The Gaijin

Had a very interesting conversation with a Dutch photographer at a GQ shoot a couple of days back. I was speaking of my fascination with the role of Gaijin (foreigner) within Japanese culture, how he is simultaneously exalted and despised (this is where I would talk about the role of post-war restructuring if I wanted to be boring) but always a… curiosity. Then yesterday, sitting in MosBurger, watching the people pass on the street as I sipped coffee and listened to the store-soundtracked Miles Davis medley, I began to reflect on how complicated my own feelings toward living here were. Sometimes I feel like Jef Costello; Cool, separated from those around but ultimately an entity unto myself. Other times, however, I feel like a blind hand searching for an arm-hole in a too-small jacket: awkward, desperate and publicly impotent. It’s been on the down for a bit, so here’s to hoping things pick up

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