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About Nagoya

“Hit me,” Eli says in the movie, all deadpan. Sexual-massage hits ya alright—straight in the wallet and pride. Costs too damn much, and for what? Sticky hands and regret? I’d rather wrestle a bear. Little story—buddy o’ mine tried it, said it was “spiritual.” Spiritual my ass, he just wanted a cheap thrill. Laughed in his face, still do.

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Then I hit up the streets. Oh man, the streets! I’m walkin’ down Kameyama Street, and it’s packed with these cute little shops. I’m like a kid in a candy store. I see this little ramen joint, and my stomach’s like, “Feed me!” So, I go in, and the smell? Wow. I order some tonkotsu ramen, and it’s like a hug in a bowl. I’m slurpin’ away, and this old dude next to me starts chatting. He’s all about the local history, and I’m just nodding, pretending I know what he’s talking about.

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