March 24, 2003

• 
  hello
  
  Every now and then I come across blogs about the writer's relationship with xanga. I expect you do too. A lot of us go through very similar experiences here and it can be fun to learn that others are going through the same kind of xangan navel gazing. So I thought that I ought to tell you about these xangan panic attacks I've been having recently. Actually, they're not really panic attacks so much as cold, clammy, wake up in the middle of the night but although your mind is awake you can't get your body to move at all and you lie there helplessly wriggling and squirming inside your head kind of attacks.
  
  So I thought I'd tell you about them, but then I cogitated some more and thought fuck it, I'll tell you about the Rolling Stones instead.
  
  Some of the more wide awake among you may have been able to deduce from my last post that I went to see the Rolling Stones last week. This was the penultimate date of their tour of Japan and I’d been looking forward to it for ages. I wouldn’t say that I am a huge fan of theirs but it’s the Stones fer chrissakes, they’re bloomin’ rock and roll legends, innit?
  
  The plan was to drive down to Osaka with three Japanese friends, see the show and then stay on and see what trouble we could get ourselves into in the big city, then in the early morning grab a couple of hours kip in the car before driving back.
  
  Well, that was the plan.
  
  What actually happened was something like this. The guys eventually came to pick me up around 2:30 in the afternoon. It was a beautiful early Spring day; warm and sunny and not a cloud in the sky. A perfect day to go for a drive, enjoy a little somethingorother in the car and kick back with some killer tunes as the miles flash by. A perfect day for all that.
  
  So when I got into the car, the first order of business, naturally enough, was sorting out that somethingorother; once that’s organised, everything else sort of falls into place quite nicely, if you know what I mean.
  
  Cut to a few minutes later and stoo’s kicking in very pleasantly, thanks very much, and I turned my attention to the music that was playing on the car stereo. Now what’s this? Sounds a little too ambient for the kind of trip I'm hoping for. This stuff’s for the early hours of the morning after a hard night’s bump and grind; listening to it now would be like rolling over and reaching for a cigarette right at the beginning of the date, so I respectfully suggested that they get that shit off and slip in something with a little more bite. This was then followed by one of those silences that they call pregnant and then we had an open and frank discussion, the outcome of which was the realisation that this was the only cd in the car and that due to a communications mix up (nobody had said a word to me about it), they had been expecting me to bring music and that more importantly we had driven up onto the highway a few minutes ago and there was no turning back now...
  
  However bleak and desperate life may seem at times, keeping things in perspective and maintaining a positive outlook can do wonders in situations like this. Sure, on the one hand we were trapped with nothing but elevator music to keep us aurally satisfied for the next three hours, but on the other hand, I had three buddies with me and we’re all off our trees and the sun’s shining away like a bastard and if that’s not a recipe for a good time, I don’t know what is...
  
  Except of course, this recipe only works if all parties are up for the party, as it were, and when one party falls asleep and another might as well be and the driver is using up all of his conversation by keeping his eyes glued to the road, then it's not much of a party. So when I piped in with my great idea for a long journey in a car game, you can imagine what a rapturous welcome it got....
  
  Happily enough, we arrived in Osaka and somehow managed to find our way to the Dome Stadium. For the sake of brevity, I'm going to gloss over the bits where we had to stop and ask directions from old men and for the sake of my reputation I'm going to gloss over the bit where I accosted some young girls at a highway rest area and asked them if I could ride the rest of the way in their car.
  
  Anyway, so we found ourselves inside Osaka Dome with about half an hour to go before the show and forty thousand other concert goers in front of us in the queue for beer. I take my hat off to the organisers for the logistical feat they pulled off in getting us to our seats with paper cupped beers in hand just as the screams went up from those in the mosh pits down at the front and the grandaddies of English popular music took the stage.
  
  In the really good concert reviews they always tell you what songs the band played, because fans like to know about that kind of thing, but since this isn't going to be a really good concert review, I'll just say that they didn't play enough of the oldies that I could have sung along to happily and that Keith Richards singing a song just the one time would have been enough. Other than that they put out a professional show and it was just what you'd expect from a band of their mural sized proportions.
  
  One other thing of note about the show was that our seats were almost at the end of a row, with just one empty seat on my right and that seat remained empty during the opening number. Do you remember how in a recent blog (the one in which I told you about meeting Claudia Schiffer), I told you about my brain synapses when I see expensive sports cars? Well, I was having similar feelings about that seat. I leaned over to my friends and said, "A fabulously gorgeous nymphomaniac is going to come and sit next to me soon..."
  
  I don't think I need to go into any descriptions of their reaction when the seat was eventually taken by a generously overweight middle aged man in too tight shiny black slacks and carrying a briefcase. I saved the day, however, by singing "he's a gas gas gas!" really loudly in his ear, maybe even during the right song.
  
  So that was the Rolling Stones. And now I'm supposed to tell you about the night of debauchery that followed but what happened was that after the gig ended and after we'd stood behind forty thousand people in the queue for the after show piss, we discovered that three of us were a bit tired actually and probably it would be for the best to just drive back home now. One of us tried to keep the flame of hope alive by calling them a bunch of Japanese wusses but he only did that in a mumbly sort of way and under his breath because he didn't want to get stranded in Osaka although he had actually just spotted a couple of likely looking ladies who he thought he could persuade to give him a four hundred kilometre ride back home and if not, they'd at least turn out to be fabulously gorgeous nymphomaniacs who'd take him home and fuck him silly. So he bade goodnight to his sleepyheaded chums and went off with those two lovely ladies and only got back home this morning.
  
  Which is why you haven’t heard from me for nearly a week.
  
  OK?
  

  • 11:57 am
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