Released: 2016/12/26
※This essay was also published in the book compilation of Saito Soma no Kenkou de Bunkateki na Saitei Gendo no Seikatsu.
(On an aimless stroll, sober, jotting down notes on my phone)
The last song is “Majo Tabi ni Deru.” I’ll start with that.
It’s a sleepless night, and I’m heading to a part of the city I don’t usually go to. My companion tonight is Namae wo Tsuketeyaru (Give it a Name), the first Spitz album I ever listened to.
I started listening and was taken aback. Spitz has a song with such a bluesy guitar?! Then I realized it was a song by Oishi Masayoshi-san. Why?
Starting over from the top. The first track is “Usagi no Bike” (Rabbit’s Motorcycle). I’ve never ridden a motorcycle. I don’t ride bicycles anymore either, and I don’t have a driver’s license. Basically, I think of vehicles as something I’m given a ride in, not something I steer myself.
The train sways as it makes its way to Koenji, which is crowded despite the fact that it’s still Thursday. I’m actually not that familiar with this area.
“Give it a name.” Giving something a name is proof of ownership. A gesture that carves out a piece of the world. The Recipe for Gertrude. ART-SCHOOL’s “Yogoreta Chi.” Dividing the sky from the sea by giving them names. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Epistemology and the anthropic principle.
All right, enough poetry. It’s been a long time since I last came to Koenji—so long that I don’t know where to go. Which exit will take me to that second-hand clothing shop I used to go to? I’m not sure, but, well, it’s okay. I’ll just pick a random one. I feel like “well, it’s okay” became my pet phrase at some point. I don’t know if it should be considered optimistic or not. It could be that I’m just dodging the issue by going along with things, but, well, it’s okay.
“As I expected from Koenji, it’s full of people I don’t recognize,” or so I was going to write, but it’s actually not really the case? I feel like these people were here five years ago. I keep saying “I feel like,” huh?
Koenji is a relatively clean and lively place, unlike the image I had of it before moving to Tokyo. Where was that restaurant someone took me to a long time ago? The one that only served gyoza and bottled beer, I think as I walk. I feel like it was probably at the end of this shopping street. They let you bring in your own drinks, and at any rate, I immediately got drunk. Back then, I didn’t really know how to drink (well, I still don’t).
Masamune-san is in my ear, singing “su~zu~mushi no yo~ru~.” What a nice voice. His notes are like lemon water. This must be a type of perfection. His voice captures the essence of youth. Something like that.
I wander around aimlessly. There are actually two more restaurants I know here, but I can’t really go to them. One is a place I used to go to a long time ago that has moved to a different part of town. The owner had said he was going back to his hometown, but I recently noticed that he’d nonchalantly opened shop again. But you know, going there would be a bit embarrassing, right? I have good memories of getting over my distaste for coriander at that restaurant.
The other one is also one I frequented a long time ago, back when I really didn’t have any work. I feel like I got dead drunk and caused trouble, or rather, I definitely did cause trouble, so I can’t go there. So, I’m probably going home today without entering any restaurants. Not even to eat gyoza.
I called this place “clean and lively” earlier, but there are also several darker-looking restaurants; the kind that probably wouldn’t be on Tabelog (restaurant review site). The atmosphere reminds me of a Southeast Asian food stall district or the area under the railway overpass in Shinbashi. I really like it. There’s another restaurant, different from the one I mentioned earlier, where you get free gyoza when you order alcohol. But is that really “free”?
All around me, people are laughing, taking pictures, and drinking. How nice. I wish I could join them. But I can’t drink today. This journey doesn’t have a destination, but it has meaning and caution.
…Wait, but how is that different from just going for a stroll? What’s the difference between a journey and a stroll? Is it the existence of a destination? I guess this night walk might just be a stroll, then. Well, it’s okay either way.
Oh, but look! I found the gyoza restaurant. Well, I say that, but I knew it was here all along, since it’s on the way to a music venue I used to frequent. I remembered the location perfectly. But it’s closed. I definitely didn’t want to come here. If I really did, I could’ve looked that up. But I didn’t want to do that today. I went to the trouble of coming here and have nothing to show for it. Saddened, I trudge home. Some days are just like that. It’s probably fine. I don’t think I need to give a name to such days.
So I said, but on a later day, here I am, astutely popping in to eat gyoza and drink beer. That’s life. Puff puff.
