over the table, bored, playing with his food. Inside of HARE, Sheryl Crowe’s Soak up the Sun inexplicably warbles on. Straight up gangster rap in the ZACC and it’s like at any min Lil Wayne is going to give some kanemochi sister a hot one with a stirring ode to Pussy, Money, Weed.
According to the latest reports, "you are always going to be my baby." But try to wear make-up as often as possible, anyways.
Excellent.
This is the Patrick that got me interested in this blog in the first place!
Posted by: Ahhhh | May 23, 2008 at 11:34 AM