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We again climbed to the third floor of a nondescript building and entered the bar. This one did not hide its electrical capabilities, equally as much as it did not hide its belief in the lack of necessity for anything frivolous: this is to say, the furniture was comprised of an array of mismatched wooden tables, office chairs, crates and the like; water stains provided the art on the walls and ceilings; and bottles lined the far end of the bar and shelves behind with handwritten price tags adorned via tape to each. Yeah! And, the bar master, who speaks Japanese only, is a fervent Sun Ra fan, and he plays Sun Ra exclusively and at a volume just high enough to be slightly disconcerting. This place was excellent, and we were the only patrons in it. We drank whisky sodas and smoked inside.
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