Call of the Scrote

So, Im back in Maastricht after our little tour of the North-American North-West. We started in tax-haven Portland and finished in nose-bleed inducing Salt Lake City, via Canada. What did I do there, you ask? Well, the same things I always do- stress, drink heavily and eat a lorra lorra beef. I also spent an obscene amount of money on a camera, so at least I have something resembling a photo-document of this trip. I had hoped to do a little photo-journal of each city but I was far too busy, so for now you'll just have to settle for this...

http://s212.photobucket.com/albums/cc195/danclick/?action=view&current=rockies075copy.jpg

Tuning in Tokyo

Further proof, if needed, that I'm a lucky get. I'm the jail-bait on the left.

I got back from what can only be described as a mini-tour in Tokyo last night. It was 3 shows in the same theatre, so no sleeping on tourbuses or 17 hour days. Basically it was for the benefit of the TV crew which now follows us constantly, and so we could call this a World Tour. Next year we add Australia to the list, which is proving a bitter carrot, as I'd planned to leave by then. But, you know, Australia...

The first night there we got dinner in the 40th-floor tower restaurant, after which I took the metro to Shibuya station. I was fairly underwhelmed by the whole thing, to be honest. Similarly, I've been desperate to get out of Times Square and London's West End when I've visited those places.

So I just took a couple of perfunctory snaps and headed back to get an early-ish night, hoping to get a fresh start in the morning and hook up with a couple of the Canadian crew, who are far better company in new cities.
This is the view I had as I took a leisurely breakfast next morning while waiting to meet up with JF and Phil. We took the metro along the Ginza line to the tourist markets and to look at a big shrine district. It was great, but anything you could buy there, you'd have no trouble picking up in Chinatown, Newcastle. Apart from the sword shop we visited. Shuriken star anyone? You could buy a samurai sword for eight pounds. Eight! or of course, you could spend five grand, your choice.

The highlight was a conveyor sushi-bar we went to for lunch. I've tried the Yo! Sushi thing and it was OK, but effing expensive. At this place, the cheapest plates were 150 yen, which works out as about 60 pence. If I'd never tried it before, I tried it there- tuna head, squid-feet, roe-eggs. We stopped on the way back to wander through the Imperial Gardens.

The Emperor was not at home to visitors.That evening we had an outstanding teppanyaki meal in the garden restaurant and rounded off the night in the cocktail lounge with warm sake. Cue the freakiest nightmares I can remember since those anxiety dreams I used to have at Christmas where my whole world disappeared and I was floating through space on a carpet with only Helen Daniels for company. These dreams were episodic (I woke up a few times with a hot, bubbling stomach) and varied from pratfall comedy to out and out horror. One minute I'm explaining to a hotel guest how we managed to bounce a beer keg onto the bonnet of his Mercedes, the next I'm at a table with three transvestites singing at me. I was afraid to even get up to go to the bathroom for an hour, and didn't go back to sleep after 3.30...

For all the moaning, and my dodging work, when I think that a year ago I was unemployed and hiding out in the countryside at my parents' house, trying to quit drugs and massively reduce my drinking, I can't complain about my current lot. People have said to me before that they always knew I'd end up doing something special, and I'd feel kind of guilty that I was deceiving them. I've always been happy on the path of least resistance. But is this it? Is this that something special? And if it is, why am I trying to sabotage it?

The language barrier is definitely a major factor- in Arnhem, I relied heavily on our catering runner to arrange the things we needed for Production. That guy should basically be doing my job. I had to hide him from my boss. The other thing is the cultural gap, and my murky past/present. For years I've hidden parts of my character from my family, friends, colleagues and girlfriends. Granted, Davey knows me pretty well, as do a few others, but meeting new people, I always have to hide certain aspects of myself. Then again, who doesn't? I've grown too comfortable being on my own, I fear. I find myself avoiding large groups of my colleagues because I just don't feel comfortable with them.

I don't want to wallow. I've posted before about this numbness I feel- was it always here, is it getting worse? I don't know, maybe I've just been reading too much Murakami lately, but I feel my senses and my personality have dulled in the past few years. My music tastes have stagnated, I have no idea about movies in the pipeline. I'm not sure what the last gig I went to was, but it wasn't this year, with the exception of a free festival in Newcastle back in May. Even in Tokyo, I got the feeling that I should be more impressed/excited than I was. I just take things in my stride, then it's over and I post the photographs.

So, another long, meandering post comes to a close. Nice photos though, eh?