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ForgotInspiration

Mr. Skinny Naked Man on his balcony doing toe-ups, seen from the 8th floor at 7 a.m. Rooftop gardeners at work from the train. Old men getting drunk at an Ito-Yokado food court. At the Yokohama Immigration Office: boisterous gangsters and their miscreant brood. Every evening on the way home: intoxicated salarymen trying to hide the alcohol on their breath with spearmint-flavoured chewing gum.

Obstreperous invidious individuals.

Resizing Tokyo while art gallery hopping in Shin-Ochanomizu. The parks, markets, and prisons secluded in between. Secret tunnels at the bottom of wells – going down in buckets – ancient rust, historic mold. Hidden keys in stone.

Training in Third World hostage negotiations. Tricking politicians out of their public relations. Nameless faces behind electrified windscreens. The “Don’t Touch Me Nots” and “Stand in the Ways”. Mars under the moon tonight. They keep coming. They keep screaming. I can’t remember what I was for.

Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!

Mosquitoes bite and buzz and back again.

Memories of Amiga parties at Shakey’s Pizza with Goth girls in plaid skirts and Doc Martin boots. “I’m married,” she admitted, but that’s why she sent him on a beer run after inviting me home.

I’ll tell you about the devil that night, but right now I’ve got souls to wake.

I should have been tired…

…I should have felt like sleeping a generation.

Posted by Invisibleye in: Experiences   Comments Off   21 July, 2008   Tags: Dreams, Shin-Ochanomizu, Tokyo, Yokohama

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