I’m in Akihabara and the sole purpose for being here is to sell some old crap. It takes me an hour to find a place that will accept my crap, but 40 minutes of that hour is spent ogling breasts; sometimes plastic, sometimes human, occasionally both. A man is talking to one of the maid café girls in the street and she seems into it but the guy has no front teeth so I guess she’s just doing her job. She says, “I’ll be waiting for you” as he beams a toothless grin, I hope her body parts won’t appear in coin lockers around Tokyo next week.
Walk past a massive AKB48 poster that covers an entire building and think about the inevitable collapse of modern society. Walk past an AKB48 book that has them in lingerie on the cover and think about AKB48 probably holding modern society together. At least AKB48 (and every other product in all of Akihabara and every manga shop in Japan) gives people somewhere to release their high school girl fantasies. If every model and every manga character had to be over 18 or not dressed as a schoolgirl, Japanese society and its economy would collapse.
Eventually I find somewhere to sell my stuff and the guy says it will take 90 minutes to tally up so I take a long toilet break in McDonalds, which is not related to the AKB48 lingerie book that I didn’t buy. Go to Kanda to find my capsule hotel and make a mental note of it, planning to return later drunk. Put my large rucksack that is making me sweat in a coin locker at the station, the lockers smell of rotting flesh but I ignore it. Flashback to finding a dog’s skull in my garden as a child.
My trip to Kagurazaka is not good. Lonely Planet's Tokyo book told me there is a street that has an old school feel – it doesn’t. The book said there are interesting back alleys – there aren’t. This place is the same as any smaller street in Ueno but with less pachinko. I go into a shop for handicrafts or something. It’s an act of desperation to find something of interest. I poke at the little jellyfish fridge magnet with moving stingers, and at the turtle with moving flippers, and at the sea-horse with a moving tail, and decide it’s time to leave Kagurazaka. Tokyo. Japan. Earth.
In the lingering summer heat all the aimless wondering takes its toll. I’m completely exhausted by the time I get to the Tokyo International Forum. There is nothing at the Tokyo International Forum so I leave.
The Sony Building in Ginza is more promising. There are some pretty gadgets and lots of new girls to fiddle with. I play with a massive HD video camera and through it I see an okay looking female staff member, I zoom in on her until I realise the image is being displayed on a 50 inch TV behind me so I calmly put down the camera and slowly walk away.
Up on the sixth floor they have international models with English menus. I talk to a female staff member in English about a range of Sony Cybershot cameras that I am legitimately interested in. As the conversation becomes more technical the vast gaping chasm of loneliness that was opening up before me all day dissolves.
“These two were made in Japan, that one was made in China.” She says, making too much eye contact.
“Well, we don’t like China do we?” I joke, easing into the conversation.
“Actually I’m from China." Anxiety descending. Anxiety descending.
“I’m sure the Chinese one is just as good.” Pause. “Maybe even better!”
Fighting the awkwardness, we continue the camera talk for what seems like an eternity.
“England uses PAL? You should’ve come to China, we use PAL too.”
“If only I’d known. Looks like it was a mistake coming here.” The girl listens politely, not aware of the magnitude of this admission. “I’ve wasted my life.”
She obviously wants me to buy something or leave, so I leave.
American Club House Sandwich and orange juice in a café near the Sony Building. It’s a really good sandwich. The orange juice glass contains mostly ice. I drink the orange juice with a straw in less than a second and ignore the vegetable side dish then leave almost forgetting to pay, not knowing where or who I am.
Graham emails me asking what’s happening tonight. I decided back at the McDonalds toilet that I was too depressed and tired to go out on the piss and sleep in Tokyo, but I didn’t email Graham then because I was hoping that this day would turn itself around. But how would the day turn itself around? Surely it was up to me all along to make the most of today. A change of attitude could’ve led down an interesting alley in Kagurazaka, into a new shop in Akiba or a better café in Ginza. But there was definitely nothing at the Tokyo International Forum.
