Tokyo: Neon & Six Dimension

Today, my plan was to visit Rokujigen, a jazz cafe well-known for its curation of Haruki Murakami’s books. I left the hotel in the late afternoon and took a JR Chuo-Sobu Line to reach Ogikubo Station in Suginami City. I passed over 15 stations before finally arriving and then took a walk on a small road beside the station filled with amusement shops and restaurants. The cafe’s location was slightly hidden, above stores named Sun Marine and Ran Ran Flower Shop. As I ascended to the cafe through the stairs from the side of the shop, the atmosphere started shifting into an old vibe. The entry was a wooden door with a frosted window which showed vaguely the inside. The creaking sound that emerged from the door gave an impression of a haunted house. The shop owner Kunio-san introduced himself and welcomed me from a small bar. I ordered a cup of coffee while looking around. This bar immediately reminded me of Nezumi and his childhood friend from Hear The Wind Sing by Murakami — the scene of a summer night they spent in Jay’s Bar sitting side by side on the counter while listening to Nezumi’s grumbles about his hatred of the rich and being born into a rich family. I liked the dim ambiance and the layout given by the wood that surrounded the room. It was suitable for the jazz music, arousing conversation and bonds with others. In the middle of the room, some tables made of joined thick wooden blocks were neatly arranged. Someone was reading a book while enjoying their beverage, a track from Louis Armstrong filled the air. An antique clock ticked tenderly, the remnants of afternoon light passed through the slits, some art deco lamps protruded from the ceiling, Japanese kanji stuck on the top of the wall, various small decoration objects and a floor-to-ceiling stack of books on the shelves. I scrutinized the books on the shelves and found a wide range of genres from comics to literature, including a collection of Haruki Murakami translations from around the world

During my conversation with Kunio-san, he tells me that I’m quite lucky since this cafe sometimes disappears from reality which means it’s only open occaionally and unexpectedly. I respond by saying, “I come here at unexpected time too,” which negates any bad luck. His jazz bar is actually a place he established based on the depiction of jazz cafe in some of Murakami’s stories. Rokujigen literally means ‘Six-Dimension’ as ‘Roku’ means six and ‘Jigen’ means dimension. He points out a plaque of simple addition and multiplication, on it is written (1+2+3=6) (1x2x3=6). ‘magic numbers’ he says. People who study number theory might call it ‘perfect number’, a positive integer which equals to the sum of its divisor, I can’t recall if there are any other sets of positive numbers which corresponding for both operators like this. Further, he explains that Haruki Murakami actually had his first jazz bar named ‘Peter Cat’ in Kokubunji area before it moved to Sendagaya and permanently closed after. Apart from its main function as bookstore, Rokugen also serves as as a gallery of Japanese traditional handcraft. He also hosts regular monthly reading events about literature; reminds me of POST Santa in Jakarta

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After leaving Rokujigen I headed back to downtown. I stopped by at a building full of arcade games and visitors with lightning fingers knocking the buttons repeatedly and reflexively without being aware of their surroundings. I played quite a few games then moved forward to the next building full of Pachinko, a gambling mechanical machine. There was an 18 years old restriction for the game. The room was really noisy with the sound of iron balls popping and snapping interlaced from all sides. There was almost no sound of players nagging. The players were mostly salarymen and middle-aged men. For every 500 yen deposit, there were 125 balls in return. I watched a salaryman in front of me—he enjoyed every punch on the lever while smoking his cigarette. These Japanese are really born into the game

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These days, our knowledge and thoughts lie in front of us on flat surfaces filled with pixels. We’ve made a reality inside virtual reality, constantly striving to alter and upgrade our ancestral psychology. Japan has always been in the future, but I sensed a glimpse of gloom in its society. The hollow faces on the street, in shops, parks, and trains—they stared into shadows inside their heads, more like humans on auto mode. Somehow it was just so vivid. Sometimes I questioned something I couldn’t see. That’s why this place isn’t called heaven, isn’t it? Good and evil camouflage everywhere. We are people, everywhere, and have it all in our hearts