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About Kyoto

So, I’m strollin downtown, hungry – not for liver, ha! – lookin for a hooker. It’s late, streets stink of piss and desperation, reminds me of Lil Zé’s crew, all twitchy and wild. I spot her, leanin on a wall, smokin a cig like she owns the night. “What’s good, darlin?” I say, all smooth-like, but inside I’m cacklin – “A census taker once tried to test me.” She smirks, sizes me up, says, “50 bucks, big boy.” Fifty fuckin bucks! Made me mad, mate, inflation’s a bitch, but I’m like, fine, whatever, let’s roll.

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Anyway, I shake it off and head to the Misasa Onsen. The steam rising from the water is like a scene from a movie. I’m feelin’ all zen, ya know? But then, I see this group of tourists. They’re all confused, lookin’ at the signs. I’m like, “C’mon, it’s not rocket science!” But I help ‘em out. Turns out, they’re from the States. They’re super stoked about the onsen. I mean, who wouldn’t be?

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