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About Tokyo

So, anyway—me, Gollum, I’m sneaky, seein’ what normies miss. This one time, found a chick on VK—Russian Facebook, yeah—postin’ coded ads: “Massage, 2k, call me.” Massage my arse! Hiss! Rang her up, met in some dingy flat—smelled like borscht and regret. She was quick, tho—no chit-chat, just biz. “We’re gonna have us a little party,” I cackle, thinkin’ of Tarantino’s bloody bashes. Paid her, done, out—felt like a spy, precious! Exaggeratin’? Maybe—but it’s Russia, everythin’s a damn drama.

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Don’t try to avoid it, just see where your travels take you. Yes there are lots of hookers in Thailand. Even if some aren’t prostitutes doesn’t mean they’re not after your money.

First off, I hit up the local café on Kōen-dōri. Best coffee ever! I mean, I’m a psychologist, so caffeine is basically my lifeblood. I ordered my usual—black coffee, no sugar. But the barista, this super chill dude, was like, “Nah, try this matcha latte.” I was like, “Dude, I’m not a hipster!” But I tried it anyway. OMG, it was like a green hug in a cup. I was happy, like, “Okay, Tainai, you win this round.”

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