tokyo's underground art lanes with a spray can and a half-empty coffee

i’ve been here long enough to know that tokyo doesn’t do ‘quiet.’ but this backstreet alley between shinjuku station and some dumpster fire of a izakaya? it’s basically sonic youth meets hip-hop, spray paint hissing on rhythm. tonight’s temp? 24.44c. feels like someone’s blowing on your face with a hair dryer. humidity’s at 15%-yes, really. dry enough to crack open your soul if you let it.

this place is a mess, like a kid’s rainbow after a thunderstorm. saw a guy yesterday painting the side of a building with a toothbrush. his name? yamada? something like that. he said the best murals come from ‘hate and hope.’ he’s lying. it’s just cool. especially when you find a cat napping inside the new one he made.

someone told me that if you say hi to the wrong graffiti artist here, they’ll chase you with a pressure washer. not sure if true. maybe.

*local tip*: don’t ask for ‘cheap eats.’ ask for ‘mystery bento.’ got one today that had nori, pickled radish, and a note: ‘for the brave.’ I’m writing this from a 24-hour bookstore that also serves matcha lattes. weird, right?

the other night, overheard two blokes arguing about whether the 1905 earthquake changed the shape of the sumo ring. history nerds, I guess. one dropped his wallet. it had yen and a crisp €50. still there. guess I pocketed it. don’t get used to it.

want to loop around? the map’s below. but honestly, just wander. step on a cracked mirror-pane sidewalk, shout to a guy in a happi coat selling origami packs, and you’ll find your slice of chaos here.