Dog Mountain

This is the end.

2008-03-27T18:35:00.002+09:00

My only friend, the end.

I've decided to finish this blog and replace it with a younger, fresher model. Partly as a new start but also as the coding on this one is getting fucked up and annoying me. My new blog therefore will be found at www.totoro-san.blogspot.com and will cover my new trip to Japan which begins on April 1st (no joke). Yay.

See you there.

Cruel is the Snow

2008-02-18T06:16:00.004+09:00

I’m writing this in a driving position. My muscles won’t relax after two days behind the wheel (and behind morons, which is what you’d expect after a weekend in the Highlands). Yes, Minori and I have just returned to the flat after 48 hours of Highland Headbanging.
Realising that (pause to change Mac language to English (UK) rather than English (made up) and prove that realising is spelt (and not spelled) correctly) we were actually leaving this Isle in the near future (made seem nearer by the news that Bob has booked flights to visit (now there’s dedication for you. It only took him 3 years after I originally left to get around to it), so, come on the rest of you (that never bothered last time) get your planes on.

By the way, can you notice I’m tired? What gave it away? The parenthesis? The tangents? Or the endless questions?

Anyway.

Minori hadn’t seen the Highlands yet (Aberdeen doesn’t count as Highlands you soft southern bastards since it is not High (in the Geological sense) so I rented a car (upgraded to a VW Polo – can you imagine what I booked in order to be upgraded to a Polo?) and straight after work on Friday we sat in traffic for an hour or so and then made our merry (well, not so merry after the roadworks on the A9) way to Inverness where Jon met us with beer and a Tapas restaurant. It was splendid to see him and to finally see his very nice flat.

Early in the Mañana we slid down slidy streets to Urquhart Castle and the lair of the Family Ness (surely the best cartoon ever made?). It is slightly unnerving to be the only people in a largish castle ruin so we made up for it by pretending to be ghosts, shouting “here Nessie, Nessie, Nessie” and deciding that it would be a great place for a barbecue.

From here we took the road through Invermoriston, stopping to take photos of mountains (me) and random animals (Minori). In between stopping I took advantage of totally empty roads to drive like a twat. There is something very liberating in pretending to be in a car advert. Even if you are driving a Polo. We bombed past Eilean Donan castle and the Loch Duich Hotel where we were destined to stay that night, and made straight for the bridge over the sea to Skye (how dare they put a speed camera in the middle of the worlds biggest humpback bridge. You can’t fly at 40 miles an hour. At least not in a Polo). Taking lunch in Portree (Iain: So what is there to do in Portree? Tourist Information Woman: You’ll have had your lunch? Iain: Yes. Tourist Information Woman: That’s me out of ideas then.) We drove around the north east fingery bit of Skye, stopping in random car parks to look at cliffs called things like Kilt Rock, Old Man, and Sheep Shit Shelf. Saw some old houses but couldn’t find a castle nor Flora MacDonald’s memorial. Watched a drunk drive back and forth across a cattle grid laughing.

By the time we got back to the hotel I was done. Dinner (Haggis, freshly shot today) and local ale in front of a log fire did me doner. Bed at 7.45. Woken at 12 by some fool phoning a wrong number.

Woken at a sensible time by sensible birds I realised that I hadn’t heard that sound clearly in a very long time. Lay in bed wondering how I could afford to buy a house here without ever having to work again. Still thinking. If you have any ideas, please tell me.

Eilean Donan castle is best visited in winter when the ticket office is closed but the gates are left open. You can’t get inside but you can walk all the way round it completely undisturbed by people telling you it was used in Highlander. More fun driving led us to the site of The Battle of Glen Shiel. Which I had never heard of. It was a pretty one-sided destruction of the Jacobites and the final battle of rebellion until Bonnie Prince Charlie landed a generation later. The Jacobites used claymores and muskets. The English used mortars. 100 – 20. Sounds like a Scottish rugby score rather than a list of the dead.

Over mountain and glen we drove (sorry Glen) down through Fort William unto Glencoe. The visitors centre (new) there is well worth a visit and definitely worth the £5 entry to learn about everything from the geology of the area, through the infamous Massacre, to modern mountaineering (and the interesting fact that some parts of Glencoe have still never been climbed. Looking at them today I can believe it). I bought John Peebles book about the Massacre (been meaning to buy it for ages, figured doing it in Glencoe would be a bit more meaningful). Oh, by the way, if you don't know what the Massacre is, it was a piece of ethnic cleansing done by the English. www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Massacre_of_Glencoe for all the information you need.

Through the glen and over the moor we stopped at a pub at the start of Loch Lomond for lunch. Only realised after ordering that it's next to a caravan site. One half of the drinkers were Geordie and Irish workmen at the Hydro plant nearby, the other half were gypos. Fastest burger I've ever eaten.

A near miss with a white van and a few attempts at teaching Minori to sing "by the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond" (and in the process realising that I am turning into my father) later we took a random turn off the main road to check out a Priory that was not only closed by only accessible via a ferry that hasn't been running since October. So we went to Stirling, took a photo of the castle and then came home.

It has been a great trip. I reacquainted myself with why I love being Scottish and then (upon re-entering the central belt) reacquainted myself with why I want to leave it again.

This week I will mostly be teaching. Scot Lit course went very well. Explaining Tom Leonard's:

Baa baa Black Sheep
Have you any wool
Yes Sir Yes Sir
Three bags full.

Wan fur the master
N anither fur the master
N wan fur the fuckin church

to an Italian naval officer, a Kazakh girl, a Swiss girl and a half-Spanish / half-Japanese boy will stand out as one of the weirder things I've done in the name of education. Last week it was medical English for Muslims (that wasn't the plan, it was only Saudi's and Libyans who chose it) which involved a role play where the Libyan guy, playing doctor, referred the hungover, and-therefore-really-really-bad-muslim guy to a gynaecologist to solve his "problem in mornings". This week I get music which, tomorrow, will consist of playing them Johnny Cash and saying "this is Country", then playing them Verdi and saying "this is Opera. Which do you prefer?"

A Man Talking Sense To Himself Is No Madder Than A Man Talking Nonsense Not To Himself.

2008-02-05T02:15:00.001+09:00

Hey Folks. Not much has been happening of late due to finally getting a large amount of teaching. I'm currently in the middle of one of my two 12 hour days and letting my brain relax by typing this. In addition to the usual EFL teaching I've volunteered to teach a Scottish Lit. course for the higher level students. A great idea, interesting and good on the CV I hear you cry? You'd be right. Except for one small problem. How do you begin to teach things like Burns, Lochhead, Stevenson and Kelman to people who not only are studying English as their 2nd / 3rd / even 4th language, but know very little about Scottish culture and history? Why is this important? I'll give you an example. I was looking at Anne Donovan's "Buddha Da" to give them some of the more phonetic Scots (Kelman and Welsh aren't even an option) but the opening sentences of the book are "My Da is crazy. Pure Radio Rental" (that's from memory so the odd word may be wrong). How the hell do you begin to explain a phrase like "radio rental" (mental). You don't is the answer. Today, after a crash course in Scottish history (this course is shaping up to be Scot. Lit. defining and defined by the Scottish Identity, and you can't talk about that if you've never heard of Robert the Bruce and think William Wallace was good in the Lethal Weapon films) they're doing "Such a Parcel of Rogues in a Nation", "Scots Wha Hae" and, tomorrow, Liz Lochhead's "Kidspoem / Bairnsang". Later on we've got a bit of Zoe Strachan, Louise Welsh, Alan Spence, Alan Warner (and maybe an evening watching Morvern Callar) and probably "Kidnapped". Oh and Ali Smith since I have a CD of her reading sections of The Accidental and therefore get bonus point for using more than just paper in my lessons.

"In Korea we have a machine that makes us eat rice."

2008-01-15T01:27:00.000+09:00

This post has been written in pieces over the last two weeks. I can't be arsed editing it properly because I just bought a Mac PowerBook (thanks Patrick) and am spending all my time transferring music and going "what does this button do? Oh Shit!"

I don't even know where to start so I'll just give you an itinerary:
After Christmas in Aberdeen we drove to Leeds and stayed with Thom and Jo. Next morning we went to York which was cool and groovy though wet and slightly flooded. That evening we drove to Altrincham and stayed with Bob and Kirstin for 3 nights, one of which was Hogmany. 11 of us laughed, ate, laughed, drank and laughed. Tres good. One the 2nd we picked up Chris in Worcester and hot-footed it to Stratford-Upon-Avon for the RSC's utterly amazing production of Henry IV Part 1 and then back to Worcester. Next day we did (I kid you not) Worcester - Stonehenge - Bath - Worcester - Malvern (where we saw Sue Pollard in Panto) - Worcester. The next day we were supposed to go to Durham but the snow came so we drove (very slowly) home instead.
3 days later we went to Paris. I will write about this on more depth but not now.

So now it's 2008 plans are being made for Japan. Almost all of which involve some kind of financial outlay or convincing my new company to completely overhaul their procedures to take into fact the following: 1) I am not American 2) The US dollar has about as much value as a Dave Cameron policy initiative 3) There are cities in Japan other than Tokyo and I will be living and working in one of them. Still, it's getting palpably closer and I can almost taste the yakitori (regardless of where my flat is, one of my first trips will be to Inuyama for Hakkenden - for those of you who deigned to visit me, you know whereof I speak, to the others: shame on you. Try better next time. (Viewers of my facebook page will know that the flight is booked. I depart on April 1st).

I'm back at work now, and it seems to be semi-permanent: Morning, afternoon and evening and one of the other teachers is leaving on Friday for warmer climes. Hopefully this will hold until the end of March.

I have tickets for Monkey Swallows The Universe at Cabaret Voltaire on 11th Feb if you feel like joining me (I'll be late).

Comment from class today:
Me: "To use the word in a sentence: I can't AFFORD to buy a car."
Student: "A Ford is a type of car."

I'm Walking Backwards For Christmas, Over The Irish Sea

2007-12-28T20:18:00.001+09:00

We went to Kilmainham Gaol, famous for being the residence of many of Ireland's rebels and the site of the execution of the 14 leaders of the Easter Rising.

A fascinating place historically, but filled with so much despair. A real low point in British history, and not just politically.

This is Christchurch Cathedral. There's been a cathedral here since Viking times. After St Pauls in London it wasn't that impressive, although it has a massive crypt.

The Christmas Tree in St. Patricks. I preferred this to Christchurch but it was more like a museum and war memorial that a church.

Still, it was nice for God to make an appearance.

Talking of gods, this is Jonathan Swift, who was Dean of St. Patricks. He wrote most of his important works here, including the Drapier letters.

This is a duck who may or may not be holy.

This is Minori who is using this photo as a central piece of evidence in her claim to be the daughter of God.

And this is Dun Laoghaire, the beach we went to on the 23rd of December. Surprisingly it was cold.

Good Things That Happened In Dublin:
1. We stayed in a very posh hotel without paying very posh prices.
2. Guinness.
3. We met up with Joanne, who I hadn't seen since Inuyama.
4. Guinness.
5. A great curry, with free drinks afterwards.
6. Guinness.

Bad Things That Happened in Dublin:
1. Discovered I am officially old after spending 3 nights in Dublin and going to bed at about 9 every night, and not feeling like I'd missed out on anything.
2. Almost getting into a fight with a junkie at the bus station.
3. Discovering that Ryan Air spell Edinburgh "B-I-R-M-I-N-G-H-A-M" on all their signs. When questioned they respond "yeah, we should probably get round to changing that" then wonder why everyone is late boarding.

Fat Man Arrested Sneaking Into Childs Bedroom. "Hangings Too Good" says The Daily Hate Mail.

2007-12-20T22:04:00.000+09:00

Hey folks, just a quick note to wish those I won't see a Merry Xmas and Happy New Year. We're off to Dublin very early in the AM, back on the 24th for about ten minutes before heading to Aberdeen for the festivities. Back on the 27th and away again on the 29th to Leeds, York, Altrincham, Worcester, Stratford-upon-Avon (to see the RSC's Henry IV Part 1 I'm so excited), Stonehenge, Bath and Durham before returning to Edinburgh for 3 days then we're off to Paris for 3 nights (don't tell Minori, it's a surprise:)) I'll be knackered but it sounds like a lot of fun. So if I don't see you, have a good one.

One Good Tern Deserves A Michelin Star.

2007-12-17T09:50:00.000+09:00

A Holiday! For the first time in what seems like many time I actually feel like I'm on holiday, able to relax. I have drank more wine than seems decent for a dinner party of two, one of whom has been in bed for two hours. I watched the last episode of Parky, laughed (for the first time in my life) at something Peter "I'm fat and Northern, can I have a career please?" Kay said, realised that a special era in British culture will soon be gone and nothing worthwhile is really replacing it. For all we "modern" people mock the likes of The Two Ronnies, Morecombe and Wise et al, the modern British landscape was formed by them and their ilk. The age of the Royal Variety Show is passing. I rarely watched it. Beyond the odd M/W Christmas special (doing all the right jokes, just not necessarily in the right order) and Channel 4 reminding us of Del-Boy falling through a bar, as if we were ever able to forget, I saw in the paper "Frankie Howerd Special" and watched something else. I still quote Up Pompeii. "All the right notes" and "4 candles" are as eponymous as "an ex-parrot". It was reassuring and comforting, in the way that a log fire is reassuring and comforting even when you have central heating, to know that not only were the reruns being rerun but that every once in a while all these names got together and made us laugh in a 1965 family around the TV after dinner kind of way. Soon it'll all be gone. Am I the only one to find this sad. Should I complain to my Grandfather, denounce him for taping and showing me Open All Hours? The Two Ronnies? My entire sense of humour (and those who have spent enough time with me will recognise the truth of this) was shaped by these formative moments laughing at Compo hurtling down a hill in a bathtub, learning puns at the knee of Spike (Are you a spy? No, I'm a shepherd? AH! Shepherd Spy!). And since my sense of humour was shaped by this, I feel I can argue that a significant portion of the blame for my personality can be directly laid at the feet of Ronnie Barker, H-ancock and The Famous Eccles.
Anyway this is all by the by.
Apart from a few hours covering for the Janny (if you're not Scottish, work it out) on Wednesday, I'm now off until at least 14th January. Weirdly, I already feel like writing. Work stifling creativity? I feel a grant application coming on.
I dug out this weird thingy of a prose piece and since none of you seem to ever check out my writing blog (at least no one has yet owned up to such a thing) I'm going to post it here. The idea (which began as more cinematic than prosaic) is skipping through the minds of various people in a bar over the course of a night, influenced by Jack Kerouac had he been a member of Arab Strap (which, arguably, he was).

One Good Turn.

Life and death, that’s what we’re talking about tonight, topic of conversation #401 after football, women, politics, religion, art, women, whose round it is and how much time should be allowed to elapse between your arse leaving the seat and someone else planting theirs. It’s been one of those nights. You know the kind I mean. It starts with two guys having a pint after work. They need a quick beer to relax the muscles, get the brain working again. Blow the cobwebs away as the cliché has it. But the first always goes too fast. Thirst taking over motor functions, lifting the arm. I know a guy who would always order a pint of orange juice as his first drink. The idea was it would quench his thirst and fill his stomach, so his drinking would slow to a more manageable, healthy level. I never liked orange juice.
So, these two guys have a couple beers, relaxing. A bit hungry so maybe a burger which, in this bar, comes with a pint for only 50p extra. Can’t turn down a bargain like that, says I. And a beer to help digest. So we’re four down, chilled out and up for some fun. Ideas are bandied about like After Eights at Xmas. Cinema, anything good on? Video? Back to the flat and play the X-Box? You for another? Why not, it’s still early.
The plan is still to leave at some point and do something else. This is simply filling time while an idea waits to settle. Have you got credit on your phone? Aye? Give Steve a call; see what he’s up to. Steve’s in the flat watching Celebrity Big Brother and scratching. He’s on his way.
Well you can’t leave no because Steve’s coming so another round, whose is it? Steve takes his time but eventually pushes through the door, hands pocketed. The door doesn’t close. Fraser’s there as well. Bumped into him in the street. Was sitting on the bench watching the arses go by. Good day for it? Sweet little student all combats and ironic t-shirt. Steve gets a round in, good man. Cheers clink clink. So what’s the plan? Dunno, any ideas? Gig on at Sleazy’s later, can’t mind the name. On Rock Action or Chemikal Underground, one of those. Local. About 6 quid, starts at 9. Supports that guy that was in that band we saw in the Art School mind?

Sunday again, they sat around the same table, drinking the usual. Iain and Stuart were on the Guinness, Kate on jack and diet coke. Iain swept his hair back, feeling it greasy between his fingers. He sighed.
“Thank fuck that’s over with. I thought you were gonnae kill Angela”.
Stuart rolled his eyes at the mention of the name, while Kate crunched an ice cube with all the violence of the Titanic.
“I was that close.” Kate held her thumb and index an inch apart, then reached for the cigarettes which they were all sharing. “I should’ve lamped her”.
“That’d be funny” Stuart said, gazing at the TV and smiling at the thought.
“Until you got fired” Iain put in.
“Nah. She’d get suspended on full pay while they had an inquiry. Like that Polish guy. Bart.”
Stuart drummed on the empty glasses with two stirrers, humming to himself. Kate pulled her black suede jacket closer, lest any part of her uniform be seen by the rest of the bar. An exorcist-green tabard, size 22, and blue tracksuit bottoms a good four inches too short ware not the kind of things she wanted to be seen in.

Emma tried to run away. She only got as far as the street where Steve found her leaning against the bonnet of a Volkswagon. Her long white skirt ruffled in the slight breeze. She pushed a strand of jet black hair behind her ear and watched Steve cross the tarmac.
She knew his suit was new, and pretty expensive, yet he still looked like a child in rumpled school uniform: the jacket bulking his body until it was out of proportion with his head, the tie too short and the knot squint. His hair, heavily gelled into a peak, didn’t even quiver as the wind suddenly blasted them. She liked Steve, he was sweet, he just wasn’t her type.
Steve didn’t know if he was doing the right thing by following her. She’d said she was going to the bathroom but then just walked outside. He’d stayed at the table, trying to act as if nothing had happened, trying to play it cool, but in the end he had to get up. He had to do something, say something. Try to make it alright again. He didn’t know what he’d say but he couldn’t just leave things like this.
Why had he said it? Emma thought. Did he think she wasn’t aware of his crush – and that’s all it was despite the words he’d used? And here of all places.
She knew this weekend was a bad idea from the start. Her stomach had tightened the moment Glen had uttered the phrase ‘team building’. With the sole exception of Steve they’d all been working together for two years; the team was as built as it was going to get. It was that bloody course he’d been on, those ‘new management strategies’ he’d come back from Reading full of.

The phone goes and it’s the bird, out with friends, just round the corner in Ashton Lane. Aye come on down, the more the merrier as Christ was heard to say. So a new table, one of the big ones with the sofas and the second your arse hits the soft leather you know that’s it, you’re here for the night, your budgets fucked and the only thing for it is to fire on into the beers and hope you don’t say anything stupid.
The cool thing about carrier pigeons is they have no memory you hear from the girl next to you and that’s it, the cue to move, finally the motivation is overwhelming: pressure on your bladder, Pop Idol shite on the video juke box, the ned on the pool table shouting ‘watch this ya bam’ before every shot, the fact that Fraser’s looking first at you, then at his empty glass, then at you, and with each glance he looks more and more like a puppy that really needs to be tied up in a bag and thrown off a bridge. So you ease out the sofa mumbling ‘everyone’s on the same aye?’ as you walk away, ignoring the ‘hang on I was wanting a’ push the door to the bathroom almost concussing the guy coming the other way, stupid design, unzip and play chase the fag end around the urinal for what seems like an eternity then it’s back out and up to the bar, a round in, phone Steve ‘get up here and help you lazy fucker’, he appears, you hand him some glasses and he almost drops the lot. You give him your ‘twat’ look as beer collects around his feet. You point at a half empty glass ‘that’s yours’ but I wanted a JD and coke. Tough. Fine. Who’s the red thing for? That yank bird, she said she could drink us all under the table. What is it? No idea, ask the barman. I said, there’s this yank bird who thinks she can drink us under the table. Can you make her something that’ll shut her up?
So time passes by, alcohol passes lips and urine just passes. The yank has been escorted from the premises and was last sighted sitting on the stairs covered in her own deep red vomit. The barman has been bought a few drinks. Fraser is trying to crack onto some random at the bar, not realizing her 6’5” boyfriend is playing pool and therefore is armed and dangerous. Everyone keeps saying someone should go over and tell him but no one moves. The conversations have flowed over, under and around the topics mentioned. And now we are at life and death.

“Raining again” Stuart said, peering through the only section of window not covered with drinks promotions. “5.37 and pitch dark. Fucking city”.
“Bet you wish you were still in Sydney” said Iain.
“God yeah. Anywhere but here. Anywhen but now”.
Kate’s phone beeped, and instantly she flicked it open.
“Paul?” said Iain.
“Yeah. Maybe coming down.”
“Anyone got any plans for tonight?”.
“A few options”, said Stuart. “Big party at Optimo, and at Barfly. Depends what George’s doing.”

It all started with Fraser’s imminent demise at the end of a cheap pool cue. Someone asked the how would you like to go question to a table full of drunks and got the expected response: sarcasm, bad puns, general sickness and the odd attempt at profundity. My own personal favourite was being hit by a white rolls Royce traveling at 60 so you could spread your finite remains over the paintwork do you know how hard that shit is to get out?
Steve is talking about his grandfather’s funeral. It was the first he’d been to, the first family member to die. He was 17 and therefore eligible for the dubious honour of being a poll-pall-paul?-bearer. The church was built in a natural dip with the entrance at the top and the altar at the bottom so they had to carry the box down this steep incline. Steve couldn’t cope with the emotion and so had smoked a bit before hand. He couldn’t stop himself giggling as he imagined the box slipping from their hands and bouncing end over end before settling vertical against the altar, the door slowly creaking open and his grandfather appearing before the congregation like Bella Legosi’s last stand.
No one is sure if they can laugh.
Instead you ask the what three songs you’d have played at your funeral. You get the obvious; The End by The Doors, See You Later Alligator by that guy what’s his name? Burn Baby Burn, Disco Inferno by whoever did it. Yours are Miserere by Allegri, Find The River by REM and Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. Everyone looks at you. Then changes the subject. Your head’s swimming, the heating in here is too high, with no open windows or doors. You’ve drunk a hell of a lot and part of you just wants to go to sleep. You drunkenly scan the table and are momentarily surprised to see your girlfriend, you’d forgotten she was here. She’s talking to a friend of hers, Anna, or Anne, or Anya or something. You look at her, your girlfriend, all blonde and made up and you think if you didn’t know her you’d really want to shag her. But you do. And you don’t. You know it’s time to call it a day but the thought fills your legs with cement and your stomach with frogs. And you’re clairvoyant, you can predict the future. Tonight you’ll go home via the chip shop on Dumbarton Road, talking across each other if you talk at all. Then either in the street or the second you’re through the door you begin arguing about the price of cheese in Denmark which will go on all night until one of you falls asleep then you’ll wake up, have sleepy morning sex where both of you are dreaming of someone else, get up, shower and go spend your days in a life separate from each other.
It’s enough to make you go up the M8 and wait for a white Roll Royce.

She’d been weak, distracted, and so easily coerced into agreeing. It couldn’t be team building if the team was incomplete, now could it? But she’d known it would end in disaster, and if she’d thought more about it, she’d have put money on it being Steve declaring his undying love over liqueurs.
She opened her pointlessly small bag and fought to extract her cigarettes and lighter. When Steve reached her she was smoking with apparent non-chalence.
“Hey” Steve said, “they’re asking after you in there.”
Emma exhaled, said nothing, just raised one eyebrow, exhaled and flicked ash.
Steve looked at his feet. “I shouldn’t have done that”, he said, “I’m sorry. I just thought that…”
“You thought I might feel the same? You don’t know me very well do you? I’m sorry Steve, I don’t.”
Steve visibly sank. His already small, slight frame seemed to fold in on itself. His head fell forward and his shoulders curved in. For the first time that night his tie reached his waistband. Emma bit off a laugh, turned it into a cough.
She felt sorry for him. It had obviously taken a lot of courage to say what he had, but she had to stop him in his tracks before it got too messy. She thought about suggesting he give Donna a try, she was always up for a bit of extra-curricular, but she knew he wouldn’t take it the way she meant.
“Look”, she said, “You go back inside and get a drink. I’ll finish this and follow you. I’ll have a large G&T. Very large.”
Dismissed, Steve meekly nodded, turned and slowstepped dejectedly back to the hotel. She knew it would be fine, that she’d nipped it in the bud. He’d be awkward for a bit, but as long as she acted normal and never mentioned it, he’d get over it. The rest of them would know what had happened and gossip about it, but they’d do it behind his back, which was just fine. She sighed, flicked the fag into the bushes. At least he hadn’t asked for a reason.

Your songs came on the juke box but you were in the bathroom and only same out in time to catch The Shy Retirer by Arab Strap and as you sing along to ‘these people are your friends this cunted circus never ends’ you catch her eye and nothing but loathing passes between. We going to Sleazy’s you hear to your right. Yeah, let’s pile in a cab. What time is it? 10. Finish up, who’s coming? Out the door and into two cabs, Sleazy’s please mate, and with much swinging and swaying, random chat with the driver, you fall out across from the bar, walk in front of a bus and a twat on a bike, get to the bar and order a pint of your flattest Kronenborg please Mr. Barman. A bit of Belle and Sebastian on the juke box and all is good. You have no idea if she got in a taxi or went home. You think the girl you’re talking to is one of her friends but you have no proof other than a vague feeling you’ve seen her before. You think that the guy next to you is really sad, trying his hardest to look like the singer from Franz Ferdinand then you hear a stage whisper behind you that’s the singer from Franz Ferdinand.

It was starting to break up. Glen was halfway through his story about the time he’d had to address the Scottish Executive and had said clit instead of client – a sure sign that he was on his last legs – while Donna and Peter were in the last throws of the one-night-courtship ritual. Steve had already made his excuses and gone to bed, as had most of the others. Emma finished her chardonnay and tapped her rings on the table impatiently. For all she’d drunk – and tallying it up, it came to a lot – she felt irritatingly sober. She knew Glen would forget to close the bar tab and had every intention of taking full advantage of the fact. And besides, that barmaid had been eyeing her up all night.
Donna and Peter charged off, Donna hauling him by the hand, Peter having the decency to look a tad embarrassed. Glen fell back in his seat, laughing uproariously at his Freudian slip while spilling Macallan on his shirt. He downed the rest of it, wiped his moustache along the back of his hand, burped and sighed.
“Well, night night young Emma, don’t stay up too late, it’s an early start tomorrow” he slurred, pushed himself upright and lurched towards the lifts.
Emma walked over to the bar, slid into a stool and placed her cigarettes on the bar. The barmaid came over.
“What’ll it be?”
“Depends? Is the tab still open?”
“It is, yeah.”
“Right, I’ll have a triple gin and tonic, and something for yourself.”
“I’ll have the same.”
“Great. I’m Emma by the way.”
“Laura.”

Steve smacks your back you coming downstairs? Aye, course. Down you go past the posters and the drunks using two hands on the banisters, you hand over a tenner and get something back then into the darkness and noise.
You’ve missed that guy Chris that was in that band you saw at the Art School but the main band is just starting. Their name has something to do with monkeys. They are shit. Described on the flyer as post-rock, they sound like The Darkness without the irony. You ask the barmaid if she likes this shit and she says her boyfriend is the drummer. You shout go home between songs and someone tells you to shut the fuck up. Who does he think he is? The owner of the record label the shit monkey band are signed to apparently. Over a fiver for this shit. Bollocks. You go back upstairs answering if you leave you can’t come back with Good.
Upstairs you pump pounds into the juke box knowing that the bar will be closed before your songs come on. You go up to the bar, order a JD and Coke and try chatting up the barmaid. She’s kinda flirtatious but you quickly realize it doesn’t mean anything. You turn around and some short arsed bint is giving you daggers. You think she’s friends with your bird but she could just be a bitch. Fuck it.

The bar was empty, all in darkness save the bar itself where Emma and Laura sat facing, each with a foot on the other’s stool, legs intertwined. Emma could feel the alcohol now, that warm fuzzy aura around the head. She was looking at Laura in what she hoped was seductive charm, but feared was drunken paralysis, the gin-induced stroke-like expression her mother had mastered.

You walk out onto Sauchiehall Street, straight across the road and into a take away, stare randomly at the big lit menu until you find Steak Pie Supper. That’s for me. Then you stand out on the street eating, vaguely aware that you look like a HEBS advert but not really caring.

10 monkeys mating.

2007-12-13T05:17:00.000+09:00

Finally, something to write about that doesn't involve bitching, shouting, swearing or being wryly cynical about life as a middle-class white guy ("You don't know what it's like, being male, middle-class and white" as Ben Folds so rhythmically put it).
I have a job! Yay! Teaching in Japan! Not for the megalithic conglomorate formerly known as Nova (Nova is dead: long live anti-corruption laws). Via Westgate (basically a recruitment company as far as I can tell) I'm going to be working at a University (as yet unnamed) in the Nagoya area. Yay! Starting April-ish. 3 months or so and then I'll be back in The 'Pan. And they're paying for my flight.
And.
It's two days from the end of term (yes, I get school holidays though not the paid variety. I tell you, those school teachers have it easy). I teach the *&^%ing Italians (told you I wouldn't do a sweary) for the last time tomorrow. We'll be glad to see the back of each other. They hate me for making them walk up Arthurs Seat and I hate them for being whiny little bambinos who, despite being young and healthy (apart from the fat chainsmoking one), find it difficult to raise their ineffectual arms high enough to allow their half-closed eyes to peer vaugely in the direction of their watch. If they have one. They leave tomorrow night.
Friday I get to teach a normal class (well, a piss-artist from Libya, a Japanese guy who finishes every sentence with "HA HA Really?" and a Pole who never turns up) before escorting them and others to the pub for and end of term glass of goodbye. Thence unto the Italian restaurant for staff wine and dine. I also have a bye-bye Spaniards night out sometime (I thought it was yesterday but apparently not) and some other random xmas drinking. Tis the season to be poorly.

He who is bored of London, is bored with bad manners, rain, pollution, delays and morons who refuse to accept that Scottish money is legal tender.

2007-12-05T01:33:00.000+09:00

I started this and then realised I couldn't add the promised photos since I'm at work killing time and my photos are at home. I was supposed to be talking half the mad 47 Italians to the National Gallery and the Portrait Gallery. The first half came off without a hitch (although some may question the 35 minutes it took to walk from Queen Street to Princes Street (two streets running parallel to each other) and the complaints that we had to walk this far (it normally takes me about 2 minutes) and why couldn't we take the bus. We arrived at the gallery and my group (20 of them) promptly went into the coffee shop and sat down. Their group leader promptly did the exact opposite of my instructions and went into one of the study rooms. I dumped them all, went into the lower gallery and saw a very interesting exhibition of sketches of India by Scottish artists. Meeting up again at 3.30 (the group hadn't moved) the mutinied. No Portrait Gallery. Instead they wanted to return home to prepare for the ceilidh I have to take them to tonight (when I should be watching the Celtic V Milan match) where they will all stand away from the dance floor and refuse to move. Bloody teenagers.

London was fab and groovy for a couple of days. In the beginning we were delayed by BMI having "technical problems" and then by Heathrow not having any spare electricity or something. To the hotel in Aldgate East and back to Westminster. It started to rain (welcome to fucking England. How exactly did Scotland get this reputation for bad weather when it is always worse in the south?) so we went into Westminster Abbey and did the tour. Some amazing things. Mary, Queen of Scots tomb, Poet's Corner, the tomb of the unknown soldier. A bit pricey and no photos allowed but worth a visit if you've never been.
From there to the House of Parliament where I'd arranged a tour through the office of my MP, the Right Honourable (and very very busy) Captain Alisdair Darling. Led around by Bill Hurst (you will see him as a soldier in The Golden Compass apparently) who was a cross between Boris Johnson and Hugh Grant. Floppy and posh in other words. It was a stunning tour. We followed the route the queen takes during the State Opening of Parliament. Through a few great rooms (including one where the death warrant of Charles I sits opposite the portrait of the reigning monarch - irony?) and into the House of Lords with the words "don't bloody sit down". Needless to say a posh room of plush velvets, leather and more gold leaf than you could wave a monarch at. Brought through the opening ceremony (quick version: the Queen sends Black Rod down to the Commons to demand their presence. They slam the door in his face. He bangs on the door with a big black stick (hence the name). The open a window and say "We already have double glazing" or something. He says the Queen wants to see them. They slouch up to the Lords who put a big stick across their path to stop them getting too close (smelly proles). They mutter while the Queen speaks (to show whose house it is) and then slouch back again) we wander down towards the Commons. Portraits of the 4 Patron Saints stand above the central lobby: George near the Lords because the English think they're better than everyone else; David near the Commons because the Welsh love talking; Patrick near the door because the Irish want out of the place and Andrew nearest the bar.
Into the Commons and it's an amazing feeling. Probably the most important single room in the history of Britain. I stood at the Prime Ministers despatch box although behind me a sign said "Please do not sit down." I wasn't sure if this was put out for the tour or if it was general advice to would be PM's. Discovered that this is where the expression "To toe the line" and "It's in the bag" come from: the former refers to the red line that runs in front of both benches. The lines are two sword lengths apart and basically stop them getting physically aggressive. To toe the line therefore is to behave. The latter refers to the petitions bag which hangs behind the Speakers chair. Important business would be put in here for the Commons to deal with. "Don't worry, it'll be done. It's in the bag."
Out through Westminster Hall where, amongst others, the trials of Charles I and William Wallace were held.

We went to Soho for dinner in an Italian restaurant (ribbing about the football from staff until the Albanian waiter pointed out that Italy has 60 million people and Scotland 5 million. Therefore 2:1 is an embarrassing score for Italy. Met Leo, Greg and Greame in a pub, got drunk went home. Great day.

Saturday we went to the Tower of London which I'd been past many times but never actually entered, a bit like (insert smutty simile here). Decided to begin with the Yoeman Warder (Beefeater for you Gin drinkers out there) tour which was great. A really entertaining tour (if you speak perfect English, Minori was a tad lost), interesting, full of gory facts, bad jokes and insults. He had a crack for every country when doing the "where do we have people from?" bit. "Aberdeen? We had that William Wallace here. Sent him back in a few pieces." Saw the crown jewels, the spot where 2 of Henry VIII's wives died, the Bloody Tower where the two princes were murdered (read your Richard III).

We spent about 4 hours in the Tower before heading to Buckingham Palace for the obligatory tourist photo. We walked up the Mall, at the top of which stands the Palace. As it came into view Minori asked "where's the palace?", a funny remark at first but looking closer seemed quite accurate: instead of the impressive royal residence we were both expecting, stood a rather grubby white building. It was large certainly, but compared to something like Holyrood Palace, the Queen's residence in Edinburgh, it was a bit disappointing. Even Clarence House seemed more impressive.
We wandered round until we found a pub where we gathered our strength before returning to Westminster for a few more photos. Next we walked down to St. Pauls. I didn't want to pay the stupid price they charge to speak to God so we just stuck our heads around the door and lo! Evensong was just beginning. They assumed we were of their cult and invited us in. The Devil may have all the best tunes but God has the best concert halls. St. Pauls properly lit, with a full choir and organ is an amazing thing to experience. A nice thing for Minori to have experienced. Exhausted we had spot of dinner and off home.
Sunday was the exam. As I expected some of it was extremely easy while others - the listening especially - were very difficult. I hate exams. I can't believe I actually paid to do it. Ach well.
So now we're back in Edinburgh. Bob and Thom are coming up this weekend (although I have to take another group of Italians to Stirling Castle. Fun. Then we're off to Dublin before the xmas and new year rounds.

It's Bucking Faltic.

2007-11-30T04:25:00.000+09:00

I don't want to think how long it's been since my last post. What's happened?
1. I've been working at a language school in Edinburgh, teaching and doing social activities. It's a nice school, pretty big and I'm getting to teach all levels which is great.
2. I had an interview for Westgate last Monday with a view to returning to Nagoya in April and teach at a university there. Awaiting response pending paperwork. Go me.
3. Off to London in the morning for 2 days sightseeing and a Japanese exam. Pants. But tours of the House of Commons and the Tower of London should be fun.
Really not much else has been happening. Little reading, some drinking, the odd bit of TV (missed the last episode of Long Way Down which is annoying). Oh, and not posting. I promise on Monday I'll do a proper post with London photos and everything. After I've met my new private student (after my Spanish one fucked off to Newquay after 2 lessons) a Polish girl called Kathryn.
Anyway, wish me luck for Sunday and stay tuned folks.

A Perfect Continuous

2007-10-26T20:11:00.000+09:00

My sincerest apologies. It has been rather a long time since I last posted. Much has happened, little of it exciting. I am killing time on the last day of my CELTA (Certificate of English Language Teaching for Adults for the proles) before we can all escape to the pub and possibly some drunken salsa dancing.
The course has been four weeks long and means that I am now qualified to do the job I've been since June 2005. Only cost 2 grand as well. However I now have a job teaching at a different school from Monday. My task next week seems to be acting as a tour guide to 11 French students. It's a hard life.
I'm exhausted. Though not difficult the course has been massively time consuming what with reports and lesson plans and waking up at stupid o'clock every day. It is however over and, in addition with an EAP course (English for Academic Purposes) I intend doing in March, sets me up nicely for a return to Japan next year and a proper job.
Talking of proper jobs check out www.japantimes.co.jp for the hardly surprising news that Nova has declared themselves bankrupt with debts of 43.9 billion yen.
So what next? Minori returns from a fortnight at home in Japan on Monday. On the 30th November we go to London for a weekend of sightseeing and Japanese exams. The weekend before christmas sees us in Dublin for 3 nights and new year shall be in Manchester. All good clean fun.
Other than that my life has been uneventful of late. Little reading (Apart from The God Delusion by the god-like Richard Dawkins. Read it if you haven't. Read it again if you have), a few films and a weekend in Glasgow with Mike watching sport, climbing and drinking.

Get Some...

2007-08-28T23:32:00.000+09:00

I really shouldn't post when I'm angry. But what the hell, it's all good clean fun until someone loses a President. And not posting is what made the Royal Mail the bunch of bastards it is today.

Just paid the deposit on a new flat. Minori and I will be moving on the 21st of September to our own new pad with tiny shower and kitsch arched brick fireplace at the top of some very high stairs but it is cheaper than the current one and 2 minutes from the cinema. Yay.

I have an interview to do my CELTA on the 5th so all things being equal I will start studying on October 1st.

I have applied to do the Japanese Language Proficiency Test but can't decide whether to do level 4 or 3. Francis, input needed to the usual address.

Thunderbirds are go! The Festival is gone! Students are still around so cash is coming! Rain is on its way! Summer's nearly over but my holiday starts next week! The exclamation mark key has stuck on!

A man walks into a bar in Cork and says "I'm trying to get to Dublin. What's the fastest way?"
The barman says "are you walking or driving?"
"I'm driving."
"That's the fastest way."

It's the way I spell 'em.

Can you tell I'm bored? I have an hour between lessons and instead of doing something useful like working out how to teach the passive voice to a retard or making a list of verbs which need 'don't' to become negative (have, need, want, like etc.) like I promised I would, I'm writing this on a wobbly keyboard.

"Doctor Doctor I think I'm going deaf."
"Really? What are the symptoms?"
"They're a small yellow family on TV."

One of the other teachers asked for an example of the difference between someone and anyone:
"When I go to a club I want to meet someone but by 2am I'm happy to go home with anyone".

Thinks: the passive? My car was hit by the tree Officer. My stomach was invaded by the beer Your Honour. My view was blocked by her cleavage Darling.

Now you too can play the phrasal verb game. Think of 3 phrasal verbs and at least 50% of them will have rude connotations. A fun way to pass boring car journeys or get fired from respected language schools: Turn on. Put out. Get off.

Attention Scum.

2007-08-19T02:11:00.001+09:00

This is what Saturdays are made for. It's pissing with rain giving the place an English feel so we're safely camped inside with cusquena beer, a few kilos of pistachio nuts, wine gums, mussels and chocolate chip cookies watching Alan Rickman chew scenery in Robin Hood: Prince of Accents.
Last night we went to see "I Served The King of England" in the Film Festival. This is a fantastic adaptation of Bohumil Hrabal's novel. Half farce, half biting satire with more uncomfortable laughs than a Scottish election. In the mold of Voltaire's Candide an old man looks back on a laugh that has seen him rise from waiter to ex-con via a brothel regular, a Nazi-sympathiser and an imprisoned millionaire during the Soviet regime. The first half is hysterical but then you start to realise you are laughing with and rooting for a man attacking his own countrymen (Czechs) for standing up to Hitler's henchmen. It was made worse by the knowledge that the director was sitting in the front row and could hear every response we made. Fabulous though. Seek it out and read the book.
Bob came up last weekend I think. I have a dent in my bank account and bags under my eyes so I think it happened but I can't be sure. I also have ticket stubs for A. L. Kennedy (deeply uncomfortable comedy), Punt and Dennis (utter pure genius, none better), Mitch Benn (hysterical but we were funnier in the queue beforehand) and Stewart Lee ("The public cannot be trusted. You think Del Boy falling through a bar is the funniest thing imaginable").

I also wrote two reviews earlier in the festival which, since no one wants to pay me for them, you can have for free:

Adam Bloom: Look At Me, Anybody!

It wasn’t the most auspicious start. The woman in the queue behind me was complaining that she’d bought tickets for Adam Bloom by mistake, really wanting to see Adam Hill. This seems to be a running joke in this still young festival: a friend of mine forked out for Andrew Maxwell expecting Lee Mack. Take more care with names people.
The problem with Adam Bloom is self-inflicted. This is the first time he’s brought a themed show to the festival and he’s clearly uncomfortable with the restrictions this imposes. As a comedian he is never happier – nor funnier – than when ad-libbing, riffing on something an audience member has said, such as picking on a 19 year old student for only being able to wank in rented accommodation: “It’s my house, I paid for it, but I gave my mum a key to maintain that element of danger”.
The theme – his experiences with anger management – is clearly one that has potential and you could see a Dave Gorman mining this seam endlessly, but Bloom – thankfully – isn’t that kind of comedian. Again and again he veers off-topic into hilarious flights of fancy about inflatable mosques and punching sound engineers only to slam on the brakes and drag us back to the point. Bloom as a comedian has more in common with someone like Ross Noble and his instincts fight against the railroading. The theme is only partially explored and never reaches the kind of conclusion that is demanded by the topic based show. It would work better as an elaborate anecdote to be returned to naturally.
That aside, Adam Bloom is still streets ahead of the competition. His faced-paced scatter-gun delivery never lets up though sometimes he does need to backtrack and explain his logic, such as in the following dialogue with a latecomer:
“Where are you from?”
“Croatia.”
“Croatia? Are you a magician?”
He has always been refreshing as a stand up. Much happier than many of his contemporaries; there’s little ranting, no hectoring diatribes and hardly any shouting, except when talking about anger management “experts” and, strangely, ventriloquists. His playful, childish qualities get swallowed up by the order he attempts to place on his show and this is much to the show’s detriment.
Adam Bloom is always worth catching when he’s in town but this show is not his best. Relax Adam, do what you do best: talk nonsense at a thousand miles an hour, run madly between intelligent observations and nob gags and follow your instincts for the worthwhile tangent. Leave the scaffolding for the comedians who need it.

Simon Munnery’s AGM
The Stand Comedy Club.

It’s often hard to tell when Simon Munnery is joking, a strange accusation to lay at the feet of a successful comedian, I know, but true. Every time I’ve seen Munnery there has been more awkward silences than laughs. At times you feel like you are witnessing something horrific and you realise exactly what they mean by “dying” on stage. At a previous show he stepped out of character (which involved taking an orange bucket off his head) and told a story about farming in Australia which ended with the line “and then the bull kicked me in the balls and I got testicular cancer”. One guy laughed, the rest of us stared at the floor and waited for the moment to pass.
This year’s AGM shows no break with tradition. He is joined on stage by Mac, a part-time drummer, part-time painter. Both are dressed in orange boiler-suits making Munnery, with his mad scientist hair, look like a cross between Woody Allen and the Beastie Boys. His bizarre prop this year is a block of granite which he held until he got bored of it.
He is the ultimate acquired taste. His character Alan Parker: Urban Warrior is easily accessible and his BBC series Attention Scum (surely the greatest TV series never to be repeated nor released on any format) brought him to a wider audience but Munnery seems more at home wandering the wilderness at the edges of comedy. “I’m so far from funny comedy that I’ve almost crossed over into art. Unfortunately it’s art that makes people laugh” he says with reference to a Venn diagram. If you don’t know what a Venn diagram is fear not: he has a Venn diagram that explains it.
His mid-afternoon slot is far from ideal for this type of comedy which is aided, rather than hindered, by alcohol, especially since participation is thrust upon the audience. If asked to be a stakeholder, think very carefully before answering. Basing his show around an AGM entitles him to ask for motions from the floor, handed in by the audience during the interval. This leads to another potential problem: half his show is reliant upon the wit of those present, never a guarantee.
Don’t come to this show expecting ‘traditional’ stand up as you’ll be disappointed, surprised and baffled in about equal measures. If however you like your comedy a touch more unorthadox, experimental or just plain weird then I can heartily recommend it. As for myself, I’ve been a fan for years so I’m used to pissing myself laughing while those around me stare, slightly confused, slightly hostile. This is one for comedy geeks and fans of the surreal, for those who greet each other:
“Afternoon.”
“That much is undeniable.”

Happy Birthday to me (contains Harry Potter spoilers)

2007-08-02T03:40:00.000+09:00

Don't worry, I'm not going to shout at you.

I turned 27 yesterday, I am now at the age where famous people die. Lucky no one has ever head of me. I have 363 days to make my impact on the world before making my impact on death if I am going to be spoken about in the same lines as Kurt Cobain, James Dean and River Pheonix. It could happen. It could be me. I just need a big drug habit, some talent and thousands of adoring fans. Stranger things have happened. That horse becoming Pope for one.

Work is going fine, Berlitz is fun, the students are odd (and often Japanese which is cool). I've bitten the bullet by the horns and applied to do my CELTA. 2 and a half years of teaching and I now need to pay a grand to get a piece of paper that says "this man can teach". Fucking waste of time and money but then so are most things in life.

The festival starts this weekend so comedy will be laughed at, music will be bopped to and arty theatre types will be scowled at for talking too loud and occasionally punched. Petty street crime, inappropriate summer dresses and tweed are on the increase.

It's beautiful, sunny, hot and DRY! Ha ha ha! Come to Scotland where the weather is gorgeous. England is becoming Atlantis, sinking under the weight of combined smugness. Bye bye

I've been catching up with friends and looking at uni photos and saying "shit everyone got fat" and thanking whoever that it's not just me. "I'm growing up and out and growing bored" as the song has it.

Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip is geekably adorable and will be watched for ever and ever amen (well for the next 21 weeks anyway). Thom, kidnap Aaron Sorkin, stuff him in your bag and release him when you get to Britain then the BBC can keep him chained up in a shed writing witty but biting dialogue.

Anyway, off to play Risk.

bye.

Almost everything you think will happen, happens, but in a slightly disappointing manner.

Yes! I would rather live in a country with earthquakes and leaky nuclear reactors than to have to deal with British service.

2007-07-19T02:52:00.001+09:00

Yes Ladies and gentlemen, here it is: Wednesday's roll call of incompetence.

In 3rd place, with a staggering display of time-wasting, is the council who, despite promising me £8 a week council tax benefit have managed to supply £15 for 3 months and still need more paperwork.

In 2nd place, though probably next weeks number 1, is Trinity Factors, who have announced that the clause in our lease that states we can leave if we give them a months notice does not, in fact, state that we can leave if we give them a months notice. Instead it says that once our lease has ended we can give them a months notice if we wish to leave a flat we would no longer be living in (and this despite Minori and I having found the most beautiful flat in Polworth with the wooden floors and the big windows and the lack of junkies and neds).

But today's winner is, rather unsurprisingly, the Bank of Scotland who, after 2.5 months have finally opened Minori's account and celebrated by sending her a switch card in someone else's name. I therefore phoned RBS and said "Bank of Scotland have taken 2.5 months to open an account and when they did it was in the name of someone who does not exist despite having 4 documents, including a passport, with the correct information. Can you do better?" I do not feel the man was being over-confident when he said "I think we can manage. I'll check if the team of trained monkeys are free."

Political Correctness Gone Mad

2007-07-16T02:10:00.000+09:00

Down on both knees, photo of Gordon Brown on the cover of the NS (New Statesman, Newish Socialism, New Subscription) "I want to vote Labour, but since 2001 you've made it so damn difficult. Please Gordon, give me a reason to vote Labour."

Ming the Pointless.
Dave "The History Boy" Cameron.
Gordon "Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Prime Minister" Brown (University of Aberdeen English alumini had better get every level of that joke or hand your degrees back).

No wonder even the terrorists can't be arsed taking things seriously.

A new national cirriculum? Spiffing. Kids will study such things as climate change, Shakespeare, Japanese, the Magna Carta, the ethics of using nuclear power, debating, rhetoric (to stop Proper English turning into Friends English), Alan Bennett, George Orwell, Tennessee Williams, Maya Angelou and how to be Global Citizens (TM. patent pending). This is fantastic. I have just finished a job with the SQA where I saw for myself that in history kids only study Churchill and Hitler (genius Tory moment: "In the proposed cirriculum no time is given to the study of Churchill or Hitler." "They study the Second World War. How do you propose we teach those 6 years without mentioning Hitler or Churchill?") But what do I see here? Wednesday at 10am (according to The Independent) "British Values: Learning about different cultures and how to respect them." My arse. If Daily Hate Mail reading wankers have their way this will become "British Values: Hearing the name of a country and reducing it's culture to a pithy three word insult such as "Middle-England Must Die". A bad idea from start to finish. What fucking questions will the exam have? Question 1: Who won the World Cup in 1966? Question 2: Who did they beat? 3: Who raped England at Wembley a year later?. Which leads me nicely onto "Thursday 1pm: Citizenship. Lessons about individual rights and responsibilties." If this means learning that phrases like "Flipping Arabs is not racist. You can take that political correctness too far." (No, you can't. You cannot take 'not being a racist' too far.) are bollocks then fantastic. If it means executing someone every time they use the word "Paki" to mean "corner shop" or "Chinki" to mean "Chinese Take Away" then I'm a happy man. If it means "you get to stay in this country if you meet the following criteria: 1. You must drink heavily. 2. You must think that the smoking ban is an infringment of your human rights (where? Where the fuck does it say that the right to kill yourself and others is on a par with the right to existence?). 3. You must be able to use the phrase "nice day for it" with 17 different inflexions to show varying levels of irony depending on the exact weather conditions. If this is what "Citizenship" means, then I'm fucking off.

"They may not have learned to make bombs here, but the NHS is where they learned to miss targets." Hugh Dennis in Utter Genius moment on Mock The Week.

Please Gordon. I want to love this country. I want to stay here. I want to not be embarrassed every time my girlfriend is treated like scum for being foreign, for being female or, far far far more often, for just being a customer. I want to not have arguments where I have to make the point that loving your country doesn't mean saying it's better than all the others and hitting anyone who says different, it means being blood-boilingly angry when said country fucks itself up so badly that you want to dump it like a clap-ridden lover. I want to be proud of this country as it is, not proudly insistent of what it could become.

It's The End Of The World: Do You Know Where Your First Born Is?

2007-07-01T04:27:00.001+09:00

Before I begin, a disclaimer: I use humour as a defence mechanism. As The Delgados have it "when faced with reality, I choose frivolity".

As I'm sure you are all aware, at 3.15 this afternoon, two 'men' (I use the word advisedly and will return to it later) drove a flaming Cherokee into the main entrance of Glasgow Airport.

"I was standing in check in queue 9. I turned around and saw a Jeep trying to get through the doors." - Irish Eye Witness.

I logged in to check my emails and the headline caught my eye. As it would. I responded much quicker this time (long term readers of this blog will know it took me ages to realise that the headline "bombs on London Underground" meant that there had been bombs on the London Underground). News 24 (hello old friend) on and grainy stills. At this point no one wanted to be pinned down over whether it was an accident or terrorism. Even when it was announced that two men had been arrested, there was still some doubt whether this was proper terrorism of the kind we are at war with, or if this was some nutter with a Jeep, a nectar card and a hatred of automatic doors.

"Of course it's fucking terrorism" no one was brave enough to say until the Home Secretary (in the running for worst first week in a job ever?) did.

"Totally amateur" an expert said "but it worked".

This is all somewhat rambling because, clearly, I'm not sure what to do with the experiences I'm having. I'm living in interesting times. How do you assimilate this? My country - a tiny, nothing country - has just been attacked by terrorists, almost certainly born and bred here. One thing I did was start cooking a pork roast. It doesn't help anything but it kept me busy during another 15 minutes news cycle and means I can know close the freezer door. I'm also drinking my flatmate's last bottle of wine. Sorry.

A fire in Glasgow.
Bombs in London.
Half the country is underwater.

If anyone spots even one locust I'm out of here.

The two things that kept me sane throughout the broadcast so far today:
Jackie Kennedy, the Eye Witness with the famous name and a face like my wallet.
The Glaswegian airport worker who, despite clearly not knowing how many people had been involved in aiding the police with restraining the suspects, hazarded the following guess: "3, 4, 5 or 6. If pushed I would maybe say there was more."

The Pentland Hills.

2007-06-30T16:25:00.000+09:00

Good name for a band that.
A while back we went walking. Here are some views of the outskirts of Edinburgh and of me and Minori.

Balls to Cromwell.

2007-06-30T15:59:00.000+09:00

Holyrood (the words Holy Rood are Old Scots for Holy Cross) Palace, says Wikipedia, has been the home of Scottish Monarchs since the 15th Century. It quietly sits beneath Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Crags, stately and old, a short step from the new and "interesting" Scottish parliament Building. I won't bore you with the tour beyond saying that if you come to Edinburgh, this is well worth it. Probably the most interesting thing I discovered is that Oliver Cromwell is pretty much totally responsible for Scottish hatred of the Auld Enemy (England) in modern times. Charles 1st was king of both Scotland and England (born in Scotland to boot) but no Scots were involved in his execution. We weren't that chuffed with him, but really only wanted him to stop taxing us (£17000 pounds on average). England killed him, Cromwell invaded and taxed us £90000 in his first year as Lord Protector. We crowned Charles 2nd and hated the bloody English ever since. So there you go.

This is the front of the Palace where, apparently, a big ceremony takes place every time the Queen arrives. She is given the keys of the city by the Lord Provost. She then gives them back "from safe keeping". The Queen cannot be trusted with our keys. I think this was the story. The audio guide at this point was narrated by Prince Charles and I spent the whole time thinking "does he know how ridiculous he sounds?"

This is the back, where garden parties are held. We haven't been invited this year but apparently they are very nice. They Queen does a mean barbecue and Edward's coleslaw is rightly famous.

The last 3 are all of Holyrood Abbey. Obviously it's a tad run-down. In 1172, David I was hunting nearby and met a Stag with an illuminated cross between it's antlers. As you do. So he built an Abbey.

Someone, I think Mendelssohn, came here when it was already falling apart and overgrown. It inspired him to write his Scottish Symphony. There must be something about this place that makes people go mental.

Workers of the world: Work! It's what you're paid for.

2007-06-23T02:36:00.000+09:00

I have a job. Yippee Yay Happy Happy Joy Joy etc. etc.
I will start teaching for Berlitz on the 9th after a weekend in Aberdeen (possibly, still finalising options). I will return to teaching and learn the "Berlitz Method" which is no doubt totally different to the "Nova Method".
I got an interview to join a CELTA course in September but they want me to do it during office hours which ain't happening. I'll look at a different school if they can't move it.
Also made plans to join a proper Japanese course from September. I wanted to join the summer school but did a level check over the phone (shit that was hard. I'm pretty sure my answer to "When did you move to Japan?" was "2005 years ago") and it turns out I'm too damn good for the summer schools. They only do beginner, post-beginner and lower-elementary (7c, 7b and 7a to ex-Nova folk) and it turns out I'm upper-lower-middle elementary or some such nonsense. Basically the fact that I can read and write and the fact that I can use correct tenses (assuming it is one of the ten or so verbs I know) means I'm better than those who study in the summer. Ha ha. With this in mind I'm thinking of enrolling for the Japanese Language Proficiency Test in December. Not sure whether to do level 4 or bite the bullet, study like a bastard and try the level 3. Either way, piss up in London circa December 1st.
Cut my hair.
Got a job.
What's next?
*Iain opens a bottle of Super Bock, takes a long pull, sighs, burps, decides to show some photos*

A moody black and white number taken on a lovely early summer evening. Obviously in the backgroud you can make out the castle; in the foreground is the national gallery.

On the skyline, this is along a bit to the left from the castle. No idea what these buildings are called or when they were built or why, but they are very nice.

A different angle and some colour on the castle and the gallery. Come see, it's very nice.

Dan: "why does the Scott Monument look like Thunderbird 1, when everyone knows Scott flew Thunderbird 3?"

Minori with a big funny hat. Kawaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.

Eurpoe: Where The History Comes From.

2007-06-19T02:29:00.000+09:00

This is the entrance to Edinburgh Castle. Various parts of it date back to the 16th and even the 12th centuries. It is very expensive to get into but then it does sit upon a volcano.

This is the view from the north side, near the One O'Clock Gun (let's hear the most asked tourist question: what time does the One O'Clock Gun go off?). As you will begin to see from the sky in these photos, Edinburgh's weather patterns are mental.

The Scottish National War Memorial. Enough said. Next to this (which I stupidly didn't photograph) is the building containing the sword and sceptre of the Scottish Kings and the Stone of Destiny. This is the stone all Kings from ancient times sat on to be annointed. The English stole it in 1296 and we only got it back in 1996. For more check Wikipedia. Look under Stone of Destiny or Theiving English Bastards: Examples Of Their Work.

Again looking off the north side, this time in a westerly direction. You can make out The National Gallery, The Scott Monument, The Balmoral Hotel (bloody expensive but where J.K. Rowling recently finished writing the last Harry Potter book) and behind that, Calton Hill. Very nice.

Moody.

Another view of Edinburgh. Nothing special I just liked the framing of it and hope you do too.

The thing itself. Built to keep the Evil English K-niggets out. Quite a lot of Peril herein.

Jog On.

2007-06-14T23:41:00.000+09:00

I have an interview with Berlitz in two hours. Then pub. By the time I get home there should be an email saying thanks but.
Not much has been happening. Work (still no day off), reading four books intermittently (Fiona Watsons history of Scotland, Martin Amis' history of himself, Katherine Mansfield's "In a German Pension" and "The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner" by James Hogg). I have black marks under my eyes but am still a smoke-free area. That's over two weeks. Yay me.
Watched Hot Fuzz (finally, it never made it to a cinema near me). Great, simply genius. Every conversation I've ever had that began "Wouldn't it be cool if ..." Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright manage to create. "You'd have made a great muppet".
Went to Mary King's Close in Edinburgh with Minori. Old underground part of the city. They literally built the city chambers on top of it. Nicely civic. It was a bit spooky (though slightly undermined by the tour guides "I bet you've never been so scared by a lightbulb in all your life". No ghosts though a retard on the tour kept mumbling "they're all sitting in a circle" which was slightly unnerving.
I was going to add photos of Embra but since they're all on my laptop and I'm not you'll have to wait.
Wish me luck.

No Point No Counter Point

2007-06-06T02:01:00.000+09:00

It took the bastards about 30 minutes to decide not to give me the job and then email me.

Iain was forced to continue temping for a while longer. Not too much of a hardship considering all he did was read and, every so often, say "I'm not sure. I'll ask someone who knows." Since his interview he had raced through "The Collected Short Stories" of E. M. Forster, most of which he enjoyed since they were, like him, a touch frivolous. "Walking Wounded" by William McIlvanney helped pass a rainy afternoon in a hotel lobby while "Whoever You Choose To Love" by Colette Paul made the buses seem faster. Next he intended tackling "Gabriel's Gift" by Hanif Kureshi and was much looking forward to the task.

Sunday afternoon, having been sent home early, Iain joined friends Patrick and Justin for a spot of afternoon refreshment. Afternoon dipped into evening and Iain and Patrick dipped into drunkeness, returning to his stylish flat to listen to music and make pasta gloop. Iain didn't like Monday, and all could've told him why had he unstuck his tongue and asked.

Finally getting round to following up on some articles in the latest edition of the Observer Music Monthly,

Eat Me

our hero wandered to the following location on the interweb:

Drink Me

and thoroughly enjoyed the music he found there. He was to be found listening to it again a few days later while writing in his journal and 'bopping' in a most shameful manner.

His flatmate, Kate, had left for the barren North. She was staying in a little-known enclave called Inverness. Inverness was famous for not having a monster. In this respect it was very much like every other city in the world. Apart from Liverpool which, rumour has it, is home to a very violent demonic force known as "The Reds". In Inverness they partied like it was 1999. Kate managed four days before sending a telegram saying that she was coming back to civilisation so would someone please leave the gate ajar.

Iain reached for another bottle of Sol, turned to Minori as she asked "Why is bats in Britain in danger? It's for my English homework." She then asked him to supply sentences like "as blind as a bat". In addition to "as strong as...", "as timid as..." and "as cunning as ..." he also included "as pissed as a ...", "as rough as a ...", "as tight as a ..." and "they go at it like rabbits." He waited to hear what her teacher said.

Two years away and still Big Brother is showing in this God-Forsaken Country

2007-05-31T01:57:00.000+09:00

Okay, so by a vote of 3 - 0 (which means I have a bigger majority than Smart-Alex Salmon (whose rise to power was recently compared to that of Hitler in a rare Labour-being-witty moment) and with no spoiled ballots which means the decision is more democratic than the election here or the great Bush coup of 2000 when Haiti should've invaded Washington and installed a democracy) this rather parenthetical blog will continue. A victory for the We Fear Change Party (not to be confused with the Tories who don't fear change, because you can't fear something of which you've never heard).
My life:
Tomorrow, at 11.30, I have what I hope to be the first and last proper job interview of my current unemployment (I don't count the humiliating 30 minutes spent in Virgin Megastores saying things like "yes, I am familiar with the English alphabet" nor the pointless "we've already told you you've got the temping job, we just need to catch up on the paperwork" visit to Reed). I will be interviewed for an admissions job in the University of Edinburgh. It is in the Science faculty (interesting information discovered as a result of research for the interview: Peter Higgs postulated the Higgs Boson at Embra Uni in the 1960's. It is to discover this itsby-bitsy teenie-weenie particle that the Super Giant Mega Big Proton Make-Go-Faster and Extra Large Big Bang Machine has been built under Switzerland. They turn it on in November. I really love this thing (despite constantly forgetting it's name), it's one of the few examples of people doing something just because we might learn a new fact) which I've never been to so an early start is in order. Wish me luck.
Talking of early starts, my current job: temping at the Scottish Qualifications Authority (SQA). The kids have sat their exams. The papers have been marked. Now we have Marker's Check meetings where one group of markers check the rest to make sure they have been consistent and fair. My job is to provide admin support for the first group. Example. Yesterday I sat from 9.45 until 14.30 in a big leather armchair in the Library Bar of an old country house turned hotel, drinking coffee and reading Ian McEwan's "Enduring Love" (cover to cover), a few stories by Chekov, three quarters of Alice in Wonderland and two chapters of "Sexing The Cherry" by Jeanette Winterson (which is shite). I then went home. Today I sat for 45 minutes in a taxi. Took a register of 13 people. I then sat in a hallway reading almost all of Graham Greene's "The End of the Affair", finished "Wish I Was Here" by Jackie Kay and read a few stories from "Whoever You Chose To Love" by Colette Paul. I also drank coffee and ate Jelly Tots. Then I got Thai Sweet Chili Chicken (starter) and Rib-Eye Steak in Pepper Sauce (all free) for lunch. It's a hard life.
Not much else has been happening. Jon popped down for a few days and we played some music with the old Episodics (Misha and Sarah) and Hilary, a friend from Uni with a great voice. Kate moves (temporarily) to Inverness at the weekend and Minori has started studying English. I have (temporarily) stopped studying Japanese because my teacher is crap and I can't get there in time from work.
Embra is cool (despite lack of jobs) and I'm glad I chose here over other places. I took Minori to Glasgow and said "What do you think of Glasgow?". She said "I like Edinburgh".
My PC broke but is now fixed (and new and improved with added DVD player).
Clerks II is incredibly funny.
28 Weeks Later is cool in a B-Movie kind of way.
Scrubs is on cable 24 hours a day and there are not enough hours in the day for Scrubs.
I haven't had a cigarette for 48 hours and I'm going mental.

Referendum

2007-05-26T03:42:00.000+09:00

Ok folks, I need help making a decision. I kind of like the idea of this blog only being about my time in Japan, however it has already spilled over into my time home (ok, only a little, but Virgin Media are at fault here) and has been hacked by some Canadian Mentalist who has lost her dictionary. Should I, therefore, start another new blog (not forgetting my writing blog which I've also been treating in the same way that George Dubya Gump treats the UN: every so often I send something it's way, but generally I forget about it) or should I say "balls to symmetry" and keep posting on this one?

Escape From Alanis

2007-05-26T03:27:00.001+09:00

Dear Alanis,

Here is a situation for you.
I moved to a new city quite a few months ago in order to undertake what turned out to be a less than thrilling course. I decided to “encourage” my boyfriend to accompany me. In short I made the poor bloke move so I could go to uni. Is it then ‘ironic’ that I have passes my course tolerably but he on the other hand has a great job he enjoys, keeps getting pay rises and has been offered the chance to do a Ph.D for free? He seems to be enjoying the life down here much more than me, yet I am the one who prompted the move.
best wishes,
Stacey

Dear Kirst ... I mean Stacey. No, this is not ironic. This is what happens when you take a Liverpool fan to Liverpool. You should have gone to London where there are no football teams worth mentioning. Liverpool fans in Liverpool are prone to good luck, unlike Everton fans who are naturally unlucky. They didn't even get to use the city's name for their club. And they're not very good. Either that or you should've chosen your boyfriends better. Maybe an Everton fan would've been a good choice. Do you know any Everton fans? They are reliable boyfriends: okay they don't have much money to splash around but they are never likely to leave the country and are grateful for every perceived success in their lives. Everton boyfriends are not to be confused with Everton bras, which have no cups and very little support.

The Search For Alanis

2007-05-18T06:10:00.000+09:00

Dear Alanis.
As you know those of us who live in the colonies are completely illiterate and can only learn English via divine hymns from other lands (e.g. Eminem, Axl Rose, James Brown and Abba). Of course your hymn, Ironic, is the most divine of all. Since seeking higher education (the Oxford Dictionary) I have come to the view that the situations described in your hymn are not ironic at all but just "bum outs" or unlucky situations. Subsequently, since the debut of 'ironic', my people have been misinterpreting the English tounge. Is this Ironic?

Sincerely yours,
Darius (devoted follower)

P.S. I have one hand in my pocket, the other, is making a peace sign.

Dear Darius. No. Every situation in my song is Ironic. It is. Because ... well ... they are. Like the old man ... no, hang on ... that's a bad example. Now what is ironic is the fact that you misspelled "tongue".

Alanis 3

2007-05-16T01:36:00.000+09:00

Dear Alanis,
Ayaka, my Japanese girlfriend, moved out of Japan to Australia to learn English......
That's all.
Isn't this ironic?

Francis.

Dear Francis. I wouldn't say this is ironic as such. Just kinda dumb. Like going to England to learn cricket or going to Scotland to learn sobriety. She should come to Canada where I, Bryan Adams and Celine Dion can teach her English through the medium of song.

Ask Alanis 2

2007-05-13T18:28:00.000+09:00

Dear Alanis:
I recently purchased a brand new pair of sunglasses. However, being the clumsey oaf I was (I have since taken sitting down lessons), I accidentally sat on them, breaking them entirely. Consequently I was to be found just three days ago sitting in the shade of a dusty church, owing to the lack of sunglasses, when a ray of sun was focused through a raindrop and blinded me entirely. I would not have gone blind had I been wearing my sunglasses.
Pray tell, is any of this story ironic in anyway?

I'm sorry, but I'm afraid this cannot count as ironic. Although I am not claiming devine status, I did once play God in Kevin Smith's though-provoking drama Dogma therefore I feel I am in a good position to suggest that your blindness is a gift from God. He directed your rear to lower itself onto the sunglasses, breaking them, thus ensuring that your eyes would be uncovered for the blinding he was sending your way. I cannot begin to imagine why our Lord and Master should need you blind, but rest assured you have been chosen.

Ask Alanis.

2007-05-11T23:36:00.000+09:00

I've decided to start a new interactive section of my blog, called Ask Alanis. The idea is, you propose situations that may or may not be ironic, and Alanis posts a reply. I'll start the ball rolling by positing the first situation:
A man walks into a bar dressed in drag, a horrific ginger wig on his head and pink lipstick smeared across his mouth. On top of his floral summer frock is a builders yellow waistcoat. As he walks through the door The Eels classic track "Beautiful Freak" starts playing (this is totally true by the way, I'm looking at him as I write this). Isn't it ironic, doncha think?

Alanis says:

While the conjunction of man and music is indeed a mystic occurrance signifying that Venus is rising and Mars is melting, I'm afraid (so very afraid, especially at night) that this does not count as Ironic in the true sense of the word as I discuss it on my debut album. What you have come across is an coincidence, an amusing one certainly, but one nonetheless.

St. Peter Preached The Epistles To The Apostles Looking Like That.

2007-05-11T22:33:00.000+09:00

This pub has free WiFi! How happy am I? Although they did just mix Travis out of The Jackson 5. Hmm.
A quick epistle from the East (of Scotland) to keep you fiendish newshounds at bay. Minori has been here a week, loving Edinburgh and its bizarrely changing weather. Jon managed to get her drinking pints of real ale and she has developed a taste for haggis and chip shop chips (with chippy sauce Embra stylee) though not at the same time.
Off to either Inverness (helping Jon move) or Glasgow (drinking with Mike) this weekend.
I have a job, kind of, temping at the SQA via Reed. Nothing spectacular but I get to wear jeans to work which makes a nice change. That starts in a week so some more sightseeing. It's quite nice being a tourist in my own country. We went to the Embra Castle the other day. Sodding expensive but worth doing once. Saw the Scottish Honours (Crown Jewels) and the Stone of Destiny, stolen by England 700 years ago and only returned in 1996. Thieving bastards. Had a weird Robert the Bruce's arse sat on that moment then watched a soldier screaming at a Chinese tourist for using his mobile in the War Memorial. Good clean fun.
Still no internet at home due to the unparalleled ineptitude of Virgin Media.
The SNP won the election despite over 100'000 votes being discounted. Arse.
That's about it. Another pint of Guinness beckons.

Love, Labour's Lost.

2007-05-02T21:51:00.000+09:00

Ok folks, I know I've been crap at this since returning to Blighty. It's mainly due to intermittent internet access (Virgin are shite), failing to decide whether to kepe this blog going or start a new one, and realising there's so much to put up on here that I don't know where to start. So I won't.
I have no job. I had one humiliating interview for floor monkey in a record shop. My flat is nice and I'm taking Japanese lessons. Minori gets here on Saturday. I miss Japan. My bank account really misses Nova. My Mum is married, my sister is in Thailand. I went to Portugal and had a lot of fun. Liverpool beat Chelsea and everyone laughed. The elections are tomorrow and the infernal SNP are 8 points ahead in the polls because they are the only ones with a campaign message:
SNP: We want Independence.
Labour: Education is, like, a good thing.
Liberal: Um ... we shouldn't use so much energy, mmkay.
Green: Hang on, that's our policy.
Tory: Please vote for us, we've changed.
Solidarity: Here's Tommy.
Scottish Socialist Party: Does exactly what it says on the tin.
Scottish Christian Party: We hate gays.
BNP: They come over here, steal our jobs.
UKIP: We're not racist but...

and I have been disenfranchised by Aberdeenshire Council who took 6 weeks to process my application, so I can't even spoil my ballot by writing "Sod the bloody lot of you."
So instead I'm going to start the "SIFSBC Party". That's the "Scottish Independence From Sean Bloody Connery Party".

Right, off to find some Socialists to bait.

Have pound coins got bigger?

2007-03-27T22:04:00.000+09:00

In London. Exhausted. 3 hours until next flight. Then done. Emirates shit. Bunch of c***s. Over now. Will explain when can use the English proper. Everyone here is gaijin. Saw Iran. Looked evil. Had deserts and snow. Must bomb. Have seen 12pm three times today. Is it today? What does today mean? What does mean mean. And why are there so many men in skirts?

The Earth Moved.

2007-03-25T13:51:00.000+09:00

Shit, 7.1. Francis and I (he crashed here last night) were woken by it, my building swaying drunkenly. This happens every couple of weeks because my building is so flimsy but this went on for about 30 seconds, much longer than normal. No damage or anything but it is the biggest since I've been here. Thank God it was offshore, the one that destroyed Kobe in 1995 was 7.2. I was just thinking a couple of days ago that I'd managed to survive almost two years in Japan without really experiencing a typhoon or earthquake. I'll rest happy if this is the closest I get.

It's the Rebels Sir. They've brought a flag.

2007-03-25T09:40:00.000+09:00

So it's done. I'm no longer a Nova teacher. Well, technically I'm on holiday until the 13th but I will never teach another lesson again. I felt crap for most of the due to being awake so damn early but by mid afternoon I was fine. Photos were taken and presents given. I received a Chinese puzzle box, some ceramic mugs, a Francis Bacon book (from Francis), a good luck charm from Sian and a bloody expensive watch. These students are crazy. Never in my life would I spend large wads of cash on a teacher just because he's sodding off somewhere else. But there you go, my luggage has doubled in size.
After work Greg, Miharu, Sian, Lisa, Francis and I met at an Izakaya near work and got trolleyed. We told bad jokes and then made Francis explain them to Miharu in Japanese. I gave him the "are you a piece of string?" "No, I'm a frayed knot" joke. He did well although he had us in stitches by finishing one unsuccessful explanation with "dakara funny desu" (and therefore it is funny) like a lecturer reaching the end of an argument. Kazuki and Sayako (see picture below) appeared and gave me a sake flask and cups but wouldn't join us no matter how often we asked (although it seems they went there with the intention of finding us). About 10.30 we came back to Inuyama, had a couple of cans in the flat and then passed out. My head hurts.

Me (obviously), Yuzuki and her mum, Kouko. Kawaii.

Fujiko and me. She is the one who gave me the watch. Very nice lady.

Meeting of Revolutionary Leaders (actually as I was writing that I realised that just before this picture was taken I had been berating Miharu and the Japanese people for allowing the American troops to stay since 1945. I think I compared Japan with Iraq as a victim in America's quest for world conquest. I definitely used the phrase "unite and rise up").

Me, Sayako and Kazuki.

watashi wa ima made no watashi dewanai.

2007-03-24T06:00:00.000+09:00

Bloody bastarding 6am and I've been awake for an hour for no reason. I hate being sick. I got a cold which threatened to get much worse - I had a ridiculously high temperature the other night - but which has so far remained around the painful-to-move-my-eyes-and-two-gallons-of-snot-in-each-nostril stage. Another annoying side effect seems to be insomnia.
So today is my last day at Nova. In two hours I will crawl out of bed (undoubtedly having just fallen asleep ten minutes before), wear the only shirt and tie I haven't put in the bin, my ten pound Matalan suit which is missing a button and has pretty much changed colour and, for the last time, get the train to Kani. It's a strange feeling (although to be fair all feelings are strange at 6am). It was only yesterday it really sunk in how close I am to leaving. Saying "I fly on the 26th" is dramatically different from "I fly on Monday".
The students are being wonderful and very generous. Yesterday's present haul included a double CD of some Japanese folk musician, a Banana Yoshimoto novel and a Mishima Yukio novel, both in Japanese (their faith in my ability to read Japanese is a little deluded), origami cranes, handkerchiefs, a portable ashtray, bath salts and chopsticks. Oh, and a black pig to clip onto my toothbrush. Bloody insane, the lot of them. I've known some of them for almost two years and it isn't nice to think: "I'll probably never see this person ever again."
Tonight, after work, I will meet Sian, Lisa, Greg, Ayako, Miharu and Yuri for drinks and chat (assuming my head stops pounding). Tomorrow I'll finish packing (which would be done except I keep having to find space for new presents), sleep (please) and generally relax. Minori will come over at 8. Monday is closing my bank account and cancelling my phone then off to the airport at 6 to begin one of the most epic journeys a human being has undertaken (possibly).
I've a lot to say about leaving Japan but it's too early, I'm not thinking clearly and typing while lying down is difficult. If you want to read my rabidly incoherent thoughts presented in a style that pretends to be thought-provoking then tune in sometime over the next couple of days. I have a lot of time at airports to kill.

Above is, from left to right, Hiroshi, Tomomi, Miwako, Me, Koujiro, Masahiko and Susumu.

This is the Wednesday kinder class. I normally don't teach them, but the girl in the centre, Nanasa, is the cutest thing in the world and every time she sees me jumps around shouting "Iain-sensei! Yokata!"

This is Megumi, who is totally insane and will soon be a nurse. Don't get sick in Minokamo.

"It comes in pints?"

Again left to right: Kyouko, Ema, Greg, Minori, Me. We went for yakiniku on Thursday and Ema gave me a t-shirt emblazoned with the title of this post. It means either: "until now I haven't been myself" or "I am not the person I was". I reckon it's the former but there was some discussion. Incidentally if you're wondering why everyone is giving the peace sign, so am I. It is the thing to do in Japan. Everyone does it and who am I to argue.

Kyoto part two.

2007-03-20T22:52:00.000+09:00

We stopped for lunch. I wanted to go to Nijo Jinya which appears to be a normal house but is actually full of secret passages and hidden rooms. Unfortunately you have to book in advance and the tours were full. Instead we went to Ginkakuji, which I have now been to three times, but which never ceases to amaze and relax me. Definitely one of the most beautiful spots in the world. It was bitterly cold and mobbed but it's hard to be misanthropic in such surroundings. I tried, but I failed.

Home, a few drinks, a new Orhan Pamuk book, The New Life and a magazine called Foreign Policy which is about ... um ... Fijian Tile Grout or something and bed.

New presents from students: a Sake flask and cups covered in pictures of sushi, a book about how to live in Japan which came a tad too late, a tie with green stripes and purple dots and I bought myself playing cards adorned with scenes from the Tale of Genji. A good haul.

Kyoto part one

2007-03-20T09:05:00.000+09:00

Less than a week now. How time flies. What have I been doing?
Well Saturday night saw the first of my three leaving parties. I met a motley collection of reprobates in Red Rock for a few knocked back beers before sauntering over to looop (yes, I spelled that correctly) to watch the mighty Jonny. After bigging them up so much before hand I was a tad worried that I would be left looking like a twat but no, sure enough they rocked the place. They have a new album out next month which must be bought. I've been charged with finding them some gigs in Britain.
I have absolutely no photos of anything other than the band. This is partly because it was really dark in the club and they wouldn't come out, partly because I spent a lot of time dancing, but mainly because I was totally trousered.
Slightly remembered highlights include moshing to Smells Like Teen Spirit, arguing about Hume and Descartes and having NAKAMURA shouted at me by various randoms (I was wearing my Japan top). There's a hell of a lot I can't really remember.

Yesterday being my last official day off, Minori and I made the last minute decision to go to Kyoto for the day. It only takes 35 minutes from Nagoya on the shinkansen so by 10.30 we were wedged onto a bus on our way to Nanzen-ji. I went to this temple with Stuart and Kate but we got lost and it was closed by the time we arrived. No such trouble today (nor was it raining like it has every bloody time I've gone to Kyoto). Nanzenji is the headquarters of the Rinzai school of Zen (google it yourself) and spread wide grounds. There are some stunning Zen gardens, a red brick aqueduct and more tranquility than you can shake a koan at.

Meet The Itou's

2007-03-12T21:38:00.000+09:00

Last night I met Minori's family. I was shitting a brick beforehand but it turned out okay. She met me from work with her sister who shouted "NICE TO MEET YOU" from across the car park. Minori giggled and cowered in the car. We drove to her house, a beautiful big modern Japanese house in the country with about 200 cars parked outside, all with the same number plate. Living in the house are Minori, her sister Chiharu, her brother Ko...something, her Mum (a lovely woman, about as stereotypically "mother" as you can be: I left the house two stone heavier and with a doggie-bag), her Dad (who seemed nice but had to leave after 5 minutes because of work) and her brother's son Haru who is a three year old ball of energy.
I walked through the door and got my "hajimemashita"s and "ojamashimasu"s out of the way and the promptly forgot how to speak Japanese. I smiled like a twat. They gave me beer and food. Haru hid behind the sofa. I was flying. I ate until I couldn't eat any more and smiled until my cheeks hurt. The phrase "you love my sister yes?" flew at me, the first sentence in English from anyone other than Minori. Her Mum asked me (via Minori) if I asked Minori out or if she asked me. I said I did. Her Mum looked thoughtful for a bit then said, in English: Propose? The piece of Octopus flew out of my mouth onto the table. Minori collapsed in laughter and her mum looked confused. Her brother announced he is a volunteer firefighter. I said my father used to be one. He asked if he was a volunteer or full time. Somehow I managed to say "no, he was a proper fireman". This didn't go down well and I got to practice my apologies.
After dinner Minori invited me up to see her room. In doing so she successfully completed the transition of me from 26 year old teacher to gibbering teenager. We climbed the stairs, nearly flattened by a rampaging Haru (it means Spring by the way) who had suddenly decided that this was the time to get to know me. He pulled all his toys from his room into hers, handed me his English picture dictionary and said he wanted to study. Some "banana"s and "potato"s later he sodded off. By this point I was exhausted and it was time to leave.
I think they liked me. At least, I think they're going to let her leave the country with me, which amounts to the same thing.

Bastards

2007-03-08T11:35:00.000+09:00

Well I'm not going back to Uni then. Just checked the UCAS page to discover the nice word "unsuccessful". Not quite sure why they would feel a 26 year old with an MA and an MPhil and no funding would be a bad bet for the course but apparently they have. Fuck em. Going to look for private language schools and a job then.
New flat mate arrived. Sly, he likes Aussie Rules. Seems like a nice guy. Two days after I move out he gets a new flatmate, a Yank called Elliot (cue ET impressions). He's understandably annoyed.

Just how good is the West Wing?

2007-03-05T10:57:00.000+09:00

Hello folks of world, this is Japan calling.

I'm leaving for work in a few minutes but thought I'd give an update while finishing my coffee. There's torrential rain outside and I lost my umbrella. Great.

I think I've found a flat. Minori and I will, assuming all goes well with the paperwork, be living on Slateford Road in Edinburgh with Kate (who some of you will know but for others, Kate and I worked together at the Western in Glasgow). It looks like a nice flat and I'm reliably informed the location is decent. It's also a pretty good price, which is obviously an important concern. The plan is for me to move in on April 24th so for all of you in Edinburgh: drinks on or soon after that date.

I also booked a holiday. I bought a return ticket from Aberdeen to Japan via London and Dubai when I thought I was coming back. Obviously I'm not but I figured I might as well make use of the Aberdeen to London ticket. On the 10th of April I will be in London for the day. The plan is sightseeing (I've never actually been a tourist in London and really want to see the Globe, the Tate, the Tower and the British Museum) followed by meeting Leo for a few drinks. If anyone is around and free let me know. On the 11th I will be flying to Lisbon where I will stay until the 16th with John and Laura (good friends who worked out here but left last March). I am quite excited about all of this.

I definitely need a holiday. Yesterday was Tony's leaving do in Nagoya. I finished work at 5.20 and was supposed to meet everyone at 8. I thought I would have a nap as I was pretty exhausted. I woke about 11pm with many messages saying "where are you?" Sorry guys, I was in bed.

There was a small earthquake last night. I notice them because I'm on the top floor and my building is made of paper. Everything was swaying and bumping. Every time they happen I get a little nervous. Earthquakes are one of those things that do not get better with experience. This is because as the time since the last big earthquake increases, so to does the magnitude when it finally does come. There hasn't been one in this area for a long time and people expect the great Tokai earthquake. I'm becoming quite adept at telling if the tremors are increasing or not. Always the thought goes through my head: should I get out of bed and get dressed? What if this is the big one. So far it hasn't been. As long as it's not in the next three weeks I'll be happy.

My wee sister is in Australia. We are only a small family yet at this point we are represented on three continents, which is quite cool when you think about it. I wanted to get to Oz myself but what with plans changing so often it turns out I won't visit any other countries out this way. It seems crazy to spend two years in Japan, thousands of miles from home, and not even visit Korea which is two hours away. But then there's still so much of Japan I haven't seen. Out of the 5 islands I've been to two. And I only went to Hokkaido once. Another reason to get to Portugal, need to rack up another new country.

Right, coffee is gone, the rain hasn't and my train leaves soon. I expect to be busy for the next few days so I'll post as and when I can. 3 weeks today I'll begin my epic journey to Blighty. Mata.

"It's a small world." "I know, I nearly fell off."

2007-03-01T09:54:00.000+09:00

Sunday was rough. Spent the day alternately watching The West Wing and throwing up. A mixed bag you could say. Monday I went back to work though I still wasn’t 100%. There’s a lot to be said for having a day off in the middle of the week. Normally Mondays really drag but this week it flew by.

On Tuesday Minori and I went to Little World. Little World, as you may have guessed by the name, is an open air museum that accurately (I am told) recreates buildings from all over the world. Despite it being about 5 minutes from Inuyama it has taken me nearly two years to actually get there. I mean it has taken me two years to get around to trying to get there, not that I got so lost that I’ve been travelling for two years and only just arrived. It was a nice day so the walking was good, and some of the houses were fascinating, like the Meiji-era Japanese home and the Nepalese Buddhist Monastery. Some, however, were rather dull. The Italian house was indistinguishable from a very average Italian restaurant and the Native American tipi stood out only because there were large rips in it. At the German village I bought some beer and toblerone. At the Indian village we had a nice curry with nan and samosa then came home.

Minori was feeling a bit under the weather so after a nap she went home and I went into Nagoya to meet Francis. A spot of dinner accompanied by truly atrocious lounge piano versions of what would I hesitate to call ‘classics’. Into Sakae, and we got rather drunk in Red Rock, making it home in the wee small hours.

Waking with head a mess I came home, got clean and met Minori. We had a very relaxing day walking by the river and making plans for Scotland. Edinburgh is definitely top of the list but I guess it’ll come down to jobs. I’ve also decided to go to Portugal for a few days and visit John and Laura when I come back. I already have a flight to London paid for on the 10^th April so I figured I might as well use it and have some fun. Looking to meet up with Leo as well while I’m in London, which would be good. It’s been a bloody long time.

Last night we watched The Constant Gardener on DVD. If you haven’t seen it, do. It is powerful and moving and beautifully shot and stunningly acted. A very decent piece of cinema.

At this moment two strange men are taking photos of my apartment. Apparently it’s an inspection but currently they are fascinated by the fireworks Darius left. Why they had to do this at 9am I don’t know. One of them is now doing my dishes. This is getting a bit surreal.

The new flatmate comes on Wednesday so I guess I’ve a busy week ahead. In addition to him coming I have a leaving do on Sunday, going to Mino City on Tuesday with Minori and the Sunday after I’m going to meet her parents. I am, understandably, a tad nervous about this. Fortunately none of them speak English so everything I say will be filtered through Minori and translated into acceptable parental answers. Minori wanted to make it a fifteen minute flying visit and get out as fast as possible. Her mother, like all mothers, has other ideas and is planning a feast. Why do the girls I go out with always have parents?

I guess that’s about it. Just over 3 weeks until I come home, 19 or 20 (depending on overtime) days of work left. It’s all now very real and very close. Still, it’s not like I’ll never be back here.

Is this karma?

2007-02-25T08:31:00.000+09:00

I spoke to soon. Best day until 3.30 when I woke up and was violently ill. Called in sick and I'm now lying in bed cursing the makers of whatever it was I ate that made this happen. I feel crap. Although it is pretty surprising that this is the first time I've eaten something that has made me sick in almost 21 months in Japan.

I love this country.

2007-02-24T20:47:00.000+09:00

So today may go down as being the best day I've ever had. Starting bad with sleep deprivation and a wish to stay in bed and read Harry Potter, my students were boring or asleep and so was I. My second last lesson was with Sachiko, a low level student and middle-aged housewife. She was late so we just chatted about me leaving. She asked what I wanted to do in the future. I told her about Uni and wanting to be a translator of Japanese fiction. She left. I went into my last class, taught, and came out. Sachiko's husband, Noriake, also a student but of a higher level was waiting for me with a present carefully wrapped. He went through a prepared speech about how I had helped him and Sachiko over the last two years. He then said "this present is to help you with your Japanese studying." Dictionary thinks I. No. They'd bought me a Nintendo DS Lite and software to study Japanese. I nearly cried.
This goes down as being in the top two most wonderful things a person outside my family has ever done for me. The other being the amazing woman in Stuttgart station who paid for my tickets after NatWest froze my account.
Then I went for dinner in Hakkenden and emailed Joanne, an Aeon teacher who lives across the road from me. She came in, said she couldn't stay, and handed me the first series of The West Wing. I am having a great evening.

Yamemashita!

2007-02-23T21:45:00.000+09:00

That means I quit. My last day with Nova will be on March 24th and I fly home on March 26th (as you knew, that was to begin my holiday) but the change is that I won't come back (at least not immediately: as everyone knows my motto is never say never). Still not sure what I'm going to do but I've got a lot of holiday days I'll get paid for (weirdly they will run to Friday 13th April) so a fair bit of dossing.
If you're in Japan, much drinking will be done on the 24th (and days nearby). If you're not in Japan, much drinking will be done at another point in the future.
Thus:
I need a job, preferably in Edinburgh, and a place to live, also preferable in (or near) Edinburgh (especially if the job is there). On which note what's Musselburgh like? A few nice places online but I don't trust Estate Agents (he said unnecessarily). I can speak Japanese like a 5 year old (though one of my 5 year old pupils did run logical rings around me the other day) and I'm willing to work for beer. Also I want a band (Thom singing, Jon playing guitar, me vaguely hitting my guitar, and other people on drums and bass and someone on vibes. No reason for the latter other than I want a band that requires a person who can do "vibes" whatever they are).

Whatever happened to Tony Hart?

2007-02-18T18:43:00.000+09:00

I remembered to buy batteries so you can now enjoy far too many photos for one sitting. These were taken at Inuyama Castle and Narita-san temple (well, the last two were, then my crappy batteries died). Don't complain about the number of photos, this saves me boring you with them when I come home.

That Was The Day That Was.

2007-02-16T22:16:00.000+09:00

Go Italy! Number One in the Fifa rankings and now high on my list of decent countries:

What is Justice? asked Socrates.

And Go Japan! Hit them where it hurts:

Add 2 cents to every bullet and we'll make our money back.

The time just now is a palindrome.

2007-02-16T09:12:00.000+09:00

I've been informed that on March 7th I'll be getting a new flatmate. As if having a Kiwi last time wasn't bad enough, this time I've got an Aussie. Though, as Francis pointed out, it could be worse, it could be an American. Joking aside (that was a joke?) I'm reasonably looking forward to the event. With Kei's bar closed and him having moved to Seki (bloody miles away), no flatmate and incompatible schedules with the only other gaijin in the village, Inuyama has become a pretty dull place. Downsides include the threat that he might be a twat, a Christian or a teetotaller. I don't know which would be worse.
I am officially old. I was sitting on the sofa watching Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and caught myself thinking "they don't make films like that any more." Where are the Indiana Jones' and the Back to the Futures that you could watch a thousand times and never get bored? Nothing in recent years really leaps into my head as being a film that you could put on every Christmas for the whole family to enjoy no matter how many times you seen it. Any suggestions?
Paid for my flight home yesterday. So despite being totally skint for the next month (yesterday was pay day) I am a tad excited. When I set foot in Blighty on March 27th (after 28.5 hours of travelling assuming no delays) it will have been nearly 22 months since leaving. It'll be interesting to see what you've done with the place while I've been away. Will everything appear smaller? How many times will I say "that wasn't there before was it?" Will I come over all nostalgic and sentimental? Or will I get pissed, go see Camera Obscura, complain about the bloody weather and this country going to the dogs? I know what my money's on.
Watched The Untouchables last night. Is it just me or is there something seriously wrong with the kid in the pram in the "Battleship Potemkin" homage scene? Either he'd been dropped on his head one time too many or Brian De Palma shot him full of smack. That smile is just not natural. Talking of brain damage I bought a couple of Simpson's DVD's:

HOMER: "You know, when I was a boy, I really wanted a catcher's mitt, but my dad wouldn't get it for me. So I held my breath until I passed out and banged my head on the coffee table. The doctor thought I might have brain damage.
BART: "Dad, what's the point of this story?"
HOMER: "I like stories."

and

(giving a lecture on marriage) What is a wedding? Webster's Dictionary defines a wedding as "The process of removing weeds from one's garden".

Drivel.

2007-02-14T11:38:00.000+09:00

It's 11.38 in the am, my mouth feels like I've spent the night licking banana peel, my head is balanced on a toothpick and may fall at any moment. My stomach is making random worrying noises and I can't think straight. That's right folks, Iain has a hangover. Happy Valentines Day.
Monday night Minori and I went to a fantastic yakiniku restaurant in Kani, gorged ourselves on various animal parts before returning home. I got her flowers and chocolates. I am now thought to be the Best Boyfriend In The World Ever(TM). Which is nice. Yesterday we woke at stupid o'clock and wandered up to Inuyama castle which, despite having lived in the area for 25 years, she'd never been to. It was a beautiful sunny day and didn't feel at all like February. I took lots of black and white and sepia photos before stupid battery-eating camera ate my batteries. I put four new ones in on Saturday and they died yesterday. Gah. Still don't have any new ones so you'll have to wait with baited breath for the photos.
Next some pool and then to the cinema in Seki to see The Guardian. Starring Kevin Costner and Julie Birchill, this is the story of an American newspaper editor with left-wing leanings and a common-as-muck ex-NME "journalist", and their wacky adventures in the US Coastguard. An FNG recruit who thinks he's "all that" tries to become the new crossword setter but is quickly put in his place by a muscle-bound Arucaria (brilliantly played by Vinnie Jones). The usual Hollywood platitudes follow in predictable order culminating in Bryan Adams' new song written especially for the film which obviously leads to the thoughts "is this all Bryan Adams does now?" and "God he's got shit". If you have never heard of the new Kevin Costner film or the newspaper The Guardian then I can only tell you that the above is really funny.
Minori had to go home due to an early shift so I met Greg, Sian, Lisa, Tomo and Ryan (new American guy apparently) in Konan for a few beers. Greg went home for dinner saying "i'll be back in a minute" and was never seen again. Ryan turned out to be a racialist. He got put in his place and left. The four remaining went to karaoke where more alcohol and bad singing were done. I got home about 4 or something. Ow.
Today I'm going to do sweet FA until I can be arsed to go to the shop. Tomorrow I have to go to Nagoya and pay for my flight home. That's about it really. Later.

This week's caption competition:

2007-02-10T23:58:00.000+09:00

Here I am, channelling Silent Bob. Any and all captions (that I deem print-worthy) should be posted as comments please. The winner will get Sly as a prize.

kyo Ema ga demashita.

2007-02-10T23:41:00.000+09:00

Today Iain discovered how to take black and white photos on his camera.

Today was also Ema's last day working at Kani.

Ema, Sian, Greg and I met Kyoko and Ayako in an izakaya.

I hadn't seen Kyoko since Darius' leaving party at the end of November.

Sian channelled Golom.

I tried to make album covers out of Kyoko and Ayako.
I made a joke. Everyone laughed.

The night ended well.

New Blog

2007-02-07T12:43:00.000+09:00

The top link on the right, The Watcher on the Quay, is a new blog I've started as a place to put some of my writing. I've put up a bunch of poetry and a short story (already published in The Celtic View). Over the next wee while I'll be updating it with more stuff that's just hanging around my laptop making the place untidy. Feel free to make comments.

The liver is evil and must be punished.

2007-02-07T10:01:00.000+09:00

So yesterday Minori and I went to Higashiyama Zoo. To be honest I was really disappointed. The animals looked like they'd been mistreated, kept in tiny enclosures where they could hardly move. The water the seals had to swim in was barely two feet deep. The polar bear stood in the same spot for the four hours we were there, swinging his head violently back and forth. The elephant, clearly bored and frustrated by having an area about twice the size of my flat to move about in took his anger out on a tire, trying desperately to rip its chain from the ground. The bears had cabin fever, stalking back and forth desperate for change. One even looked like it had OCD, making a determined effort to step inside it's own footprints each time it circled around. About the only things that looked happy enough were the three billion turtles and tortoises in their glass cases. I understood that zoos do a valuable service in rearing endangered species and looking after badly wounded animals, but surely the age has passed when an elephant was a rarity few had ever seen and therefore keeping it in a pit in a completely different climate could be (kind of) justified. We need animal sanctuaries. I don't think we need zoos like this any more.
Great news. Camera Obscura, genius twee indie pop merchants, are playing Aberdeen the first weekend I'm back. Woohoo. I kind of saw them at Belle and Sebastian's Glasgow Botanic Gardens festival but I had never heard of them and was so far back, that I don't really count it. Now I know their stuff and love it, so I am fully prepared to have a great time. Bob, Dan, Mike and Jon will be accompanying me to the gig and then on a nostalgic weekend binge around Aberdeen's hip and happening hot-spots. Yay.
On which note (music not drink) I have been introduced to an amazing band, Monkey Swallows The Universe. Not only do they have a great name, but they are twee indie pop at its best. Their site, www.mstu.co.uk is worth checking out (I'll put a proper link up on the right), you can listen to 4 mp3s. I've just ordered their album and single from Rough Trade and I'm now tense with anticipation waiting for their arrival. If you happen to be in the Sheffield area (seems to be their hang out) then look out for live dates.

Movie news. I am looking for a good excuse to not go and see the diabolically misspelled "The Pursuit of Happyness" on Valentines Day. I know that on this day I'm just supposed to suck up my cynicism, take the bull by the bullet and bite the horns but I really really don't want to have to sit through a couple of hours of cliched tear-jerking drivel that was only given to Will Smith because Denzel is getting too old for this kind of role. I'd even rather watch the stupid Kevin "can someone else make my film decisions for me please" Costner coastguard toss than this. Gah.
What is great however is The United States of Leland, starring Kevin Spacey and Don Cheadle, a man who is fast becoming my favourite actor. It is a film about a high school boy, Leland, who kills "a retarded kid" and goes into a juvenile detention centre. Due to an outstanding script and great acting it manages to stay as far as possible from any kind of sentimentalism, apologising or cheap string-pulling. The basic message, I think, is "why does stuff like this need to have a reason? Will we really understanding the world better if we know every single motivation?" See it.
I bought After The Quake by Murakami Haruki, Almost Transparent Blue by Murakami Ryu and 100 Poems from the Japanese edited by Kennet Rexroth (not Murakami). I'm reading my last book just now, A Diplomat in Japan by Sir Ernest Satow who was a student translator in Japan when it first opened it's ports to the outside world in 1854. Written in a wonderful upper-class lad style it is thoroughly enjoyable. I'll finish it soon so I thought a few purchases were in order.

"Global warming is a myth" said Mr. Bush, leaning back in his chair. "Now, about those Weapons of Mass Destruction Saddam is hiding from us..."

2007-02-05T21:25:00.000+09:00

Not to draw comparisons but yesterday I snapped my cash card so this morning I went to the bank to get a new one. Since I figured it would take about a week to send it to my flat I also needed to withdraw some money. No one in Inuyama UFJ speaks English so I figured this was going to take a considerable amount of time.
10.15: I walked into UFJ, showed my snapped card to a member of staff. He handed me a form. I said "to okane o hikidasu" (I want to withdraw money). He handed me another form. I filled them both in, took a ticket and waited.
10.18: My number was called. I handed over my forms and bank book. I was told to take a seat.
10.19: I was called back to stamp something. I sat down again.
10.22: I was called back. She said "atarashi kado sugu". I knew "atarashi" means 'new' and "kado" means card. "Sugu" I didn't know. She called over another staff member. He didn't know what sugu is in English either. He called over someone else. She didn't know. I remembered I had my dictionary in my bag. Sugu: immediately, now. Wakarimashita. I sat down.
10.25: I am called back, handed my new card and the 30000 yen I requested. I thank them and walk out.
Ten minutes. In a language I can hardly speak.
Not that I'm drawing comparisons.

Bastard newspapers:
My wonderful father sent me another collection of The Observer Review sections. I was reading an apparently innocent article, totally unrelated to 24. I have managed, despite it being years since the first series (or is it season? If so surely there should only be 4) to not know anything about 24. No sooner do I actually start watching it than I happen across an article that gives away the entire sodding plot. Now, having reached 5pm in the "day", I know exactly what happens in the next few episodes. Please, world media, for the love of God can you start putting "WARNING: contains spoilers" at the start of these kinds of articles.

It's the weekend (for me at any rate). Tomorrow Minori and I go to Higashiyama Zoo then off to play some more pool (I've been teaching her, she learns way too fast). After that we'll come back here and order pizza. One of the (many) great things about having a Japanese girlfriend is that phoning for pizza is no longer a major hassle. This is obviously not the best thing about having a Japanese girlfriend, just a wonderful fringe benefit while living here.

The photo at the start of this blog is Stuart. I can't remember if I've put it on this site before, but it's a great one so it can go up again.
This is a view of Kani, the city I work in. That is Greg, one of the other teachers, taking a photo.
This is my girlfriend. She's still hotter than yours.
This is Greg and Sian, the two teachers I boss around.
This is Sian. Sitting on a rock. Obviously.

2007-02-02T21:13:00.000+09:00

It has been brought to my attention that I have been lazy with regards keeping my adoring readers informed as to my intentions for the not-too-distant future. Let me correct that mistake now.
Minori is in the process of applying for a UK visa. It is basically a lottery (only 400 visas for thousands of applicants, though it is reckoned that applications are down due to the perceived danger of living in Britain, thanks largely to Tony Blair's rectal examinations of George W. Gump taking him and our troops all over the Middle East) that will be drawn sometime around the start of March. If she is successful, and is informed by March 12th, when I return home for my holiday on March 26th I will just stay in Britain. If she is successful but we do not know until after March 12th I will come back and then return to Blighty on May 16th. If she is not successful then all bets are off and I don't have a bloody clue.
If I do return my options are threefold. I have applied to Embra Uni to study Japanese as an undergraduate starting in September. This is an expensive and time consuming option but one which will lead to untold riches in four years. Secondly I could get a job like a normal human being, buy a house, get a car loan, driving gloves and an ulcer. I would have a lot of money but no self-respect. Thirdly, I could do my CELTA in Embra at great expense (and bizarrely after having taught English for two years without one) which would then open the door to jobs in the UK and Elsewhere. Discuss.

Today's Headlines:
"Sydney is doomed. Doomed. DOOMED!"
"Yahoo News leads with impartial headline "Pervert Glitter Could Be Released Early".
"Global Warming experts have released report: 'Humans are like, totally bad man'."
"Tony Blair refuses to quit: 'If I can keep my job for another year, I'll give everyone in Britain a knighthood' he is quoted as saying."
"'The number of people going bust has passed the 100'000 mark for the first time since records began.' claims Yahoo News. Statisticians everywhere are astounded."

next to each other:
Snow Patrol dazzle at Meteor awards.
Glitter may get prison term reduced.

I read:
Snow Patrol may get prison term.

I know which I'd rather hear Trevor MacDonald saying.

I'm not sure what to say about this story. Read it and make up your own minds. No discipline in today's youth.

Today's student comments:

"About two years ago I was committed."
"Really? Committed? What was it like?"
"Great. I really loved her. She loved my friend."

"Hi Ako."
"Hi Iain."
"How are you?"
"I'm shit."
(Note, this girl is 11 years old).

You Can't Make A Revolution (Without Breaking A Few Banks)

2007-01-31T01:23:00.000+09:00

1. Bank of Scotland are probably the biggest collection of incompetents, retards, liars, ludites and pederasts since the last meeting in the Oval Office. £63 to transfer money from one credit card to another. A service that Egg seem quite able to do, repeatedly, for free. Their website, such as it is, not only fails to mention this fee, but also fails to offer any reliable contact details other than phone or carrier pigeon. Email? "We will endeavour to reply" once we work out how this magic box thingy works. I imagine BOS head office being like that scene from Zoolander where Owen Wilson says "oh the files are in the computer" before smashing it open. The problem is who to bank with: NatWest are liars and have twice left me in foreign countries with no money due to freezing my account the second I used it outside Britain - if you are going to give me a card I can use in other countries, don't be surprised if I use my card in other countries (and they are owned by RBOS who, by virtue of the "royal" prefix are slightly more retarded that BOS), Clydesdale are incompetent and provincial, managing to produce the "access" card, Betamax to everyone else's Mastercard or Visa. I would use Egg permanently but I don't like the idea that at no time can I find a dozy chubby bitch sitting in a branch somewhere and shout "GIVE ME MY SODDING MONEY WENCH!" repeatedly until they call security. And it's those thoughts that will get me through the next few weeks until I come home, walk into BOS on Union Street and shout "63 FUCKING QUID? BASTARDS".

2. About a year ago RGWho blocked their students from accessing this blog (rereading the above post I can't imagine why), ushering in an era of repression and censorship which may still exist (my sister graduated so doesn't use their computers any more). Now they have refused to even entertain the idea of employing me as an advisor to international students. Well balls to them. I didn't want their poxy £21000 anyway.

3. It has actually been a really good day, it's now 1.30am and I can't sleep so I thought I'd check my emails. It's either that or watch another episode of 24. Yes I finally bit the bullet and rented the first series (well half of it) and yes it's great, and yes I can't wait to see what happens next. It's not the West Wing but I can't find that out here for love nor money (not that I have an abundance of either, not since Bunch Of Shits fleeced me for £63). According to Thom (email me Yankee scum) they named a street in LA "Jack Bower Street" but had to change it back because no one crosses Jack Bower and lives.

4. The Motorcycle Diaries is an amazing film (or it became amazing once I worked out how to get it off Spanish with Japanese subtitles). Beautiful shots, great acting and very subtle. Obviously you can't get away from the fact that "Fuser" grows up to be Che, but here he is shown at the start of the road to Revolution, his experiences shaking his thoughts. "Something in me has changed. I will have to think about it for a long time." It's nicely done, all you need to say since everyone knows the conclusion he'll reach. I kept thinking about a t-shirt I saw in Kyoto. The standard red and black iconic image of Che that every student knows, except this time, under his star-emblazoned beret and artistically rendered beard, lay the word "Murderer". It was in a random second-hand shop that also sold stuff like "Michigan State University" hoodies and Yankee's baseball caps. Who had designed it, and for what reason, I've been curious about ever since. I real anti-Castro, pro-capitalist I assume. You can just imagine Bobby Kennedy wearing it to the gym (not now obviously, he doesn't really need to lose any more weight).

5. I also watched Lord of The Rings, The Return of the King (special extended version with extra homo-eroticism and goodbyes). I should have known better and just pressed "stop" as the ring tumbled into Mount Fuji ... sorry Mount Doom but no, I had to keep watching all the sickening cliches, the soft-focus and slow motion, the nose-avoidance whenever Sam and Frodo shared a screen, Gandalf looking like a peadophile when everyone gets back to Rivendell. Of the two following links, the first is a hilarious TV advert for Lord of The Rings. The second is an MTV spoof starring Jack Black. Rather amusing in a crude kind of way. Made me laugh anyway.

Frodo and Sam
Jack Black

6. Being healthy gives me insomnia. Today: lots of fruit, vegetables, water and orange juice. A long walk and no alcohol. Result: It's now 2am and I'm wide awake. Give me liver pains, scurvy and 8 hours deep sleep.

7. Retard is such a good word. It's almost onomatopoeic in its beauty. Ludite too.

8. Today's post was brought to you by the letters F, U, C, K, B, O and S and by the number 63

2007-01-28T18:25:00.000+09:00

oops: Foot-in-Mouth Disease

Hey Hey My My (into Gifu).

2007-01-23T21:31:00.000+09:00

Today, after a decent sleep and nearly finishing Norwegian Wood, Minori came round and we set off for Gifu. Despite it only being 30 minutes away it has taken me over 19 months to go there. It was a chilly day, the kind that reminded me of croquet on the lawn with Sebastian and scones in the afternoon before the sherry came out. We casually stepped onto the ropeway. Gifu Castle sits atop a majestic mountain overlooking the Mino plain. The castle was the seat of Nobunaga, one of the three great warriors whose actions ushered in the Edo period and whose death brought the Tokugawa family to prominence as Shoguns and defacto rulers of Japan. This area, now called Aichi and Gifu, was, for a long time, the most politically and militarily important area of Japan, it being the home territories for the history makers. As I say we stepped onto the ropeway and I realised I could now do this without fear grabbing my stomach and squeezing. Maybe my acrophobia is fading with age, like my yearning for prose that is consistent in style. We rose to the top like a rose grows in a rose garden. Gifu castle is impressive.
What is especially impressive is how alike every other castle in Japan it is. There must have been this one guy right, and this one guy, well he came up with this genius idea for how a castle should look:
"I see dry stone, big blocks of it. On top of this we will build walls, out of wood at first but after the Americans bomb them all but four ..."
"Sorry. The who?"
"Don't worry, they haven't been invented yet. But they will and you'll come to know them very well. Anyway, after the war they will be concrete. The walls not the Americans. They will be woobly. We will whitewash everything because I have a cousin who can do just fabulous things with white paint and a roller. We'll leave the wood showing in that quaint mock-Tudor ... they're the ruling family in England just now and would you please stop interrupting me?... style. I see .... I see dolphins. They're not dolphins really because I've no idea what a dolphin looks like but it'll be like a big fish with sharp teeth, scales and a curly tail. It'll look kind of like a goldfish crossed with Richard Nixon."
And they built them, all over this great land.
Apart from in Kyoto where they went for the bungalow/farm buildings look.
They do things different in Kyoto.
We sauntered back down via risu mura: Squirrel Village. It was kind of like what East Kilbride would look like after nuclear holocaust (who said that's an improvement? Come on ... own up. There's always one). We fed the squirrels and they tried to pick my pocket.
Next came the big papier mache Buddha. Damn impressive I have to say.
Minori was fascinated by the small wooden Buddha that claimed (well the sign in front of it did, even I'd have been impressed by a talking wooden Buddha) to heal any physical problem if you rubbed the corresponding part of the Buddha and gave it sake. I feel a business idea coming on: if you offer me sake and rub the corresponding part of my body, I'll make you feel better. Deal? Deal.
Next came shopping where I bought Rust Never Sleeps by Neil Young. Rock and roll can never die.
Lucky Number 7 is a good movie with Josh Hartnett showing that he can actually act and Bruce Willis showing that he can't. Morgan Freeman and Sir (they put it in the credits in BIG letters) Ben Kingsley were great as gang bosses and Lucy Lui was short, Asian and beautiful. With more twists than your average strand of DNA in Alabama and short sharp shocks of violence it was a satisfying way to pass two hours. I wanted to see The Departed. She wanted to see that tear-jerker, bore-your-arse off family drama starring Will Smith (because Denzil's too old for those kinds of movies now) the name of which I can't remember. It was a compromise. Relationships are all about that someone once told me. I think it was a divorce lawyer.
I'm now back at the flat having procured 4 bottles of Budvar, 2 bottles of Guinness, a bottle of Hawkes Bay Kiwi Pinot, A French Pinot, a Chilean Cabernet and a "Sicilian Red", all with big dimples in the bottom of the bottle (and damn any of you who don't believe me that this is the sign of a great wine: cheap companies cannot afford big dimples and wine waiters will not be pouring the ones with flat bottoms).
Minori has gone home to pick up clothes for our proposed hiking trip with Sian and Greg tomorrow. I'm supposed to be cooking shrimp but I'm drinking beer, listening to Neil Young at the kind of volume that makes the neighbours weigh up which is worse: having to deal with me repeatedly saying wakarimasen (i don't understand) or the noise. Wakarimasen usually wins. This is a fantastic album by the way. Japanese pop has taught me something: I hate people who can actually sing. People like Neil Young, they guy from Pavement (name is?) and Aiden Moffat have far much more to offer as singers than yet another twat who can hold a note and actually knows which key the song is in (let alone which one he's in). When music becomes too good, too polished, it loses all its personality. Give me someone like Smog or the Silver Jews who can pen a great tune and make you think and cry, but god help you if they get up to do Today at karaoke. We were listening to the radio in the car and The Corrs came on (their "best of" 7" comes out in Japan tomorrow). Great. Note perfect, melodic, shit the girl can do vibrato like it's natural and she's not even black. But it's dead. Imaginatively it's a stagnant lake. It just sits there, rotting for 3 or 4 minutes, then you pass it, or it passes you, but this dead smell hang around for a bit longer. Finally you forget everything the song actually contained and only remember the after taste: it was about love I know that, and quite positive, maybe the start of a relationship. It had violins. They were played by orchestral players pretending to be a groovy cross between folk musicians from Ireland and Bluegrass band members. It had a distorted guitar somewhere in the background of the last verse giving it that "dangerous" edge to try and distance it from where it had started from and to prove that it had more depth and variety to it than Karen Carpenter's last supper.

Is this rambling enough for ya?

Look, I have a girlfriend and she's more beautiful than yours.

Caption Competiton.

2007-01-22T23:16:00.000+09:00

Go on. I dare you. Answers as a comment please.

Goodbye and all that.

2007-01-22T21:54:00.000+09:00

Saturday was the leaving do party for Thom, Jo, Rob and Elaine. The first three go tomorrow, Elaine on Wednesday. The party was held in Yamachan (chain izakaya) in Nagoya and about 40 people turned up. Despite the fact that most of us were working at 10 the next morning the beer (and other libations) flowed freely. Well, as freely as the somewhat dizzy and apathetic staff could manage. We'd booked two hours of nomihodai (all you can drink) and tabehodai (all you can eat) but after 30 minutes we had lots of empty glasses, two pitchers of beer (as I said between 40 people) and a couple of crackers. One woman stood staring at her electronic notepad seemingly baffled that we could want beer and wine. Staff came in and out carrying nothing, chatted to each other and then left. Eventually more beer appeared, but not before the organisers had suffered minor stress related heart attacks and the thirsty had got irritated. Once it finally got started it developed into a great night. Stupid chat, bad jokes, Rob constantly selling raffle tickets for the mystery prize (his unused toiletries: the toothpaste and deoderant are desirable commodities) while giving out chocolates and gaijin-sized condoms. At the risk of a riot the staff extended our party to 11 by which point the thought of the last train had dissipated with the third treble Baileys.
Karaoke called and we answered. A walk to Fushimi, some confusion and fighting over stolen beer then we got into the party room at Joy Joy. Francis lost that loving feeling, the girls wanted to have fun and survived, Thom retold the story of Jack and Sarah while I ripped my throat telling everyone how wonderful the world is. Some twat that no one seemed to know kept skipping songs and later punched a wall. Eventually the staff had enough of us and, even though we were feeling woah-ho woo, goodbyes were said, friends were hugged and kissed, numbers and addresses exchanged. Promises to meet on various different continents. A taxi swept by, collecting Francis, his girl and I. Back to his, two hours on the sofa and up for the train. No. No money and the banks not open, back to sleep. Up again, shit shit shit, run and money and run and train and home and read my watch wrong and have enough time for another hours sleep. Francis phones, where are you did you get home wake up?
Work was, like, so totally bad, man.

Recently I have read, in ascending order of brilliance:

Bedtime Eyes by Yamada Amy. Good but not great. Some really dozy women being really dozy about guys who are not worth it.
Norwegian Wood by Murakami Haruki. This is great but I'm only halfway through and so cannot be number one with a bullet.
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Written by what seems to be the most self-aware egotist ever (yes that is a contradiction but that's the idea). It is painfully self-conscious, hilariously funny, post-modern in a kind of MTV-meets-Tom Stoppard way. Not quite heartbreaking: Eggers puts enough spin on it to stop the tears. Nor is it a work of staggering genius, but it is close. A Thought-Provoking Work of Meandering Intellect.

Last night was freaky. Despite having only a few hours sleep the night before and being exhausted I couldn't sleep properly. I kept waking up with a strange feeling like something bad was going to happen. In the dark all my childhood fears, mostly caused by seeing the last episode of Twin Peaks when I was way too young to deal with it (my fault for hiding behind the sofa before anyone blames the parents), came back. Then, at roughly 2am, I got an odd feeling in my legs, like they were made of jelly. Then I noticed that the string from my light was swinging (the end glows in the dark). I grabbed it on the second attempt and switched it on. The walls were belly-dancing. Oh bollocks, thinks I. Earthquake. Do I lie here or get out of bed and panic? I couldn't hear anything so I figured it couldn't be that bad. I'm on the 4th floor and the walls are a weaker form of papier mache so the slightest tremor looks bad. Sure enough after about 30 seconds it died. I dozed off and woke at 10 with a headache because I'd left the light on.
Rob's leaving do. There was tebazaki, his best friend.
Thom makes his farewell speech with a midget paraplegic as a prop.
The four splitters. From left: Rob, Elaine, Thom, Jo.
Rob channels both Churchill and Hitler.
Ayaka. The fuck?
Rocking the suburbs. Dude.

Goodbye guys. Hopefully I'll see you all soon (especially since three of you are going to the UK). Thom, it has been a pleasure. Do not lose touch man.

Inuyama castle.

2007-01-18T11:52:00.000+09:00

He's going home, he's going home, he's going ... Iain's going home.

2007-01-17T09:14:00.000+09:00

Ok, flights are booked, I'm coming home. I arrive in Aberdeen on March 27th and leave again on April 10th. It's going to be a nightmare flight, especially going back. With time differences and stopovers it'll basically take 24 hours. Not fun. But I'm flying Emirates. Darius has a theory that the first time you fly Emirates they upgrade you. It happened to him and a few others he knows, so hopefully it'll happen to me. I might wear my suit just in case.
Dan, Under the Hammer sounds like a great plan.
Had a really good day yesterday. Minori and I went to Nagoya Aquarium and saw lots of fish. We caught the dolphin show and laughed at the penguins. I found out the the Japanese for dolphin is iruka and whale is shachi. Of course I didn't find this out quickly, the following conversation took place:
Iain: What's the Japanese for whale?
Minori: Eh?
Iain: The Japanese word. Whale.
Minori: I don't know.
Iain: Oh. [walks over to information poster, points at some random kanji] does it say on here?
Minori: No, I don't think so. Only in English.
Iain: You really don't know the Japanese for whale?
Minori: No. This is my first time here. [long pause] What's a whale?
Iain: [points at huge killer whale swimming in the tank about 5 feet away] That's a whale.
Minori: Oh, Shacho.
Iain: Shacho?
Minori: Yeah, I thought you wanted to know his name.

A lot of our conversations go like this. We went back into the city centre, bought some books and flights, met Thom for a beverage or two then came home.
Today Thom is coming to Inuyama for the last time. Him and Jo fly away next Tuesday reducing (as does Rob) the number of people I know quite dramatically. Thom is the only person who shares days off with me since Francis changed his so I think my weekends are about to get quite boring. Thank God I bought an X-Box.

Someone phoned me at 4.45am and didn't leave a message. If it was anyone of you people, you are an idiot. If you are frightened by the Japanese voice on my voicemail she says: "This phone is switched off / This person is unavailable, please leave a message after the beep. Beep." If I wake up to a missed call from the UK at that sort of time, I'm going to panic that something has happened. The only possible reason to phone anyone at that time is death or hospitalisation or you've won the lottery and want to give me a big cut. In all these situations a message saying "Hi Iain it's ____. Can you phone me back, it's quite urgent" would suffice. If it is none of the above then what the hell are you doing phoning me at 4.45am?

News: China is trying to ban idiotic reality TV programmes because they "are low-quality, low-brow programmes, only catering to the bottom end of the market." Way to go China! Finally a government with a bit of sense. Why isn't the British government stepping and and saying "OK enough with the reality TV, can we have something worth watching please?" Especially since Celebrity Big Brother appears to be confirming something we all knew: that the kinds of fucktards that are involved in this would lose a battle of wits with a cauliflower. Jade Goody being a prime example, begins in non-celebrity BB as fat moronic denial of evolution and ends in celebrity BB as fat moronic racist. I think one of two things should happen. 1. Channel 4 is forced to pull the plug on BB now and forever since they are broadcasting this racist filth. 2. It is left to run because the morons will egg each other on, step way over the mark, and when they come out they will be hung upside down from the lampposts and beaten with pointed sticks.

Walter Smith is a bastard. Turns Scotland around and makes us top of a group that holds France and Italy then, after four games, packs it all in to go running back to the Hun. Nice to see he cares more about Ibrox than his bloody national team. And who does Scotland get? Alex bloody McLeish whose inability as a manger led to the crisis at Rangers in the first place. The SFA should sue that bastard for everything he's got.

I need more coffee.

A brief history of me.

2007-01-15T09:17:00.000+09:00

Been a while. Not much has really been happening. Just working and reading mainly. I finished The Island of the Day Before by Umberto Eco which is really good (apart from the over-long section on symbolism in the middle). Also read Coin Locker Babies by Murakami Ryu. This book is amazing: totally weird, achingly cool, unflinchingly violent and so cinematic it makes you yearn for the film (one quick google later and I discover it is in pre-production with the names Val Kilmer and Sean Lennon attached to it. Val Kilmer? um...ok). It's a fucked up bildungsroman for the 21st century. Two boys, abandoned in coin lockers as babies and left for dead, are saved and raised in an orphanage. They go crazy. I mean totally crazy. We're in apocalyptic, Battle Royale, sarin on the subway world here. Read this book, it's stunning. There must be something about the name Murakami.
Started reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius which is much better than I expected and very different from how I expected. The self-consciously post-modern games at the start were well-executed and entertaining (though clearly Eggers had never heard of Lanark when he embarked on this mission to confuse, undermine and generally puncture the idea of the novel as an enclosed world requiring only suspension of disbelief to be entered and enjoyed). It's really funny, crisply written and managing to avoid cloying sentimentality (so far).
Watched: Saw 2 (a decent sequel, a few nice twists and more gore than you can wave a severed limb at), Touching the Void (not as good as I'd been led to believe but beautifully shot), Superman Returns (the phrase "chewing the scenery" was invented for Kevin Spacey. This was good, but I kept going "this is the same story as one of the other Superman films. Or is it? I can't remember), Last Days (a nice piece of cinema which made me want to listen to my Nirvana CD's again but nothing to write home about), The Life and Death of Peter Sellers (my god can Geoffery Rush act, he is fantastic as Sellers. Funny and brutal, has to be seen), Be Cool (most interesting thing about this was the fact that the older Uma Thurman gets, the hotter she becomes, a Rene Russo in the making), Nixon (can't believe it took me until now to see this, one of the best political films ever, Stone even manages to make you feel sorry for Nixon by the end "I ended the Vietnam war, made peace with China and Russia and I'll be remembered by history for a 3rd rate burglary"), Elephant (the second Gus Van Sant film I've watched in the last week and one that confirmed what I thought: high on concept, the stress on the beautiful shot developing character rather than action and words. Kind of soothing to watch but I come away feeling I've seen a lot of surface and not much content. Elephant is miles better than Last Days but still not a classic) and a bunch of other I've temporarily forgotten.
So I shall be returning to the shores of zer fatherland around the end of March/start of April for a couple of weeks. Booking my flights over the next couple of days so I shall post dates as and when. I'll be in Aberdeen most of the time but intend to definitely be in Glasgow and Edinburgh, maybe a few more places depending on where people are and what they are doing. Get the Irn Bru and fried breakfasts out, I'm coming home.

Take Me To your Leader.

2007-01-04T10:25:00.000+09:00

On the 2nd I rose about 11am thinking we were going to see the Emperor at about 12.30. The Emperor opens he Palace on the 2nd of January and 23rd of December (his Birthday) and thousands go to wave flags and see how and where the top man lives. He comes out and gives a wee speech. Continuing the theme of our time in Tokyo we finally got to the palace at about 2pm. The Police presence was immense, as was the (not so) Secret Service. Although they totally failed to spot the man who had come straight from a 1970's spy film starring Gene Hackman. This guy could've gone to a fancy dress party as Carlos the Jackal. Our bags were searched. Then we were searched (I got patted down by the one ugly woman in the whole of Japan, typical) then metal detectors were run over us. Not that it mattered. If anything had happened every gaijin in the park would've been arrested on the spot.
We were given Japanese flags and followed the crowds into the Palace grounds. The batteries in my camera died (after taking only 5 photos. Never buy Fujitsu batteries) so once Thom emails me copies of his photos I can show y'all. We waited about ten minutes cracking jokes along the "take me to your leader" theme then they came out. The Emperor and Empress, along with Crown Prince Naruhito and Princess Masako and someone I didn't recognise. The Emperor gave a very short speech. We waved flags. He went away and an announcement was made over the PA. Probably it said "please leave in an orderly manner" or something similar. I like to think it said "you have 30 seconds then we release the hounds". We took the long way through the grounds (very nice) and back around the outside heading for the train station so I could get my bag. Fi, Lisa and I were stopped by a bald, bearded American who announced:
"His father lied and started World War 2, now he's fucking lied and cancelled the last viewing".
A few insults presented themselves to my mind but instead we just stared at this ignorant Yank shaking our heads.
Because we'd taken so bloody long to get out of the hotel in the morning it was too late to go to any of the museums Fi, Lisa and I wanted to see. Jo and Thom went to Asakusa to look at the temple. I've seen enough temples to last me a lifetime so we went to the Sony building which was a huge disappointment. I'd been led to expect space-age gadgets you could play with. Instead we got to watch a bit of the film Stealth on a stupidly big TV, a PSP which you couldn't play with, and more cameras than at an average Oscar ceremony. They did have an electronic book reader which frankly looked really cool but apart from that it was just a big shop with different coloured stairs.
A bit of shopping and some coffee and then off to Asakusa to meet the other two. A temple, a pagoda:
some gates, more people. We had a wonderful dinner at a Thai/Vietnamese restaurant. Back to the hotel and everyone went their separate ways.
Next morning we had to be out by 10am so an early start. I decided just to go and get the train home by myself instead of hanging around waiting for organisation to happen by magic and so got back home about 11.30 where I spent a very relaxing day playing Halo and sleeping.

Porn, Dali and Row Boats.

2007-01-04T09:59:00.000+09:00

I saw something I had never seen before: 10am on the first of January. I woke about 9.30 and because my futon was made of paper decided just to get up. No one else seemed to be going about so I got ready and went to Akihabara "Electric City". This area has nothing but electronics stores (if you don't count the porn stores in-between) and there are a few things I need (external hard-drive, new laptop, new digital camera) and had heard that prices here were unbeatable. Well the noise and light was something else, and although I didn't find anything that made me go "woohoo, bargin", I did almost develop epilepsy under the neon strobing.
Back on the train and this time to Ueno. Got an email from Fi who was "awake but not alive" and we decided on a picnic in Ueno park. By pure chance (chance because I didn't know about it, not because it was usually somewhere else) one of the galleries had a Dali exhibition which finishes on the 4th. In I went. Then I remembered why I hate going to art exhibitions in this country: you are shepherded in and you have to stay in a big queue that snakes round every painting at a constant speed. Want to spend some time looking at his picture? Tough, some old woman will elbow you in the kidney to get you moving again. Want to look at them in anything other than chronological order? Tough. Leave the queue and the staff tell you off. I went round getting angrier by the second. One fool pushed me out of the way, literally a two handed shove. He fell over when someone accidentally left their leg trailing. An old woman met an unmovable object and discovered that it is possible to go around a gaijin and not just through them. I came out agreeing with the Chapman brothers about means testing people before letting them into galleries. This lot would have failed.
Met Fi and Lisa, Thom and Jo joined us later. A crow shat on Fi. We made bad jokes. It was that kind of afternoon. Walking around we discovered a pond where you could hire boats. Thom and Jo hired a romantic swan pedalo while us remaining mortals got a row boat (guess who got to row) and enjoyed a very twee half an hour rowing around the lake singing "row, row, row your boat" and making more bad jokes (I finally got to haul out the Milligan:
1: Prepare to be boarded!
2: How do you repel boarders?
3: Stop changing the sheets.)
Next we tried to find another bar that didn't exist (the Lonely Planet excelled itself this weekend in being totally out-of-date) so went to Shinjuku to find a bar that was closed. Couple of bars and izakayas later we found an Irish bar where we sat drinking and playing card games until a few minutes before the last train.

I'd rather be in Tokyo...

2007-01-04T08:50:00.000+09:00

I met Fi and Lisa at 7.30 and we hopped onto the Shinkansen. The original plan was to buy a juhachi kippu pass and take the local trains thereby saving some money but the journey would've taken about 6 hours instead of 2 and we wanted to see some of Tokyo.
Upon arrival we went straight to Harajuku. On Sundays the local teenagers come out dressed in various weird styles including Goth, Lolita and manga characters. At 10.30 no one was out yet so we walked through Yoyogi park and visited Meiji-jingu, the shrine dedicated to the Meiji Emperor and Empress. This being Hogmanay preparations were under way for the hordes that would descend on the shrine after midnight: barriers were being erected, food stalls set up, souvenir shops stocking up. It felt like a music festival site the day before the gates open, which was a bit weird. Like most castles, temples and shrines in Japan, this one was destroyed by bombing during the war and reconstructed. Fortunately whoever oversaw the rebuilding didn't share post-war Japan's love of concrete and saw fit to use Japanese cypress instead.
It's a very relaxing area to stroll through, especially considering this is the heart of Tokyo, however we wanted to see the weird side of Harajuku so we left the park and found our way to Takeshita-dori, a gaudy, hideously fun alley where to cos-play-zoku buy their costumes.
No one was really tempted to buy any of these clothes, though I did buy a Japanese football shirt (Nakamura) and a knocked off Celtic shirt (Nakamura) and some cool shades. It was a fun street to hang out on but there were more gaijin than anything else and I didn't come to Tokyo to watch gaijin. We went for coffee, the early morning starting to get to everyone then decided to go to the hotel and check in. It was the other side of the city so a couple of subway rides later we emerged to find that the New Koyo hotel is based on the prison design. My room was literally the size of two tatami mats. But then for 2500 yen a night who can really complain?
Fi and Lisa wanted to sleep so I set off back to Harajuku to meet up with Jo and Thom and see the Sunday Gang. It looks like Hogmanay is a day off for the freak show though as there were precious few wandering about.
And to be frank, Japanese fashion being the odd thing that it is, it was sometimes hard to tell which girls had dressed up to hang out in Harajuku and which were wearing their normal clothes and just happened to be passing. All in all a bit disappointing.
I met Thom and Jo who came to Tokyo the day before and we decided to wander a bit more. They stopped to buy food from the street stalls while I attempted to find a bar that had been recommended. No joy but I did find Condomania, a tiny shop filled with, well, condoms. We had fun laughing at the stock. We continued down Meiji-dori into Shibuya. By now night was setting in and we were beginning to think about where to spend the evening. Shibuya had already been agreed on (although no one seemed to have told Thom who kept informing us that Rippongi was really expensive and we shouldn't go there) but exactly where was a mystery. Settling on the Hub as a place to meet and make plans we went there, via the extremely odd Audi building:
So we had a couple of drinks in the Hub then those two decided to go climb a building or something stating: "we'll only be an hour". Thinking Fi and Lisa wouldn't be too long I stayed. Two hours of watching inane 'sport' (Ultimate Fighting) by myself as the bar filled up and all seats were taken bored the arse off me. Eventually I left and wandered the streets. Finally Fi and Lisa turned up and we went into an underground shot bar. Nearly three hours after they left Jo and Thom returned. A few more people showed up and the evening began. We changed venues for a bar where all the drinks were 300 yen.
Some chat, some jokes and some drinks, midnight came and went. I started feeling tired, bored and irritable so I left for the chaos outside Shibuya station. Here there was a real party atmosphere, thousands of people hanging around, music blaring from various sources, biker gangs racing through being half-heartedly pursued by the cops, happy new year wishes all round.
Looking at my map I realised I wasn't too far from Meiji-jingu so I went there. It was heaving, every inch jammed with people. I stopped for a baked tattie at one of the food stalls, bought some postcards then joined the procession. There were a few gaijin there with girlfriends or boyfriends but I was the only one there by myself and consequently was getting some strange looks. Also I kept getting phone calls of the drunken "where are you?" variety from people who hadn't read the texts I'd sent them so I ended up ducking out of the queue halfway up. I jumped on the Yamanote line (circle line) and fell asleep for a bit, getting off at Ueno station. I asked the guard which way to go to get to Minowa station (where our hotel was) and he helpfully told me. Not so helpful was the fact that he forgot to tell me that the next train was in two and a half hours. I jumped in a taxi and was home in about five minutes, minus my guide book which I left on the back seat.

Happy New Year

2007-01-03T13:38:00.000+09:00

I've a lot of catching up to do so wind your minds back to the halcyon days of December 2006.
Boxing Day saw me venture into Nagoya there to meet Greg, Fi and Lisa for drink and merriment. For my troubles I received 3 Ian Rankin books and a lot of drink. We were further joined by Francis, Thom, Jo and some others (frankly at this late date my memory fails me) and partook ourselves of some karaoke. I caught the last train home and arrived at my door at 12.30 to discover I had lost my key. I called Fi. My battery died. There were no trains to Nagoya until after 5am and I couldn't call anyone. So I swore my way through the pelting rain (my umbrella having recently done to itself what Bush is doing to the world) to Denny's, the 24 hour eatery that has the cheek to call itself a restaurant. I ordered a glass of orange juice, opened my book and fell asleep.
After much dozing and strange looks from the staff it was finally 7am and time to call head office. No, no one there yet, try again at 8. At 8 I'm told there is no one in Accommodation until 9. At 9 I'm told there won't be anyone there until 10. At 10 I finally get through to someone who helpfully tries to phone my landlord. No joy. I wander round to Kei's shop on the off chance and by some weird miracle he's there. I chat a bit, phone Osaka back. No landlord so they're going to courier my key. It'll arrive at my branch tomorrow. Great. What do I do about work today? Can't you go? Yes I can, but I slept in my clothes, can't change and can't shower. Is that ok? No. Fine I guess I'll have to take the day off.
Useless.
I take matters into my own hands and jump on the train for Nagoya in the hope that Thom is in since his phone utilises the same charger as mine. He's not but Rob is so I get my phone going, have a shower and start watching TV. I email Miyoko, the woman downstairs, who phones my landlord, gets a key and says she can meet me after she's finished work at 9 and get into my flat. Now that's efficiency. I hang around Nagoya watching 12 Monkeys and drinking the odd beer until, finally, I can go home.
Next day I have to go to Tajimi to get my new key. This is a bit of a hassle as it's two train rides away but I've never been there so what the hell. I get my key and laughed at then wander over to steak house for lunch. Not steak house, fatty bits of beef in cold rice house. I leave most of it and come back to Inuyama, have a beer, finish reading Resurrection Men (having already finished Knots and Crosses the day before) and did some writing.
Fi and Lisa joined me, then Francis. We ate some food, chatted, then crashed out.
Francis stayed over so the next day I wandered to the video shop and rented MI:3, Blade Trinity, Syriana and Napoleon Dynamite.
Verdict:
1. Crap but Simon Pegg rules. Who else would get to say "Bunny Appendage" in a Tom Cruise film?
2. Does exactly what it says on the tin.
3. Genius.
4. Weird, funny and twee.
Saturday I didn't do much, girlfriend came over in the evening and wanted to eat at Denny's. Got some very strange looks from the staff.
Sunday morning when sparrows and brass monkeys were safely tucked in bed I set off for Tokyo .
To be continued...

Merry Adopted Pagan Festival

2006-12-26T08:50:00.000+09:00

And other such cynical sentiments. Christmas greetings from the guy who taught an entire class of Japanese kids that the correct reply to "Merry Christmas" was "Bah Humbug". They shouted it back at me with such energy. It warmed to cockles as they say.
Nah, a Merry Christmas to you all (apart from, off the top of my head, The Bush Administration (including Rumsfeld), Ariel Sharon, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Kim Jong Il and anyone else working towards a more dangerous future and The Killers, who are just shit).
I had a rather jolly Christmas Day. It started, as they always do, with a hangover. This one was a result of a Christmas Eve gathering with Sian, Lisa, Louise, Francis, Rob, Thom, Jo, Fi, Elaine, Glenn, Voan and wine. Thom and I played a short concert in Konan station to the lack of interest from the locals (baka gaijin). I started work at 10am and the only saving grace was that Ema was 100% more hungover than I was.
In the evening I cooked an unhealthy and slightly dry Christmas dinner for me and my better half, during which I introduced her to the Chocolate Orange which was met with amazed wonder (not least when I tapped it and for the first time ever it fell perfectly into individual segments). We watched The Incredibles and Monsters Inc. (the later slightly disappointing after all the hype it had been given) before she left for sleep before an early shift.
I was under a bit of pressure to deliver a good day (although I wasn't actually aware of this until halfway through the evening): her birthday was on Friday and her parents and siblings totally forgot, in addition to having worked 23 out of the 24 hours that made up her birthday. She hadn't had the best time. It was a good evening though.
So off to Nagoya today for fun and festive frolics, working again Wednesday then I'm off until the 5th. Looking forward to some chilling, I want at least one day of doing sweet FA.
Hope you all had a good day and that Santa (or Satan if you prefer) was good to you.

A Day in the Life.

2006-12-23T20:35:00.000+09:00

So what else has been happening in the world of me?
I started reading The Island of the Day Before by Umberto Eco (borrowed from Thom) which is weird but good, nicely post-modern in that un-David Lynch way that I really like. Post-modernism shouldn't be so damn self-conscious (possibly a contradiction in terms, I'm sure Sly will tell me if it is, I just personally think that people like Lynch try too hard). Not far enough through to make a definitive judgement, watch this page people who can't make up their own minds about books and need others to tell them what's good (sorry, I've been reading Alan Bissett's blog on the Guardian website (worth checking out) and he's been on a few rants about critics).
In addition to yet another Japanese study book (this time Preparation for The Japanese Proficiency Test level 4 which I'll do next November if I'm still here) I bought Coin Locker Babies by Murakami Ryu and Bedtime Eyes by Yamada Amy, both "cult" novelists here (which I think means under 30 and best-sellers). Both look good.
I've been doing absolutely no writing. I'm not sure why but I just haven't felt any urge to sit down and open my files. I've no idea how long it's been: quite a while at least, but everything I was working on seems to have sunk into the background. I don't think it's gone, just maybe my head is in a different place. Japan seems to have wrought changes on me. Changes I think are maybe for the better. I'm calmer, less inclined to lose my temper, to say things just for effect. Maybe I'm getting older and shaking off the shackles of adolescence. Settling into myself finally. Maybe I've had a bit too much wine and I'm feeling introspective. I've never felt so comfortable anywhere as I do here. I can live without thinking about it, which is maybe what happiness is. If I could transport all my family and friends out here, I'd probably never leave.
Is comfort the same as happy?

DisneySea

2006-12-23T07:13:00.000+09:00

So we rose at some ungodly hour and wandered down for breakfast. "Traditional American Breakfast Buffet in the California Coffee House" it said. Apparently a traditional American Breakfast contains no bacon, egg, sausage, pancake, hash brown, cereal or anything bread related. It does however contain pasta carbonara, chicken nuggets and chips and something that looked suspiciously like shepherd's pie. Sitting with my thimble-full of weak coffee, eyeing this fare with something approaching disdain, I announced yet again that I hate mornings.
We caught the Mickey Monorail (the windows are in the shape of Mickey's head making it look a little like he crashed through the side of it) to DisneySea for day two of childlike magic.
DisneySea is home to the new ride Tower of Terror (much more on this 'attraction' later) and we'd been warned that it would be packed. However DisneySea was, if anything, quieter than Disneyland the day before. We got there as the gates opened and everyone set of in a heads-down charge for the Tower of Terror fastpass machine. We instead went to Stormrider and walked straight in without any wait.
This turned out to be an genius idea. The idea behind Stormrider is that you start in some scientific institute that studies and controls dangerous storms. You are supposed to go up in a ship that is on a routine mission to disperse a typhoon but obviously it all goes wrong. You sit in a kind of theatre watching a big screen but the whole thing is obviously a hydrolic platform. As the ship takes off it tips forward and buffets you with turbulence. I won't spoil it for anyone intending to go but this was spectacularly exciting and you come out terrified, adrenalised and quite wet.
Next came Indiana Jones and the somethingth of something adventure. This was a huge Aztec-ish pyramid thingy (am I accurate enough for you) where you sit in a truck that speeds you out past snakes, spiders, blow pipe darts, fire and, of course, the obligatory rolling boulder. Surprisingly fast and extremely bumpy, it was great fun, though the best thing about it was, bizarrely, the queue.
One of the strange things about Disneyland and Sea is that they have gone out of their way to make queueing enjoyable. Firstly you don't queue outside, they keep you nice and warm. For this attraction the queue (had there really been one, it was still eerily quiet) would wind through labyrinthine corridors of the mock ancient complex where displays, posters, newspaper articles and so on prepare you for the ride ahead, building anticipation (or fear) until it peaks just as you get strapped in.
Next to the double wonders of Jules Verne: Journey to the Centre of the Earth and 20000 Leagues Under the Sea. The former is an insane rollercoaster that goes spinning round and round until you burst out of the side of a volcano (you can see it in some of these pictures) and plummit. As we walked towards it we could hear the screams. I didn't feel confident. As we waited a voice announced "Ladies and Gentlemen. We have encountered a small problem and must close the ride for a short time. Thank you." We waited. The ride started again. A few minutes later the same thing happened again. By the time I actually had to sit in the car I was terrified. Then I discovered that I only just managed to fit my frame inside. With the safety bar down I couldn't move. I taught the Japanese people around me a few more swear words on that ride.
20000 Leagues Under the Sea by contrast was not much to write home about. So I won't.
We wandered around the Fortress Exploration (which does exactly what it says on the tin) and I struggled to explain the difference between the Copernican system and the pre-Copernican system in broken Japanese and English. I think I managed, but possibly she now
thinks early Christians believed that everything in the Universe revolved around my cigarette packet.
Next came Mermaid World, where we watched the funniest version of The Little Mermaid. It was a dance-type thing on wires, where Ariel spins around the sky as puppet fish swim around her. The story basically went (and this is really not much shorter than the real thing):
Act 1: Ariel sings about how much she wants legs.
Act 2: Some weird big squid thing offers her legs.
Act 3: Ariel says no. Racial stereotype crab does reggae.
Arabian Coast has three attractions: Magic Lamp theatre (having just watched one show we were in no mood for another), a merry-go-round and Sinbad. Sinbad was closed. I smoked a cigarette. We left Arabian Coast.
Aquatopia, as the name suggests, is a series of weird cars the drive through water, spinning and stopping before depositing you back where you started. We got wet again.
And so we finally braved the ride (and queue) that it Tower of Terror (it's the big tower-thingy in the photo above). All the fastpasses were gone so we joined the 70 minute queue (as seem to be the case here it took much less than that. I think they exaggerate so you are pleasantly surprised when you get your turn much quicker). A helpful voice announced every few minutes;
"Tower of Terror is a free-fall type attraction with takes place in the dark. Anyone with high blood-pressure, heart problems, back or neck problems or any other known medical conditions are advised against going on this ride. Pregnant mothers and children under three are not permitted on this ride."

"Do you have any of those problems?"
"No, but I'm scared of heights. Does that count as a medical condition?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Trust me, I'm a nurse."

The idea is that this old man, Harrison Hightower, travelled the world nicking valuable historical artefacts from just about every county, a proper tomb raider. On his last trip to Africa he brought back this little wooden idol. That very night there was a huge accident when the lift plummeted from the very top floor with the guy in it. Since then the haunted hotel has been closed. Guess what the ride consists of? That's right. So 50 minutes later I'm shaking like a leaf, being strapped into what feels like a plastic school chair sellotaped to the floor of an over-sized lift. The lights go out. We rise to the next floor. A video plays a conversation between Hightower's ghost and the idol. We shoot up again. We suddenly realise that a) we are now at the very top of the tower (look at the picture again) b) that the lift has no front since we are now being blasted by a freezing wind and can see out over not only DisneySea, but half of Tokyo as well. and c) that we are about to die.
We go down. We go up. We do this a few more times. Every screams. I almost bite my tongue off. We stagger out. I'm almost sick. I can't stop shaking. She say "that was nice. Again?" We walk outside, I go straight onto the cruise liner conveniently parked there, go into the bar and knock back two whiskys. We sit there about an hour by which time I calm down.
We decided to take a boat trip around the park and see it from a different angle but no, it was 4.30 and the boats had all stopped. Great. We watched a few shows, walked around a bit. She tried to convince me to go on Raging Spirit (stupid rollercoaster with 360 loop). She failed. About 8 we caught the train back to Tokyo and then to Nagoya, absolutely exhausted but having thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.
I cannot recommend Disneyland or DisneySea highly enough. I'm exactly the kind of person who should hate this sort of place and I had an amazing time. For all guys in Japan: you will not find a better place for a date than this. Sure she says everything is kawaii, but this time it actually is cute, not just a dog in a bag.

A quickie from Auntie

2006-12-21T21:33:00.000+09:00

And people keep telling me I'm over-exaggerating the difference between Japanese society and the selfish rude ways of the west. Check out this story:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/6197921.stm

Disneyland.

2006-12-21T09:23:00.000+09:00

So, we rose at 4.45 and set off on the epic journey to Tokyo Disneyland. Train to Nagoya, Shinkansen to Tokyo, train to Maihama and there, laid in front of us, was the magical kingdom. Always something of a cynic, and not one for early mornings, I was prepared to give the whole thing a good sneer. Bizarrely though, as we walked towards the main entrance, Cinderella's Palace towering above us, hundreds of people of all ages rushing towards the gates, I began to get quite excited. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe it would be quite good fun.
I was right.
The weather was not so good, as you can see: it was very cold and windy, though fortunately the rain stayed off the whole weekend.
The most popular ride in Disneyland is Pooh's Hunny Hunt. Disney operates a fastpass system. You can join the queue and wait your turn (often this will take more than an hour) or you can get a fastpass ticket, which has a specific time printed on it, go and enjoy other rides then come back at the appointed time and walk straight to the front of the queue. It's a great system except that when Disneyland opens everyone charges for the Pooh's Hunny Hunt fastpass machines. By the time we got there all the tickets were gone. We decided to get a fastpass for Buzz Lightyear's Astro Blasters (I was assured it was a great ride) then wandered around Toontown for a while.
Toontown is not the greatest area, specifically designed for small children there's only one ride you can go one if you are over 7 years old. This however was the fantastic Roger Rabbit. You sit in a spinning car and go through various scenes from the film, all the time spinning faster and faster until you think you are going to vomit (to be fair the ride isn't like that unless, like me, you jam the wheel that makes you spin fully on and don't release it until the doors open on the outside world again). Next came It's a Small World, a nice leisurely boat trip through some of the worlds best known racial stereotypes. Puppets from just about every country in the world dance and sing along to Jingle Bells in their own language. Marvel at the Dutch in clogs, laugh at the French doing the can-can, snigger at the Austrian's in Leiderhosen. There was even a Scotsman in kilt, with pipes and Highland Cow (bizarrely also tartan). Africa seemed to be considered one country. The Hawaiian's were surrounded by snow (but bravely soldiered on in grass skirts). This was probably the most disappointing part of the resort. It was lazy, offensive and slightly sickening.
After that a hearty lunch in the Queen of Hearts Banqueting Hall then the Jungle Cruise. This was very well done. You travel down a narrow river made to look very tropical, with full monkey screeching sound effects and amazing mechanical elephants, hippos, giraffes etc. (I'll come back to these later, the robotics were astounding) and the odd native with spear or blowpipe. The tour guide, dressed in full Safari outfit, was rather good at his job. Here the staff remain 100% in character no matter what happens, the treat each ride as it is real life and seem to enjoy themselves hugely. I tried to imagine what British staff would be like in a place like this. Surly, bored, occasionally threatening. Here it's not "the customer is always right" but much more basically: "the customer is here to have a good time". Although saying that, the seven year old girl sitting at the front repeatedly informed the guide that he was stupid.
Next we wandered around the Swiss Family Robinson Tree House and decided it would be a great place to live (a recurring theme over the two days), then joined the queue for probably my favourite attraction, Pirates of the Caribbean. Sitting in a rowing boat you float through a port town as it is beseiged by Pirates. The whole thing is massive (though all contained in one building) and the eye to detail is superb. Never once in the whole park did I notice something out of place, or missed, or broken, or even dirty. This ride takes you past drunk pirates chasing women (and one woman chasing a pirate with a rolling pin), pirates taking pot shots at each other, skeletons drinking rum while sitting on stack of gold. After a heart-stoppingly sudden drop in the pitch dark you float between the fortress walls and the galleon blasting them. The noise is deafening and the fire from the cannons and ensuing jet of water beside the boat real enough to make you jump.
The amazing thing about Disneyland that I kept coming back to was how convincing it all is. Once you are through the gates reality is not allowed to intervene even for a second. If something goes wrong on a ride (as happened repeatedly at one attraction in Disneysea, more later) even the announcements are done in character. You are fully immersed in another world and very quickly you start to accept this. You get caught up in it. You scream, you laugh, you jump, you duck, you turn into a child again. I never believed it before, being the hardened cynic and having experience how completely the British attitude can destroy the delicate balance a place like this has. But here it works. Everyone wants it to be perfect, and it comes as close as I can imagine it.
So to Buzz Lightyear's Astro Blasters where you go round a Toy Story themed course, well, blasting things with your Buzz Lightyear laser. Great fun. In the entrance they had a statue of Buzz, and I can only assume the head was a hologram. From all around it looked solid and 3D, but it was moving and speaking in such a natural way that it couldn't have been robotics unless we are already living in a world where robots can be made indistinguishable from humans. This was the first time, but it wasn't the last, when something was beyond my powers of reasoning to work out. Technology is obviously way more advanced than I'd been made aware.
Space Mountain was closed so we went Go-Kart racing the watched Micro-Adventure. Based on the Honey, I Shrunk the Kids films and starring Eric Idle and Rick Moranis, the idea is that you are in the audience at The Imagination Institute for their annual Inventor of the Year award, presented by aforementioned Python and controversially won by Moranis. Apart from the shortage of English translation headphones (enough to make you expect to get one, not enough to actually find one) this was an amazing 3D film experience. In addition to the usual jumping as snakes etc. leap from the screen straight at your face, the floor is rigged to bounce (you get shrunk and when people walk by everything jumps), when tiny mice escape jets of air blast the back of your legs making everyone shriek and, at the finale, when the giant dog sneezes, water is sprayed across the whole room. It's one of these great attractions where, no matter how prepared you are, and how logically you analyse the situation, you'll still shit yourself and leap ten feet in the air.
In no particular order we went on the Alice in Wonderland Tea Cups, watched the Singing Bears, and sailed on the Mark Twain Riverboat, wandered around at a leisurely pace all happy and romantic, watched the odd parade and gazed at the Christmas Lights.
The Haunted Mansion is based on Tim Burton's A Nightmare Before Christmas and is suitably surreal. Not even slightly scary but good fun. For scary you want Big Thunder Mountain.
Well scary if, like me, you are acrophobic. Being scared of heights and going on rollercoasters in the dark is not a good combination but I did it, I lived to tell the tale and, in the meantime, taught my girlfriend a few more English swear words. We then joined the queue for Pooh's Hunny Hunt (advertised waiting time 70 minutes, actual waiting time 30) and quite quickly got inside. This is one of those rides that should be for kids but is just so much fun that everyone goes on it. You follow Pooh as he searches for Hunny, spinning round in a bizarre dream sequence and bouncing with Tigger. Really innocent childish fun. In the same vein Peter Pan is a peaceful flight from London to Neverland that would be worthwhile if the queue had been shorter (45 mins). All in all we were very lucky. One student had told me "aim to go on three attractions and any more will be a bonus". We did everything apart from Splash Mountain (too cold) and Space Mountain (closed) and a couple of the small kids ones in Toonland and our longest wait was 45 mins. A week before Christmas the place should have been hoaching but for some reason the droves stayed away.
We were going to watch the Christmas parade and fireworks display but by 7.30 we were both exhausted so went back to the hotel and passed out in the hope of getting enough sleep to enjoy the next day in Disneysea.

Musing

2006-12-18T09:27:00.000+09:00

It's officially freezing. I refuse to leave my bed until at least March.
Saturday night I had my bounenkai (end of year party) in Nagoya. About 40 management types drinking and eating as much as possible in two hours. It was a surprisingly good night. I met a lot of new people (including a couple from Greenock bizarrely), saw a few faces I recognised and had a laugh. Francis was present as well which made it all a bit easier to deal with. We went for a quick drink before hand and luckily Mitchell showed up. I hadn't realised that he was going home so soon, so if he hadn't been there I wouldn't have seen him again. He flies home on Wednesday and I'm working every day and then off to Disneyland first thing Tuesday morning. A quick goodbye, exchange of emails and a promise to meet later that night for one more drink which never happened. About 10ish we got kicked out of the izakaya (a bit unceremoniously) so those who could take their beatings went to karaoke. There I got to witness the regional area manager singing the female half of Barbie Girl and my immediate boss ripping through Stan by Eminem. I missed the last train so slept a few hours at Francis' then caught the first train. I spent yesterday feeling very tired but it was a good night and worth it.
So a week till Xmas. Where the hell did this year go? It doesn't seem that long ago that Darius was arriving, John and Laura were leaving and I was recovering from New Year. Now Darius has gone, Mitchell, Thom, Jo and Rob follow next month and New Year is waiting around the corner to pounce on my liver and leave me weeping on the floor.
Oh, while I remember. Anyone who was expecting a Christmas present or who was likely to get one, you'll have to wait. Since I'm coming home in March-ish I'm going to bring home decent stuff then instead of sending you something random from amazon. Also xmas cards may be late. I thought I'd sent them but just found them all in my bag. Sorry. Not really on the ball with xmas, too much other stuff going on.
Read The Naming Of The Dead by Ian Rankin. I was pleasantly surprised. Not being a big one for crime novels, especially the age old hard-boiled alcoholic detective with younger sidekick kind. It was damn good though, a nice easy style, good plotting and very funny in places. But the real thing that hit me as I read it was how much I'd missed in 18 months out of Britain. The book is set in the week or so that saw the G8 summit in Gleneagles and the London subway bombings. I was reading about the demonstrations in Edinburgh, the mood in Britain at the time, the shock when news of the attacks broke, and thinking: I didn't know about half of this. Of course I knew the broad picture but I came here about a month before any of that happened. I had to keep reminding myself that what I was reading actually happened (the G8 stuff not the Rebus finding a serial killer bit). I made me wonder what else I've missed. When I come home how many references to events, whether political or cultural, will I not get? Obviously TV stuff will go way over my head and who cares, but when you think I left the country with Michael Howard still dragging the corpse of the Tories behind him and at a time when everyone knew Champagne Charlie drank but no one thought this would interfere with him running the Liberals. For the entire time David Cameron and Menzies Campbell have been leaders of their respective parties I've been in Japan. Does it feel like a long time?

Playing away.

2006-12-15T21:41:00.000+09:00

AC Milan? Oh shit.

The 21st Century Welcomes Careful Drivers.

2006-12-13T09:30:00.000+09:00

First things first. I saw the new Bond yesterday. Oh yes, Bond is back. Definitely the best 007 outing since Goldeneye and infinitely superior to the drivel of later stage Pierce Brosnan and Roger "Carry On Bond" Moore. Daniel Craig is an inspired choice. He takes a little time to settle down but by the end I was almost bouncing in my seat to see the next in the series, something that hasn't happened for years. Proper Bond bad guys as well: physical defects, usually around the eye and a pasty Eastern European complexion. Judi Dench was perfect again "God I miss the Cold War" was a cracking line. The free running sequence in Uganda was one of the most awe-inspiring action sequences I've seen at the cinema for a long time. More than once when watching this I realised I had been commenting out loud ("Fuck", "Ow", "Jesus" and suchlike) which shows how much I was caught up in it. And of course:
Bond: A vodka martini.
Barman: Yes sir. Shaken or stirred?
Bond: Do I look like I give a damn?
Pretty much summed up Daniel Craig's Bond. This is so close to the original Ian Fleming Bond, which I always loved. I liked Timothy Dalton, because he played Bond as unhinged, a bit of a psycho who is pretty dead inside. Craig is going the same way and I applaud him. Go see it. Just don't mention knotted rope to me for a while.
In other news.
Saturday night saw Mitchell's leaving do. It's Wednesday and I'm just about back to normal. 3 hours free bar followed by a return to Mitchell's flat meant Sunday was a tad rough (I had the day off thanks to Sian).
I bought an X-box (with Fifa World Cup 2002 and Halo) for about £50. Bargin. So now I can waste my time playing video games, watching DVDs and listening to CDs, all on the same machine. The 21st century welcomes careful drivers.
Starting a busy week. Today, instead of my much deserved day off, I have to go to a meeting in Nagoya. Fun fun fun in the sun sun sun. It does mean that Saturday I only have to work until 2pm (instead of 6.30) but that night I have a Bonenkai (end of year party) with all the titled instructors, assistant area managers and area managers from this area. Attendance is compulsory though fun is not. Francis is going so I'll have some company, but I don't much fancy the idea of spending an evening socialising with the Nova hierarchy, especially when I have to work at 10am the next day. Still, could be fun.
Off to Disneyland on Tuesday with the girlfriend. Should be really expensive, cold, busy and terrifying but one does ones duty: it is her birthday so we'll do what she wants to do. On my birthday next year we can go shopping for flat caps and driving gloves, or whatever it is you do when you reach 27. Hang on, that's famous death age. Cobain, Dean, Phoenix etc all died at 27. I'm not even close to being famous enough for Nick Broomfield to invent a conspiracy theory about my death. Great line from Confessions of a Dangerous Mind:
"You're 32. Jesus Christ was dead and alive again by 33. You'd better get moving."
Anyway, enough bollocks, I've got a bacon sandwich with my name on it. That's another thing that happens when you get older. You start labelling your food.

A Bastard Behind The Eyes.

2006-12-07T12:28:00.000+09:00

Oh Christ my head hurts. Had Darius' leaving do last night. It was good fun, saw a lot of people, drank a lot of drink and had a laugh. Got home about 6.30am. Darius has gone, left at about 9. The flat's a tip and I have lots to do but I can't drag myself out of bed. Fortunately I'm not working until 4.
Thom and I discussed playing another gig before he goes in January, though with him and Jo going to Hiroshima next week, and me going to Disneyland the week after, it'll be January before we can actually have a rehearsal.
Just got a text from Francis saying he has video footage from last night. Oh God. Sometimes I hate technology. I don't think I did anything too embarrassing but you can never be too sure.

1. Toni, Sian and Darius in Red Rock. Chelsea v Bolton on the TV behind.
2. Fresh blood. New teacher Greg with beer.
3. Lisa, Sian's flatmate and Aussie.
4. I have no idea.
5. Looking at holidays snaps.
6. Mitchell: Cultural Learnings of Japan for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Australia.

It's shite being Scottish.

2006-12-05T09:27:00.000+09:00

The heat of the Japanese summer made me forget how damn cold the winters are. Well Winter is back and all the memories rush through me like the Siberian wind whistling outside my far-too-thin windows. The days are beautiful, sunny and crisp; Autumn hanging on till the last possible minute. At night it is dropping to around zero.
Saturday night I was joined by Darius, Sian, Lisa, Ema, Kyoko, and Ayako at Hakkenden for the first of two leaving parties for Darius. It was a good laugh with Sian producing some cracking photos of Darius drunk over the year including the cracking "Darius lying in a bush without his trousers" and "Darius lying in a fountain without his trousers". He and I had our last day working together yesterday which was weird. Brought back memories of John's last day (back in March, what has happened to this year?). and more thoughts about what the hell I should do in the future. I've applied to Edinburgh University to study Japanese but it's quite expensive and a big commitment so I want to be absolutely sure before I take it. I've cancelled my transfer to Hiroshima merely because I'm so up in the air about next year. I will be coming home at some point, probably in March, for a two week visit so keep the diaries empty.
Sunday night I went for a drink with our new teacher, Greg. He is a very nice, quiet guy from London. Very tall and very thin, he stands out a mile here. One student, Nozomi, was disappointed because she was holding out for David Beckham. I tried to explain that Beckham teaching English would be an incredibly funny disaster but she wouldn't listen.
We went to Bebador in Konan (where I go about twice a year in order to have a "long time no see" conversation with Shinichiro) and were met by Sian, Lisa, Toni and Ashley.
I have decided to go to Tokyo Disneyland with girlfriend on the 19th and 20th of December. Her birthday is the 22nd so it seemed like the right thing to do. Had a lot of hassle booking it but it's just about done. You cannot underestimate the importance of Tokyo Disneyland (and Disneysea) in contemporary Japanese culture. It is the most visited place in the country, outstripping the temples and shrines and castles no bother. If you ask anyone here "where should I go in Japan?" they will say Tokyo Disneyland. So, when in Rome....
This will probably cut into my New Year trip (financially). Tokyo is still on but maybe Yokohama, Nikko and Kamakura are less likely. Besides, if I'm not going to Hiroshima then there's no pressing need to see all the east coast ASAP.
Today I've got my language exchange at 12, some coffee and some chat which should be fun. Tonight watashi no kanojo is coming over for some home cooked Mexican food and videos. Tomorrow I'm playing guitar with Thom (maybe, seeing as he still hasn't replied to my last text. Still, that's par for the course. Tennen boke desu) then it's Darius' leaving do in Red Rock (sight of his infamous debut upon the Japanese social scene in January). He goes to Osaka on Thursday and flies home on Friday. It'll be much quieter without him around.
I'm halfway through Snow by Orhan Pamuk which is fantastic, very much in the Kundera mould but with added Turkishness. I'm trying to pin-point exactly what it is about this kind of prose (Kundera, Pamuk, Antal Szerb to name three I've recently read) that gets me every time. It's a special East European (I'm going to use that to include Pamuk even though it is inaccurate, he's a Westernised Turk and if they join the EU it will become Eastern European) style, seemingly calm, placid even when describing the most horrific events. It is perfectly suited for philosophical and political digressions and discussions, something that can't be said about most prose styles. Making two characters discuss the nature of morality is a very difficult task (trust me, I need to write a scene like this in my novel and I can't do it without it sounding like an episode of Star Trek (as Zoe used to point out)) but these writers manage to do it and make it seem easy.
I also read Alan Spence's new novel, The Pure Land. It's the fictionalised true story of Thomas Glover, the Aberdonian who came to Japan (Nagasaki to be precise) just as it was opening up immediately prior to the Meiji Restoration and who became involved in starting Mitsubishi amongst others and basically armed the rebellion that overthrew the Tokugawa Shogun. It was a cracking book, funny, romantic, sentimental and cruel. It was a bit unnerving reading about an Aberdonian living in Japan being an Aberdonian living in Japan. Alan nailed the strangeness and the attraction of Japan perfectly though. I found myself nodding in agreement with Thomas Glover many times. Originally written as a screenplay (the release of The Last Samurai bolloxed it's chances) the book is so visual and cinematic that it really has to be made into a film. I hope it does, it'll be far superior to the historical bullshit of Tom Cruise's entertaining but totally fictional film (example: the American introducing rifles to Japan over 300 years after they were being used in battles. They were using cannons at the Siege of Osaka Castle in about 1612. Also Billy Connolly's Irish accent is dodgy at best).
I bought Trainspotting for 25p the other day. I'd forgotten how good it is. Still can't understand how some people thought it glamorised Heroin use. I for one don't find dying from a stroke brought on by HIV and a flat full of cat shit at all attractive. Anyway the film contains one of my favourite throwaway lines:

Renton: He's [Sick Boy] totally lacking in moral fibre.
Mother Superior: He knows a lot about Sean Connery.
Renton: It's hardly a substitute.

Genius.
Right, I need to phone the travel agent and finalise my booking (all in Japanese so we may be going to Disneyland in Florida instead), wash clothes and do the other chores that mark the difference between days at work and weekends.
Oh, while I remember, free advert. My friend Mike Callaghan's new short film "Nowhere" is premiering at G12 Gilmorehill (in Glasgow) on Thursday 14th December at 7pm. It is ten minutes long and he swears the bar will be open. If you're around and free go check it out. If not you can watch it on his myspace page. You can also watch his first short film, Father's Day (follow the links from my list). Good luck man.

A Fenian Rant.

2006-12-01T23:03:00.000+09:00

Listen Alex Ferguson, we beat you fair and square despite your continuing good luck with dodgy penalties and injury time. To go and get Larsson on loan is just petty. He's our hero. We let Barcalona have him so he could get a Champions League medal before retiring. But this is hitting below the belt.

A bit of history.

2006-11-30T12:23:00.000+09:00

Busy day yesterday, I had to go to immigration and do some visa stuff but due to excellent Japanese efficiency it took only ten minutes. Bought Snow by Orhan Pamuk then met Thom and Fi for some ramen. Thom had some chores so Fi and I went to the Tokugawa Museum.
The Tokugawa family, originally from this area, ruled Japan for 265 years, from the start of the 17th century to the Meiji restoration in the 19th century. The capital was Edo (now Tokyo) but the family's land was around here and this was the source of their power. Because of this the family has an amazing collection of historical artefacts: swords, armour, scrolls, clothes and the best collection of The Tale of Gengi scrolls. It also has an amazing garden and, since it was such a nice day, we had a pleasant stroll.
Back into the city, met Thom and Jo for some drinking and karaoke.

Ise-jingu.

2006-11-29T08:48:00.000+09:00

Thursday night saw Mitchell and Francis join Darius and I for poker and cocktails. We're still trying to use the bizarre mix of liquers Kei gave us when the bar closed. We discovered that vodka, creme de cacao, hazelnut liquer, malibu and coke work well together. Nothing mixes with Apricot liquer. Playing for 1000 yen each (using chips) by the time bed became necessary only Francis and I were still in. We split the loot, he took the lions share.
Yesterday I went to Ise-Jingu with me girlfriend. Set off at some ungodly hour and still managed to not get there until after 11. We were both exhausted (she had been working for something like 20 hours the day before) so we dozed on the train. I'm discovering that life becomes much easier with a Japanese girlfriend: where as I would have just bought the usual train tickets, she'd managed to find a day pass that covered the train line and the taxis in Ise, even giving us a free meal, and all at a reasonable price. Sweet.
She claims she's a "sunny girl". Wherever she goes the sun shines, regardless of the weather forecast. Well it proved true again. Despite two days of torrential rain, bitter winds and possibly the thickest fog I've ever seen, yesterday was the most perfect Autumnal day. Despite it being the 28th of December. Clear skies, warm sun, light breeze. The leaves are at their peak just now and all around Ise are forests of fire. Against a backdrop of monolithic pines the bright yellows, scorching oranges and blood reds of the maples are astounding.
The Naikuu (inner) shrine is secreted in amongst this beauty. It is dated to roughly 3AD and is the shrine to the Sun Goddess, she who created Japan and gave birth to the line of Emperors (hence the divine status until 1945). This is the holiest place in Japan and it houses the sacred mirror of the Emperor, one of the three imperial regalia (the sacred beads are in Tokyo and the sword is in Atsuta Jingu in Nagoya, I have now been to all three locations). Of course you cannot see the mirror. No one has seen the mirror since the 3rd century. It is wrapped in a bag and, as the bag rots, a new one is placed over the top. The idea is that the mirrors beauty would be ruined by a mere mortal gazing into it.
Nor can you see the shrine. A relaxing walk through the forest, across perfect Japanese bridges over pools of coy (carp, the symbol of boyhood: a carp flag is flown at a house when a son has been born or on May 5th, Children's Day), leads up to the shrine entrance where three fences, three massive gates and security guards stop you from entering.
You can see the tops of the shrine buildings which, I'm sorry to say, reminded me of nothing more than the Gaul's houses in the Asterix books. Still it's a beautiful, romantic spot. As I stood there I remembered Mishima Yukio's book Spring Snow in which, towards the end of the book, the young girl is placed under the care of the High Priestess of Ise and her young lover, Kiyoaki, journeys from Tokyo determined to see her only to fall sick and die at an inn nearby. After I told her the story she said: "the Goddess doesn't really like men. It is supposed to be bad luck to come here with your boyfriend. She will split you up." Now she tells me. I hope she meant the plural 'you' and not that the Sun Goddess would split me up.
After stringing to see over fences we walked back down to see a very bored white horse and some truly massive carp. "They are very expensive to buy. Can you put one in your bag?"
I swear none of them would have gone in.
Next we strolled down the old street where the tourist tat and restaurants are.
Some okay udon for lunch and messing about by the river and it was time to visit the Gekuu (outer) shrine.
There wasn't much to this one but we had fun taking photos of a group of about 15 old people who in turn took photos of us. There were some of the biggest trees I'd ever seen, including one with a huge space underneath it where the roots were exposed. I could have crawled into it. I was stopped however by a small shine and offerings leant against the tree. A small statue looked positively voodoo and was quite scary.
So back to Nagoya, a quick curry and back home to bed.
Today I've got to go to immigration and get a re-entry permit (which should be fun) then meeting Fi, Thom and Jo for something, not sure what, maybe museums.

"God, I hate this weather" said the Brass Monkey.

2006-11-22T11:28:00.000+09:00

After being berated by Sly (check the comment on the last post, it is a work of (a deranged) genius) I have realised it's been a while since I informed the wider world of my exploits.
So what's been going on?
Monday night was Fi's birthday drinks (Happy Birthday) which saw much drunkenness and karaoke (I sang "Friend Like Me" from Aladdin, rock and roll eh?). Last Friday Darius, Francis and I went downstairs to Miyoko's flat for dinner. Had a great night and met Maya who agreed to do a language exchange with me, so I can finally learn Japanese properly in Inuyama. Yay!
Not much else going on (hence no post). Off to see Children of Men (called Tomorrows World here) this afternoon. Francis and Mitchell (and maybe some more) are coming up Thursday night. Next Tuesday I'm going to Ise Jingu.
Nakamura Shunsuke!!! What a God. Rightly is he treated as a diety out here and should be among the more discerning half of Glasgow (though can someone please tell the commentators that you don't pronounce the second 'u' in his name, it's driving me crazy. It should sound like Shunskay). European glory for us? Stranger things have happened.
Oh, and I have a girlfriend.

Due to public demand (i.e. Thom)...

2006-11-10T21:40:00.000+09:00

4 gigs in one year. It's almost like being a Youf again.
This time out was Mogwai/Ratatat.
The latter being the former on the night I will begin with them. There was a lot of smoke, video, dark light (the guy who did the lights for The Who back in the day must be getting so much royalties out of post rock), lead guitar riffs and hair. They swayed between beautiful heavy soundscapes and Iron Maiden-influenced guitar wanking.
I was sodding knackered for no obvious reason and feeling very old standing at the back with Thom, Fi and Simone and hated paying 600 yen for a midget sized can of beer. Then Mogwai graced the stage.
Having never seen them live but having heard so much about the show from people like Jon I anticipated being blown away. I was. They played Mogwai Fear Satan and everyone nearly fell over when the three guitars, bass and drums passed the sound barrier. A tosser (read foreigner with his girlfriend) thought it was funny to shout "hello, can anyone hear me?" after every song. Why on earth would he have paid £30 for a ticket and climbed the interminable stairs to the venue if he had no interest in anything other than trying to be funny about the decibel level?

I've sat here staring at the above paragraph and trying to think of something else to say. Clearly it is much easier to slag off crap bands than praise bands who didn't set a foot wrong the entire night. They were astounding: my eyes, ears, legs and chest hurt with the assault. It made me desperate to be in a band again, yet down that I could probably never write music like that. Just go and see them for yourself.

Goodbye Donald Rumsfeld: you will be sorely missed by those who, like you, believe that the Geneva Convention is merely a set of guidelines and who broker the deal to sell weapons to countries and then accuse them of having dangerous weapons. Although to be fair, the one thing you can say about him is that, despite all his intelligence failings, he was smart enough to spot that George (whatever happened to the "W"?) Bush was the perfect puppet to allow him to wield ultimate power.

Who would have thought that history would produce another Henry Kissinger before the original was even dead.

Vote Hilary 2008

The War Against Terrorism

2006-11-08T20:15:00.000+09:00

Just watched this film, Loose Change, with Kei. I don't know if I'm the last person to see this but if not, for Godsake watch it. In terms of documentaries about 11th of September, this is the best I've seen. Certainly far better than Michael Moore's 9/11 For Dummies. There are obvious problems with it (mostly highlighted by the selective editing and focusing on one paragraph of a newspaper article when the next paragraph seems to refute it) but I personally think this is more than just bullshit conspiracy theory. This guy has done his homework. Maybe not a smoking gun but as he says at the end: ask questions, demand answers.
Oh, and the film and website also contain an interview with Hunter S. Thompson, Sly's favourite dead genius, where he lambasts the US Reich and their lackies, the press (my words, not his).
http://www.loosechange911.com/

Big in Japan

2006-11-07T11:33:00.000+09:00

Much food for thought.
So, a few things been happening.
The Japanese staff in this area were all shifted around (unceremoniously, with about 10 hours notice) which means Ayako has gone and been replaced by Ema (who we knew anyway, cool though slightly crazy) and Yuri (one day a week) who was the manager when I first started. Bit sad to see Ayako go, I've been working with her since July 2005, but she's still in the area so we'll see her from time to time.
Sunday night Darius, Sian and I went to a gig. Kyoko's friend Takahiko's band Jonny were playing. Darius and Sian had seen them before but it was my first time. I finished work at 5.20 so charged into Nagoya, met Sian and steamed for Club Rock and Roll (does exactly what it says on the tin). Darius was working until 7 so he joined us later. Sian and I missed the first band but came in at the start of Doctor Yellow's set. Damn they're good. A nice bit of indie rock with constantly shifting time signatures and dynamics, a drummer with the craziest hair this since Sideshow Bob and a cute hippy singer. After the set I asked them if they had a CD. Some confusion. The drummer and guitarist were sure they did, the singer said no but gave me a flyer to make up for it. I think they lost the bag somewhere. They were that kind of band.
Next came Ripping '70's. Shit they were bad. They really wanted to be punk. The bass player was clearly obsessed by Nicky Wire, looked like him, dressed like him, played the same model bass, danced like him, was shit like him. The guitarist looked like that twat that started The Seahorses dressed like an extra from Almost Famous. He had learned every expression in 101 Guitar Faces For Rocking Out and used them all in the first 30 seconds. We even got "guitar as a penis" solo. I think they should've called the band "One Man and his Delay Pedal". To make matters worse, after the sonic assault of the first song, the rest all sounded like Kula Shaker played under water. Public masturbation with a fat Elvis on drums.
Jonny were next and thank God. I haven't been blown away at a gig since I saw Hope Of The States with Bob years ago. Shit this lot are good. Raw pop punk, a bit like Pavement covering The Libertines with a shit-faced Louise Werner at the mic. The guitarist was the spitting image of Dave Grohl. Bought both their CD's. If this band don't get big I'm going after the music industry and putting a feret down it's trousers.
No idea what the last band were like (though I remember arguing with Darius which song from Blood Sugar Sex Magic they were ripping off now). Had a few more drinks and chatted in broken shouted Japanese with the guitarist from Doctor Yellow, Takahiko (the drummer from Jonny) and Mio, the singer from Jonny. We were just about to head for a last drink then the train when Mia invited us to join the two bands (Doctor Yellow and Jonny) and their friends for dinner and excessive drinking. Um...ok.
God what a night. A few of them could speak English (Takahiko especially) and others were willing to try. We talked bollocks about music (mostly) and generally arsed around. Everyone got very drunk and I discovered that I can speak enough Japanese to convince someone that I'm actually Korean (I don't think he was the sharpest tool in the box, though he was the one who, when I said I was from Scotland, said "Ah Belle and Sebastian, fucking sugoi ne?" (great)).
About half twelve or so everyone wandered off (Mia was spannered by now and had to be restrained after Darius told her we were going to sleep in the park: "You can't ... you ... no no no no ... not the park ... I can't let you ... no no not a joke ... you're serious ... please ... promise promise promise").
Darius and I went to Red Rock (since we'd missed the last train, Sian had already gone) and watched some rugby while talking more crap. Some food and walking and soon it was time for the first train. Darius missed work the next day. My body made it but I think my mind was still moshing with a rum and coke at the gig. I haven't had such a good night in ages. Great bands, wonderful people, lots of food and drink, new friends. This is the life.

4 million Suffragettes died at the Grand National so you could have the vote: think of them when you abstain.

2006-11-04T19:58:00.000+09:00

In traditional Maloney fashion I am changing my mind almost daily about what I want to do in the future. After ending up discussing it with two students today and getting some good opinions I have decided to open this up to the wider world wide web (eh?) so those who know me, those who don't but happen to have come across this and those who ended up here after mistyping "Dog" and "Mounting" into google and got a nasty surprise, please feel free to add your comments to what I hope will be an infantile and offensive discussion that may bring me closer to a decision. So without further delay, here are my options. Vote as your conscience advises:

1. Do nothing, renew my contract in June and stay exactly where I am. (The "We Fear Change" Party).
2. Follow through with my request to transfer to Hiroshima, see if I like that and take things from there (The "Change is as Good as a Rest" Party).
3. Apply for a job at the new Nova school in Taiwan (or Chinese Taipei depending on your political beliefs) (The "Ticking Off Places on a Map" Party).
4. Apply for a transfer to another part of Japan (The "Make My Boss Think I'm Indecisive" Party).
5. Pack it all in, go home, get whatever job I can and bore people with stories that begin "This one time, in Japan..." (The "Losing Friends and Irritating People" Party).
6. Pack it all in, go home, move back in with my Father (The "Spoil Iain's Father's Retirement" Party).
7. Apply to a British University (at this moment Edinburgh, Leeds or Sheffield) to do an Undergraduate degree in Japanese Language, Literature and History at great expense for the next four years, graduate when I'm 31 but then come back to Japan and get a job as an Interpreter or Translator or Speller (ideally translating Japanese literature into English) (The "Endless Student" Party).
8. Find myself a rich Japanese woman who wants both a career and a family and offer my services (The "Make Iain's Mum Stressed" Party).
9. Pack it all in, go backpacking on the credit I've managed to pay off (I could basically go for about 2 years on credit cards) (The "Didn't Learn Anything From Bob's Example" Party).

Site of Reversible Destiny.

2006-10-31T17:23:00.000+09:00

Well I went, I saw, I photographed and I pondered but I still have no idea what that sentence means. Yoro park is a very cool, beautiful place. It is also incredibly surreal. We drove North over the great Mino alluvial plain to it's edge and found the park nestling in the foothills of the Japanese Alps, stunning pine covered mountains. The park itself overlooks the plain and spreads over the soft hills. It had been a while since I'd been out into the proper countryside (I like in what is technically quite a rural area but it's still all concrete) and I felt rejuvanted just walking in the sunshine on grass beneath the already changing maple leaves.

The first display or building or whatever is a big multicoloured affair which has a kind of maze inside. Next came this thing:

It is a house. The roof and floors are maps of Gifu. The walls are about 3 or 4 feet apart and cut through the furniture:

I have no idea why. It was really cool to wander around and I felt almost child-like clambering over things and giggling at the bizarreness of it all. Many parts of the floor were glass and beneath us another house identical. When you looked up, the roof space was filled with more furniture such as a gas cooker hanging upside down.

Next we walked up a street map of New York and came across this:

It's a rabbit warren of tunnels, more sliced furniture and general surrealism. There is a fibre glass map of Japan upside down on one of the edges. There are street maps of Paris, Berlin, Moscow, Bangkok and Shanghai. All very cool and fun but I have no idea what the point of it all is. Ahh, who cares.

The main park done we walked up to the waterfall (about 30 minutes up into the mountains).
"Yoro Falls is rated among the top 100 most beautiful waterfalls in Japan. During the Nara period, the Emperor Gensyo declared that this water ... would cure any disease ... when used to wash one's hands and face, would make ones skin smooth and clear, and any disease would disappear. He further insisted that lost hair would return, and that failing eyesight would be restored." said the sign. We weren't allowed near the water.
It was a fair hike seeing as I'm out of shape (like I've ever been in shape) but I saw a couple of mamushi (poisonous snakes) and generally enjoyed being outside again. It's the one downside of this job - you spend all day sitting around talking (that's also the upside).
Being knackered we decided to take the lift back down. At first I assumed it was a ropeway but then I saw the picture: a plastic seat hanging from a pole. Nothing to hold onto and no straps. No chance says I. The ticket guy laughed. It never goes more than 1 metre off the ground. Fair enough. It was actually quite exciting because the hill is very steep so as you go down you get an amazing view of the Mino plain:
We stopped for dinner on the way home and I slept very soundly that night. Fresh air and walking in hills is a great combination.
So that was last Tuesday. Since then there was work. We get our new teacher on December 2nd and he has organised his own accomodation so it looks like no flatmate until after xmas, yay. I also found out I'm to be promoted. I don't get any extra money but I get to call myself Kid's Leader. Basically I'll be involved in training kids teachers in the immediate area around Inuyama. Francis said they'll hire anyone, I reckon it's simple economics - everyone else lives in Nagoya so the train fares are high. Obviously they've never seen me teach a kids class. So I get the training in December. Not massively exciting but all these stupid titles mount up since I don't have a TEFL, hopefully I can combine positions of responsibility with teaching experience and bypass that little problem if I move to another country or company.
Today being Tuesday again I went out in Nagoya last night with Fi. I was supposed to go to Misfits with Thom but he called off sick so a quick change of plan. Some drink, some pool, some karaoke and a bastard hangover today. Tried to find Atsuta Jingu with Thom, a shrine in Nagoya and the holding place of one of the three national treasures (the Imperial sword, the gems are in the Imperial Palace and a thousand-odd year old mirror is in Ise). I found Daijokyo temple where I was given free postcards and a quick tour. Then Takaraku shrine where a nice old monk showed Thom and I how to correctly purify ourselves before entry, the proper way (and weight) to beat the taiko drum to wake the resident deity, and a 1200 year old tree that refreshes your mind if you sleep against it. Turns out his kids are studying in St Andrews. Bizarre world. He also gave us gifts: chopsticks and sweets. It's little things like this that make me love this country. We then found Atsuta Jingu park but the shrine isn't in the park. Eventually we located it on a map but were too knackered to go so we went instead to Sherlock Holmes for bacon sandwiches and coffee (I was tempted by the "Scotland Pizza" but it looked really nasty). So now I'm at home and about to head off to the cinema to see Flags of our Fathers (or whatever that film about Iwojima is called) with a Japanese friend. Should be interesting.
Tomorrow is sleep, actually going to Atsuta Jingu and the Tokogawa museum. Tokogawa Ieyasu was from this area and the first shogun to preside over a united Japan (from about 1601). The Tokogawa family held power until the Meiji Restoration in 1868. Their descendent have opened a museum showing some of the amazing things the family collected over 250 years of dominance, including an original scroll of The Tale of Genji (basically the world's first novel).

You should listen to the safety message: we've moved the exits and I have a really bad feeling about this flight.

2006-10-24T09:30:00.000+09:00

Not a good morning. I had to fight with the cleaner so she would leave me to die in peace. Typically the sun was back searing my eyes and making me sweat. I vaguely pulled myself together and set off in search of food and coffee. Feeling almost human I decided to try this shopping lark one more time. I had fun in a very trendy clothes shop: the two guys working spent ages raking through the back to find something that might fit me. They found the most hideous purple and pink shirt. "Number one big size". It was a bloody medium. From there to a shoe shop where I had the same problem. It's really funny watching the facial expressions of the staff change when I ask if they have a size 30. Most shops only do up to 26/27 and the myth about shoe size is known here as well.
Bored I decided to go and see X-Men 3 which was not so bad. As comic book capers go this series has managed to just stay the right side of ridiculous. Of course having Patrick "make it so" Stewart and Ian "Morrrrdorrrr" McElan as your gang bosses will always help.
Back to the hotel to die. I slept for a bit then went for dinner. Dodgy curry described by the Lonely Planet as authentic. Balls. A game of pool and five minutes in a batting cage and that was me for the night.
Next morning I woke at 9 and since I had to check out by 10 or face a firing squad of crabby cleaners, I got my shit together and left. Two hours browing in Tower Records (they have a really cool computerised listening post on which you can listen to any CD in the shop) and I bought Sea Loves You by Keito Blow, J-pop sang in English with a very strong American accent. It's a bit Sheryl Crow/Beth Orton with a bit more blues and electronica. Really nice to listen to. The CD sticker said "Jack Johnson meets Alanis but cute, cool and sexy" so now you know.
Back to the cinema (from where I live you need a car to get to the cinema so I was taking advantage of this proximity) to see 16 Blocks. It was that or World Trade Centre. I chose Bruce Willis' porn mustache over Nick Cage's because I hate the latter (he has made three good films in his life, Wild at Heart, Leaving Las Vegas and Adaptation) and because I don't need to pay 1800 yen (9 quid) to see further proof that Oliver Stone's best films are behind him. 16 Blocks was hardboiled dirty cop action (of the non-porn variety) and is not bad.
And so to the airport as my holiday ended. I had a couple of beers since New Chitose has no internet facilities (very strange in this country) and watched a documentary on sea planes. The flight was delayed: "We apologise for the delay of ANA flight to Nagoya. This is because of Air France". So another couple of beers and eventually boarded (Goon Show joke: How do you repel boarders? Stop changing the sheets). They ran through the safety message, first in Japanese and then in English. I was the only non-Japanese person on the flight and I wasn't paying much attention so it was a bit wasted but I appreciated the effort. Landing at Nagoya at night when half cut is scary. Chubu is a tiny island that just manages to hold an airport and no more. The runway approach is lit by floating lights. The plane has a camera in the nose and they show the picture on the big screen as you land. If anyone is scared of flying, don't fly ANA. It is a bit of a rush.
Home. I need another holiday to recover from this one.
Travel plans: Obviously Toyko, Yokohama, Kamakura and Nikko for New Year. I want to go to Ise sometime as well, though everyone I know that has the same days off as me has already been. Today I'm off to Yoro Park "Site of Reversible Destiny". I have no idea what to expect but my friend said "you might lose balance".

The kindness of strangers...

2006-10-23T10:00:00.000+09:00

Surprisingly awake at 8 I set out into a thunderstorm, my plans for the day in tatters. Everything worth doing in Hokkaido is done outside. I caught the subway to the main station, had breakfast and decided to see Black Dhalia. Josh Hartnett has finally got away from being a poor studios Matt Damon. Though Scarlett Johanson was smouldering she was criminally underused making me yearn for Kim Basinger ala L.A. Confindential. Obviously this film came to mind more than once. Black Dhalia is the poor brother to it but then any noir crime thriller set in Hollywood always will be. It was well done, inculding some beautiful cinematography and some gruesome shots. Unfortunately the twists were blindingly obvious and Hartnett's character a little too dim at times. Its worth seeing and I'll probably watch it again when it come out on DVD but I still wish Children of men was showing (even thought they have changed the name here to "Tomorrow's World", a name which conjours all the wrong images).

You can always depend on the kindness of strangers as they sang in The Simpsons. I stopped in a gaijin bar for a fantastic lunch of venison (impossible to buy here, the Dutch chef shot it himself) washed down with a glass of wine and some old blues. I got chatting with the staff. It's a bit of a sports bar so when they found out I was a Celtic fan they stuck on the Copenhagen match (the joys of internet TV). I asked the chef, Denis, if there was anywhere good to go. He recommended a place round the corner.

After a bit more chat with a Mancunian and Tommy from Ethiopia (Ethiopia apparently has the most beautiful women in the world but none of the aid gets to the people but it doesn't matter because living is cheap and easy and you help your friends out) I left.

It was dead, being so early, but the manager Rachel was nice and chatty. Tommy joined me followed by Noel from Grimsby and Rachel's friend Amy from Georgia, US. We got very drunk, spoke lots of bollocks, danced and generally had a lot of fun until sometime in the morning when I apparently got back to my hotel.

Rockin the suburbs, almost exactly as Green Day did...

2006-10-22T19:10:00.000+09:00

Ok. Sapporo.
Rolling into Sapporo from New Chitose airport, the city looked like any dilapidated British city: boarded windows, red brick warehouses standing abandoned. The train must go through a rough area because the city centre is cool. It's kind of how I imagine Canadian cities: wide roads; tall, though not claustrophobically imposing, buildings, lots of trees. Its also very Japanese in that everything seems squashed in. The area is really flat which surprised me. Hokkaido is renowned for mountains. Sure enough on the horizon is full of them but the city itself must be built on a plain. It is dead flat, not even a bump. Cold as well. It was a beautiful clear sky, deepest blue, but winter has started and its in the air. I went to buy a new jacket but my arms appear to be too long for Japan.

It was too early to go to the hotel so I went to the clock tower (Tokei-dai) instead. This used to be part of the Agricultural College (as well as being variously used as a library, a military drill hall and a church). As you can see from the pictures it was designed by an American. It is now surrounded by main roads and skyscrapers but a model inside shows that it once sat in pristine countryside.

From there I ventured to the TV Tower for an overview of the city. Well, that was the plan. Sapporo is a grid with each block numbered according to its distance and direction from the tower (e.g. South 1 West 5, North 2, East 1). Easy. Unless you forget which way is North. The signs arent very helpful either. Eventually, after wandering for a while and being propositioned by a prostitue, I found the tower. The view was impressive but I've yet to conquer my fear of heights so my stay at the top was short lived.
A trip to a bookshop that doesnt exist and a cafe the Lonely Planet massively overrates and it was time to go to the hotel. Or so I thought. I still couldn't check in so a search for a bar was on, In a city that boasts Japan's first brewery and one of its most popular beers, it took me over an hour to find a bar and even then I had to buy food as well.

Back to the hotel, a short kip and a shower then out to find some live music. Earlier I had spotted a place calle Hall Spiritual Loungef which seemed to have a showcase night for local bands. I parked myself in a jazz bar across the road to check out the crowd: no one over about 22, lots of Converse, plaid and pork pie hats. I bit the bullet and descended the obligatory stone stairs with black walls covered by old gig posters. The girl at the door looked shocked to see me, a lone gaijin, and quickly panicked about speaking English. Once she realised I spoke Japanese (well, enough to understand "1500 yen please") she calmed down.
The first band had already started so I stayed by the door. The venue was everything it should be: a tiny cavern, high stage, a bar 1 metre long with a choice of beer or oolong tea, a sticky floor and a huge space in front of the stage since everyone was staying in the darkness at the edge. The openers were called Air Jack. Heavily influenced by Green Day (in that they sounded exactly as Green Day would if Billie Joe Armstrong was Japanese. Not even slightly original but they did it well and were a pleasure to listen to. They could be really good if they stopped listening to Dookie. When they finished I secreted myself in a back corner near the bar. At gigs here my height means the back is the best place for me. The next band started. I had a bad feeling.
Sure enough Kaesaru Section were awful. The drummer and guitarists believed they were in an Iron Maiden tribute band, right down to the synchronised lead riffs and speed strumming. The singer was in on it as well, letting rip in the most ridiculous falsetto since whatshispus from joke band The Darkness ever got near a mic. He came across like Bruce Dickinson trying to cover Radiohead. Unfortunately no one told the bass player who would've done better in Air Jack where his obsession with Offspring bass riffs would've fitted. The whole was pretentious musical wank that came nowhere near to entertaining the audience.
Next came TadpolE (their capitalisation), psychedelic electronica. They were like Lemon Jelly with Jimmy Page riffs, a Japanese Beastie Boy shouting rap over samples of a woman in the act of fellatio, all remixed by Fat Boy Slim and edited by Soulwax (beat that NME). Judging by the reaction o the guy next to me, the rap was pretty funny. Judging by the reaction of the woman next to him, it was pretty misogynistic. Even the guitarist looked uncomfortable at times. Even for only four songs it was boring.
Up strode Lorelei (I think, the flyer said they were next but the poster showed them as a five piece with female vocals. Only four blokes appeared). Whatever they are called, they will be Big in Japan. Bassist and Guitarist wouldn't have looked out of place in Suede. The drummer was clearly a stand-in from a prog. rock band but the singer has everything it takes to make it here: well controlled "messy" hair, clean cut looks, a winning smile and just enough edge that Granny's won't fall for him. They weren't bad. Ploughing through the Travis/Ash area of heartfelt pop with a distortion pedal (the guitarist even looked a bit like Tim Wheeler) they are perfect for arenas, lighters and adoring schoolgirls.
There was still 3 bands to go but the dodgy beer (reminded me of the Mudd Club) got to me so I decided to cut my losses. I hit a Rockabilly bar, Lady Luck, on the way homeand chatted about The Wildhearts to another customer while the owner watched episodes of Tom and Jerry on video as his dog pissed on the floor. Home and bed.

A brief bit of news.

2006-10-22T18:40:00.000+09:00

So couple of bits of news before I talk about Sapporo. Darius has announced that he is leaving. It was a bit surprising. He was going home when his contract expired in January but got a job offer back home and decided to go at the start of December. Good news for him but it means I'll be breaking in a new flatmate soon.

Kyoko also announced her resignation which came into effect last Sunday. Bit gutted because we worked together since I started so we had a leaving do on Friday night. We went to Shirakiya (home of raw horse) and had a few then Darius and I went home and discovered that our motto should be "the second bottle is never a good idea".
In sports news the Nihon Series has started. The winner of the Pacific Division (Nippon Ham Fighters) plays seven games against the winners of the Central Division: our very own Chunichi Dragons. The first game was last night, a cracker which the Dragons won 4-2. Tonight it looks quite close, 1-1 as we speak. Chunichi gambatte.
As you can see I've added some photos from work. Above is Korona (pronounced like the beer). Here she is looking cute. I have a picture of her with her entire lower arm up her nostril. She has promised to be good in class for three weeks if I delete it.
This is our Saturday Kinder class (4-6 year olds). They are insane. I got shot of this class a few months back and I'm still very happy about it. Kyoko is trying to control them. The class hasn't even started yet. And yes, the boy in the blue t-shirt (Yuusuke) has just punched Masaki.

The local time is bloody early...

2006-10-16T07:44:00.000+09:00

Once again I find myself in Nagoya Airport, though finally I get to actually take a flight instead of just dropping off or picking up welcome guests. It's bloody early on what looks like a beautiful day. The airport has an observation deck (outside) so you can watch the planes take off and land. Stood as the sun rose watching a 747 touch down perfectly then had a bagel. SInce I'm taking a domestic flight the place is hoaching with business men and women, all suited and booted, clutching briefcases as if each contained the cure to cancer. I should feel scruffy and out of place but it's too early. Just got through security. I had a bottle of sprite and a bottle of water, forgetting that these are dangerous weapons in the hands of a trained terrorist. To neutralise the threat they stuck the water bottle into some machine that presumably checks for semtex, and then made me drink what was left of the sprite. I wonder if they would have made me drink the water if it was laced with high explosive. Images from cartoons, Wile E Coyote swallowing dynamite and blowing up inside with only minimal stretching to the body. "Sir, we've thwarted another terrorist plot, one of the suspects suddenly inflated then exhaled smoke while the other was stopped when an anvil dropped on his head." Drat and double drat.
At the shop next to me, in addition to the usual souvenir crap, you can buy kilos of raw beef and chicken, presumably for if you get peckish on a long haul.
Yesterday was Kyoko's last day at work. I've been working with her since my very first day 16 months ago (to the very day) so am a bit gutted about this. She is off to Okinawa today and is probably lurking around here somewhere. I took some photos yesterday which I'll put up when I return home Thursday night. However Sapporo with it's beer and lamb and seafood beckons, I'm sure the tannoy is shouting "last call for effin gaijin Maloney who is holding up important Japanese business by making the jokes about real and worrying terrorist threat" so goodbye. More outpourings of whatever I can pour out at a later date.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified...

2006-10-13T09:14:00.000+09:00

So I just dug out my notebook. What follows is my random thoughts sitting on the train after hearing that North Korea had tested the bomb. This is obviously a few days old and some of the facts and my conclusions have changed. I'll deal with them at the end.

5pm I went into the last class of the day; a high level class. I'd picked a lesson on current affairs and newspapers thinking we'd have a good discussion about North Korea and Abe's visit to China. Of course I hadn't actually seen the news since last night so was stunned to discover that NK had already tested the bomb sometime this morning. A discussion sparked about what America would do in response. The general consensus was "nothing". I disagreed. As I expounded my argument I began to realise I wasn't merely theorising about “a quarrel in a far-away country between people of whom we know nothing" (Chamberlain). This is on my doorstep.
My argument was this: If America doesn't respond to NK actions, ultimately in a way that totally removes the threat, they set a precedent for Iran. Now the US, at a pinch, may be able to cope with a nuclear NK but they will never allow a nuclear Iran with all that implies for oil, Isreal and American interests in the Middle East. They cannot set a precedent. They have to deal with NK.
One of the biggest bases for US troops in Asia is Japan. 40000 troops plus many big dangerous boats. If America attacks, NK will launch on Japan. They proved a few months back they can hit us. Now they've proved they can do it.
For all that I love this country and its people, if it comes to that it'll be every man for himself. I will be the first airlifted from the consulate roof in Nagoya.

Ok, those were my thoughts on the train and I can say I successfully managed to scare the shit out of myself. However a few days of passed and some things are different and some things need explanations:

1. Obviously we're now not sure if the bomb worked. At the time of writing this only Russia has confirmed that it was a nuclear blast.
2. My thoughts on the US attack included the idea that they would get full UN backing for this. I'm now not convinced. A while back Kim Jong Il's train was reported to be sitting at the Chinese border with him on board. It sat there for about a week. China said they weren't meeting him and had no idea what he was doing there. Not everyone believed them. There are rumours out here that China and NK have a non-aggression pact. This would mean China vetoing any resolution that included military strikes. As I say these are just rumours.
3. America would be better off attacking NK and threatening Iran with more of the same than attacking Iran. NK is not the home of the Islamic Republic, site of the Islamic Revolution. America (and most of the west) are already on very shaky ground with the Islamic world, especially the more radical elements. It would frankly be safer for all concerned if the US stuck to threat, insinuation and innuendo rather than "opening a can of whup-ass" (as one charming Yank declared the other night) and sparking a jihad.
4. There are also comparable troop numbers in South Korea as well as troops stationed in Guam and Hawaii. The idea that the US cannot attack NK without moving troops from Iraq is spurious. They are already here. They've been here since WWII and show no signs of leaving.
5. Many people here are afraid (as Kim Jong Il seems to be afraid) that America will use Nukes on NK. This won't happen. For all George W. Gump (copywrite Marcus Brigstocke) is a knuckle-dragging, bible-bashing, drug-taking, drink-driving, ignorant and naive Redneck puppet, even he isn't stupid enough to drop a bomb that would have direct and instant effects on China and Russia. And if he is I hope to hell that his advisors aren't and that US failsafes are working.
6. Now NK says they are going to test another (which gives creadence to the idea that the first didn't work) unless America lifts the financial sanctions. To be fair this is a problem. In trying to stop NK building this thing, the US have either directly or indirectly forced the closure or seizure of bank accounts and financial channels NK used to move money in and out of the country. Some of these are very dodgy, laundering Aid money for example, some however are for legitimate business'. No distinction has been made. Now Japan has frozen every account in the country with NK connections, has stopped NK ships from docking and blocked anyone from making monetary transfers to NK. There is absolutely no money going into or coming out of NK. Very quickly people will start starving. The thinking in NK seems to be "the only way we can get America's attention is by threatening them" [which I think is good logic] unfortunately America doesn't respond well to being threatened since their foreign policy seems to be based upon the "what are you looking at?" premise. This will escalate.

The Times They Are A-pretty much the same

2006-10-11T17:53:00.000+09:00

Hangover has gone. Monday night I went out of the razz with Thom. Many cocktails in Misfits, stupid conversations, some whisky, back to Freebell for Shaun of the Dead and unconsciousness. Yesterday was rough but I still managed to go shopping and buy Hey Petrunko plus... by Ooberman, The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, and White Blood Cells by The White Stripes. Then home for chilling and sleep. Started reading Autumn Bridge by Takashi Matsuoka. It's techincally the sequel to Cloud of Sparrows but seems to stand up on it's own. Darius' friend Jess left it here when she went home and it looked a bit airport novelish but it's surprisingly good, touching on The Last Samurai territory and probably The Pure Land (Alan Spence's new novel which I'm desperate to read if anyone feels nice enough to give me an early Christmas present) but with added supernatural weirdness.
Looks like I've got the night off for the Mogwai/Ratatat gig on the 9th. It was touch and go for a while but I've rejigged the schedule a bit and so should be able to finish early. The power I have at my finger tips.
So plans: Off to Sapporo on Monday. Can't wait. New Year will see Fi, Lisa, Thom, Jo and myself, possibly with Sian and her mate and maybe Darius living it large in Tokyo (I'll also be visiting Yokohama, Kamakura and Nikko but probably by myself). For all those that want to see me and like planning ahead, I have decided to come home (to visit) for Christmas/New Year 2007 (I originally wrote 2008 there but realised that was planning a wee bit too far), so please can everyone I want to see be somewhere sensible?

Soccer daisuki desu

2006-10-08T20:31:00.000+09:00

Scene one:
Interior: a flat in Inuyama, Japan. A Scotsman bites into a bacon toastie held in one hand while directing his browser to BBC sport.
The headline reads "England 0 - 0 Macedonia". The Scotsman ignores this, clicks on a link.

VO: Seems England have improved now they've got shot of Erikson.

The camera focuses on the laptop screen. We see the headline Scotland 1 - o France.

VO: The fuck?

He reads again. The camera pulls back as the chair is kicked over, toastie dropped, forgotten like an unpopular England manager.

VO: OH MY GOD! OH MY FUCKING GOOD GOD! [sings:] ONE NIL ONE NIL ONE NIL ONE NIL

He turns, looking around the sparse flat for another kilted whisky-drinker to hug and shout with but none are present. He begins typing obscentites into MSN in block capitals.

VO: see that Walter Smith? He's no half bad for a toffee-nosed hun.

A rant about stupid people...

2006-10-07T05:06:00.000+09:00

It’s 3.51am, I can’t sleep, I have a splitting headache. I have to get up in four hours to teach eight lessons, two of which are with kids. I lie with the light off for maybe thirty minutes before the sheer boredom of staring into the almost darkness becomes unbearable and I switch the light back on and find something else to read. I have read Thursday and Friday’s copies of The Japan Times with its three sentence long articles and ridiculously Tokyo-centric bias. It may be the capital of Japan and one of the biggest cities in the world but since 90.3% of the country’s population lives elsewhere it seems a tad blinkered. I have also read a copy of The Observer review (can’t remember the date but it’s the one where Pankaj Mishra points out that as a spokesman for middle-class liberal England, Martin Amis may not be the final authority on the internal workings of Islam). I have listened to Old Harry’s Game, The Now Show and The News Quiz. All of this news, comment and satire has taught me this: the world has gone to shit and is getting worse by the day and it is predominantly down to Bush and his neo-con 6-year-Reich. Iraq is descending into Civil War (though it has been descending for sometime now, at what point can we safely say a civil war has begun? Does someone have to say Go! as they fire a gun?), environmentalists believe that over the next thirty years the climate around the world is going to change so wildly that millions of lives are at stake (Kyoto protocol anyone? Would the country that single-handedly produces a quarter of the world’s pollution please bow its head in shame?) and North Korea is threatening to test a nuclear weapon in order to protect itself from the imminent threat of US nuclear war (is Kim Jong Il paranoid or does he know something about Rumsfeld’s plans for winning the mid-terms that we don’t?). All of which is making me a tad edgy (at this early hour with no sleep) about living in a country that has over 40000 US troops who have managed to forget to go home since 1945 ( http://www.foreignaffairs.org/19980701facomment1397/morihiro-hosokawa/are-u-s-troops-in-japan-needed-reforming-the-alliance.html ) (http://www.canoe.ca/mb2/messages/cnewsf/11855-1.html ) , is very close to North Korea and has a high incidence of earthquakes and typhoons and some active volcanoes.

David Mitchell has been excluded from the Booker short list in what is beginning to look like victimisation. His fourth novel, Black Swan Green is astounding, as were the previous three, Ghostwritten, number9dream and Cloud Atlas and though even witless plebeian waxworks Richard and Judy managed to spot that his work is “thought provoking and highly exhilarating” (though Richard and Judy have been known to find each other thought provoking, so maybe this isn’t a good thing) for some reason the judges have failed to award the Booker to Mitchell, going so far as to exclude him altogether. There is obviously some policy at work behind the final short-list (unless of course they are throwing darts at a bookcase or picking the first six recommendations from an amazon account) which immediately undermines the fact that the prize is there to acknowledge and reward the best book in English published in the last twelve months. Saying “oh we’ll exclude Peter Carey because he’s already won it” is not playing fair. Can you imagine Bernie Eccleston saying “oh we’re not letting Michael Schumacher race at Suzuka on Sunday because he’s won enough already and we want to let some lesser-known drivers have a chance”? It’s a ridiculous concept.

Is it just me or are The Killers shit? Every newspaper and website seems to be going on and on about the fact that they have a new album and new beards. Mostly the beards are being talked about rather than the music but I suppose that backs up my point. If a reporter for The Observer (for example) has more to say about Brandon Flowers’ facial hair than about the new album then we must assume that the album holds less artistic merit and journalistic draw than not shaving for a while.

Ok, I’m going to try yet again to fall asleep. I should probably stop drinking coffee at work, though I think I’m going to have to later on today.

Today's thought is: if you don't want to undergo brain surgery, don't drive at 300mph. Seems obvious but there you go.

view from the futon

2006-10-04T12:40:00.000+09:00

can't be arsed trying to remember what I've been doing (I've just woken up) and I'm sure it's not that interesting so you can get whatever random crap is in my head just now.
Books: Read Louise Welsh's latest "The Bullet Trick". Damn fine book, gripping, funny and beautifully written. "Hardboiled Hard Luck" by Banana Yoshimoto. Two very short novellas, the first is weird and slightly disappointing, the second is much better though there is something about her style I can't quite pinpoint, it's like a veneer that stops the reader getting to involved with the characters. It's kind of like the distancing in Morvern Callar. Leaves me feeling like I've just had a dream rather than read a book. Finished the first volume of the three volume Japanese history. I'm up to 1334 and the shogunate is well under way. All the juicy bits are coming soon. Also read "inside" a collection of short stories by Japanese women. Some of them are fantastic, some a weird, some are very ... um ... graphic, all of them are very well written and worth reading.
I've decided to spend new year travelling around the Tokyo area. If I move to Hiroshima then going to Tokyo becomes pretty expensive so I want to go back before May and the week off at new year seems the most obvious time. I want to visit Yokohama, Kamakura and Nikko while I'm there as well.
Going to the cinema today. It's a crappy day the temperature has dropped and the sun has disappeared. I slept funny so my back hurts. I want to stay in bed.
The afternoon reading on Radio 4 this week has short stories by Sian Preece, Nick Brooks and Laura Marney. If you are at a loose end check them out.
crosswords:
demand for payment by inn in Scottish town (6)
bird making row outside newly-built shed (3-5) (_ _ d - _ h _ n _)

Two weeks until Sapporo! can't wait. All you can eat lamb barbecues, two brewery tours and my hotel is in the heart of the red-lig...I mean entertainment district, Susukino, where all the ... um ... bars are (although one of my students, in a discussion about what I should do in Sapporo did say: "go to Susukino, good bars, good music, many beautiful girls, not expensive ... you like Japanese girl?" You don't get that in the Lonely Planet).
Anyone fancy new year in Tokyo?

Like rounders but with big gloves

2006-09-29T10:59:00.000+09:00

So, this is Nagoya Dome, home of the Chunichi Dragons, this year's Pacific Division champions (more or less, there's something like 2 games left). Despite being here for 15 months and baseball being the biggest sport in Japan I hadn't managed to make it to a game. Thom and I decided to rectify this and dutifully got tickets for the Dragon's Vs. Yokohama Baystars game. We couldn't have picked a better game for our first time. Dragon's went 2-0 in the first innings due to a massive home run by Tyrone Woods who then hit a second homer in the 3rd to make it 3-1. The game then went 4-1, 4-2, 4-4 and was a tie after the 9th so it went to extra innings. Fukudome, Dragon's God-type person, hit a belter and Dragons's won the game. Cue much bouncing, high-fiving and hugging. In amongst all this I got to witness the bizarre spectacle of a sports event run just as much for it's pantomime like qualities as it's sport. Musical interludes, cheerleaders, video screens with cartoon animals encouraging everyone to clap. It was a far cry from a football game back home. Everything about it is positive (apart from the excessive music which gets really irritating after about the 5th inning): when something goes wrong for the team, the fans clap in a "hard luck, I know you tried your best" way. Makes a nice change from the unthinking abuse hurled back home.
Thom had come up to Inuyama the night before where we partook of beverages, so we'd both gone into Nagoya early afternoon (the game started at 6pm). I wandered around Sakae for a while, printing stuff I need to get a Japanese drivers licence, and buying an album by Osaka band Afrirampo (buy this if you can, it is insane but really good. They supported Sonic Youth in Europe which should give you some idea of what to expect). After the game we met Fi in Heaven's Door (groovy basement bar with more vinyl than you can shake a feeling of nostalgia at) and had a few more drinks (beer was plentiful at the baseball).
I have to go to work so I'm going to have to cut this short, I'll finish updating tonight, but I just want to leave you with a quote I found in A History of Japan by George Sansom. He is quoting Shigetoki (who was the Shogun's deputy from 1230-1247) giving advice to his sons about the correct way for a young man to behave:
"When your parents speak, listen carefully and with a calm spirit ... their minds are in the past, they do not understand what is said, they dislike what is enjoyable, they enjoy what is disagreeable. But old people are like this, and when your parents talk you should listen with compassion and not with annoyance. Their past is long; their future is brief. Remember they will soon be silent, and do what they say. If you do not, when they are gone you will be sorry for your neglect and wish many times that you had done as they wished."
A nice sentiment wonderfully flavoured by a bit of cynicism.

Rough as a badger's arse.

2006-09-26T10:05:00.000+09:00

ugh, mouth of fuzz and head of mush but it's the weekend. Going to see my first baseball game tonight. Yay. Here's my favourite student comment recently:
Doing a lesson on weather:
1. How's the weather in Cairo in August?
2. Hot and dry. How's it in Hokkaido in January?
1. Cold and snowy. How's it in Thailand today?
2. Changeable.
Great stuff, satire fans.

To sleep, perchance to dream...

2006-09-24T19:47:00.000+09:00

God am I knackered. It was Sian's birthday yesterday so karaoke followed by missing the last train so an enforced first train jaunt, two hours sleep then a full day's teaching.
So I sent my transfer request to my boss. I've put May 1st but since I want to transfer at my current level and seeing as there are only 6 schools in Hiroshima, it may take some time to come through.
Not much else has been happening (that I can remember in my exhausted state) beyond working and doing crosswords thanks to dad sending out the Observer Review section. Although I don't have the answers to one of them so if anyone knows 1 down from the September 10th Everyman please tell me, it's doing my head in.