Citizen caned

Hop, skip, jump

Click on the picture above to see recent pictures of us in Kyoto.

I often get asked why I came to Japan. Not by disgruntled people who would rather that I piss off back from whence I came, usually, but just because it's a pretty major decision to make. Especially when you end up on Japan's Craggy Island, and people unexpectedly find you here. So far, my explanation has been such that I was browned off with what I was doing, geek negotiation (a bit like a hostage negotiator - but instead of lives, I was working with software against the evil forces of customers) and I wanted to try something completely different. The true answer is far more shallow however. The real reason is because I correctly preempted a paradigm shift in the jean fashion world. Even Nostradamus had this one pinned down. 'Skinny jeans' (as recent visitors from the West informed us of) weren't made for my thighs. I'd end up looking like a pale white, shrunken version of the Incredible Hulk, with a slightly better vocabulary, a non tattered shirt and much less physical strength. I've also heard that facial hair is popular to boot, so I've really dodged bullets from both barrels on the fashion front (both barrels tend to relate to shotguns, which fire cartridges instead of bullets usually - apologies to all gun fanatics tuning in). Even though I'm now into my third decade, my facial hair is still to fulfill it's quota. It's getting there, I'm just a late developer. Great, now that I'm well beyond the legal age for everything, but fecking hopeless when I was trying to get into a nightclub back in Perth to see Carl Cox at the age of 15. The future's bright however, the future's not bald.

I was reading earlier in the week that Keith Richards snorted his dad's ashes during a drug binge. I take it his old man's snuffed it, so to speak, or are we talking about ashes from his old boy's 40 Lambert & Butler a day habit. Difficult to tell when this old puddin' is concerned. He also happened to slag off the Arctic Monkeys, The Libertines and Bloc Party, by calling them "a load of crap", some what randomly at the same time. Later, I heard on the radio that the dad's ashes bit was a pile of keich that he'd fed the press. Fair enough, I don't mind him mucking about with the press, bunch of mugs that they are, what bugs me is that his antics ever make it onto the news. This is a man who is lionised for his excesses. This is now what he's known for. I despise the excess pedestal that celebrities can proudly sway upon. Some could say that this man is a tit. I wouldn't argue with them either. When the Rolling Stones were the same age as the 3 bands mentioned above (who I think have done some good work), they did some great stuff. I love the Rolling Stones' work up until the early seventies, but since then they've been a joke. A crappy brand that's still being flogged around the world. A corporate rock band even. The IBM of rock. Who'd want that on their grave stone. One of my teacher's let me hear their latest album. Utter mince. Even the title bugged me. "A bigger bang". Who are these rubber faced skeletons trying to kid? These guys are now old enough to use their own sagging skin as contraception, though why they bother I'll never know. "A bigger bang" maybe, but it's a foosty old blank. Mick, Keith, if you read this - put your slippers on and grow fat and old gracefully. Enjoy the success, don't keep busting your manky old pans in knocking out a pile of crap week in, week out. That's meant to be for those that haven't sorted out their pensions. You're just rubbing their noses in it. Knock yourself out with the drugs, shag your way into the OAP record books (for most hip replacements, and not the poor buggers on the receiving end), I couldn't care less, just don't tell us about it. You may ask, why did I read about it. Just to write this and set them straight. Keith supposedly fell out of a tree last year. Did this really happen or was it spin to reinforce his crazy hell raising persona? Chances are he actually fell off his Stena stairlift, 'cause he'd fallen asleep to it's slender tones as it purred it's way up the stairs at 19:30.