(So it turns out only my friend’s kids call the keitanzushi, conveyor belt sushi restaurants, “Shinkansens”, and this hasn’t caught on as a fun nickname. Oops! Please rest assured that I do know what a Shinkansen is, and haven’t been zipping about Japan aboard a sushi delivery service.)
I head to Roppongi Hills to meet Craig Mod for lunch. It’s been 14 years since I last saw Craig in person, on my first visit to Japan. He came for lunch despite not knowing who we were, or even why he’d agreed to meet us. I’d written to him about discussing the future of storytelling, and thank god neither of us remembered that. The conversation was light and bullshit free.
All I know about Roppongi Hills is Craig once called it a hellscape, and that the architecture had killed someone? That parts a bit fuzzy. But once you get there all semblance of Tokyo disappears, replaced by a corporate, sanitized safety reflective of the King’s Cross development in London. But if you happen to be in the area the Mori Art Museum is good, and offers an expansive view of the city.
Most of my initial interest in Japan, and my current interest in writing about it, can be linked directly to Craig Mod. Even my dedication to exploring cities on foot found its inspiration in Craig’s lengthy rambles around the country. If you’ve never looked into his work, might I suggest this extensive rumination on hiking versus walking, first published in his ongoing newsletter, Ridgeline.


Craig had just finished the final, final, dot pdf dot version 32, FINAL pass at the manuscript for his new book, an extended version of Things Become Other Things. He self-published the original as an artbook, and it really is a beautiful object. The new version, that he finalized the night before with Japanese David (who is not Japanese), is being published this year by Random House. You can pre-order it now.
Our conversation meanders like a good walk, when Craig mentions an idea I’ve been thinking about for a while—setting up a fund to connect people who’d otherwise have no access to Japan with the reason and means to come here. I think about my reluctance (and frankly borderline inability) to purchase property in the Netherlands. I think about systems failing (a big theme of TBOT). I think about how we’re encouraged to purchase and maintain isolated housing units for ourselves and how there’s a loneliness epidemic. I think about aging populations and being away from home.
I think about a lot of things.
Otherwise
The only appropriate post Craig Mod activity is to walk. I head up from Roppongi Hills on a quixotic quest for a lighter. A specific lighter—the Tsubota Pearl Queue. Despite a list from the company of stockists, I can’t find it. No one seems to sell it.
This doesn’t stop every shop person from carefully noting what I want and doing their own search. Multiple Beams employees on multiple tablets, tapping away, consulting, apologizing for the wait, thanking me for my patience. The smokeshop owner doing the trademark drawing air through his teeth, indicating the advanced difficulty of my request. The weird irony is we first found these lighters in New York, and, seeing they were from Japan, assumed it would be “better” to buy here.
Like looking for Scottish salmon in Glasgow, some Japanese things are more readily available outside of Japan.