Transmission from Narita
So I am sitting in my small but clean Excel Hotel Tokyu room at 3:43 am. I am in a need of a shave, and the sleeping pills have worn themselves off.
I brought a Mini Bullmark Mecha Godzilla vinyl with me so, I can document his Tour of Duty in Nam‘. Picture the Travlocity knome as an archetypal mechanical kaiju and you get the gist.
Awaiting the hours until I wake up in Saigon and live out a very specific film geek dream to mark off the checklist. The unshavenness and underwear will be my only prop… well maybe a bottle of Jack would help as well as a photo of an ex spouse. But the room better have a ceiling fan or heads will roll.
Until then, check out the new cell I picked up. Gaiking looks overtly tired but ready to throw down all the same. Like Mifune’s demeanor after a duel. Sort of like how I am feeling tonight after the longest string of airline mishaps I have encountered in quite some time.
Only the Chu Hi and the Joy Division playing out of my laptop speakers is saving the last shreds of my dwindling humor.
Where is my mask open or electron chain when I need one?
