London Calling

Very hung right over pretty much right now. However have a problem that cannot sleep. I am caught in the no-mans land of thought at the moment; cannot sleep but cannot do anything constructive – so hence this entry (which will no doubt be riddled with nonsense and many things nonsensical).

It moments like this when you are lonesomely sitting, listening to Sigur Rós, probably still pissed from just hours ago, and eating a pot noodle when it feels perfect to feel utterly pretentious. Having conversations with yourself about meanings of meanings, and the destination of your life, and the crisscross paths of missed opportunity. You know, all that counter-productive, useless crap that seems to actually inhibit you from just ‘getting on with it’. Whoever that really famous person who said something like, ‘the unquestioned life is not a life worth living’, is only famous for that quote because it all those psuedolectuals the excuse they’ve been looking for to carry on living and feel okay with it. Wow, I’m really am not all there yet…





This week I witnessed and partook in the ultimate cultural experience – all you cultural theorist can now die with envy now – Karaoke is actually quite brilliant. Again our friends here showed their unbelievable hospitality by taking us on demand to a karaoke ‘bar’. It is strange that perhaps an English persons ‘fate worse than death’ would be karaoke.

You know what? The bollocks I wrote in my proposal which ‘won’ me this opportunity, is actually coming true – pretty much all of it. I believe I paraphrase one-hundred-thousand other people as well as myself but, “being away from England for an extended period of time has made me acutely aware of what the word ‘English’ actually means. To put more quoteworthily, “it is a strange phenomenon, perhaps the only example of the kind, that when distance is increased between objects, the objects actually becomes clearer to each other”. I think I should congratulate the evolutionary process which has born me frailties – such as the want to poison myself, because without these imperfections I would not be introspective enough to realise this: There is no such thing as an ‘un-relative value’.

Karaoke was not what I expected at all, it was actually a very intimate and non-threatening environment. When, back in England, I have witnessed karaoke it is a painful affair involving an entire pub, strangers, pissed idiots, a bad microphone and amp, on top of much shouting and jeering. Here, you have a suitably sized room with just you and your friends, and a really good, highly flattering sound-system. Harry, one of my flatmates refused to come, “no way am I doing that shit man”, he concisely expressed. His loss. Our Japanese friends had all their favourite songs, which they did all sing remarkably well. Interestingly, all the Japanese songs had a lot of English contained in them. Even more interestingly is that when Japanese people sing English/American songs then they manage to attain an incredible accuracy of pitch and pronunciation no-matter how good, or bad their conversational English is. There was an incredibly large, incredibly surprising, surprisingly comprehensive, and largely extensive catalogue of English songs. Here is a list of songs we wrecked: Daft Punk – One more time, Michael Jackson – Billy Jean, Queen – Don’t Stop Me Now, Elton John, one those ones from the Lion King, Outkast – Hey Ya. I personally destroyed, quite unashamedly, London Calling by The Clash.

Karaoke seemed to be universal entertainment. I saw men, women, old young, professionals and students all go into ‘booths’ of their own. Not that I’m qualified to say, but then again qualifications mean nothing anyway, but Karaoke is really just plainly about having a good time. That’s it, that IS all, just having a good time! None of this, ‘it’s because they’re a repressed people that needs to find ways to express themselves’. If you want to find a repressed society look no further than the mirror.

I’m sure I’ll come back to the subject later.







Last night there were bands playing at Uni, Jazz, to thrash-core, to Japanese rock and roll. Afterwards we were directed to a small party with friends who were DJ’ing and even, at one point, a Japanese freestyler. I think I went through at least two hangovers. There is something very special about sitting at a bar measuring time by the number of empty glasses beside you. It is equally special to turn around ten glasses later to find your privacy invaded by shafts of light seeping through plastered up windows and doorframes.