Tokio Whip (47 page)

***

AUGUST

–
We walk all the time, but we never
go
for a walk.

–
What do you mean, we go for strolls, don't we, what's the difference?

–
They're somehow not the same. We go for a stroll in the neighborhoods to get out of the house, to get some vegetables, to “observe the scene,” “life's passing parade,” and all that. No, going for a walk is different somehow.

–
Why, how?

–
Oh, on account of because of when you go for a walk … yes, there's a bit of exercise involved; no, there is no particular scene to be observed, or at least that is not one of the primary objectives; yes, nature somehow is involved – the scene is the air, the sound of the cicadas, the cries of children not too nearby …. ah, I've got it – when walking, you don't observe the scene, you take it in! … I suppose too that time is involved. Let me see … strolling is Japanese, the garden and all that, you know, everything unfolding, like Mizoguchi. Walking is Western, ruminating ... and then you expect people to break into dance like Fred and Cyd!

***

1457: OTA DOKAN

How do we picture him? Dressed in the silks of a court poet, the lacquered armor of the samurai? In the furs of a hunter? (As in the statue of him by Fumio Asakura, now in the Tokyo International Forum.) How did we ever come up with phrases like the “mists of time” and the “echoes of legend”? How did we ever come to think that someone can
found
a city?

People had long lived, of course, on the site of what would become Edo, and later Tokyo. Presumably, there they could fish, live a decent life away from the turmoils of the capitol, the many warring factions that became history and popular drama. That stuff arrived in the twelfth century when a member of the Taira clan settled his family there, renaming it after the site itself, “mouth of the river.” That could also be considered a founding moment, all so literally so.

In 1457, Ota Dokan – (or Sukenaga), a “vassal of the Ogigayatsu branch of the Uesugi family, who served the Ashikaga …”; well, the reader perceives how complicated these things can get – built a castle in the town of Edo. The legend has it that Benten, goddess of music and islands, took the form of a fish (a
konoshiro
) and guided Ota to the site where he should build “this castle” (
kono shiro
). In a word, Tokyo was founded on a pun. And immediately it became Tokyo (in character, that is; the name change did not come about, of course, until the 19th century): Ota set to changing water courses, and moving things about – temples especially – east to west. (Though during his time, and even that of the Tokugawa, his west was more to our east. In this regard too, the end really is in the beginning, for it has been a part of this book's contention that the unpaved-over heart of Tokyo – commonly represented by the east,
shitamachi
– thrives today on the west side ((Ota's very far west)), the other side of the Yamanote, similarly downhill and yet still in the plain.)

Further, the facts are almost too good to be true. In a resolution of the Cervantian dilemma, Ota was both a warrior and a poet. The best legend is that of the
yamabuki.
Caught in a rainstorm, Edo's founder approaches a hut and asks the woman there for the loan of a straw raincoat. She returns with a yellow rose (
yamabuki
). Puzzled, he returns to his castle drenched. One of his attendants tells him what any properly bred noble would have immediately recognized: the woman was speaking in the allusive way of the court (and she a peasant too! – what a wonderful
ukiyo-e
the scene would make!); in this case she was referring to a Heian period poem:

Sad indeed am I

That I have not one straw raincoat

Like the seven-petaled, eight-petaled

Blossom of a yellow rose.

The warrior had received his comeuppance, and resolved to master the poetic arts too; which, apparently he did (though I have been unable to find any of his work).

Ota lived in his castle town for twenty-seven years. The end is all too believable. In an intra-familial conflict, he was assassinated at the command of his own master, after having been falsely accused of disloyalty (recall Sen no Rikkyu's fate). That part of his legacy thrives too today in Tokyo, a place he would not, of course, recognize. In fact, it would probably drive him mad.

***

AUGUST

–
A double espresso, a story by Dash – you're the best.

–
Oh my, choo-choo-ch-boogie.

–
Whadda'ya' wanna do today? Revisit the scenes of our youth?

–
These
are the scenes of our youth.

–
Invigorated?

–
Re-re-re- –

–
– turning to the question.

–
Stay in? Flop?

–
Flop?

–
Stay in, do nothing …

–
[Gravely] “We do nothing,” quoth the Professor. [End of gravity.] I don't know. Shop? You said you need a new shirt. No, you always need a new shirt. [Gravely] “How many shirts does one man need?” [End of gravity.] Wear one of your old ones today, eh? That Yohji with the zigzagging stripes, I like that one best, I think.

–
Really? Me too. I oughta confess, I bought two, anticipating the day –

–
– the first would get too old to wear and you'd miss it so, right?

–
Caught.

–
Well, I'm glad of it, it wasn't a reckless moment.

–
Ok, ok, you're fast.

–
Run you around the block?

–
More a trapezoid.

–
Which one's that? What kind of angles and sides?

–
I mean our “block” that isn't one. No, ours is more like a trapezoid.

–
So, “I've been around the trapezoid”? No, that doesn't quite sound it.

–
Back to the question.

–
Ah, the day's itinerary. Well, obviously, we ought to have
zaru-soba
for lunch.

–
Oh, I am crazy about you.

–
And oh but you are crazy.

–
Would you have me any other way? Ordinary?

–
Smith. Early ROT. And so, yes, you are ordinary.

–
Roberta!

–
Oh but you are, Lang. I am too. It's an ordinary world.

–
And Tokio's an ordinary city?

–
You bet. That's why we're here. Crazy-ordinary, ordinary-crazy.

–
Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?

–
You'll take it no other way, Pal, and you'll like it.

–
Ok, ok, you got me.

–
Deed I do.

–
What do we do today? Shall we at least get dressed?

–
Nakedness is dressed.

–
Nakedness is dressing.

–
Nakedness is the full serving.

–
Servicing?

–
It's a term, but not ours. What did Kazuko say? “We're all lucky.” If only Gertrud had thought so.

–
In the end, I think she did.

–
Ya' know, Carole did admit that Irene Bullock is tragic in a way, didn't she? So maybe Carl Theodor is a humorist in some weird – tarpezoidal – way. Maybe.

–
Maybe. Are there any films on?

–
In this burg? Maybe. … No, don't get dressed just yet. It's a beautiful day – let's linger.

–
“Linger.” You've changed. A year or more ago I'd have had to fight to keep you in bed, indoors, doing nothing.

–
People change. You have too. A year or more ago you'd already be out – wandering, doing all that stuff you used to do – you know, drinking with VZ and changing the world, sizing it up to your size, all that be modern or be a wallflower stuff … And me? Yes, I can stay in bed if I want. Home gets closer and closer. Even in Tokyo.

–
Serenity?

–
Oh, I don't know that I'd call it that. But I'd call it something.

–
Call it you.

–
You call it.

–
Roberta.

–
Lang.

–
–

–
–

–
Let's go out?

–
Where? It's a big city.

–
Oh, it's not so big.

[Sounds of kissing, dressing, kissing, door closing, kissing. View of the city.]

***

Weary blues, Kazuko thinks to herself, recalling a song she'd once heard Lang singing to himself. Flophouses, cheap
saké
, weary friendly faces. Why aren't they more hostile, she thought as she gazed at the men and women in Sanya, where she'd come with a friend who wanted to show her a part of Tokyo she'd been missing. They'd made her feel welcome, she did not feel herself the Kyoto lady here, but a part of something more, a part of their scene even here … and the larger scene that was Tokyo and all of her and their lives in it. She was leaving Kyoto – oh not completely, not forever, it was home, but now and forever, Tokyo would be home too.

–
Kazuko?

–
Oh, sorry, I was thinking about some friends. Is it time to go, what time is it?

***

AUGUST

–
Here, look at this.

S

u

n

s

e

t

!

!

e

s

i

r

n

u

S

–
Shouldn't they be side by side? Your phallo-vaginal exclamation?

–
Hmm, maybe you're right. How about this:

sunr

eyes

–
A new kanji maybe.

–
Maybe.

[Much later.]

–
Amazing.

–
What is?

–
Oh, that you're still the same –

–
but different, and –

–
I'm different, but –

–
the same.

–
Talking in circles? No, spirals from now on. Dizzying –

–
– Dazzying. Daffy –

–
– Dames. The he and the she of we.

–
Grand times.

–
Splendors and miseries. But all grand.

[Sound of cicadas, crows.]

–
Tofu seller? Knife sharpener?

–
Before our time, Lang. You've been reading too much, it's gotten to you.

–
You've gotten to me. Never thought I'd like your old city so well. So, is this going to be an American happy ending?

–
Oh, you Euros – just because we like one maybe too often enough doesn't mean we believe in 'em. And besides, you could use one. They don't all have to be so somber. Old, suffering world. It's a young and sweet one, too.

–
You're probably right. – Ok, you are. But do you really think one can walk and talk too much, or that I do?

–
Sometimes – sometimes I think so, that is. That is, if it's at the neglect of … oh, of … of the … oh, you know – everything else, the mix, the hoopla ... the craziness at our doorstep, at our bedstep …

–
At the all of it.

–
At the all of it. Dizzying, spiralling. You know, I never thought I'd come to like your side of the city too – or either. I see your point. … We change sides – same but different. Maybe America's an old world by now too. Maybe. But the new one's here, now, you and me.

–
“You and me” – isn't that a clothing line? Or a café? Or a stationery company?

–
Or a canned drink, or a magazine? – Or a couple even? You know, I've even picked up one of your habits. I've made a checklist of all the temples in the area – and believe me, there are plenty.

–
I've noticed.

–
And anyway, I'm trying to visit them all. Some Zen ones, too. Maybe you'd want to do some sitting with me some time. What do you think?

–
Sure, I think so. But can couples sit together?

–
We wouldn't “sit together.” I'm sure there are no rules against it. No, you just sit. Turn off, everything. The all of it. Or try to. And then the gong clangs. Bang! Back in the world. Old and new, same but for a moment very different. Sitting, that stillness is also dizzying.

–
I'm in.

–
I thought you would be, I'm glad. So, anyway, what do you think? Want to visit a temple with me?

–
Now?

–
Why not?

–
Yes.

[They kiss.]

[They kiss again.]

–
August. August in Japan. What a time.

–
August in – as you say it – Tokio.

–
There oughta be a song.

–
“August in Tokyo” – hmm, the title doesn't really ring. What's it like in Japanese? “
Hachigatsu Tokyo
”? “
Tokyo Hachigatsu
”? Hmm … “August in Japan”