Fuji rocked, Tokyo toked

Three weeks after the fact, I decided it’d be a good idea to post some photos from Tokyo and the incomparably awesome Fuji Rock Fest.

This is taken from the middle of the crowd during Bloc Party's set on Saturday, looking back towards the hill (and, in the distance, the road).

Fuji Rock's main stage, which hosted My Bloody Valentine, Underworld, Primal Scream, Bloc Party, Ben Folds, Travis, and a bunch of others I didn't see.

My abnormally tall friend Chris, looking fresh on the first day.

Candles under a teepee in the Field of Heaven.

Chris wasn't impressed at the lack of Harajuku girls in Tokyo.

Drinking on the streets of Hibiya, Tokyo, outside a yakitori joint. The man at the back wasn't supposed to be in the photo, but he made it oh so much better. Here, in my hat, I make my first photo appearance on my blog.

Pachinko -- some sort of pinball-esque gambling game -- is immensely popular in Japan. My gigantic friend made it look small-time.

Stop the press

My friend wrote complaining that I haven’t updated in ages, which means he has nothing to do at work. Apparently, he just reads this blog on repeat. Fool.

I’ve been bad. No proper updates from Fuji Rock. No photo postings. No insightful commentaries on life in Hong Kong. No dashing witticisms. No women. No cry.

I do have opinions and thoughts and wanderlust, but I’m not at liberty to share them here. Mainly because I can’t be bothered.

Um, what do I usually do in these situations? Write a list of favourite things, of course.

My favourite things right now (without links — see aformentioned laziness):

• The Dark Knight
• Dinner at Crystal Jade
• Friends visiting from New Zealand
• Bon Iver

Good night.

A short note on the Fuji Rock Festival

This year’s line-up wasn’t much more than solid — with My Bloody Valentine, Underworld, and Primal Scream as the main headliners — but the Fuji Rock Festival was screamingly awesome fun. The idea of staging a three-day festival in a ski resort is just killer. This was, of course, my first but I hope it won’t be my last. From dancing like a drunken banshee to DJ Mehdi, to pogo-ing to Gossip’s massive Standing in the Way of Control, to revelling in Gogol Bordello’s huge, frenetic set — twice (once being a repeat performance at 3am) — this came close to a perfect weekend.

And now my feet stink.

I’ll write more when I’m not sitting at a shitty computer in an IE-only internet kiosk at the airport.

Konnichwa, motherfucker

Stuff I’ve done in Tokyo:

• Had beers with friends in a smoky yakatori joint below an old subway bridge.
• Had beers with my friend Chris (enormous, photos to come) in a dark bar in Roppongi that specialised in darts and computerised golf driving ranges. Oh, and cute girls in short skirts and sports socks. Huzzah all round.
• Used the toilet at the impressive National Art Centre, where only lame exhibitions are currently showing.
• Actually perused some art at the 21_21 Design Sight design gallery, which was maximo good.
• Slept three nights in a ryokan.
• Stayed out all night in Roppongi and Shibuya, drinking and having fun, just so we could catch the trains when they started again in the morning and wouldn’t have to pay for an expensive taxi back.
• Bought some tacky Japanese candy.
• Ate approximately nine courses of fresh sushi at a fish market for breakfast. The most expensive breakfast I ever had. And most raw.
• Grown my whiskers too long with only partial, patchy coverage that, according to Chris, makes my face look like a monkey’s arse.
• Enjoyed a romantic night-time stroll with Chris through the boho district Naka-Meguro. Very to the cool.
• Gawked at the sartorially-blessed teenagers of Harajuku.
• Taken a walk around Yanaka, and the old cemetery there.
• Had beers with Chris while sitting at the beautiful Rikugien gardens. The staff at the concessions stall seemed increasingly astonished with every return trip for a top-up. We have since noticed a strong positive correlation between astonished Japanese people and feelings of intoxication. Above is a picture of the gardens I nicked off a website. (When I return to Hong Kong, I’ll post some of my choicest Tokyo photos, because I know you readers eat that shit up.)

Tomorrow, Fuji Rock Festival.

Still alive

I’ve moved from Lamma Island (realistic take on life there coming soon) and am just starting to settle into a new life in Kowloon. I won’t say exactly where, but suffice to say I’m thoroughly enjoying the change of scenery and the distinct lack of ferries.

The recent displacement and long hours in the office have prevented me updating this blog with any regularity of late, but perhaps an impending trip to Tokyo will help stimulate my posting abilities. I’ll be heading there at the end of the week for a holiday and to attend the Fuji Rock Festival. Here’s a glimpse of its grandeur (not my photo).

In the meantime, you might be amused by this recent account of an entire weekend spent in my bedroom. No internet, no escape, and only a few toilet breaks. The things I do for my readers.

What kind of a rapping name is Steve?

Just over two years ago, I sat in my basement bedroom in London, Ontario, and presented a case to my flatmate and journalism classmate, Steve, as to why he should move to Hong Kong. Basically, I was already decided on the matter and I wanted a friend to come with me. In a PowerPoint presentation entitled “Steve and Hong Kong: An enticing combination,” I laid out in vividly illustrated detail Hong Kong’s key advantages, which included:

• Its booming economy
• Its journalistic interest, because of its proximity to China and relatively free press
• Its sense of adventure
• Its hot “womens” of multiple ethnicities

The strength of my argument was compelling, and Steve was clearly tempted. In the end, he opted to work at a small weekly newspaper in a ski resort town in British Columbia (see this post for an earlier account of his life at the paper). He’d come to Hong Kong later, he reckoned.

Well, blow me down, but here we are not 15 months down the track and he’s in my living room, sleeping on the couch. He has the same boofy hair, the same Green sensibilities, and same good-natured slow-talk for which Canadians are renowned.

He’s looking for work, and a place to live, here in Hong Kong, so if you can help him out on either of those fronts, it’d be much appreciated. In the meantime, it’s great to have Steve around again. But don’t tell him that.

(Oh, by the way — his move probably has something to do with his girlfriend’s impending move to Beijing.)

In the meantime, so the title of this post makes sense, please enjoy the following video.

The punk spirit lives

Heavy Load is a UK punk band made up of members who have learning disabilities. Even Kylie Minogue loves them.

Shadows on snow

Got a message from a good friend who I haven’t seen in too long the other day, saying he’d eaten a sandwich with my parents in my home town, Alexandra. He’s recently returned from a year teaching in English in Korea. He’s done a lot with his life — including being swept up in a tsunami — since I last saw him during my university years in Dunedin, New Zealand.

Aside from travelling round the world at random, he’s embarked on a number of creative pursuits, including folk-songwriting and photography. I hope he won’t mind me posting the two photos below that he took on his recent trip back to Alexandra (see more at his blog), which was under snow and frost.

Snow. Fancy that.

How do you say ‘bad news’ in Russian?

Shitty news from Moscow. Renegade expat tabloid The eXile is shutting down.

Known for its searing and salacious journalism ranging from voyeuristic coverage of grisly murders to accounts of nights with cheap Russian hookers to incisive diatribes against Middle America, finally, after 11 years of pushing the boundaries of taste, The eXile is being put to sleep.

Editor Mark Ames explains that the shadowy figures of Russian government, under new president Dmitry Medvedev, seem to have taken offence to something and, via an ‘unplanned audit’, scared off the paper’s investors.

Though I haven’t been a regular reader of late, I have a special affection for The eXile, because it was once co-edited by John Dolan (still a contributor, I believe), who long-time readers may recall was one of my most inspirational writing teachers. (Enjoy his review of James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces here.)

Perhaps we can convince Ames to move to Hong Kong and bring his paper with him?

Here’s how to improve as a human

Mum sent me an email pointing out that my blog has been quieter than usual, so I figured that, rather than do the sensible thing and reply to her email, I’d get around to updating. (I’ll do the former soon, promise.)

Also, my job these days is sucking up all my opinion-writing energy, so all I have left to offer are waffling inanities, such as this.

Oh, I just remembered something I like doing when I’ve got nothing of import to say: share new music. Wootlashes!

The following links are provided in order to ascertain that I have unassailably awesome taste and am thus irresistible to members of the opposite sex, small radishes, and mosquitoes.

If you don’t love Dan Deacon already, start doing it!

Bon Iver’s new album, For Emma, Forever Ago, is my current favourite. Go get yourself some ‘Skinny Love’.

You like Brian Wilson, and Animal Collective makes you good dizzy, so you’re also going to be massively into Miracle Fortress. That’s the stuff.

Don’t forget to dig some cool electronica shit without lyrics, just to prove you don’t need choruses to live. Dosh is your new master.

The Whip play ‘Trash’. It is, really, fucking excellent. I am sick of you not getting into it. Do better with your life.

Okay, that’s it. Consider yourself five music videos cooler. I have to log off — I’m getting eaten by mosquitoes.