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About Fukuoka

Ain’t all roses tho—pisses me off, these pimps. Greasy fucks takin’ cuts, beatin’ ‘em down. Saw one once, big gold chain, yellin’ at this tiny gal. Wanted to whack him, Sopranos-style—BOOM, no more scumbag. But nah, I’m just drivin’, thinkin’ “Life’s a fuckin’ script.” Like Monsieur Oscar says, “I miss the cameras.” These girls, they’re actin’ too—just no Oscars for ‘em, ya feel me?

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First off, I hit up the local market on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with all the fresh fish and veggies? I’m strollin’ through, and BAM! The smell of grilled yakitori hits me like a freight train. I’m drooling, man. I grab a skewer, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, I see this dude spill soy sauce all over the place. Like, c’mon, bro! It’s a market, not a slip-n-slide! I’m tryin’ to enjoy my food, and now I’m dodging puddles of soy. Ugh!

Hundreds take part in Tomé Hill pilgrimage