Head Like a Kite to Tokyo here. We are playing a couple shows for promoter Shoko from Kyodo Tokyo. The shows are in Shinjuku and Shibuya at the O-Nest. I will bust fat trans-oceanic beats. Konnichiwa, biatches. Translation of gangster. Cookie Snake rides again.

Head Like an International Flight. 65 mph headwind. Two kilometers in, band mate leader, Dave Einmo was calling for scotch. The uncrossed Pacific Ocean on the screen in front of his face was not what his fear of flying wanted to see.

Cruising altitude brought thought, and three rights: Savage is right, the bathroom has more room than the sardine section. Megan is right, criss-crossing planes are not what you want to see pre-flight. And Dominic is right, that IS Jimi Hendrix on the Alaskan Airlines planes.

Before we left, I asked Kaz from PWRFL Power for some things to say in Japanese. I wondered if people would be offended if I joked about Sumo wrestling. Kaz said:

Noboday will be offended even if you say something harsh about Sumo. You can say, “Sumo shiyouka.” - Let’s Sumo.

It was 68 degrees when we landed. Clear sky, sunset drive into Tokyo. The scape and shapes of the city unfurled. Unreal to be here. Real time anime. Gargantuan cement Kanji jaws are open.

Place we are staying is called Shibuya. It’s a maze, but quaint. Like a Smurf village with neon. Boomboxes kick from shadows in the corner. Everyone is hip-hop. They have hip-hop shops. I think JZ said you can’t be more hipster than a Japanese hipster. He is right.

Toilets here have many buttons, lights, and settings for heated seats and bidet streams. The future of shitting. Dave sat and needed a little less heat. He pressed the wrong button. Pressure cleaner. Welcome to Japan.

Sumo for all. Sayonara. Smurf off. I Smurf you. Let’s Sumo.