Since '76 (Oct. 6th 2010)

I looked out from the 52nd floor of Shinjuku's Park Hyatt hotel; from here I could see the emerald of my beloved Yoyogi park set in the concrete chaos of Tokyo that had been poured as far as the horizon & beyond. The sun was shining & the sky a perfect blue, accented with the faint, wispy clouds that spoke of autumn. It was a good day.
I was alone, the only guest at a party that would mean the most only to those that were invited- my birthday.
I treated myself to a lunch I couldn't afford whilst, in honour of the location, I sipped on Sophia's family wine paying more per glass than I would normally pay for a bottle. It was worth it.
 I'd made as much of an effort as I could to look respectable but looking around the few fellow diners who'd made it this far at lunch I had to wonder what they thought my gambit was- Some sort of musician, eccentric writer or just someone who had saved up enough money to treat himself to an upmarket meal. The roles of my fellow diners seemed to be played by a couple on a high-end luncheon date-I hope he or she was worth it; some ladies-who-lunch while their husbands work themselves to death floors below & a group of French businessmen slicing up steaks & signing contracts over coffee.
There are times, rare though they might be, when loneliness is the best company. At least I didn't have to worry about conversation.
The morning had been counted out in chord formations & cups of tea. Before leaving I dragged my tripod & old Nikon camera out into the hallway & documented this my 34th year.

Later, with red stained lips & a wine stained brain I would wander aimlessly toward the park I'd seen from one high & practice my harmonica until it was time to meet Dave. We would eat at a street level eatery with street level prices, spilling out onto the street on makeshift chairs & sip highballs. We would be in the company of his lovely wife & her equally lovely friend who I met for the first & only time exactly a year ago. A day of synchronicity & diversity which is exactly what you expect from this city.
It was a good day indeed.

15th Sept. 2010

It's cooler & I'm wearing my first jacket of the season. I like wearing jackets.
I'm listening to "Daughters of the Soho Riots" by The National & I'm on my way to my appointment.
A cute woman on the train keeps swapping glances with me that I return over the top of my book. Is she interested in me? Could she be?
I'll never know.

I arrive- one stop away from Sakura Shinmachi & a girl I used to know. I'm early.
I seem to have spent a lot of time hanging out outside convenience stores in this part of town.

"What would you do if you weren't afraid?"

A good question. It was posed to me outside a convenience store  in Shinagwa late one summers afternoon a couple of years ago. I cracked open my beer and looked around at the gold & silver light of the fading day, the long shadows it cast & the way it brought out the neon in Tokyo's eye.
"I tell you what I'd do" said my friend, in answer to his own question, "I'd go swimming. I've never been a strong swimmer & I'm scared of being in the water. I'd go swimming & learn how to swim."

I nodded, acknowledging a worthy admission, but my gaze was somewhere between the business men leaving work & the Taj Mahal. I was wondering what one thing I would do if I weren't afraid. There seemed to be too many things.
"I don't know" I replied, weakly.
"I do" said my companion. For all his faults & inconsistencies he was a kindred spirit & knew me as only perhaps a handful of people do. It's why we were friends.
"You'd ask people on the street if you could take their photo" & I knew he was right. It was absolutely true & so obvious I couldn't even see it myself.

As the light slipped through hues of pink into blue & then the inevitable velveteen indigo of another Tokyo night, we made a pact. There in the spill of acid-washed, convenience store light we made a pact that was signed with a handshake & the kind of determination that all young men should experience as often as possible. We sealed it with another celebratory beer.
We would overcome our fears.

The night rolled on & our talk turned to other things but the pact was not forgotten. My friend went swimming. He went swimming a lot.
& a week or so later I was sharing a cigarette with my friend & going over the details outside the train station in Harajuku; it seemed a good place to start as it might be a little bit more accepting toward my nervous advances. I had a time limit of 3 hours in which time I had to successfully capture 36 portraits of random people on the street. They could be anybody but they had to approached & accepting of my request.
With a plan to meet 3 hours later in the pub my friend set off in one direction & I the other.
I slipped into the labyrinth of backstreets that run through Harajuku & the back of Omotesando, my camera clutched determinedly in one sweaty hand, looking for someone who looked like the kind of person who might just agree to have their photo taken for no real reason by a foreigner who could barely speak their language.
I didn't really know what that sort of person would look like.
So I walked around a little more. Then I stopped outside a convenience store & had a cigarette. Then I did some maths & worked out how many minutes I'd have between photos if I were to succeed. Then I waited for someone to approach me & ask me if I could take their photo. But that didn't work so I had another cigarette. Then I checked my watch & knew, with the kind of determination that young men should experience as often as possible, that it was now or never.
I walked straight up to the nearest person, kept walking, went into another back street & cursed myself. Then, in a last ditch attempt to make that leap over the infinite inch & into the beyond I walked up to this young man who was sitting nearby. He was surly but accepting.

Click.
It was done. I'd done it.
I thanked him quickly & bolted away, my heart racing awash with exhilaration & the last giddy remnants of fear. This. Was. Great.

I needed more. No longer for the sake of the project but for the rush, the knowledge that I could do it.
I took more & with each one it became easier. I went out on shaky limbs of language & tried to engage people in a bit more conversation. The refusals came & they hurt. I remember that but I don't remember who. Whatever blows it dealt my confidence were soon forgotten.

When the 3 hours were up I had failed to get all 36. I'd reached 26. Some way out but still, I'd done what I'd set out to do.
I even went back a few days later so I could finish the roll. They were some of the best photos I've ever taken.

Strange thing is I always meant to do more but over time the idea slipped away & when it came back I found that the confidence I'd gained that day was gone. But after writing this tonight, on a day when I could be writing something else, I remember how it felt that day & maybe that memory is all I need to get out there with my camera once again...