I’m nervous as hell. I can’t stand packing for a trip. And it’s hard for me to keep calm and collected. Lun*na is a genius in packing, but only she can do it. If I tried to interfere, it would be a disaster. It is the little things in life that unnerves one. So, being passive and trusting her taste and skills is my method. In life, one must trust a loved one to handle certain situations. Too many cooks in the kitchen is not a sound system. My talent is realizing that I'm hopeless at putting an item in a suitcase and accepting that I’m that guy. What I’m good at is the large picture that is life: life and Death issues, no problem. I can deal with that, but the little things will cause a nervous breakdown.
Lun*na and I go to Japan regularly. Usually, twice a year to visit family, but Lun*na will be doing a tour with Saori Mitome as Les Sewing Sisters for this trip. This is remarkable enough, but the unique aspect of the tour is that they will be performing in people’s homes, specifically in their closet space. Lun*na composed the music, and all of it was done from sewing machine noise and live vocals. Although the method is Avant-garde, it is really 21st-century pop music. Lun*na and Saori did a tour of homes in Southern California, but this is the first time in Japanese homes, which is very interesting. How does one deal with the tatami mat, or are closets different in Japan than in Los Angeles? My job is to interview the homeowners/apartment dwellers and try to understand the importance of place and how clothing is placed in this landscape.
The plan at the moment is to start writing my Japanese diary for the film, I think, on this plane trip. Eleven hours and thirty minutes of meditation time, I hope. And I’m also hoping to do some sleeping while on this plane. But no worries, we will arrive in Tokyo at night and likely get home (Meguro) around 9 p.m. The next day, we will meet John, the translator Russell Mael introduced us to. He will be helping Jeff and Lun*na with the film. We will have at least a week to relax and do post-work on the documentary before the tour starts. I must add more Japanese dates for the tour and other stuff when I get to Tokyo tomorrow. If I put it in my calendar now, it fucks up due to the time differences between Los Angeles and Japan.
Getting to the airport was not a problem: no traffic, and it was stress-free. Until we got to the Bradley terminal, where everything stopped at security due to some activity in the airport, everything stopped for ten or so minutes. It was calm, but no one said anything or reacted to the stoppage. After ten minutes, everything went back to normal. The other incident was when I was charged for tomato soup at the Bradley Terminal's Pret a Manger, the only branch in Southern California. I purchased a tomato and cheese sandwich, high-end potato chips, and water. For some odd reason, the bottle of water’s barcode read a very expensive tomato soup. Even though I held up the line behind me, we settled the issue with the soup issue. I was happy with the results, but the crowd behind me seemed unpleased.
At this moment, I don’t need to show my passport regularly at the airport. Only once do I get the Boarding Pass that I need to show the document. After that, they don’t even want to see the Boarding Pass. Entering the plane, I go through a machine that records one’s face, and that is it. It’s fascinating to me that certain aspects of traveling are very 21st-century, but at times, one has to do paperwork for Japanese customs and security. In the past, one could do the paperwork on the plane, which is a sound system for the traveler, but now, one is instructed to do the paperwork while waiting in line for Immigration/Border control. After almost a twelve-hour sleepless flight over the Pacific Ocean, my mind is trying to make sense of it all, and, amazingly, I can’t make sense of it all. Japan is very structured with rules and procedures, which can work wonderfully unless you’re a sleepy head like me, and even choosing between a hot and cold faucet can be challenging.
Lun*na and I fly Coach, which is a painful experience. People are meant and built for first-class traveling, and it is amusing at the airport; all the workers there for the airline presume that we are first-class, but alas, we are on the poor side and rely on the kindness of others for our daily lives. It is unfortunate when we enter a plane, and we bypass the first-class section with their large seats, and as we approach our reserved seats, they get smaller.
I’m in a situation where I dropped my magazine on the plane floor, but I cannot reach for it due to my poor back, and the airline’s meal is in front of me. I also have someone in the row in front of me with his seat down. Yet, the Mojo Magazine (with The Smiths on the cover) is so close, yet far away from me. In the middle of the trip, I can hear the rain beating against the plane, which is a lovely sound. With that soundtrack, I tried to fall asleep, but it was not going to happen, primarily due to the air conditioning on high throughout the flight. Some airlines have individual fans, but the air conditioning was central on this flight, so there was no way to turn it off. Everyone on the plane was wrapped in blankets. One can also hear the air conditioning; sometimes, I think that is the sound I’m hearing, not the rain.
I’m trying to sleep, but it’s not happening. There is nothing worse than closing your eyes and trying to pretend I’m sleeping. I keep thinking of sleep, but that doesn’t make me sleep.
Once we got home in Meguro (Tokyo), we had sashimi rolls that we made ourselves. At this point, I had been up for 24 hours, and my body felt terrible. I went to bed in a traditional tatami-mat room, with the sound of rain. The rhythm was lovely, but the sleep didn’t come; instead, I thought of the future, something I feared.
To be continued…
Tosh this visit sounds more like work than a vacation. I don’t envy you but will be interested in your encounters - speaking of encounters were you aware that in the vicinity of your home lies one of the largest museums dedicated to parasites?
Meguro Parasitological museum
For some reason it was brutal flying to Japan and a breeze to fly back. (From west coast)