by Arturo Silva
–But to yours, Cafferty? – who knew it when!
–I really must at least introduce her to it; she’d love the Meiji house, you know that saké restaurant where you get your own room.
–Doesn’t that Hakushu architect have his office in a Meiji building around here, too?
–Oh, right, we have to visit him some day.
–But look – what’s this?
–“Zonar” – a coffeeshop?
–“Zonar”?
–Sounds like a manga.
–How would it go? … “When the planet Zonar was threatened by aliens from the planet Nozar ...”
–Oh no – I’m sure Roberta would insist Zonar is a woman!
–“When Zonar’s lover Nozar revealed himself to be the interplanetary master criminal Rozan …”
***
Ah, this city, Hiro “thinks,” a bit bigger maybe, but no different from home, or even Takasaki, same shops, bars, girls. More or less. But I gotta make it here. No more years in the provinces. Those flat-feeted women. No, here. And I will if it kills me. Ha!, the old samurai spirit.
***
It was only nine o’clock and already Van Zandt was feeling the alcohol. The Chinese had iron rice bowls, and the Japanese iron stomachs. Though a strong drinker, his stomach had still not gotten the trick of mixing large quantities of whiskey, beer, saké, perhaps wine, and worse shochu. It’s that shochu that does it all the time, tips the tipsy scale, he thought coherently for the last time that night, as he grabbed an Ebisu beer. Fortunately, given his good physical condition, VZ would remain in a slightly-over-tipsy state most of the evening through, and still not return home till after two. The next morning he would recall that everyone had been so nice, it had been such a decent party, the conversation so level. What’s wrong with that?, he wondered to himself. Didn’t he deserve a nice time once in a while? After all, he could be well-behaved and polite when called upon to be so. His reputation for rowdiness was certainly ill-deserved, he defended himself to no one in particular. Yes, people were pleasant, some girls were really nice, what’s wrong with making light conversation? (Roberta’s party had started that way, he recalled; he remembered a good conversation with Kazuo about Shinohara’s Ukiyo-e Museum in Nagano, and the early houses.) Yes, Maybe he ought to try it a bit more, mingle in a politer society. He knew people, he could make his way. Wasn’t there an art to keeping conversation at a certain level, not low certainly, but not too rarefied either – light, tripping (was that British English?) – smooth ... small, white breasts, a young girl surprised at her behavior. Yes, there was another angle to discover.
***
Ivy covers the tall smokestack. (Inokashira line)
The way you watch a newscast in English as if it were a messenger from the real world the forgotten tongue and you question again if you are kidding yourself your existence here.
***
Cafferty told me once in conversation that when he first set foot down here he’d felt his testicles fall to the earth, had felt himself for the first time a part of the real living world, had felt free to find out who he was or might be, felt that “he” was a no man who might be any man or any other being or thing, and wasn’t that enough or more than might be expected to have or to feel at least one’s testicles feel that – the testicles, the earth, you know. I thought of this tonight as I thought at home alone of how long I’ve been here and would, yes, call it “home,” but wondered how that had ever come about.
***
Lang didn’t know if he was gaining or losing.
Roberta? The city?
This strange language.
She didn’t want an orgasm, said it’d make her fall in love with him.
***
Hmm. Yes, to love. To love the city. All the varieties of something so singularly unvaried. A mother for her child. A man for his money. A musician for his art. Me for ... well. And he for the city. What does it mean “to love a city”? Many people “love” their city for its history or its beauty or its convenience or any number of other reasons. But basically, I would say that they appreciate the place they live in. How does he “love” Tokyo? I can say for myself that I do not mind the place, and sometimes I really do enjoy being here, and at others I can find it exciting; but I must also admit that I always look forward to those times I can go back for a visit to Kyoto. Only twice last year, and one of those for the funeral. But even our funerals are different. It’s nice if he is happy loving the city, but I have to wonder if that love is the reason he is not married? We must be careful with our love, knowing where and when to give it, and not allowing it to go astray. Thus the gracious Kazuko.
***
The girl who’s in the “radical manga” group – she was born in 1963, the city was beginning to boom, and her friends called her “transistor glamour” because she was light, quick and had a brilliant future. It’s true, I’ve seen the photos, Marianne recalls.
***
–No, no, Kazuko, this is mine – and so are those to follow.
–Lang ...
–No argument. The evening is ours, the cost is mine. Your coat.
–Thank you, Lang.
–And how is Kazuo these days?
–Well, besides working ...
–He’s got a nice job, hasn’t he? With a publisher, is it?
–Yes.
–A publisher of what?
–Oh, one of those big publishing companies – factories, I should say. They do everything from Western classics, to Japanese classics, from weekly magazines to comics, and even from bestselling blockbusters from anywhere to pornography.
–So I’ve heard. Sounds exciting, fun.
–Well, he is intelligent enough to have covered most of the field in just the few years he’s been there. Now he’s an assistant manager in one division, but he may be transferred once again soon.
–Porno?
–Sorry, Lang, no.
–Oh, too bad, I thought I might have gotten some introductions.
–Well, I’m sure he could do that for you if you’re really interested.
–Kazuko, I’m interested in everything. Have to be.
–Well, I can ask
–No, no need to push now. I like the man, but hardly know him well enough to ask for a porno introduction. But that aside, I really would like to get to know him better. He seems a very intelligent man, and he knows his Tokyo.
–Well, I’m sure he knows it better than you or I.
–Better than me?
–Uhn, sorry.
–No, I’m sorry. I just take a certain pride in how well I do know the city ... but not being a Tokioite, I suppose I have to give pride of place to Kazuo. For now, that is.
–Yes, perhaps. Anyway, as I was saying, yes, Kazuo is often busy with work, but he does not allow that to interfere with, or should I say, take over his life.
–And that’s why you like him, eh?
–Well, yes ... that and other things.
–Such as?
–Lang! ... I suppose I’m still not used to such direct questions. Well, Kazuo is very intelligent, as you mention, and sensitive – he’s been abroad you know, and though he’s not from Kyoto – oops, there I go, I didn’t mean that
–Yes you did.
–Well, perhaps, yes, and no, I really didn’t – I think. ... Anyway, may I go on?
–By all means. You were saying that even though your boyfriend is not an aristocrat ...
–Lang!
–Sorry, Kazuko. Just teasing.
–Alright. Kazuo is, well, he’s alive: he listens to people, he listens to himself.
–He likes listening to Jazz.
–Yes; and he listens to me. And to you, I might add.
–He listens to me?
–Yes, certainly.
–And what does he hear, might I ask?
–And might I answer?
–Go for it, as Van Zandt would say.
–Van Zandt! Alright. He’s talked to me ab
out you. He says that you are in pain, that you are confused, that you have a conflict regarding ...
–Does he listen to me or talk about me? What’s this about a conflict? And pain – what pain? Or which?
–Yes, between you and Tokyo and Roberta.
–I like the man even more. Not too bad an analysis. What does he charge an hour?
–Lang.
–I’m sorry. But I can be stubborn, you know.
–Oh, I know, I’ve seen.
–So, Kazuo’s analysis?
–Well, he sees you here, your great enthusiasm for the city. He wonders why you ever came here, especially when you hadn’t wanted to at first. He understands that you came here for Roberta’s sake, or rather for the sake of your relationship.
–Oh?
–But it couldn’t have been for her sake really, because she’s been doing fine here. And, if I may ...
–Please.
–Well, he feels that your being here has only upset Roberta.
–The man is astute. And what do you see and say, Kazuko?
–Well ...
–Yes?
–Well, I see things pretty much the same as Kazuo.
–I see.
–But are we wrong? Oh, forgive me for saying all this.
–It’s perfectly alright, really ... no, you’re neither entirely wrong.
–?
–It’s alright. And it’s good to speak with you. Believe me, I do appreciate your honesty.
–And concern. Lang – our real concern.
–And concern, Kazuko. Thank you; you are sweet; the both of you. As I said, I like Kazuo, and I like you, and I like the two of you, and I might add, I like Roberta and me – however it turns out.
–Yes?
–Well, Kazuo’s not too off the mark. Yes these are tough times, indeed. It’s true. I never wanted to come here; I had a passing, a professional interest in Japan, but winters get pretty gray in Vienna, as I’m sure you’ve heard, and the few letters from Roberta only added to things being that much more up in the air, too far for my comfort and I couldn’t abide that couldn’t abide being vague, gray, afloat. And so, to find out, to settle it all one way or the other – I came. I came to Tokio. I can’t deny I came here for her, to get her out of here and back with me in Europe. But I can’t deny Cafferty’s thesis either –
–That, uhm, the …
–Yes, that the, uhn, anyway, she’d settled here – good for her – I wasn’t resident. But now it’s all changed, the conflict Kazuo speaks of: the woman or the city? I am settling in in my own way, and I want the complete elaboration, to take the city in and the city to take me in, splendor and darkness, eye and anus, I am drunk on the city in a way I have never felt, or rather, only felt once and that was when I first met Roberta, and I know that she does not feel the same way about Tokio as I do – so be it – but for now I have to recover the city and so discover myself, and then perhaps rediscover Roberta, Roberta and I, and too –
–Lang. Stop You’re not talking like a human being. Are you really saying that a mere city is more important to you than your love for Roberta and hers for you?
–Oh, Kazuko, maybe I am. And maybe you’re right, maybe it’s not human. How can I know? I’m so wrapped up in this – so … human – place.
–Lang, if you really loved Roberta, your arms would be around her right now.
–But I do love her. I don’t deny that I have gotten a bit lost in all this. I came to take her away, and now I can’t myself.
–Lang?
–Yes?
–Can’t you reconcile this somehow?
–Oh, believe me, Kazuko, I wish I could; I am aware of the dilemma – no, it’s more than that. Believe me, I want Roberta; I also happen to want much else – or rather, only Tokio.
–And where does that leave her?
–Well, first it leaves her here in Tokio. And that’s a place that I wouldn’t mind being in. But too, our Tokios are so very different.
–A place you “wouldn’t mind being in.” In other words, living with her?
–Well, that wasn’t what I meant; but yes, yes. I was referring to the contentment she’s found; and it so small.
–We Japanese don’t seem to mind.
–Yes. In any event, the point is that I have to find a reconciliation of my current obsession with the city, and my – believe me, Kazuko – my real love for Roberta.
–Yes. To any normal person it would all be very simple.
–Yes. But why this interest, Kazuko, why the petty problems of a European and an American in Japan?
–Lang, you really do surprise me.
–Eh?
–Lang, Kazuo and I have known Roberta some time now, and you some few months less.
–Yes, true.
–Oh, you’re exasperating! What would Marianne say? “Don’t you get it, man?” Lang, we like you both, we like you, we like Roberta, we, you, both. We see a lot of confusion, and we’d like to help in whatever way we can. Is that so extraordinary?
–Like friends, eh?
–Lang!
–Ok, I’m sorry. I appreciate it, I do, really. But what is to be done, what can be done?
–Well, I’m not sure, really, but let’s all calm down. Let’s take a walk, talk a bit.
–Sounds –
–Sounds good, basic, Lang. There is her Tokyo to discover, to take part in. Perhaps for her too there is yours. As long as – what do you say? – as long as you don’t “hit her over the head with it.” What a terrible phrase.
–Let me remind you that your own language has some pretty ugly phrases too.
–Please, don’t. Anyway, there is also my Tokyo, and there’s Kazuo’s; all those restaurants! You should know more than anyone – there being so many Tokyos. Tokyo’s to share.
–Very true. But it begins to sound too much like a plan, a strategy to win her back. Not that she’s left; maybe I have. And then I wonder, would she go for it?
–No, Lang, that’s not it at all. I am not proposing any kind of plan to keep you two together – that will sort itself out in its own way. All I am proposing is, well, a means, a means for us all to be friends, friends in the city, as you, no doubt, would see it.
–No doubt at all. I thank you, Kazuko. It sounds wonderful.
–No thanks required, Lang. Oh, haven’t you ever felt that in a friendship? Two people like one another, and one of them has to make the first move, has to say something, something personal or private, make some opening, some invitation or overture, whether mutual or no, but to open something, some path – to the open?
–Yes, yes, of course you’re right, Kazuko.
–Even a self-opening?
–Yes?
–To say that I find you a strange man, Lang – and that I like you.
–Thank you, Kazuko. I like you, too, I always have; I’ve long wondered who the hell you are. No more mysteries. Or maybe more indeed! ... No, no, let me get this. I am indebted. And tell Kazuo – no, let me tell him –
–Tell him what?
–Why, how lucky he is!
–Oh, Lang, we’re all lucky!
***
Rich and strange it is, Roberta reflects, I hardly ever reflect on the city – thought about it occasionally – the first few weeks – but had already naturally fallen into step – so there goes Lang’s testicle theory – why must he beat the city so to death and call it love? – is that what he does, to resurrect, what, himself, me, the city? – to make it his own – Lang the conqueroo. Oh, but I should’ve been named Miranda – yes, that’d’ve been nice too. Oh, Miranda! You are here beside me, aren’t you?
***
–“Ginbura” – wandering, wending, fucking in Ginza. Do the hicks get it, or the sopshisticato cockatoos?
–Who knows, Cafferty?
– They discovered a piece of the old “red bricktown” recently. Don’t tell a soul about it! The city fathers – or whatever relation they are, more like very hungry ghosts
– will manage to get rid of even more history if however some of the charms remain.
–I’m sure.
–Twilight: mothers and daughters going home after the theater, cake – or kay-kee – a bit of shopping. Office and department store workers leaving too. Thankfully, Ginza just doesn’t have that youth appeal. And then twilight, it begins – you smell it first, the women in kimonos or equally exquisite dresses, silk, brocade, crêpe de Chine; they emerge from the subway stations like Kyoka demonesses, perfumed, the hair done just so – that lovely swirl, can’t recall the name of it. Shimada?
–Could be.
–First they go for a short visit to their favorite cakeshops – a bit of gossip, final touches to their makeup – and then to work! How many hundreds of bars are there here really? Does anyone have any near accurate idea?
–Not I.
–And then, suddenly – they’re gone, they disappear! That cool Ginza quiet: the hum of the icemen, the so few ricksha now with their so few geisha – you only see one every few months these days, probably more back in Kagurazaka – the Mama-sans seeing clients off, a few couples at the few good restaurants – the triple pasta behind the police-box, the sushi restaurant that caters to the family restaurant, and ... and then it’s midnight ...: all the girls out now, cheeks rosey, the hair a bit loose, the makeup worn, the step unsteady. The streets filled with limousines for the big executives who’ve been coddled in ways no self-respecting wife would do, and most of them only coddled, a quick feel at the most unless the man’s ready to make a life investment. The girls wave them away, they stagger, and they weave their ways into the night.
***
You tear-stained, teenaged Tokio, I know you better than you think I do, Arlene declares. Oh yes I do.
***
ANTOKU AND ROKUDAI
We die early and late
ashore a-cradle
cast before the lie
our voices abate
in cradles we lie
with out shores of hate
our voices await
the cradle of fate
***
Tokyo is like flypaper; the more you struggle to get out, the more stuck you are.
– Anon.
The press reports that the Princess will be taught how to shop.
***
