Sons of Loki

A sweet man just came by from Tokyo Electric for me to pay my bill (only 1,200 yen, which is nice). Packing went a lot easier when I saw that I can take my mandolin as carry-on luggage. I’ve thrown loads of stuff out, though it still seems to be all here. I’m moving out.

I’d be lying if I said I felt desperately sad. It bothers me that I’m not bothered by leaving, because the truth is that after about three days back at home the truth is going to sink in and I will be a miserable wreck. I’m just looking forward to the confusing and complex task of “leaving Japan” being over, from a practical standpoint. It’s really complicated! There are forms! Stuff to return! I have to take photos and say goodbye to people! I haven’t had a second of downtime (except when I got stuck on Awkward Family Photos) and writing long blog posts or uploading photos seems out of the question.

But I couldn’t go without putting a little thing up. It seems weird that I will never, ever see this room again. It’s been my home for ten months. Not much of any interest happened here, but I’ll miss the nasty yellow curtains, the odd humidity of the toilet room, the lovely green forest of moss and little plants that has grown in the run-off from the air-con and over my discarded sock.

I plan to make the last song I play in my room “Black Out Fall Out” (the later compilation album edition which is a magnitude more epic). I remember when Polysics ended their live show with it. It was beautiful.

Technically, I leave Tokyo today (Narita is in Chiba-ken). This is sad. If there’s one thing I’ve confirmed from this year, it’s that this city…

this city is the best in the world.

Following the conclusion of my mid-term exam, I decided to hit Tokyo again. Of course, all too soon, going to Tokyo will be a lot more difficult than hopping on the Keio Line from Tobitakyu station, and words like “Semi-Special Express” and “Keio West Entrance” will be distant memories – like a dream, even.

I hit my usual places in Shinjuku – a few rounds of Beatmania IIDX and Drummania (the latter I’m getting better at, the former I fail hugely at), the game store where I never buy anything (I only go back because I saw Drummania for sale there once, but didn’t buy it, and now I regret it) – then thought I’d check out this exhibition at the Tokyo Museum of Modern Art in Chiyoda, something about architecture that I’d read an article about in Metropolis.

Regrettably, it turned out to be closed on Mondays, but no worries: instead I enjoyed a relaxing stroll around the perimeter of the Imperial Palace, which is closed to plebs like me.
After a quick burger and a bit of kanji study in a Ginza Lotteria (about the least classy meal you can have in ultra-classy Ginza) I came to Tokyo Station (probably my favourite station in all of Tokyo; an important hub like Shinjuku, but not as inhuman and impersonal) and wound up, like I so often do, back on the streets of New York City, a dope fiend, a slave, then prison; then the madhouse; then the grave Akihabara.

Ah, I’ll miss that fucking place (I imagine in decades to come, travel guides to Tokyo will open the section on Akihabara with a quote from me along those lines). The hobby stores. The bizarre proliferation of home security stalls. The game shops, of course; the myriad electronics meccas, the maid cafes, the KFC, the Coco Curryhouse; the corner which valiantly tries to ignore the rest of the place by having trendy cafes and a Muji and a pâtisserie but lets the side down by including a (ridiculously popular) Gundam Cafe; the streets and alleys which I shamefully know like the back of my hand.

In Yodobashi Camera I listened to their hi-fi equipment, because I’ve got it into my head that, as a music-loving nerd, my room next year will not be complete without some big-ass floorstanding speakers and the cheapest best-sounding amplifier I can buy (probably the Q Acoustics 1030is and an amp from the Cambridge Audio Topaz range at the moment, he says, pretending he knows something about hi-fi systems). I thought I spied a bargain on a Marantz amp, but it turns out I can get it cheaper in the UK and it’s a bit pants anyway, so that saves me posting a 7kg amplifier back home.

So. 東京、また逢う日まで (until we meet again, Tokyo)…

One of Japan's ubiquitous white trucks, Kichijoji.

I feel – off, a little. After the doldrums of mid-March and the frantic-but-exciting exam cramming of the first week of May, I’m back to normal life, and…

It’s kind of dull. Which isn’t right. It’s very, very wrong. I’m in Tokyo. I should be doing ten exciting things before breakfast. And yet, when you’re a student repeating the last semester, stuck in a small room with not much money in the suburbs of Tokyo, it’s somehow …

empty.

And as my remaining days dwindle to insignificance, it becomes harder and harder to begin anything new. No point joining a club now; no point finding the cool bars, no point getting a job. I want to do so much with my time here. I wanted to do so much.

What am I?
What am I?
What am I in my own dear eyes?

It’s frustrating. It’s like I want to achieve so much, but I’m stuck with giant lobster claws for hands, and if I try to build a house or paint a self-portrait my giant lobster claws flounder uselessly and it’s hard enough just getting dressed and making breakfast in the morning when you have giant lobster claws, so I tend not to try to do too much. Which sucks.

Signed up for next year’s modules. Aside from the compulsory Japanese language modules, I’m taking an English Language module on the Language of Power, which I assume is about writing to persuade and influence, which sounds interesting enough. And, because I thought I’d better do some literature, a module on Civil War and Restoration literature. It wouldn’t be my first choice, but the only other options were Medieval lit (what I done last year) and Renaissance lit (which is basically Shakespeare, innit?).

None of the Japanese studies modules really appealed to me, so I decided to take a module on China since 1979 and also, in the first semester, a Short Dissertation. I’m not really sure what I should make it about, but I’ll have a good think.

After an impromptu meeting with Suzuki-sensei at 6pm today, it was established that due to my low mark of 63.9 (C) I will be repeating level 300 instead of moving up to 400 with everyone else. Also, I think I was advised to do all the auxiliary lessons (the speaking, listening, reading and writing classes) and the kanji class too. There goes my free time!

That’s not set in stone. I could still push for 400, I reckon. But, I dunno. It might be best to cut my losses and concentrate on the Leeds exam.

I’m doing joint honours English and Japanese at the moment. I am informed that there is a possibility of applying for straight BA English in May, which would entail basically dropping Japanese and reverting to my remaining two years of English in 2010/11 and 2011/12.

Do I want to do that? Not really. I do want to finish Japanese, but at the same time, in all honesty, I’m just not putting the work in.

Suzuki-sensei asked me today why I’m doing Japanese, and for the first time I gave the honest answer: I like living in Tokyo. I adore this city. I always tell people “Well I liked anime when I was younger,” or “I like Japanese culture”, but the simple truth is I like living here more than England. (In some respects. I do miss home.) No crime, great transport, exciting events, the bustle of a megapolis; it’s everything I want. I mean, you can walk the streets at 3am and never, ever feel threatened. You know how much more pleasant that is than in England? I don’t want to go all Daily Mail, but it’s little things like that.
And I don’t really need a degree to live here: obviously it would help with getting a job but right now, I know enough Japanese to survive here. I realised that when I went to get my bike fixed – just a minor errand, and my Japanese went off without a hitch, and it was sorted. I know enough to get anything done. I’m pretty much illiterate beyond kids’ manga and I can’t really hold an interesting conversation, but I can Get By.

So if I can get by, the question becomes what am I learning Japanese for? I’m not really sure. Obviously if I could be fluent I would. If I had a roadmap for fluency, I’d follow it. But that seems an awful long way away (and it is) and right now I’m sort of okay and I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to get better, but that doesn’t really bother me, y’know? (And yet it does…)

I can’t believe I’ve gone 21 years without staying up to watch a sunrise. Today I went out at about 6:50am and wandered out of the dorm and down the street, past the old man flexing his fingers for his morning exercises. The air was ice cold, and so refreshing.
There’s this little park near us which I knew about but never visited before. I’m glad I did. It’s so strange how we can go months living in a place and barely scratch the surface of what’s around us, isn’t it?
But the park was simply beautiful. I happened across it, catching the first rays of the rising sun as I heard “Hazey Jane I” on my iPod:

Do you feel like a remnant
Of something that’s past
Do you find things are moving
Just a little too fast?

and the sunlight blazed between pillars and between trees and it was really too beautiful, the pale green of the park before me, covered in icy dew. I wandered across the common, feet crunching on frozen grass, overwhelmed by it all. I told myself I wouldn’t bring my camera, but I wished I had. (I will tomorrow, maybe.) The sun shining over Chofu airfield, the distant towers, the ducks on the glimmering pond; the last glow of the moon above, in the west.

I got back and grabbed my camera and took a few photos from the top floor of the dorm.