Shinjuku - Fantasy vs. The Rest

Shinjuku, although largley the same as most of the other towns, was probably my favorite spot. The top picture of the last post was the view coming out of the station: people handing out flyers, 100'x100' music videos, hundreds of ads, all of them voyeurizing us voyeurs.

The main reason I've come here is to find The Park Hyatt, which is where Lost in Translation was shot; one of my favorites for quite some time now. So, after asking directions from no less then 6 people along the way, and walking for over an hour and a half, I finally find the enormously intimidating hotel/exhibition center. It was a laborious effort because, well, all the buildings were enormously intimidating. Sqaure miles upon square miles of concrete, steele, and granite. But, I found refuge in that beautiful video of nature above, and the fact that I was about to walk into a building I have seen about 35 times on my TV.

I pass the extensive fountain infront of the main doors, and step inside. I'm wearing visibly dirty shorts that haven't been washed in 5 days, a black t-shirt, and brown shoes that were once white. The lobby is gigantic and spacious, but certainly not inviting. The granite floors and walls, the different elevators assigned to sections of floors outlined in neon lights according to their numbers, large windows filled black, reflecting everything inside back in on itself. It's simple and box-ish, making anyone inside feel insignificant and tiny, and not in the comforting way that shrines do. I, quite shocked as this looks nothing like I excpected, stop for a moment and survey the situation. My conclusion: get the fuck out of here. Already having walked this far, I do walk to the other end of the lobby where I find this.


Yes, where Bill Murray pulls up for the first time in the film. After this photo I swiftly walk away, never to return. Lost in Translation could be semi-ruined for me at this point.

And then I ask myself: What the fuck is wrong with you, Evan? I'm always doing this, getting obsessed with books or movies and trying to discover them in reality, where it most definitely doesn't exist. But, it's a way of me ridding my obsessions I guess. I did the same thing with Twin Peaks. After watching the show twice through in a month and seeing Fire Walk With Me more than I couple of times, I drive up to North Bend, WA to check out the diner and some of the other areas they shot. The diner had been remodeled and was now covered in American Flags, Tweety stuffed animals, and some unpleasant individuals. At one point, a man leaned over to me and, after I told him that I'd come here because I loved Twin Peaks he looks over at the highschool waitress, and slowly turns his head back to me eyes wide, and, behind his thick beard, a grin. "I'd like cop a feel of those twin peaks."

At any rate, I did the exact same thing when I went up to Ueno with Justin to check out the area. This was a wonderful area filled with museums, vendors, and the biggest park in Tokyo: Ueno Park. This was the significant attraction for me because I had just finished The Japan Journals, by Donald Richie. He lives there and writes about the area in detail and so I know a little bit about where to go and what to see. But, deep down, actually, quite close to the surface, I know that the main reason I've come here is to see if I can meet Richie in person.

Me an Justin enter the park. "Keep an eye out for Richie" I whisper. He replies with a smile that might be translated as "What are you, 5?" But, I keep my eyes peeled and no sooner then 30 seconds later I see Donald Richie, one of the greatest Western thinkers on Japan, sitting on a bench talking to a young adult.

Then I think, "Holy shit." Richie's sexual prefrence was always for younger men. What if....

But, not wanting to disturb him and feeling a bit intimidated, I don't approach him. I do take a picture of him from a distance.

And then as I write this I look down at the shirt I'm wearing right now, bought in Japan, which says "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT'S GOING ON RIGHT NOW" Just like that.

And then I think,

"Holy shit."

I was stalking him.

I look at myself and reevaluate my existence for a moment. I justify it with my having a semi-obsessive and gluttonous personality. But that's not enough.

I stop writing this entry.