I woke up this morning feeling the traces of my anxiety attack. This, I thought, is terrible. I can feel the anxiety around the corner and coming in to take me to a location I don’t want to go to. The plan is to be in Japan for the rest of October, and in doing so, I have to work on Lun*na Menoh’s film project, both as someone in the background and appearing in the finished film. My thought is that I can’t allow my mental issues to interfere with the work I have on hand. It’s do a do-or-die situation for me.
I have always been anxious, with my various phobias in place, and I managed to live a full life by either placing these feelings aside or smiling through the ordeal. The past two years have been challenging due to COVID issues and the death of my mother and her brother, my Uncle, within months of each other. Their deaths were not a surprise, but witnessing and being a caretaker for my Mom specifically did a number on me.
With those memories being fresh, I also had to deal with an extortionist who had family photos that belonged to my Uncle, and he was putting them up for sale on eBay. I call him an extortionist, at least emotionally; that is true. But the truth is that he got the photos legally with the permission of a family member. But what I wanted from him was a photo of my Dad taken in 1947 in front of Tempo Records in Los Angeles. The picture is historically important, but also an image of my Dad I never had or seen at this point in my life. The seller refused to give up the photos, and I offered $100 for the negative and photo, but he refused and ended up selling a print for $350 on eBay. He also sold a naked baby picture of me that my dad made to announce my birth to family and friends. This incident put me in a very dark place.
I feel I inherited certain traits from my Mom, such as being a recluse and staying in one’s home or apartment. Getting her out of the house would cause her some anxiety, but I felt it as well. When I went with her to Paris, she pretty much stayed inside her hotel room, and I tried to engage her to remove herself from that room, but it was a struggle. She had walking issues but never came up with a solution, such as getting a wheelchair or a walking cane. It was a delicate situation, and much of it depended on the son-mom dynamics of a relationship. I feared adopting my Mom’s fears, and now, in Tokyo, I felt weird about leaving our household here in Meguro after the panic attack. Feeling like death was creeping up and causing me to feel unbalanced; I decided to leave the house and go straight to Shibuya.
I felt fine until I reached the iconic Shibuya crossing. I put myself ahead of the crowd to walk across the intersection. I started feeling dizzy and decided to go to the Doutor coffee shop near Tower Records. I got there, fighting the anxiety, and ordered coffee and a cookie with water. I imagine drinking coffee is not good when on the borderline of obtaining a full-on anxiety attack, but I wanted to deal with the monster within me. As I drank my coffee, there was this plastic sculpture of me that I have always been fond of. It’s pointless and maybe even on the ugly side, but I like it for those reasons alone. When I sat there, drinking my coffee, I tried to focus on the commercial, corporate sculpture as a lifeline for me to exist in peace.
I felt better as the sun went down and darkness took over Shibuya. I left the coffee shop and faced the crowd with a certain amount of joy. I visited Tower Records and visited all six floors, then went to Disk Union to check out their vinyl. I even managed to visit Muji to look at striped shirts. I eventually ended up at Lion Cafe, the place that I call heaven. It’s iconic, and one knows of the Jazz Kasa cafes, but this cafe is devoted to classical music. You sit there, and the waiter puts on an album, announces it in a low-volume manner, and then plays side one. Afterward, he puts on side two. This procedure somehow brings order to my life, which is good. All of this happiness for only 500 yen for a cup of coffee. No talking, just focusing on the recorded music being played in front of you in massive speakers.
Walking out of the Lion Cafe and into the hardcore Love Hotels surrounding the coffee house, I became almost on a spiritual level, among the eros these places allow. Everything is right in the world, and I walk joyfully back to the bus stop across the street from the Shibuya Station for bus line 71.
Thanks Tosh. Excellent work. What a terrible feeling it must be to see one’s personal memories auctioned off.