Tokyo Redhed

An everyday occurrence, which isn't

Late for work, somewhat glum, somewhat squashed, I'm dangling by the train strap, staring out the window, waiting for even more people to get pushed on and invade what little personal space I have left. The station appears to be in the midst of a building site, I guess the whole concourse area is being renovated but in the three years I've been riding the train, I've never seen any progress. In between the equipment and building materials, I see signs of life; two workies hanging on to some girders which, I'm guessing, are about to be hoist in the air, once (if) the train (ever) moves on. They are having a conversation out the side of their mouths, and ridiculously I try to lip read, knowing that even if I could read lips I still wouldn't understand them. I'm assuming they are complaining or saying they can't be arsed but really for all I know they are talking about baseball, the Japanese equivalent of Eastenders or indeed the meaning of life. One looks like Charles Bronson, complete with 70s tache and the other reminds me of Oliver Hardy for some reason. I unintentionally catch Charles' eye, he says something to Oliver and they both stare straight at me bemused. I look at the floor, wondering why the hell it's taking so long to close the doors and then I look back. They are still staring, grinning. The train shudders and moves off. Charles gives me the thumbs up.

Despite myself, I smile at him.

Wasted

One of those weekends I’m afraid. You know the kind that can be summed up with one word: over-indulgence.

The shopping, eating, drinking and sleeping marathon began with a Saturday brunch at Cabana, where P and I caught up with B and visitor, J. [Tokyoites take note - eggs benedict here is just as good as, if not superior to, Good Honest Grub, and you don’t have to wait 40 mins for a table]. P and I were finding it increasingly difficult not to get maudlin about B’s increasingly imminent departure, and so ended up taking endless photos of him to somehow compensate. He loves it really though.

After stuffing our faces and catching up on the lives of the rich and famous, the girls went shopping, and fortunately (for me) P decided to give us the slip and go to the gym, leaving me in a shopping situation with J, someone who is unaware of my addiction and my sartorial stockpile, and therefore, someone who unlike all my other friends, wouldn't discourage me from buying. In fact, she actively encouraged. Hence, this and this only with short sleeves.

After returning home to freshen up, we all reconvened in Roppongi to gatecrash someone's birthday party, which was already being hijacked by T as her bye-bye party (yes another one bites the dust). The party was in SuperDeluxe, a space I haven't frequented in months partly because I have had no reason to, and mainly because I haven't looked for a reason to either; it being a location which seemed to hold too many memories, good and bad, that I didn't want to... well... remember. It was also the scene of far too many well-intentioned but misdirected "you-know-you-are-better-off-without-hims", and thus, had become a venue of dread somewhat. Anyway, there I was, or rather, there we were, and after a few drinks it didn't seem so bad. The bloke (still don't know his name) had really gone to town for his b-day, putting on a free bar and one of those wackily dressed, entertaining but somewhat ubiquitous J girl guitar bands, "X-Girl".

And well, the evening degenerated from there on in really. Fueled up on free booze, we hit the Pong proper around midnight and ended up dancing the length and breadth of it, before arriving at Muse, a veritable multiplex of entertainment concepts - is it a bar, is it a pool hall, is it a disco, is it a cattle market? I found this sign in the ladies... not only amazed that I was compus mentus enough to take a photie but more amazed that given the criteria for banning people, that there was anybody still in the joint.

The evening was topped off or the morning was broken, whichever way you want to look at it, with a bowl of tasty ramen. Sunday... a write off.

ROI - To Be Determined

After a series of last minute cancellations on my part and (I’d say) an almost dogged determination not to re-schedule me at the drop of a hat on his, Mr. Sussed and I managed to at last hook up yesterday evening.

While dining on some very fine mussels and wine, we also chewed a considerable amount of fat.

Not sure if it is yet clear to regular readers but Mr. Sussed tends to view the world through management theory-colored spectacles. And while this sometimes precludes him having the attributes I normally seem to find attractive in a bloke (and indeed, a dining partner) like spontaneity, hedonism, and reckless abandonment of morality, it does enable him to produce a gem such as this:

In trying to explain why he doesn’t spend as much time with friends as they would like:

‘Well, you see it's like this, time is the ultimate, non-renewable resource right? And continues on with some rational bollocks that I don’t agree with’

I, however put forward an extremely attractive proposition that will challenge and (dare I say) defy even his well-honed cost/benefit analysis approach to life. Let’s just say it is an offer too good to refuse... Well, for anyone who has the time that is...

Crap... Actually

Was a sensible girl last night - despite it being a national holiday today and therefore, an opportunity to lie in bed all day in hangover recovery mode - I decided to have a "stay at home, face-pack, DVD evening"... Having not been in a video store for about two months, I was overjoyed to find at least six titles I'd never seen and thought I wanted to.

Love Actually was one of them.

Now I know why I go out so much.

I won't bother with the am-critique, given that a) most people reading who would want to see it, will have seen it and b) I like to think I'm not pretentious enough to think I know any better about movies than anyone else.

Instead I'll just jot down what was going through my head as I was watching:

1) What the hell do these people to for a living to be able to afford such huge, gorgeous apartments/houses in London?
2) Related to the above, is it possible for me to re-train (again) at my ripe old age?
3) Since when did British men become so attractive?
4) Since when did British men become so romantic?
5) Where do these "British men" hang out?
6) Since when has science enabled us to inject 11 year old boys with the feelings, emotions and dialogue of a 35 year old man?
7) Related to the above, do I even know 35 year old men with such feelings and emotions?
8) When did Keira Knightly have blond hair? (Answer: obviously when she made the movie, so perhaps actual question was: how come I never saw her with blond hair?)
9) My God, isn't Keira Knightly gorgeous?
10) But wait a minute, isn't Keira Knightly anorexic?
11) Related to the above, get a grip, what the hell is wrong with me?
12) God I really loved "This Life"
13) Yes, Tim from The Office really would be my ideal guy
14) But how come the character I'm most attracted to is the emotionally-retarded, wife-cheating, fundamentally-flawed but incredibly sexy (physically and intellectually) Alan Rickman character?
15) Related to the above, get a grip, what the hell is wrong with me?
16) Wonder if they have Truly, Madly Deeply at the video store?

I won't even go into the whole Prime Minister/tea-lady sketch...

And yes I know I really should learn to suspend belief every now and then. But what can I say, I'm Scottish - they don't make us that way.

The long goodbye

Last night was the first of many sayonara parties for my favorite boy in the whole wide world, B (hereafter known as mfbitwww). I'm saving my real tribute to B for when he actually leaves on October 5 but suffice to say, there are gonna be tears. Last night D proved to be the host with most when he threw a champaign soiree for the inner chapter of the B fan club.

This is also where the unfortunate incident with the horse occurred in case anyone is still wondering.

The other red is B's childhood friend J. Great hair :-)

Photos are by P - decided her camera is just fundamentally better than mine.

Horsing around

Um... perhaps best not to ask.

The Wall

AWOL: Parents

This be the verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you will the faults they had.
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

Philip Larkin

The Visitors were supposed to arrive this morning. Due to work snags however, I had to have them rearrange their vacation at my company's expense. They are now coming early October, when I may actually find myself on a mission to Dubai, although I've decided to cross that particular scheduling bridge when I come to it rather than instigate any further (and perhaps premature) holiday upheaval.

Ironically then, I'm at home today when I should be at work. Woke up with a fever, the shivers and what can only be described as bone-ache. To be honest I've gone to work feeling worse (although usually it's been self-induced in the form of a hangover and therefore, not a valid excuse for absence) but this morning I just found myself totally was bereft of the "I shall overcome" spirit needed to get me there, and so decided to stay at home, drink lots of liquids, and do some long overdue mental filing instead.

Glad to see my informal emergency services system is in place though. Both Erra and P, checked in within 2 hours of the beginning of my official AWOL. It sure is reassuring.

And in other news: I see a certain Blog celeb has hung up her template and gone on to presumably bigger and better things. Although in supposedly starting her career as a prostitute, it would be hard for her not to I guess. Having said that, I totally got it and I will miss it. Not sure I'll give in and buy the book however.

Ex-files

On top of *everything else*, I get woken up this very morning, with an out-of-the-blue, no warning delivery of dried squid from J-ex in Aichi-ken. I call him to um, thank him and he tells me he's moved in with his girlfriend and is already disillusioned with it.

I mean, is it me? It's got to be right?

When is it going to be my turn to fuck-up? And who the hell is going to listen me?

Fragile

My sadness don't lie. My feelings can't hide. I just can't deny, What I feel inside.

My cares slip away when I see your face
I lose my confusion
Your love is the place where I come from

Your sadness don't lie. Your feelings can't hide. You just can't deny. What you feel inside.

When you're on your own, you're lost in space,
Your feelings a delusion
My love is the place where you come from.

I disappear when you're not here in my life.

Teenage Fanclub (adapted somewhat)

That's just the way it was. The way it is.