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About Yokohama

So, I stumble into this grimy port town—thinkin’, “This is my shot, baby!” Bars are loud, lights flicker, and I spot her—red heels, smokey eyes, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. My heart’s racin’, “Is this it? Am I *in*?” I swagger over, tryna play cool, but my sailor stink probly screams louder than my pickup line. “Hey, sugar, wanna make my night less ‘sea’-sick?” She smirks—oh, that smirk!—and I’m hooked. “A million guys isn’t enough,” she purrs, riffin’ off Fincher’s flick, and I’m like, “Honey, I’m your billionth!”

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After that, I finally get to my workshop on Kōen-dōri. I’m ready to craft some barrels, right? But guess what? My tools are missing! Like, who steals a cooper’s tools? I’m fumin’. I mean, c’mon! I need those to make my barrels for the local sake brewers. I’m thinkin’ of all the angry brewers, and it’s not pretty.

Stanley Soja Obituary (2015) - Indian Orchard, MA