CREEPYPASTA'S

ALF Autopsy

Remember Laserdisc? No, me neither. I'd heard of them but never seen one (as the format was extremely rare in Europe) until I went to Japan about five years ago. It's got this reputation as been a country in the future, and yes there is technology everywhere. Some of it cutting edge, but you're just as likely to find fax machines, toaster ovens, punch cards, floppy discs and indeed Laserdiscs.

In Osaka, Japan's second city, a giant megalopolis of epic overpasses and neon lights, Laserdiscs are even today readily available. In Den Den Town, the city's electronics and otaku haven, Laserdiscs line shelves alongside VHS and DVD. I was over there to work as an English teacher, but in my spare time I wandered around the multitudinous alleyways, subways and high streets. Exploring, walking, drinking sake OneCups and eating takowasa and gyoza at all hours.

In the district of Den Den Towni, also known as Nipponbashi, there was plenty to interest the Western tourist. Maid cafés with young women in soubrette cosplay serving tea from bone china teapots in response to the delicate little bells placed on each table. Multi-storey manga and anime stores with seven feet tall Gundam guarding the doorways. I remember a strange unmarked doorway, the only information on the sign outside being a colourful drawing of an angry carrot with muscular arms wearing high-heels and stockings. I never stepped through that door, and probably never will.

Another thing you need to know about Japan as a whole, and Osaka in particular, is it has a homeless problem. There seems to be no support structure at all for people with social problems, unemployment, poverty, drug dependency, not even an attempt to sweep them out of sight. Alongside many roads, under bridges, on traffic islands, and in city parks people are living in tents, bivouacs, and semi-permanent shacks or sheds.

Some of these guys are in terrible states - I once saw an old man step out of his roadside shed in bare feet, his toes and toenails so mangled they looked like broken bones sticking out of stumpy raw flesh - others are fairly well-dressed, like salary men down on their luck. Even Osakajo-koen, the grounds to Osaka's famous castle (where Tokugawa defeated the Toyotomi in 1615 establishing the 250 year dominance of the Tokugawa shogunate), has inhabited shacks and tarpaulin strung up between the cherry blossoms.

Despite the number of people living homeless it is exceedingly rare to see anyone begging, or even busking for change. For that reason it drew my attention when, one night while out walking in Nakanoshima-koen (koen means park) I saw what appeared to be a rudimentary store. Outside a tiny wooden hut of scrap wood and metal, not big enough for one person to lie down in, sat an elderly bearded man in disgusting clothes. On his feet he wore plastic bags from 7-Eleven and in front of him, laid on the ground on a square of tarpaulin, was a random array of scrounged old tat. I glanced across as I continued walking.

It had passed midnight, but in a place like Osaka that means little. Restaurants and shops were still open and the park was full of life. Besides the homeless people there was also the drunk salary men sleeping off a skin-full of sake, the young lovers and the practising musicians. Because of the flimsy nature of walls in Japanese apartments a couple wanting time to themselves can actually find more privacy in a public park than they can at home. As I continued my walk I saw a young man practising drums, he'd set up a full kit with bass drum, snare, toms, hi-hat, the whole lot, and was bashing away on the grass under the heavy loaded bough of the cherry blossom. I walked around the path doubling back on myself and heading back the way I came. I was getting tired and had to be up early but was enjoying the sights and the moonlight.

As I walked passed the old homeless man for the second time we accidentally made eye contact, just for a second, and we both looked down at his arrangement of objects. I walked over to where he sat and stood before him. My Japanese was poor so when he spoke I couldn't make it out. Partly it was due to my lack of fluency, but also it was the tinny croak he spoke in, a fast staccato like an over-stimulated Geiger counter. I tried to mumble a few words in Japanese but soon settled with a "Sorry, I don't understand".