Tokyo: Neon & Six Dimension

My plan today was to visit Rokujigen, a jazz cafe well-known for its curation of Haruki Murakami’s books. I left the hotel 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 ambience 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 animosity towards the rich while being born into a rich family. I like the dim ambiance and the layout given by the wood that surrounded the room. It was suitable for the jazz music. In the middle of the room, some tables made of joined thick wooden blocks were neatly arranged. Someone was reading a book while enjoying his coffee, 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 various genres from comics to literature, including a collection of Haruki Murakami translations from around the world.

During my conversation with Kunio-san, he told me that I’m quite lucky since this cafe sometimes vanishes from reality, meaning it’s open only occassionaly and unexpectedly. In response, I say, “I come here at unexpected time too,” which negates any bad luck. His jazz bar is actually a place he founded based on the depiction of jazz cafes in 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. Then 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. Beside serving as a bookstore, Rokugen also serves as a gallery showcasing Japanese traditional handcraft. He also organizes regular monthly literary event; 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 gamers with lightning fingers knocking the buttons repeatedly, unaware of their surroundings. I played a few games before moving on to the next building packed with Pachinko parlor machines. I saw an 18 years old restriction rules. The room is very noisy filled with the sound of iron balls popping and snapping interlaced from all sides. There is almost no sound of players nagging. The players were mostly salarymen and middle-aged men. For every 500 yen deposit on receives 125 balls in return. I watched a salaryman in front of me enjoying each lever pull while smoking a cigarette. These Japanese are really born into the game.

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Most of our knowledge and thoughts now live in front of us on flat, pixelated surfaces. We’ve made a civilization inside a virtual utopia, constantly trying to hack and crack our primordial instincts. People in Japan has already lives in the future, and it gets closer to the depiction of typical cyberpunk megatown, I can sensed a glimpse of gloom around me. 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 so vivid.