Blossom Dearie’s Muse

There is this hipster on the train, all baggy jeans, Kangol cap, shades, dark jacket. Despite the crowded car, he’s blowing big bubbles with his gum, which expand perilously close to the pomaded hair of the salaryman to his right.  He flicks his phone open with a backhanded flick of the wrist—Nope, no messages, too cool for that—and flicks it closed again. He steps off the train, this picture of loose-limbed lanky coolness, a picture cheapened somewhat by the dainty little tartan backpack cinched tightly to his shoulders.

That cat’s name is Maceo

On the train this week was a mentally disabled guy who looked just like Kodo’s Oda Yosuke. He was sitting there in the priority seats, tapping his feet and singing quite exuberantly, with huge expressive eyes. His voice had all the gravel and shriek of James Brown. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I toggled over to some instrumental tunes by the JBs, took one bud out of my ear and had my own private Funk Party. All the way to Kyoto, there was Oda Yosuke, boogying along with Fred and the gang, right there on the Kintetsu line.

Thinking of Woody

All the trains on my local line have a neon scroll telling you the final destination. It starts with the words, “This Train is Bound for…,” and the voice in my head always says, “Glory” before the next word appears.

How do you define “Postmodern?”

riding the Bullet Train
wearing Hippie clothes
reading about Coltrane
and listening to Joy Division

Going Home

The ancient ticket taker at Narai station, the way his hands seem to operate apart from him, going through motions honed by time and muscle memory. How unlike the hands of the young guy in Tokyo Station later, which move like a spider on a hot skillet…

…the woman sitting next to me on the Shinkansen, incidentally tapping her foot in rhythm to the Furry Lewis song on my iPod…

…the guy next to me on the Kyoto subway, tracing a universe with his hands. He’s either practicing sign language, or he’s a ninja, working through the “Kuji-in” in an attempt to become invisible, public invisibility being a common goal for the Japanese commuter.