you know you're pretentious when a paragraph from george elliot prompts you into going back to therapy

Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot."

kate moss launches at topshop

worst game of football ever + kickboxing

so i made my debut for my new club. it went swimmingly apart from..

I'm at right back opposition swing the ball in I'm running back centre back misses ball goes in off my thigh

1-0

keeper gets crippled twenty minutes in, by now I'm a bit worried the standard is above me so I volunteer to sub him. their left wing comes to the left post I commit he squares, centre-forward dinks in

2-0

centre mid shoots fairly weakly from thirty yards. I'm all over it until it goes under my hands.

3-0

fantasic shot actually, although I didn't technically.. move or anything

4-0

I loft a goal kick, it goes about forty yards where the centre mid volleys it straight back into the gaping net whilst I'm stranded to the right of the six yard box

5-0

the sixth is a bit of a blur to be honest and is thankfully overshadowed by our centre forward getting his eye cut open and stretchered off

6-0

...come off and realise a) this is the second to last game of the season b) our team are second to bottom and have just lost to the bottom team 6-0 c) it's largely.. well okay almost entirely, my fault. shower, exit, call friends and tell them I'm getting very drunk tonight. And probably going back to playing work football.


AAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNYYYYYYYYYYway


I started kickboxing this week which is hella fun and fucking knackering but is seriously going to get me fit. I have a very hard, tiny, personal trainer and its a bit mad really - he keeps telling me to punch straight because I'm aiming for my opponents head but he's 5"2.

And street hockey tomorrow. I better fucking redeem myself from the football fiasco.

party at boss's fucking amazing apartment


me and colleagues Toby and Rachel















me with uber-boss Manuel and his missus sindy = looking a bit lairy here. if there was a caption imagine it would be along the lines of 'you fucking what?'. That said she's a lovely girl - and Lynda in no way meant to offend her by screaming at her for picking her dog up by the throat.
















my boss Lynda & mate renata

Honk Kong sevens party - this is the scene outside my flat

So if you haven't seen or been watching Heroes you're fucking insane - this is undoubtedly the future of visual entertainment, so far better than a film it's silly. I won't bore you wuth plot details - its manifestly ridiculous - but it's the darkest, funniest thing to come out of america since, well, battlestar galactica, which it bests in my opinion. America has gone massive on moral ambiguity - now who on earth would have seen that coming and doesn't it just trumpet the end of the empire, eh? Orwell would have been proud - I'm almost tempted to say this is their version of Shooting An Elephant but I'd probably disappear up my own arse.

It also happens to have Malcolm Mcdowell in it which is just to much fr my brain to handle - this man has now been in four of my favourite things and I have his tie from Gangster No 1 hanging in my closet.

Jesus.. did I just say closet? You know I say bathroom nowadays as well? It's disguisting.

Found this post on the Guardian site and laughed out loud - bang on:

"Have I strolled into an alternate universe where the fact that Bono is a smug, crocodile tear shedding, self regarding, indoor shades wearing, talentless, no mark c*nt has been overlooked by most of the populace?

I have?

oh."


Some pics - pic of beckham in causeway bay, no idea why it brought me up other than there's now two leytonstone boys out here I guess + one of our successful pub quiz team

gay dog

my mate matt sent me a picture of me looking gay and thin *wipes tear from eye* when I was twenty-three odd (I think). happy days.

i am ill damn you

tonsilitus.

fascinating.

so i haven't been out for days and am now the world expert on battlestar galactica. this wouldn't be a problem - if I was ill at home I'd just stay in, no problem. Here not only do i know that people are out having a good time within two minutes walk from my flat I can fucking hear them. Tonight I am seriously sitting here thinking should I walk all the way to queens road with this headache to meet some mates just to get out of the house? I mean, it's a mission!

Queens Rd. Is the road next to mine. Hong Kong has warped my tiny mind. that said I have managed to catch up on, ooooooo, eighty-odd hours of sleep. wow.

looking french

Had our spring dinner last night at the mandarin oriental which was excellent - fantastic looking hotel, very good food, very good speech from our CEO - long and short of it being we're doing very well and ain't asia a wicked place to live & work, then went to the bar after and got thoroughly hammered, really nice night. Here's a pic of me with the CIO, Stephan, who I think is possibly the single most French looking guy I've ever met, whereas I just look Norman I think. Would love to have got one of our COO Jens cos he's the single most German looking guy I've ever met.

Also one of the whole team - clear I have a certain height advantage no?

i walked into a lampost. seriously. i walked into a lamp post.

very lengthy but interesting select commitee debate on ID cards:

http://www.parliamentlive.tv/Player/index.aspx?Encoding=6355

if you have any qualms about the ID bill - if, for instance, you suspect that our current gerneration of parliamentarians are possibly less than adequately intellectually equipped to make the kind of judgement calls required to green light the spending of absolutely fucking billions of pounds on this utter waste of everyone's precious fucking time then rest assured - the man chairing the committe is none other than David Amess - the towering intellect Chris Morris persuaded to bring up the dangers of a 'made-up drug', Cake, in parliament having been told a girl had thrown up her pelvis after sampling the foot-wide, bright yellow pill:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g0GxUxKZdHk

So that's alright then

made a bit of an error las night and against my better judgement went to see Muse play at the Asiaexpo. fair to say that standing in a quarter-full warehouse next to an airport where you can't drink or smoke is possibly the single worst way to watch music ever invented. Left after about three songs to get a drink and have a fag - far more enjoyable. I'll give them this though - they're fantastic musicians, esp. ratboy the lead singer. Shame about the songs really.

Then went to see a japanese punk band - pics below - at the Fringe - fucking excellent. Saw dude in a sub pop tshirt and basically straight out asked if he fancied playing some music together so off to a studio in Mong Kok next week hopefully. Very small scene over here so everyone knows everyone who plays stuff. Very cool.

Found - images below - a little... er.. thing (key fob?) in 7 eleven - featuring cartoon characters - the one I selected has a nice little congress star hat on and is brandishing a flick knife. So cute.

I have a new phone - & over here you get to pick your own number(ish) so mine now starts



















If you want the rest either mail me or watch this space cos I'll probably post up some kind of Lost-themed number clues. Won't that be fun.

So I thought I'd show you the inside of my flat because obviously you've only ever seen my head by a window - so here it is.















Trying to join a football team. Not easy.

And big news! We won the pub quiz! Yesssssssss, after weeks & weeks of trying - the backstory:

each week we play in a pub quiz and every single week these fat smug tossers calling themselves the Buddah Bellies win it and each week we come second or third. About a month ago we tied first and it went to a drink-off - a yard of ale that marc proceeded to pour all over he'self. So...

on a website for expats about a couple of weeks ago I had a go at a guy calling himself PDLM who basically manages to make every single fucking thing posted refer back to the fact that he won't go to places where smoking's allowed. Mother's funeral? Sorry they allow smoking. Anyone know where I can get the clap treated? No, but I bet they allow smoking. I hear voices in my head telling me to kill children, what should I do? Kill a child - probably a potential smoker. So I had enough of this tiresome cunt and, on what is an insanely polite forum, basically said it's a shame he doesn't smoke because it might take a few years off his life and save us from having to hear his incessant fucking whining. Anyhow he didn't take too kindly to that.

So...

This week we tie for second again and I'm put up for the drink off. And I'm up against a buddah belly - nasically a very fat, tall middle-aged guy who says I've never done this before and I say funny because a) I saw you do this a month ago and b) by the looks of your belly you've been practising a while and he kind of sucks that up and says, ust as we're handed our pints to down 'are you on the forum, what's your name' and I say 'tomkitten...'

just before I down the pint, place the glass on my head and win the fucking thing for the first time ever.

So I wasn;t overly fussed - it's a fucking quiz - until marc says you know who that was? that was PDLM.

vengence is mine sayest the kitten, and I shall repay...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VLqLDRWvMTo

I'm just going to keep banging on and on and on but this is, I think, the best two live performances I've ever seen - there there is just perfect - I know it's a bbc studio but I've seen them do this in front of twenty thousand people - just as good.

If you're feeling particularly maudlin here's thom yorke and johny greenwood unplugged, in french, and its incredible. I do feel sorry for the rest of the band though - they're increasingly being seen as the thom & jonny show which kind of denigrates the a) consumate performances the others give & b) their incredible tolerance of thom's utter, utter cntishness. Still, he's a genius and that's what you get and johnny's guitar, esp. on the below is matchless.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLYbbRg100Y&mode=related&search=

found a rather lovely fact on the internet:

"Yorke received his first guitar at the age of seven, having been inspired by a TV screened performance of Queen guitarist Brian May. His first song, "Mushroom Cloud" described a nuclear explosion"

well that explains a lot.

for the record I recieved my first guitar at the age of three and my first song was called 'Jesus is a robot'. Written aged three. featuring one line, jesus is a robot, gurggled over an open e-a-d-g-b-e strum (hammer).

"2-1 Chelsea was my prediction..."














1 down 3 to go

think this just about sums up the first half. 2-1 Chelsea was my prediction at the start but the way this is going wenger's foetus' may well not get aborted.

Played football yesterday - definitely my best game since I got here despite missing two sitters managed to set up a peach of a goal - was playing with some co-ordinationally-disadvantaged peeps and received the ball on the edge of the box, was going to have a shot and then saw a mate from work, eric, standing in space in the centre - now he'd no had one good touch all game so I was bit in two minds but I thought it would be a perfect oppurtunity for him to come good so laid it off and he spanked it in - first decent touch, lucky sod. I can't buy a goal at the moment. The mad thing over here is just how non-contact it is - us europeans kick shit out of each other and leave thew natives alone - we do tend to have a rather pronounced height and weight advantage so only fair.

I then went to bed @ eight on a saturday. Madness. Considering having a month off from drinking and going out in March, my mum gets here towards the end so good chance to take a break and get some exercise. Work fantastic, very big things in the pipeline.

so anyway... my mate marc einstein went our after our pub quiz on tuesday (when I went home - I went home.. let me say again I WENT HOME what is happening to me - oh yeah, I'm burning out!) and met two korean girls with our mutual friend martin, a cheeky aussie cobber and einstein is so called not cos he's a genius, which he is, but cos he's actually an einstein and also happens to be possibly the most polylinguistic person ever and I have been debating which came first - marc's desire to fuck foreign ladies and therefore the desire to learn languages or vice versa - all I know is it's far too much effort either way but, hey, each to their own, anyhow turns out these two girls they date with are religious nutters and I say, what, wait, you managed to pull two fucking moonies?? and marc explains that no, worse, protestants, which I think is a yank euphemism for republican however he managed to lose the two mad koreans and head to WAN CHAI and meet up with an airline pilot who are basically the swiss tony's of hong kong - each & every one of them knows just how to treat a beautiful lady - you invite them to a mass orgy so that you and your preening, smug, tosser pilot mates can high-five on the changeover of a spit roast and mark thinks he's got an in with an airhostess on the back of it and thinks i should be jealous despite the fact that I've never had a thing for fucking waitresses who whore for nutfuck pilots but that's just sour grapes and you know I got the picture above from a website called glamorous jobs and I'm thinking wait... glamour is sucking the flaccid penis of a drunken fratboy who's just engaged autopilot before dishing out chicken in a basket to five hundred total arseholes and smiling all the while and I don't know, I'm tired

they say you don't get to pick your mates and there's an element of truth in that - john terry *never* returns my calls - but you kind of do in hong kong because everyone wants to know people and you end up hanging out with people you like via a process of meeting a lot of cunts and weeding them out but at least it's democratic - my best mates out here: marc, kris, renata & angela, at least three of whom are american and who'd have thunk it eh? eh? eh? eh? eh? eh? eh? eh? eh?

Some old pics I found on SR and made me very, very, very sad for a while - life is so fucked up. You're there, in the moment, and then it's gone and all you have is some shitty pics - like a roadmap for an abandoned town. I miss these times, I had fun and loved every second of these images. People keep asking me if I miss London and I can only reply - no, not at all - but I miss my past like crazy

god I'm knackered.

Went and played at a jam club last night and really had some good fun - played the bass for the first time in many many years really, other than some very basic underlays to tracks tosko and i have recorded and then played a little set of my own and got a round of applause - when i say round i mean two gay chinese guys flapping paws but it's all good. HK is a very good place to just turn up to places and play - it seems its pretty common here to have bars that have guitars & amps & drums & bongos etc. and there's a really communal spirit - people just turn up and start playing and having fun, something I haven't really had playing music in ages.

I live above a beauty parlour and had always wondered...

So I played a gig last night - around 150 people, multiple requests for encores which I refused on grounds of taste and discretion until the manager of the venue locked the doors and insisted I play you are my sunshine again or else no-one leaves..


So okay I went to Joyce's last night following my friend Marc's birthday party at his friend Ben's place which is obscenely gorgeous hk flat and made me feel all unsuccessful and poor until marc told me this afternoon that ben is forty two despite not looking a day over twenty eight (seriously - I don't know what chinese people do but i suspect it involves eating foetuses or paintings in lofts) and, anyway, at Joyce's caught the last of Bone Table's set (which was fantastic as ever - better in a smaller venue which is interesting) and then drunkenly appropriated Rob's Richenbacher, tried to de-tune it (in vain) and then slurred some falsetto to three cringing and four not listening punters but HEY I got up and sang and I'm strangely very happy because despite being utter shit I managed to slay the beast of stage fright and can now focus on actually becoming mediocre and can give it another shot. Plus I'd promised to play live for someone and did, so managed to fulfill a promise with the minimum amount of humiliation.

Hope you're all good y'all.

absolutely nothing of any value here... work is exceptionally good basically - I'm like a pig in shit - take an interest in something, get given control of it, work hard play hard ra ra mother fucking ra you know the tune - I'm getting four hours a night - twelve hour day followed by all night sessions so I AM FUCKING KNACKERED but, I think, the happiest I have ever been in my life - and I'm really sorry that that makes for boring reading (if anyone's reading). Weird to be honest - I started this blog my old cynical self and in the space of two months have become so hopeful that I turn and basically have nothing to say except the Fast Show it's brilliant line.

Bottled a gig the other night - anoyed at myself but I'll get there.

Went to dentist - hence shiny teeth.

Nothing of any value to see here - strange how being happy leaves me speechless.

two sets of recently finished lyrics - one old set polished one very new peon to la bete humaine to show i'm still in touch with my pretentious side. Today I'm a going to the zoo, the zoo, the zoo, I'm a-going to the zoo, the zoo, the zoo... to see monkeys

trophallaxis

So you come down on Sunday and rock down to Vauxhall
They’ve tainted the ketamine and my god they’ve poisoned us all
In the bathroom rolled note by the cubicle
There’s blood on your cuticles and fine powder dusting your hair
And you think that you’re elegantly wasted
But the wasted is temporal and the elegance ephemeral

& this scene is dead
Long live this scene
& I’ve seen it all before

& this scene is dead
Long live this scene
& I’ve seen it all before

You’re the best thing
You’re the best thing


bete humaine

bete humaine

Meet me by the railway line on which I ply my trade
there’s something between us, something primal and unsaid
I’ve never known a woman but I am not afraid
There’s a longing in my soul, something feral & unsaid

meet me by the signal box that slows the evening train
where you shelter from the summer sun and from the winter rain
I’ve never known a woman but I am not afraid
There’s a longing in my soul, something feral & unsaid

Imagine if you will a train of soldiers streaming east
Drunk on rum and bravado and flirting with beast
They’ve never been to war before but they are not afraid
There’s something between them something feral & unsaid

been offline with technical issues


like a hole in your head?

also some rather blistered fingers but hey, shit art hurts.

New guitar

because that's really what I need - but it is a beauty. I seem to get unbelievably lucky with guitars - all of them have been fantadstic bar the initial Sun Mustang which I offloaded to Hoggy for almost as much as I paid for it. This is a Yamaha electro-acoustic - sounds fucking massive through an amp and has an inbuilt tuner (!) and after much haggling cost me two hundred of your British pounds - the total now stands at seven but believe it or not cheaper to buy new than have one sent out. I will be playing Joyce Is Not Here - and I finally have what I've always wanted - a female bassist. Tosko.... think man... think a lot...

The difference between Hong Kong & London

Ppppphhhhhooooooo. Well a another great Friday night basically. A little backstory:

I fell in love with a guy out here called Marc. He's small, smart, Jewish, polylingual, polymathic, Harvard educated, well mannered and American - essentially everything I'm not but we have very wicked drunken debates which I always win by virtue of being 6"2 and the rather miraculous accident of birth that made me obstinate, English & opinionated.

He's seeing a girl called Angela who's lovely - Chinese and very, very smart. Degree in chemical enginerring but now studying law in order to get on the board of her company. Dresses like a fifties housewife (seriously, it's very cute) and goes to church on Sunday.

We all have a mutual friend Kris, from Tennesse, the (ex-ish)wife of a pilot for Cathay and every inch the I-do-declare Southern belle, red-neck, Bush-voting, anti-abortion, anti-gay rabid right-winger I'm suppossed to hate but actually really get on with when she's not laying into me for smoking.

So on Tuesday we all went out to a pub quiz (and won - sort of - we tied first and Marc volunteered to take the tie-breaker, a yard of ale drinking contest, and failed miserably) and then on to a couple of bars. Apparently we were being followed. Angela's ex-boyfriend is some kind of French politicians son and quite powerful and the moment he heard she was seeing someone else (and a jew no less) he got on a plane, flew over, and started stalking her. Not knowing what Marc looked like he looked for a darkish hooked-nosed foreigner and... yeah.

So Marc's gone off to China to lean Mandarin for two weeks so last night I went out with Angela and Kris to a few places where Kris got of with an English journalist - nice bloke but seemed to assume he'd get something from a Southern catholic: poor deluded boy) - whilst I looked after Angela. Which basically involves dancing in between her and whatever fifty year old Chinese man tries to jiggy-dance with her.

Aaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyyyyhow I met the band! Bone Table were playing their residency last night and I went to see them early doors and they went 'hey Tom!' which I guess means they have roughly, erm, one fan in the world but I watched them and then had a beer with them and discussed music and Tosko I found a drummer without a gig! Lead singer of Bone Table gave me his card and I'm going to try and get hold of a guitar and play some music with these guys soon. This is the difference between London & HK - London you like a band say to the singer I thought you guys were really cool and he saya thanks and is gone - in HK you get given his card, invited to the next gig and begin discussing playing together.

See their gig at the Edge here: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2285202760929807046

homesick

so yeah first bout of homesickness brought on I think by the fact that the last many night's I've woken up convinced there's a man in a grey suit next to my bed to my bed wanting to do me harm and wake & I lunge at him and then realise - phewwwww - it's just my fucking corporate self. I find it difficult to rest if I let him sleep with me. True story though - I really do wake at four am lunging with violence at a hallucination of myself. I don't know what it is - the cheese before bed? the shop-window dummy dressed in my clothes by my bed? the guilty conscience brought on by killing so many child priests?

responsibility eh? what a bare-faced fucking lie that one is - oooo it'll be all nice you get to supervise other's work and make improvements and things done better and money and wait a fucking minute... I'm working twice as long and if one of these dribbling pricks makes a mistake when I'm nodding off through sleep deprivation it's my fault? they're idiots. I once, believe it or not, was given a management job at 21, which i resigned from on the grounds that I'd rather bleach my tongue than have to herd the mentally ill again but..

actually I'm a liar - these guys are fantastic and very hard working it's just so much of what they do is pointless. "so we then spend three hours ticking boxes that have been automatically populated by a flat file produced from an automated process".... "because... you think an overworked, tired, bored and ultimately uncaring human eye is a better checker of data than, say, a computer?" ".........what?"





anyhow. I met and fell in love with a band whose blog I went and wanked on http://www.ithappenedhere.info/bonetable/

and a kind of club where you can recite crap poetry and play bad music and people will only alf-heartedly sneer at you http://joycebakerdesign.com/ which I'm going to make use of.

this weeks starter for ten is why didn't I do something interesting with my life? answers beginning with "because you had to fund myriad habits..." will of course be given special consideration..