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About Osaka

So, picture this—me, Larry, hirin’ an escort. Strollin’ into some swanky joint, her in a red dress, me in my suspenders. “Sorta like a dream, huh?”—that’s from *Inherent Vice*. But then, bam, she’s quotin’ Shakespeare, and I’m like, “Whoa, didn’t see that comin’!” Happened once, swear—met this gal, escort type, at a party. She knew more about Nixon than me! Freaked me out, happy shock, ya know?

5 Escort recommendations around Ito(Shizuoka)

She seems to prefer younger men for sex, and she didn't enjoy Yabushige forcing her and the whole village to listen to the Dutch sailor being.

First off, I hit up the local market on Matsuzaki Street. You know, the one with all the fresh seafood? I’m talking about fish so fresh, they practically wink at ya. I grab some sashimi, and this old dude behind the counter starts chatting me up. He’s all like, “You gotta try the wasabi!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m not trying to breathe fire today.” But he insists, so I’m like, “Fine, let’s do this.” I take a bite, and WHOA, my sinuses are clear! But then I’m coughing like a maniac. Thanks, old man.

Mark Izu’s reflective journey through music with ‘Songs For J-Town’ April 23