In Roppongi, in the late ‘80s, this was the place to go
if you wanted to see what cocaine could do to a 17-year-old Australian girl
who looked like Audrey Hepburn’s sister and partied like Tokyo was just
another delusional step closer to the cover of French Vogue.
Such girls had nothing to do with me.
This was okay because I was twenty-three and, quite honestly,
too young and poor for them.
I actually swallowed live goldfish several times out of a proper Japanese glass ramen bowl
to gain admittance to Cleo Palazzi when what I had in my pockets was basically lint
and a need to wait until deep morning,
using the power of credit carded beer,
so I could catch the first Hibiya Line trains to the Chiyoda Line back to
Yushima on a legally codeine-soaked Sunday morning.
My favorite song during these times was Billy Idol singing
“Dancing With Myself” and
this has never changed.