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About Tokyo

We get to this shady motel, smells like piss and regret. She’s strippin, I’m growlin—Rarrgh!—thinkin, “This is my fate, ain’t it?” Fun fact: oldest profession, right? Back in Rome, they had brothels with menus—blows ya mind. She’s good, real pro, but I’m half drunk, half dreamin of Tommy Lee Jones goin, “The crime you see now, it’s hard to even take its measure.” Makes me laugh mid-thrust—awkward as fuck.

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After that, I’m feelin’ pretty good, right? Like a hero or somethin’. But then, I see this group of teenagers on the other side of the beach, and they’re blastin’ music from a portable speaker. It’s so loud, I can’t even hear myself think! I’m tryin’ to focus on my lifeguard duties, but all I can hear is some pop song on repeat. Ugh! I march over, ready to give ‘em a piece of my mind.

Yukio Mishima