Eye Spy; Nostalgia.

only the birds fly first class.

golden smoke rings.

jewel encrusted pillowtalks.

souls made of honeysuckle.

glow worms between the sheets.

sparkling bruises.

strobe lights between paparazzi-worthy teeth.
diamond dentures in cream soda.
a ghost under ultra-violet light.

leaving.

breathe in the future, breathe out the past.

behind the curtain.

rooftop conversations under the english flag.
clear black blend whiskey band.
monkey trouble.
the splitting ceremony of the magestic pecan tart.
twenty-eight degrees celcius.
the obvious reconstruction of the gonpacho restaurant scene.
one mysteriously broken coffee table.
donkey hotel and hidden cheaper detergent.
darts in electrical sockets.
storytales of brazillian lsd christmas dinners.
life plans and george orwell over coffee.
gifts in painted paper bags from kyoto.
licking a ten thousand dollar tuna.
des cahiers de sake; des nouvelles resolutions.

Score!

Digging through piles of crap at a vintage store in Tokyo, I found the ultimate treasure;
A black, vintage Pink Floyd '87 World Tour t-shirt.
Without the traditional Floyd prism on the front.
Googled up an image of the t-shirt. Couldn't find mine.

WONDERFUL.

Many thanks, Amida Nyorai.

The beach, digging for seashells, on the first of february.
Inner peace, with mount Fuji straight ahead.
Amida Nyorai's good fortune (we touched his insides).
Giga-apples and ten sticky fingers.
Sweet goldfish.
1 kg of caramel popcorn and stolen loaves.
Nothing sweeter than pink lemonade refills.
The modern kind of ''BFF'' bracelets.
''Let's not wash the temple off our wrists''.
Epiphany while you were sleeping.

Coconut Milk.

Linking arms without the warming effects of alcohol.
Sober card games.
Waking up voluntarily on weekends.
Coconut milk in red plastic cups.
Cheddar cheese cubes adorned with toothpicks.

Yeah, right.

Dear Tokyo;

How on earth do you expect me to live off 60 bucks a week, when the brussel sprouts are nearly seven, the strawberries are twelve, and the mangoes are fifteen? I have been hustling out of my ass. Going into fancy grocery stores and stealing samples. Stealing Splenda by the handful from Starbucks. Re-using tea bags. I thought being called a hustler was kind of fucking cool. But now, after actually having to hustle, it's not as much fun as I thought it would be.

It doesn't help that every other store is a painfully amazing bakery. I experience on your streets, over and over; bakery, starbucks, convenience store, another bakery, health food store, restaurant. How do all of these places stay in business with so much competition around? How is everyone not painstakingly obese in your country? Sharing the cheapest thing at the grocery store today with Rianne (a 3 dollar pack of dried peas), the people in front of us had spent nearly a hundred dollars on a couple day's worth of groceries. Incredible. No wonder everyone works until eleven at night here. I thought Paris was expensive - but this is really horrific.

I'm on hold for three jobs, and they told me if I don't get one of them, they're sending me home. I hope everyone who reads this prays for me, because I've got some unfinished business with you, Tokyo. As soon as I get my shit together when I come back home, I'm going to New York. Fuck this shit. Fuck catalogue castings, fuck everyone who look exactly the same, fuck all of you cookie cutters. If people here can't understand a different kind of beauty (or brains, for that matter), then I'm not wasting any more of my time trying to convince them.
Fuck you, Tokyo. Thanks for taking all of my money in order to survive, thanks for tempting me to every extreme I can possibly think of.
No one likes you anyway.

constant nostalgia.

some serious merkification;

did i really just pay sixteen dollars for a burger with no patty?

Sardines.

Last night:
Officially friends with all of the Steve Aoki wannabe's in Tokyo.
Trading my tye dye vest for the leather print masterpiece.
Stupid white girl with sumo wrestler boyfriend.
The very eventful, very entertaining staircase.
Trying to dance without getting pushed over (mission failed).
Never ending KAWAII!
Spilling half of my drinks, resulting in slipping and bruising.
She's majestic even when she cries.

This morning:
Waste of a beautiful Sunday morning thanks to splitting headache.

Tonight's mission: WOMB TOKYO.

I ain't saying my goodbye's.

A different kind of appreciation.
Tofu and egg whites, apples and banana's.
''Only one addiction, at most, is acceptable. And, you already have an addiction to tabacco.''
Three-to-a-double-bed movie nights.
Try anything and I will beat your ass, Ocean Moon.
The wrong kind of charisma.
All the Nike high-tops every hipster would kill for (in one city).
Nearly expired Chanel perfume.
Capsule (s).
A country where a bottle of wine is more expensive than a 40 of Jack Daniels.
Why would the Red Hot Chili Peppers come to this place?
The best triangles I've ever had.
The only thing I'm getting from this is your clothes.

Fourteen year old getting in trouble for hitting puberty.
Fifteen year old russians on ecstacy, gnawing their fucking bottom lip off.
Sixteen year old brazillians sniffing all day, every day.
Seventeen year old deer in the headlights.
Eighteen year old alcoholic.
Nineteen and finally starting to get it.
Twenty year old hustlers.

much too fast.

sun peeking out from bamboo leaves.
macdonald's breakfast before sleep.
shrines on sunday morning.
split lip.
unopened wine (always waiting for the perfect occasion).
holes in our pockets + being able to afford one thing from the 100 yen store.
famous restaurants (where's Uma?!).
ten dollar strawberries and strawberry milk.
literally lost in translation.
drunk kareoke with your managers = priceless.
plum liquor with soda water.
dancing in illegal clubs. dancing behind movie screens. dancing until you twist your ankle again. drunken traditional japanese slippers.
sun tanning in the middle of the street (watch your legs).
japanese police until seven in the morning.
green glow bracelet.
lost cardigan + ruined fedora.
pink roses in mineral water.
the most expensive shoes in the rain.
''i want to be in love''.
bloody knuckles (the real kind).
an obsession with royal milk tea.
red paper lanterns.
never borrowing anything again.
ten different room keys and five am phone calls.