Point of No Return (Crossing Shibuya with Ashes, Anxiety, and a Cookie)

 

Crossing Shibuya with Ashes, Anxiety, and a Cookie

A 70 Year Old Problem

 

A 70 Year Old Problem

J.A. Seazer / Tenjosaijiki / Shuiji Terayama

 

J.A. Seazer / Tenjosaijiki / Shuiji Terayama

Already Seen

 

Already Seen

Harajuku 2023

 

Harajuku 2023

Space is the Place

 

Space is the Place by Tosh Berman

Anxiety and Panic

 

Anxiety and Panic

Shibuya Saved My Life by Tosh Berman

 

Shibuya Saved My Life by Tosh Berman

Lion Cafe by Tosh Berman

 

Lion Cafe by Tosh Berman

March 4, 2018 (Tokyo) by Tosh Berman

Jun Togawa

March 4, 2018 (Tokyo) by Tosh Berman

I spent a great deal of my time today at RECOfan in Shibuya.  Those who know me are quite aware that I’m addicted to vinyl record buying.  It’s an obsession that borders on a sexual disorder.   Before I left for Tokyo, I made a pledge that I wrote in my notebook that I would not purchase one album on this trip.  In fact, I will not even go to a record store.   After making this promise to myself, I felt right about it.   To eliminate an obsession or a passion cleans the soul.  I decided that what’s important to me is to make new friends here and be entirely devoted to listening and understanding my fellow human beings.   Everything went well until I arrived to meet a friend in Shibuya. 

I arranged a meeting at a location that is a distance, or at the very least; I thought it was,  from any record store, and it was at the Shibuya Beam that our get together was arranged.  I was supposed to meet him at the anime shop on the fifth floor, but another person in the elevator was going to the fourth floor.  As he left the elevator, I notice it was RECOfan, one of the more exceptional music stores in Shibuya.   Without thinking or even remembering my pledge, I got out of the lift. 

My friend is ordinarily late, so I thought there is no harm in just to look around.  As I searched in their new arrival section of used records, I found a copy of a Jun Togawa album that I have wanted for years.   The album is called 好き好き大好き, and it has been since the 1980s that I wanted this masterpiece, yet could never find it on vinyl.   I then remembered the pledge, but then thought ‘how can I possibly pass this up, and it’s only 1,900 yen 

As I held it in my hand, I started to feel guilty.  I was thinking of the luggage issue, as well as adding another item in my household, which apparently I have no room for.  Perhaps it’s best that I give the 1,900 yen to charity?  Then again, I thought that I could write a story about this album, and therefore it can be a tax write-off.   At that point, I have decided I was working, and then with my grip on the record, I went onward to my next purpose in life.  To find more albums.  

Around two hours later, I found a rare copy of Japan’s “Quiet Life” album.   What’s unique about this record is that Japan is a British band, and to buy a Japan album in Tokyo struck me as ironic, which will be put to good use in my story.   Overall I spent four hours in RECOfan, and I only purchased two albums, which I was proud of.  It meant that I’m not an addict, but a careful buyer or consumer.  Oddly enough I forgot about the meeting with my friend, and it was important because it was a job.  Nevertheless, life goes on, and as darkness approached the sky, I whistled a tune off 好き好き大好き and went back to my room in Meguro. 

- Tosh Berman

Le Lion Cafe in Shibuya Tokyo

I was going to walk to a bookstore but decided to visit Le Lion Cafe which is in the Shibuya area of Tokyo.  I go here often over the years. It is one of my favorite places and by far my favorite cafe.  Their specialty and only specialty is that they play classical albums - mostly vinyl.  The coffee there cost 550¥, and it’s not that good.  What you’re paying for is someone to play records for you.  A vintage DJ set where one plays music for another.   They have these two massive wooden cabinet speakers facing the coffee drinkers.  One is not allowed to converse at the cafe.  There are small wooden chairs and covered seats.  All were facing the direction of the three turntables, various amps, and a CD machine or two.

When I walked in, they were playing Schubert’s “The Four Seasons” on vinyl.  Before and after each record, the waiter/waitress gives an introduction to the music being played.  Usually, they give the composer and the piece, but they also read from what looks like an old hardcover book on classical music, to provide detail about either the recording or the orchestra/musician/composer.  Last night after each playing, the waitress cleaned the vinyl before and after playing the record.   The next record was, I think, a piece of music by Tchaikovsky.  All introductions are done in Japanese, and they do exhibit the album cover on a stand in front of the speakers, but the lighting is so dark it’s hard to make out what the print says on the record cover.  She then played a recording of Handel’s harpsichord music.

I casually looked around the small room, and there are three people there drinking coffee and listening to the music.  There is an upstairs as well, that is the balcony, and the seating arrangement is the same as the bottom floor.  When you see the speakers, one would think that it will be loud.  The volume is somewhere in the middle.  What's interesting is that the music doesn't drown out the noise outside the cafe.  You can hear people laughing and walking pass the Lion Cafe, and one is aware that there is life outside the listening room.  The other thing one notices is that the architecture inside and outside represents a baroque era.  It is almost if you were walking down a street in the 17th century Vienna and you come upon this coffee house.  It's European but with the oversight of a Japanese aesthetic.

There are many things here that I find impressive, but one is sitting by yourself and being confronted with Western culture in an Eastern country.   The cafe is located in the Red Light District in Shibuya.  There are nothing here but bars and love hotels.   One would think that the perfect location for Le Lion Cafe would be the Ginza or West Shinjuku.  Here in Playland is the ultimate escape from the 21st century into the world that is both real and imagined.  The best 550¥ ever spent.

February 19, 2017 (Tosh's Diary) Japan

February 19, 2017 (Tosh's Diary) Japan

As I write, I'm like a fuse that's burning, and once the explosion hits, the world I know will be torn into pieces of flesh and metal.   I can tell things are bad because people are avoiding me like I'm the wrong reporter in the White House press conference.   Ever since yesterday, I have been printing out images of Stephen Bannon from the internet.  I'm convinced that he's a murderer.   I saw the man once, the one who caused my father's death.   Ever since then, I wished for him to rot outward to his inners.  Bannon looks like a man that is rotting by the second.  Like a hanging banana left too long on the kitchen counter, Banner is clearly decaying in front of my eyes.  If you poke too hard, he will explode.  It makes me sick to my stomach that I approach him about helping to build a statue in the President's honor.  I now want to burn my plans and scatter the ashes into Bannon's whiskey and water.

On the other hand, it's a beautiful day in Tokyo.  I spent some quality time in Shinjuku.  I borrowed a jacket from a member of the family here, and there is something fantastic when you leave an over-warmed room into the cold air.  I never felt so clean before.  I like to lose myself in the crowd.  It's the only time that I can forget about myself, and become this force.   I even enjoy the Far Right in the Shibuya Station.  At least four vans followed an all-black van that looked like they had metal fencing around the windows.  On the top of the vehicle are four huge loud speakers.  Not sure if it's a tape they are playing or an actual person in the car with a microphone.  Free speech being allowed, but in a volume where one can hear it for miles.    If Trump were smarter, he would have a series of these type of trucks driving through rural and urban centers.  He can stay at Mar-a-Lago with "the set," and at the same time, Trump can have these trucks plow through the countryside.  Japan always have better ideas than the West.

Today I will plan for my future.

February 16, 2017 (Tosh's Diary) Japan

February 16, 2017 (Tosh's Diary) Japan

The lack of sleep makes Tokyo into a city of your mind.  To this day, I'm not sure if it actually exists.   With little sleep, I met two American friends who are visiting the dream capital of desire.  There is something superb about facing the cold air, when utterly exhausted.  The good thing is my fellow countryman are feeling the same thing.   There is a bar next to their businessmen's hotel that has an extensive vinyl selection as well as free drinks.  Why the drinks are free is a question that is not examined too thoroughly.   All three of us are heavily into vinyl.   The other two have never been to Tokyo before, so it was my responsibility to take them to the right spot.

Our first stop was RecoFan.  It's very similar to Amoeba Music in Hollywood in many ways, but smaller in size.  Still, it takes up the entire fourth floor of the building.  Austin is into punk and Ray is into hip-hop and jazz.  I like instrumental bands from the 1960s and have been looking for "The Shadows In Tokyo" LP for the last five or so years.  The thing is, when you expect to find something, you're not going to find it. But when the unexpected happens that is the 'gotcha" moment.  The Enka selection at RecoFan is pretty impressive.  For those who don't know, Enka is a post-war form of music that is very much like a version of Japanese blues but with beautiful orchestration and voice.   There is also at times, a killer electric guitar solo that appears out of nowhere.  It sounds like the guitar is crying.  That type of music hits the spot when you're dead tired, and all you are feeling is emotion.

I couldn't find shit for me, but my fellow companions found stuff that made their eyes pop out of their skulls.  Me, I'm more of the cool type. I try not to show emotion while shopping.   We then went down the block to the Disk Union.   This is a record store in Shibuya (also a few stores in Shinjuku) where each floor caters to the specific type of music.  Again, I wanted the Sixties vinyl, and that is on the third floor, and Ray wanted hip-hop which is in the fourth, and Austin for his punk taste is the fifth.  The basement is jazz, and we decided to meet there in one hour.   "The Shadows in Tokyo" is a very tough LP to find, and lady luck was not smiling down at me.   Meanwhile, Austin came to the basement with five or six 7" singles of various punk bands from his neighborhood back home, and I couldn't see Ray's face due to the various packages he was holding.

At this moment all three of us were confronted with a spiritual feeling of loss and abandonment.   Apparently, we needed to take the Ginza line to Asakusa to the Sensō-ji to renew our faith in chance.  Sensō-ji is Japan's oldest Buddhist temple, and the peaceful aspect is the marketplace leading up to the temple's steps.   This is also the location to get postcards to send back home, as well as various swords.  Since the others had two or three bags of vinyl, it was my responsibility to hold on to the swords.  I put one down my pants, which of course, I have to be very comfortable not to trip, and I carried the other two with both hands.   It's very difficult to walk down the marketplace with the swords because the physical space is very tight due to the large crowd that takes place here.   I did find one postcard here, that had a very nice colorful image of the temple surrounded by cherry blossom trees.  I addressed the card to Stephen Bannon in the care of the White House, Washington DC, telling him "wish you were here."

The three of us ended up in a beer hall, that has been in business since 1926.   All the waiters here are in their 90s, which gives it an old school charm.  As we drank beer, and eat sashimi, we still feel that time is not on our side.  I feel that once I close my eyes, and then reopen them, everything will be gone like it didn't exist.  That is the beauty of Japan.

The Sunday Series: Sunday August 16, 2015 (Tokyo)

The Sunday Series:

Sunday August 16, 2015

When you look upon the stars as you lay on a Shibuya pavement, it is not the star that you’re looking at, but a projection of a star on a tall building looking over the Shibuya crossing.  If one is to fall on a street, it is best that you do it here, because everyone is polite enough not to step on you.   So without that reflection, I’m happy to lie on my back and watch the projection, that is very much my life, taking place on the oversized screen.   I felt a kick on my side, and I looked up towards her direction.  It was Aki who by chance just came upon me.  She took my arm to pick me up, and she dusted my shoulders and butt, and told me to follow her.

We went to a Doutor coffee shop that is two or three buildings from Tower Records.  It’s a good meeting place because one, it’s huge, and two, pleasantly bland.  I, for one, like a space that doesn’t have too much of an identity.  When I write or think, I like to be in an environment or landscape that is totally neutral.  Doutor Coffee fits all the requirements for me to focus on empty space, and with my imagination, I can feel every inch of that space to my liking.   Even on such a Sunday evening, the coffee shop is full of people quietly chatting or students working on their schoolwork.  When I come in with a pen and a notebook, I pretty much fit in this world of total bliss.   Of course, as others are doing English sentence diagrams. I’m trying to find some form of structure for me just to exist in.

Once you get in Doutor, you have to find a table as soon as possible.  It is very difficult to find seating in a coffee shop in Tokyo, especially in the afternoon and early evening.   Locate space and place your belongs on the seat and table itself.  Then back to the counter to order your coffee.  No one steals anything in Tokyo, at least go through one’s bag or purse.  Well, it's possible that it can happen, but it doesn’t happen that often in Japan.   We brought our coffees to the table, which was about six feet away from the smoking section, which is an open room.  When you look at their section, you can’t see a figure, just large bellowing white smoke.  Once in a while you see an arm or head poking out of the smoke, but then within seconds it disappears into the tobacco mist.

Tokyo is such a formatted city.  One can only fit in, and it’s very difficult town if you chose to embrace the system, yet remain apart from it.  It is best to be like me - never learn the language and allow yourself to be thrown into one situation after another.  A typhoon can come, and like the powerful wind, one is picked up and placed in another landscape.  It is very much like Buster Keaton in his film “Sherlock Junior.” Except it’s Tosh Junior, and the location is Shibuya Tokyo.

Among other things I have been suffering from jet-lag, which makes it impossible for me to focus on things on hand.   As I talk to Aki, I notice that her mouth was moving and I was responding to what she is saying, but I haven’t the foggiest idea what she is actually commenting on.  I wish I could quote her, but the sound coming out of her mouth is just that - vowels without meaning.  She may have been speaking to me in Japanese.  A language I don’t know, but I pretend to know in dicey situations.   Such as this one.  I then become aware that she may know that I’m missing the bouncing ball here, and that makes me panic, but I hide it well with my acting ability to look interested through my eyes and hand gestures.  But as I look at her, I can feel my eyes crossing, and I now wonder if she notices.  She then asks me if I’m feeling OK?  Shit.

What I would do now to be able to go back to the Shibuya crossing, and lay myself on the ground and just let the neon lights bath me with its rays.  Even in the hum of people talking in the cafe, I can hear the cicadas in the air, as if pulling me outside.  The temperature is around 90, and the humidity is high as well.  The whole city is like being in a kitchen with the oven fully on.  The heat is intense, and I feel embarrassed that my hands are sweaty as well as my wrists.  When I place them on the table, it seems I leave a pool of water, and I quickly swipe the moisture off the coffee table.

I ask her if it’s ok if we go to a record store - someplace like Reco-Fan.  I want to escape the heat, but I also don’t want to have a conversation.  I just want to move among the vinyl bins and if we need to chat, we can do it there.  The record store is about three blocks in a large building, which name I totally forgot, but that’s OK, because Tokyo is just visual to me.  I never think of a language when looking for a structure or place in the city.  It is always the shape of the building that stands out, or if it's near another shop.  I often miss the building by walking right by it, and I try to imagine how I could do such a thing?    Reck-Fan is on the 4th floor, so we got into the elevator.  The door opens to a paradise, and even in my weak state, I have a smile on my face.   Right away I found two albums that I have been searching for eons: One is “We Want Billy” which is a live recoding with Billy Fury in the early 60s, with Joe Meeks’ band The Tornados.   The album itself is not great, but it holds a lot of history for me.  Also I love the cover.  The other album is a Japanese release of songs the Rolling Stones recorded, but for other people.  The songs are all produced by Andrew Loog Oldham, and they either showed up as 45 rpm singles or demos.   It’s an intriguing way to look at a bands’ (The Stones) work, through this specific route in trying to sell themselves as songwriters.

It dawned on me that I was feeling much better, and I decided to purchase the two albums and Aki, and I left the store.  I asked her if she would come with me to the Shibuya crossing and lay on the ground with me.  She said yes, for reasons that will never be clear to me, but as we approached the crossing, I grabbed her hand and as soon as the walk sign went on, we ran to the center and placed ourselves on the pavement, looking up to the stars that are not there.  But we both shared a certain amount of imagination, and as the thousands walked around us, I tried to count the stars that were in my mind.  I lost count after ten.  She made it to fifteen.

April 25, 2014

April 25, 2014

In m lifetime, I only lived with two dogs: Rover and Pi.  Rover was a mutt and Pi was part collie and coyote.  Pi moved in with us because her family was moving out of Topanga, and once moved, she found herself back home at our house.  We adopted her or just kept Pi, because she was always hanging out with Rover.  My relationship with dogs is very laissez-faire, and I rarely ever think about them either as pets or objects in front of me.  All I know is Rover and Pi lived with me, and they liked their stomachs scratched and petted.

I remember watching “Lassie” on our black and white TV, and Rover was totally intrigued by the show one night.  Especially when Lassie barked, or made a sound.  He would sit in front of the set, cock his head towards the left with his ear up.  Eventually he would walk around the TV set to determine what was happening in the back of the set.  Rover was just thinking logically if Lassie was actually in the TV set, which makes perfect sense to me.

As a boy, I totally identify with Timmy on “Lassie” and Rusty on “Rin Tin-Tin.” So when I was with Rover and Pi, I didn’t really think about the dogs, but instead I projected myself as the boy who is surrounded by his dog, who also appears to have been tuned in to my needs and concerns.   Getting love from a dog is without a doubt one of the greatest love relationships on this planet.   There is the famous story of Hacikō, the akita dog who would go with his owner, Hidesburō Ueno, a teacher, to Shibuya station in Tokyo, and would come back to see him there when he arrived from his work.  One day, the teacher dies at work and of course never returns - but Hacikō without fail, would wait at the meeting spot in the Shibuya station every day at the same time.  Hacikō waited for seven years till death came and took him away.

The Japanese media picked up the story of Hacikō, and eventually it became almost an urban myth about the loyal dog waiting for his master or owner.  Except this was all true.  Hacikō died on March 8, 1938, where his body was found on the streets of Shibuya.  The dog had terminal cancer and a filaria infection (worms).  They also found four yakitori skewers in his stomach, but that didn’t cause his death.  Hachikō’s remains are stuffed and mounted and kept at the National Science Museum in Ueno, Tokyo.  His burial monument is in the Aoyama cemetery.   But the people’s monument is at the Shibuya station, exactly where Hachikō waited for his master.  There is a statue in honor of the dog, and it is probably one of the best-known locations in Tokyo.

I will never forget the night Rover died.  He was for sure feeling his age, and I remember the night he insisted ongoing outside.  I opened the door for him and that was the last time I saw Rover.  But as I was falling asleep on the couch in the living room, I had a waking dream of Rover in front of my face, barking wildly.   I woke up and of course he wasn’t there, but I never did see my dog again.  Also I never had the urge to get another dog or to live with a dog.  Rover and Pi were dogs who lived with me at a specific time, and one can’t repeat its past.  I had to move on.

March 5, 2014

March 5, 2014

I'm at the Lion Cafe in Shibuya, which is in a perfect location, among its sexual slime of love hotels, relaxation clubs, and the water trade.  Here one can avoid the outer world to lose one self into the exquisite world of recorded classical music.  Volume is not so loud but loud enough to drift into a blissful state.  They don't allow photos to be taken and rightfully so. How can an image penetrate the magic that is the Lion Cafe?

When you walk in one notice the mixture of Rocco and post romantic setting of the coffee shop.  It was launched in 1926, and I doubt they have changed the decor over the years.  All the tables and chairs are facing two massive speakers and various turntables as well as a pair of CD players.  The speakers are built-in wooden cabinets in between two poles with a bust of Beethoven's face facing the coffee drinkers.  Along the bust is two decorative candle holders and at its end are two electric fans.  The building is old and looks very much like it was built in the 1920s.

The tables and red velvet chairs seem antiquated as well, but still in good condition.  The only drawback is the smokers that come here.  The smoke lingers like a needy ex-lover you just hope that they will go away.

Overall the lighting is on the dark side, but one can still have enough light to read.    But the best thing to do is meditate and allow yourself to be pulled into its seductive charms.  Before the waiters take out a record to play, they softly make an announcement of what they are about to play.  Servers are in black and they move around the cafe like ninjas in the jungle.  They take your order for coffee in a low volume voice.  Talking, even when ordering drinks, is reduced to a bare minimum.  

The windows facing the street are frosted, so one can only see the dim lighting of the outside world.  No one outside can look in.  It is just like a church but instead of worshiping Jesus or Buddha, one admires the speakers.  On the middle of the woofers, it says "3D Sound System."

The only sound I can hear besides the music is the sound of pen on paper. Behind me is a writer looking over his manuscript.  It's in Japanese of course and his writing paper is horizontal with tiny squares where he writes his kanji in.  I just wonder what he's writing and even more important will he dedicate his book to the Lion Cafe.

 In my notebook, that is only devoted to writings that took place a the Lion Cafe, is focused on the fantasy of the actor Dean Stockwell working with the great Italian poet and filmmaker Pier Paolo Pasolini.  I imagine them working together for some reason, due to the nature of passion spent on modern times.  One of my favorite novels by Pasolini is “”Ragazzi di vita, ” which can be translated to “Boys of Life” which could be read as “hustlers."   I imagine Dean playing a Pasolini character as he roams around Rome to look for trade or adventure.   But the way I would write it, the location would be in Tokyo, and to be more exact the same area where the Lion Cafe is located. 

 I often like to hang out in this neighborhood, because one, the girls here are cute, and two, the mixture of neon lighting for the water business as well as the nervous middle-aged men that haunt this location are an inspiration for me.   Yet, while sitting here, and listening to J.S. Bach’s “The Well-Tempered Clavier Books 1 and 2, ” I find myself approaching the entrance or gateway to a depression.   All of sudden the writer behind me got up from his table, and whispered in my ear, “I wrote this narrative already bud.” He then sat down, gently and in low volume, ordered another cup of coffee, and then started to work on his manuscript.  

I left the cafe, with a heavy heart, and thought of Max Jacob’s great collection of poems, written sometime in the late teens, “The Dice Box” and thinking that it always picked up my spirit, but alas, being in Tokyo, it will be very difficult to find a copy here.  Nevertheless I headed towards the Shibuya station to locate another setting, where I can write, think, and be something that is not me at this moment. 

March 4, 2014

March 4, 2014

In my heart, I felt like Nero when he was appointed title princeps iuventutis (head of the youth).  But then again, I have always had a big head with respect to yours truly.  As I am in Tokyo now, I ran across a friend who collects American cars, and is an enormous fan of Ed “Big Daddy” Roth, and today, he will get one of his custom-made cars.  He has a garage outside of Tokyo, where he keeps his Roth collection.  The most famous car that he owns is the 1961 “Beatnik Bandit” hot rod.  The most unusual aspect of this car that makes it really unique, besides being one-of-a-kind is that instead of a steering wheel, it has a joy stick.  How one can drive this car in excessive speed is beyond me, and when my friend offered me a ride in the grand “Beatnik Bandit, ” I was looking for an excuse to remove myself from his presence and his damn car.  But my brain didn’t work fast enough.  Also amazingly enough, the car had no seat belts, and I was just too polite to ask him about it.  Nevertheless I got in the car with him, and like Batman leaving the Batcave, we speeded off to the two lane blacktop in Tokyo, that is more a residential street than anything else.   I wish I could report what I saw, but I pretty much kept my eyes shut, because every time I opened them, it seems like we were approaching a moving object or an innocent bystander, who god forbid, was in the way of the “Beatnik Bandit.”  

My worst nightmare is when we approached the Shibuya street crossing in front of the station, but luckily the light was green and he speeded through Center Gai, which I thought was only a pedestrian area, but my driver didn’t seem to care.  We stopped in front of Tokyu Hands.  I looked at him and he seemed to be a drunk John Garfield on his last hour on this planet.  I told him that I had to get something in the store, and he should just go on without me.  He, being very respectful, said he will wait for me.  I left his car with wobbly legs and made the decision to run away.  I couldn’t deal with the Pearl White experience of maybe facing death around the corner.   I snuck around the building, and ran into Union Disk’s basement.  There I felt safe, and not only that, but found a French EP by Barney Wilen.  But as far as I know, he may be still waiting for me in Shibuya with the damn “Beatnik Bandit. ”

January 10, 2014

January 10, 2014

I arrived in Tokyo late last night, mostly due to the bus trip to the Meguro Hotel than the flight itself. The Narita Airport is about one and a half hours away from Tokyo, so the additional travel time is the thing that really knocks you out. It's bad enough to be in a plane for ten hours, but then having to take a bus for more travel time is the point where one says to themselves "I had enough." Nevertheless I am here because I wanted to surprise my friend Dennis Cooper on his birthday. Him and a friend of his are in Japan for the next two weeks, and I thought "wouldn't it be a good surprise if I just showed up in Japan to see him for his birthday."

From Meguro where I normally stay, I went to a coffee shop in Shibuya, where I heard that he goes to every morning at exactly 10:15. He's been to Tokyo /Japan once, and is a well disciplined figure with respect to scheduling. As a creature of habit he always shows up at this particular coffee shop every morning he's in Tokyo.

My plan was to wait around the cafe as a lurking Rasputin, maybe behind an over sized potted plant. And once he gets in line for his coffee I would just appear behind him in that line, and bingo, tell him happy birthday.

But odd enough, while I was waiting at the Doutor Coffee shop, he doesn't show up. First of all many of the customers here was looking at my way and wondering why I was hiding behind the potted plant for a half n' hour or so. I was so puzzled, because I know Dennis spent time in Hawaii, and Doutor Coffee has a plantation on that island just for the purpose of supplying coffee to this shop and its chain in Japan. A change of plans made me purchase a cup of coffee and I found a vacant seat by the water sculpture, which is one of my favorite spots to sit and drink coffee. As I have mentioned I am not a big fan or 'real' nature, but I greatly admire 'fake' nature. This sculpture represents nature to me, without being really nature and I love that.

At this time it seemed obvious that he won't appear, so after drinking my coffee I walked down to Tower Records, which is only a block away from the coffee shop. I went on the third floor, where they have American music, and I thought I should buy Dennis a CD. For whatever reason I thought it should either be a Johnnie Ray or Max Roach CD. For the life of me, I couldn't really analyze the reason why I would focus on those two artists for Dennis. I don't think he even likes that type of music. But I'm known in the free world as the worst gift giver ever. God knows that most people return my gifts, and usually I am pretty happy about that, because my gifts are normally what I would want as gifts.

I bought a compilation of Ray's recordings called "Cry" which is put out by Bear Family, a great label out of Germany, and Max Roach's "We Insist," which is normally a very hard album/CD to find. I can only hope he'll like it, if not, he will just return it back to me. Which is perfectly OK because I don't have either album in my collection.