Lion Cafe
Saturday, March 5, 2022
I'm at the Lion Cafe in Shibuya, a perfect location, among its sexual slime of love hotels, relaxation clubs, and the water trade. Here one can avoid the outer world to lose oneself in the enchanting world of recorded classical music. Volume is not loud but loud enough to drift into a blissful state. They don't allow photos to be taken, and rightfully so. How can an image penetrate the magic that is the Lion Cafe?
When you walk in, one notices the mixture of Rocco and post-romantic setting of the coffee shop, it was launched in 1926, and I doubt they have changed the decor over the years. All the tables and chairs face two massive speakers and various turntables as well as a pair of CD players. The speakers are built-in wooden cabinets in between two poles with a bust of Beethoven's face facing the coffee drinkers. There are two decorative candle holders along with the figure, and at its end are two electric fans. The building is old and looks very much like it was built in the 1920s.
The tables and red velvet chairs seem antiquated as well, but still in good condition. The only drawback is the smokers that come here. The smoke lingers like a needy ex-lover. You hope that they will disappear.
Overall the lighting is dark, but one can still have enough light to read. But the best thing to do is meditate and allow yourself to be pulled into its seductive charms. Before the waiters take out a record to play, they softly announce what they are about to play. Servers are in black and move around the cafe like ninjas in the jungle. They take your order for coffee in a low-volume voice. Talking, even when ordering drinks, is reduced to a bare minimum.
The windows facing the street are frosted, so one can only see the dim lighting of the outside world. No one outside can look in. It is just like a church, but one admires the speakers instead of worshiping Jesus or Buddha. The middle of the woofers says "3D Sound System."
The only sound I can hear besides the music is the sound of a pen on paper. Behind me is a writer looking over his manuscript. It's in Japanese, of course, and his writing paper is horizontal with tiny squares where he writes his kanji in. I wonder what he's writing, and even more critically, will he dedicate his book to the Lion Cafe.
My notebook, which is only devoted to writings that took place a the Lion Cafe, is focused on the fantasy of the actor Dean Stockwell working with the great Italian poet and filmmaker Pier Paolo Pasolini. I imagine them working together for some reason, due to the nature of passion spent in modern times. One of my favorite novels by Pasolini is “Ragazzi di vita, ” which can be translated to “Boys of Life,” which could be read as “hustlers." I imagine Dean playing a Pasolini character as he roams around Rome to look for trade or adventure. But the way I would write it, the location would be in Tokyo, and to be more exact, the same area where the Lion Cafe is located.
I often like to hang out in this neighborhood because one, the girls here are cute, and two, the mixture of neon lighting for the water business and the nervous middle-aged men that haunt this location are an inspiration for me. Yet, while sitting here and listening to J.S. Bach’s “The Well-Tempered Clavier Books 1 and 2, ” I find myself approaching the entrance or gateway to depression. All of a sudden, the writer behind me got up from his table and whispered in my ear, “I wrote this narrative already, bud.” He then sat down, gently and in low volume, ordered another cup of coffee, and then started to work on his manuscript.
I left the cafe, with a heavy heart, and thought of Max Jacob’s fantastic collection of poems, written sometime in the late teens, “The Dice Box” and thinking that it always picked up my spirit, but alas, being in Tokyo, it will be tough to find a copy here. Nevertheless, I headed towards the Shibuya station to locate another setting, where I could write, think, and be something that is not me at this moment.