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Takeshi+Kojima

Bound for a year long travel trip to Montreal come next week, Kojima+Takeshi had only moved out a couple of days ago, but the absence of my 2 extremely likeable japanese friends are immediately palpable; gone are the familiar Bossanova tracks playing off Takeshi’s amps in the evenings; ( remembering vividly his incredulous disbelief when I first admitted I had never come across the term Bossanova music ), Kojima’s plants lined outside the house, including a durian seedling I swore would never grow due to Japan’s cold weather but did, now all gone, a barren slab of concrete floor; amongst other memorable incidents we shared.

Both accomplished photographers themselves, Takeshi+kojima also travelled widely and shared a true sense of spirit that embodied the love for new experiences rather than material pursuits; indeed, they had very little posessions beyond what was necessary for a decent and comfortable living. They were also great cooks; most of my culinary procurement since I came to Japan ( of which I had zilch before ) I had stole from them in between their dinner preparations. It takes little to surmise I’ll be missing their company significantly, and see you guys next year, Takeshi+Kojima. ( and hello to my new roommate, Hirobe-san. :] )

Denizens of Domiru Meguro : ( L to R ) Takeshi, Shige, Bernie, Kojima. Yappari minna mechamecha yopparakunatta.

A flower shop in Daikayama, close to Shibuya about 10 minutes cycle from home. Fans of Luc Besson’s Leon have got to be smitten with this shop, watashi hajimete mita toki mo bikkuri. :]

Although I would had very much preferred a sloshed out, frenetic PVD treatment to celebrate the new year things turned out fairly different as we ended up in Meiji Jingu ( a famous Shrine in Harajuku where the Emperor chills out ) for a more traditional proceeding. Packed to the brim on New Year’s Eve every year everyone thronged to toss coins before the altar wishing for happiness and long life.

SNOW@DOMIRU-MEGURO.

Tokyo Tower, in all its night glory. Merry Christmas folks. :]

To celebrate Takeshi’s last day of work ( Takeshi+Kojima are bound for Montreal come late January. *sniff* ) and my film school admission, we had a nice dinner at a restaurant in Nakameguro, where as we were making our way there I was told a scene in Lost In Translation was shot just a street away, outside a Pachinko Parlour. Hmm. Back home we were then treated to Kojima’s exquisite Mandarin cheesecake, honto ni umagatta. With some free time on my hands finally, a few events are in order, not least some decent photo trips, Takeshi dittos that.

Not unlike the Pasar Malam we have at home, Tokyo’s Meguro version of the bazzar ( called Matsuri, ie festival ) substitutes your local Kueh TuTu’s and glassjelly assorted drinks with Takoyaki and Yakiniku stalls. Though missing the accompanying fairground that usually pairs with the Pasar Malam, the Masturi offers Kingyosukui – the goldfish scoop. The workings are austere; you pay 300 yen in exchange for a paper scoop – and you’re free to scoop as many goldfishes as you like off a shallow tray – if you are good enough.

Takeshi and I had a field time watching this small little girl dressed in Yutaka attempting a bountiful catch, where she had 3 sizable goldfishes up against her scoop, her eyes lighting up momentarily till the combined weight tore through the thin paper. Kojima-chan laughs and adds the ambitious girl’s going make it big when she grows up.

Sometimes there are moments in the course of one’s languid mundane life when a piece of music playing off the radio or amps immortalizes a particular, brief span of one’s life past, dizzying memories spinning back into your psyche, the zeitgeist rekindled. For filmmakers, animators and individuals working with moving visuals, the experience comes in the form of an unborn but lucid mise-en-scene, as yet defined but flushed with creative possibilites, its mood utterly defined by the music coursing through one’s consciousness. Track number 3 on the Nouvelle Vague CD is the latest additional to this family.

Now whatever filmwork that may be spurred on by this music is too early to say, but its definitely caught the attention. And if not, well, its still some great Bossanova music.

I’m starting to get quite numb to the mini quakes that come and go every few other week, nasty little critters that start by rocking the foundations and then everything else begins shaking in tandem motion, pretty much like a wasted you on a swell PVD night at the disco, only more real. These days I keep telling myself if its not capable of dethroning my stopclock off the top of my monitor there’s no immediate need to evacuate. Takeshi+Kojima ups the ante by saying if it doesn’t wake them up ( the last one, most powerful to date, came on a morning about 3, with only me still awake but they were obviously unperturbed, ), its trivial. For someone who usually doesn’t rouse from my sleep unless I’m stabbed in the heart, that’s so very comforting.

Anyway, a planned trip to the sea today with Takeshi+Kojima was thwarted by an impending typhoon, Takeshi conjuring up vivid and graphic descriptions of my gaunt and frail figure getting carried away by the gales and my molecular structure getting re-arranged in the process. Maybe next time. We ended up hanging around Ebisu, Shibuya and Ueno. Click here for Takeshi+Kojima’s post.

A night’s out cycling trip with Takeshi+Kojima had me realize that Tokyo Towers ( made notably famous by the serial OverTime ) was but a mere 30 minutes cycle away, which makes it nearer than Shinjuku from our place. Anyway we were enroute to a bookstore in Roppongi Hills, your posh, up culture living district of Tokyo where seemingly everything is wafted with a palpable feel of swank. Washed in inadequency I sank into the comfort of books, the joint a classy 24 hr Basheer+borders, only cooler, but the price of this boon is levied in the cost of the books. Next we walked over to Roppongi Hills Mori Towers, where the Japan Premiere of The Last Samurai was held. Here a 5 star-ish cinema stands and heck, if I am to pay 25 dollars for a movie, let it be here, not so much for its posh deco and feel but because I at least get to choose where I sit.

Oh and, Steam boy is showing right here.

Getting blasted by sucessive waves of Hanabi “sonic booms” certainly doesn’t sound like music to my ears, but just inevitable runoff from a solid, nonstop display of dizzying fireworks that lasted for an astounding 45 minutes. If there’s any place to watch a decent Hanabi, Yamashita Park in Yokohama must rank amongst the tops – solitary, rocketing shards of flame that climbs rapidly, disappearing momentarily before inundating the entire sky with not one, but 3 staccato bursts of spiralling, blue light; slow travelling, red sparks that spawns a thousand, luminous offsprings; plain wierd fireworks that deposits lanterns like emanations; and not forgetting my personal favourite, the “Contact” effect, wave after wave of blinding, exploding incadescence that lights up the entire sky for a brief but estactic moment, thunderous cheers rousing from beneath.

When the spectacle was finally over, my ears were throbbing, neck stiff from the prolonged skyward angle, and my back aching after standing for too long, but heck, it was worth it. One down, its Hanabi season in Japan.