Sometimes you’re just biking on your way somewhere, and suddenly an unexpected sight distracts you. This utility box worker has everything: great uniform, safety vest, helmet, towel, tools, orange hair, and one leg bent pose. I am glad that men like these are keeping Tokyo functioning.
Sublime and random Tokyo gay stories in August:
1. A gay Italian visitor to Tokyo is *shocked* at the sight of Japanese men using paper fans to cool themselves on trains and sidewalks. “In Italy, only women and fags dare use a fan.” There is nothing more satisfying than observing an Italian man surprised by another nation’s male effeminacy.
2. My new super-gay hairdresser (rare in a country where most are straight) has recently told me about his working the festival circuit with his yakuza friends carrying a portable shrine shoulder to shoulder and dressed in fundoshi (ritual male thongs), his earlier stint at a Ginza hair salon when he cut the hair of minor royals, and advice about yankii and nudist beachs in Chiba.
A few years younger than this author, my new gay Japanese sensei is also a middle-aged competitive body builder, with distinct orange in his hair and skin tone. Did I mention that we met at Haguromo, the super-gay and sometimes yakuza-filled sento? How often can I get my short hair cut? He’s talented with hair and full of helpful stories and expressions.
3. I’ve heard that many Japanese prefer “small faces.” Just recently, a Japanese friend explained that Japanese distinguish between weak faces (うすい、薄い）and strong faces（こい、濃い). Previously I understand that these adjectives are applied to liquids like tea (literally, the concentration through quantity and steeping time) and even to food types (sort of like light and heavy).
Apparently with people, so-called weak faces have “fewer distinguishing features” or “fewer things sticking out.” Strong faces have deep set eyes, large noses, more prominent chins. This distinction is at once racial and yet pretends not to be. I have a hard time grokking this, but will be more open to hearing about these immutable differences.
Is this a man-crush forming?
I was a little sad that in the Republican “wave,” the male Tea Baggers mostly won, while some of the craziest lady tea baggers lost, including the anti-masturbation witch (DE), world wrestling CEO (CT), “man up” Arizona know-nothing
(AZ) (NV), and the tech titans (CA).
I find some small consolation in the growing popularity of right-wing Republicans who are public cryers. Most everyone knows about Glenn Beck, but now the spotlight turns on John Boehner, the new House Speaker (OH). He cries over innocent school children, the sacrifice of the soldiers, and his hardscrabble upbringing with 11 siblings. He’s also known for his orange skin color, heavy smoking, and coziness with all sorts of big money lobbyists. The New York Times remarked on “his quivering lips and moist lashes.”
Do you think men who don’t cry on camera are less trust-worthy?!
I love the small details on this handsome conductor uniform: the matching orange band on the cap, the letters on the upper arm, and the stitching around the back pants pockets. I wish I had such a simple yet elegant uniform to wear.
In keeping with the moe theme of this blog, I would like to end this year with a completely shamelessly, inappropriate and vulgar medley of random Shibuya men. With 10 minutes to spare for a business meeting at Hachiko, I turned my new Canon S90 on the crowd.
The photo above is perhaps the best: the central subject fetishized, the public zipping by, and one woman in the background smiling knowingly towards the lens.
If you asked me what is my favorite Japanese uniform, I would say the mask: ubiquitous, a sign of danger inbound or outbound, of dubious functionality, and quintessentially Japanese. Above this boy rocks his mask with ipod, shaggy orange perm, and the skinny pants tucked inside some girlish boots. I am slayed.
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On our recent trip to the “interior” of Japan, we rode a ferry boat with a grumpy pilot. We like to call him Captain Jamaica. He seems to share our love for plants. I love the orange leatherette, too.
Mid-summer in Tokyo is a wall of heat and humidity. A long day of work was suddenly perked up by the site of this hyper-coordinated youth. Showing that style does not have to be expensive or formal, this fashion super-hero matches his cap, t-shirt, shorts and Crocs in shades of orange and yellow. I ❤ Tokyo! おしゃれ！