American Breakfast means scrambled eggs, bacon closer to ham than to bacon, and a small tossed salad with dressing. Don't you forget it, mister.

We went back to Harajuku today. It's Saturday; lots of kids out. Little cutiepie girl-tribes running around in insane outfits, giggling like packs of drunken cats. Streets and alleys near-vacant yesterday were packed with kids today. The Gothic Lolita thing? Yeah, you really gotta see that.

HMV doesn't have Mach 1.67's record BABYLON BLOOD, but they told me it was called BABYLON BLOOD. I went to a place, a manga bookstore, and could've wept for all the shelves, books, and readers of all sorts walking around. It's probably a cliche to talk about it, honestly, but jesus it's a sight to see.

I found the Matsumoto Taiyo section, and while the temptation to buy NO. 5 3-5, PING PONG 1-5, and every other goddamn thing the guy ever put out, I just bought the first PING PONG and patted myself on the back for showing fiscal discipline.

I picked up KS a handful of street fashion magazines, and a book full of dreamy photos of her japanese boyfriend.

I went to a shrine. Getting there was like walking to heaven: a long gravel path through gorgeous trees, and near-total silence except for your feet crunching the rocks below. Maiko showed me how to-- well, it was either pray or make a wish. A little of both, maybe.

When I opened the blog window, I had a lot to say, but as I'm writing this the jetlag is nutpunching me and all i can think about is lying down for a week and a half.

And I got the phone and the computer to talk to one another, so starting tomorrow I can post futurephone pictures, I think.