No, the title of this blog isn’t the new cologne I’ve produced that has been created by tearing up carpets of seedy pubs and blending them with a sprig of lavender. If I was to name said cologne, though, I’d probably go with Memory Lapse, Purple Haze or because monosyllabic words are so flipping popular with fragrances… Binge – possibly with an accent on the e.
I ended up working 6/7 days this week. Admittedly, I hadn’t planned to do this, but that’s just the way the cookie crumbles sometimes. The only day I had off was spent completing an essay about conflict management theory that I had started earlier in the week. I find that there’s always a tipping point with my essays – I get to a stage where I realise that I have sweet fuck all left in terms of word count and then I go through my references/readings and start cutting out anything that I can’t be bothered actually using within the context of my argument and then my essays just sort of end, no real conclusion or anything – a lot of blah-de-blah-blah followed by a full stop.
I often think that tutors/lecturers would be reading my essays and just get to the end and go, “Ok, next page… References? What?! Oh, we just got D’Agostino’d.” Admittedly, it’s not much of a ruse, but I’ll take what I can get. (Also, that’s the last time I use ‘Admittedly’ in this post, no matter how much fun it is to typed)
Our dog Chad has taken to barking very early in the morning. Like, bullshit o’clock early. Times that shouldn’t exist unless you’re still out and about in this wonderful world. Anyhow, one morning this week, at a much more reasonable time, the incessant barking began. I got up to tell him to shut his yap investigate what was going on. I notice that he’s looking up slightly barking at, well, nothing. He hasn’t noticed me yet because he was fixated on this… Nothing. Then I notice a large-ish fly buzzing about. I then notice Chad jumping up to try and catch and/or eat said fly, and getting frustrated at the fact that he could not catch it, which led to the barking.
I have since decided that Chad is an idiot. I will still take him for walks when I can, though.
The night after I completed my conflict management essay, I couldn’t sleep. So I did what any rational person would and watched a Japanese movie from 1983.
Some of you out there might be familiar with the anime The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (made in 2006, I believe) about a teenage girl who <insert complete and utter lack of surprise here> has the ability to leap through time. The film I watched is called The Little Girl Who Conquered Time, by a director I would have most likely mentioned on here in the past – Nobuhiko Ohbayashi. This outing is probably the most restrained I’ve seen of his work, but when you’re comparing it to things like this scene from Hausu (translation: House)…
One Seriously Crazy Piano Scene. Not Very Safe For Work, Or Your Sanity.
..it’s kind of hard to understand what I mean by restrained. Unfortunately, another clip I wanted to share from another one of his films that also features a piano, but isn’t as psychotic – just more of a ‘What in the what is going on?’ kind of moments – has been taken down. Sadstrangeface.
Anyhow! The Little Girl Who Conquered Time is a live-action adaptation of a popular Japanese story, but is more faithful to the source material than The Girl Who Leapt Through Time. What starts out as quite a whimsical story about a teenage girl gradually evolves into a bittersweet love story that had me feeling quite depressed after viewing it. The notion of a love that is greater than time itself might be impossible – both in terms of logic and physics – but I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and try and deny that it didn’t punch my hopeless romantic side (Shock! Horror! I have one!) square in the gut. Great film and I’ll definitely be making more of an effort to watch more of Ohbayashi’s films. That said, he has directed 46 and is continuing to make films.
Then the credits started to roll. So, it turns out the lead actress in the film was actually a Japanese idol in training. And well, what better way to promote her talents than having her perform a now-classic song, Toki o Kakeru Shōjo (the actual title of the source material) while re-living all the key moments of the film with the rest of the cast singing and dancing along? Don’t believe me?
Fine. You asked for it. Don’t watch THIS if I have persuaded you to see the film!
And here’s a screengrab just to make you go, “Hmmm…”
Enough about the Japanese time-travelling teenager already, I get it.
But that’s a good enough segue into a conversation I had with a co-worker.
Co-worker: Judging by the title… ‘Big Tits Dragon’ ..I am gonna love this movie.
Me: Who wouldn’t?! What’s sad is that on the IMDB page, the recommendations at the bottom – Rika: The Zombie Hunter, Oneechanbara: The Movie and Samurai Princess – I have all those.
Co-worker: Also known as Big Tits Zombie. This just keeps getting better!
Me: Hahaha. I think I actually have Big Tits Zombie…which is this movie.
Admittedly, (Sorry, it’s just too much fun to type it) part of the appeal of watching an obscene amount of Japanese films is judging them based solely on the title. Odds are it could be the worst film you’ll ever see, but who could resist watching a film noir ‘Take Aim at the Police Van’ or a series of films about a Japanese schoolgirl who fights crime with a yo-yo, one of which is called ‘Girl Gang Boss Detective: Revenge of the Three Kazama Sisters’.
What’s that? More random public transport nonsense? Fill your boots in point form, then!
- If I can hear the sounds of the game you’re playing on your phone half a carriage away on the train, you’re a douche.
- Who the fuck really cares about the new Facebook layout?
- I need to watch more Seijun Suzuki films.
- How about a world without Facebook? (Yes, I’m aware of the irony of me linking to this blog on my Book of Face, but it’s a decent question to ask and could lead to some very interesting conversations!)
- I’ve started writing a story. Two main characters – one male, one female. Parallel universes. Aiming for 10,000 words. Graphic novel/screenplay potential. Already have the beginning, core and end sorted out. Win.
- I need to find out what I’m passionate about.
- I can now successfully identify Korean when it’s being spoken!
- Fuck you, Flagstaff. You consistently hold up my train for at least 1 minute.
- Unintentional eavesdropping of other people’s dramas (Due to their increased volume because they repeat the fact that they’re on a train 15 times in 2 minutes) is sometimes amusing, but mostly just annoying.
- The Magpies winning gave rise to an unbelievable sense of collective joy to most commuters – and an equally proportionate, yet individualised sense of loathing from me.
- Reason #1 as to why you shouldn’t engage with strangers on trains – they make awkward eye contact, shrugs and gestures toward you for the duration of the trip. Kind of saying, “Remember that moment we had? Yeah, that was the highlight of my week. Can I sniff your hair? No? Ok… Can I lick the back of your hand?” Especially if they get off only one station before you do and your stop is only a few from the end of the line.
- Reason #1 as to why you shouldn’t write furiously in a notepad while on a train – when an attractive woman sits next to you, at first she’s intrigued because it seems like you’re deep and have character. If you make no effort to engage with the attractive woman after 5 mins of her trying to read what you’re writing, she thinks you’re creepy and moves to another seat.
- The trouble with speaking your mind? Society. The trouble with society? Too many idiots.
- And the rest of what I wrote were a series of calculations based on deadlines at work the following day. Nerd alert.
In closing out this entry, I decided that I wanted to set myself another writing challenge – one week of 1,000 word rants – voted for and/or suggested by yours truly! So please drop me a line via the comments section, or the Book of Face, or if I happen to see you during the week. You could also carve your suggestion into a halibut and send it to my house in an old shoebox if you really want to.