代々木公園 Yoyogi Park, Tokyo. November, 2010.
Tokyo, November 2010
Venice, Italy. 2010.
Vatican City. 2010.
Some secret corner of Berlin. 2010
Venice, Italy. 2010.
Corneglia, Italy, October 2010.
Tokyo, November, 2010.
Yoyogi Park, Tokyo. November 2010.
Bill O’Reilly, the spiritual leader.
Last night I dreamt that Bill O’Reilly, after an on-air epiphany, became a loving, peaceful, agnostic spiritual leader.
Immediately after his epiphany, he had his staff break open the windows of his 31st story studio on the Avenue of the Americas in New York City, had them rig up his lapel mic to a giant PA, and began singing spiritually enlightened songs in Hindi, accompanying himself on the acoustic guitar. The songs wafted down onto the people of New York, who intuitively understood and accepted his message. They became his devoted followers.
For some reason, I was there, and I became his manager on what became a world tour of his spiritual teachings. They weren’t religious teachings. They simply taught love, respect and understanding for one’s fellow man. As the tour went on - through the colleges of the US, rest homes of England, the tribes of Africa - we found ourselves on an Air New Zealand mystery tour, leaving from Auckland.
While initially everyone on the mystery flight was accepting Bill’s message with the same love and fervour as the rest of the world (by now I should point out that he had brown skin, and was dressed like a monk), when the flight attendants started serving complimentary wine, beer and spirits, Bill’s songs and teachings were lost amongst the cacophony of drunken belching, women screaming about Top Model and men shouting about rugby.
I lost sight of him as we were coming in to land at what looked like Queenstown airport. As the drunken mob squeezed out of the small plane onto the tarmac, I heard violent screams coming from the aft toilet. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. Then suddenly, the door flung open, and there was Bill O’Reilly, white as ever, in a blue suit, yelling “Fuck it! We’ll do it live!”.
New old blog
In a moment of desperate procrastination, I’m going to use this old tour diary as a new Auckland diary.
Have visa! Have passport back! About to leave for Heathrow. Flying to Atlanta, GA via Paris.
The last month #2: Hundekot in Berlin
This is #2 in a recap of the past month that I’ve been too lazy to write until now.
After saying our goodbyes to Beach House, we came up for air in Berlin. Apparently our arrival coincided with the first time the city had been free of winter’s snowy clutches since December. The rapid thaw somewhat cruelly revealed three months worth of accumulated urban filth, which was once so nicely hidden under a layer of white.
The footpaths were lined with Christmas trees, New Years fireworks, mountains of rubbish, cement-like deposits of grit and ice, and the most dog shit I’ve seen in my life. It was as if all the dogs in Berlin had been holding it in while it was too cold outside, and had all shat in explosive unison at the sight of unfrozen concrete.
Unfortunately I didn’t have the presence of mind to take many photos, so this doesn’t really show the full extent of how filthy it was, but it gives a bit of an idea.
Aside from the filth, Berlin was awesome. I really enjoyed my previous visit, but this time it was great to have more time off to explore. I also forgot how many friends live there now.
I went to see The King Khan & BBQ Show on our first night. I’ve been wanting to see them for ages, so it was a happy coincidence. I wasn’t disappointed.
One thing that was instantly noticeable when going out in Berlin was that everyone still smokes inside. Apparently it recently became illegal, but people just generally disobey the law. It’s quite funny how unusual it is to me for people to smoke inside now. Somehow it seemed appropriate that the bars should be smokey, against the backdrop of filth outside on the pavement. Actually, Berlin is a rather gritty city even without the muck, but that’s really its charm. Cheap rent and no jobs means a city full of creative and interesting people.
—
I bought an old Soviet-made 35mm camera called the Zenit-E in a Prenzlauer Berg market. It’s a commemorative 1980 Moscow Olympics model. I’ve been meaning to buy a film camera for ages, having had my last one stolen in high school. I find great pleasure in turning a solid focus ring and a clunky aperture. It’s a great big heavy thing, too. Then of course there’s the preciousness of each frame, and the mystery in waiting for the film to come back without the instant gratification of digital. It’s been great fun.
Here are a few of my favourites from the first roll. Unfortunately it has a bit of a light leak in the top right corner, which I guess I’ll just have to work with.
James in the van.
On the deck of our apartment in Berlin.
In a bar we visited. It was actually quite packed.
Conor and Kim. Friends in Berlin.
Das Pop (a band who our friend Matt drums for) who we played a couple of shows with at the last minute.
Source: thedailywhat
The last month #1: Beach House
It’s not that often you get to tour with one of your favourite bands. We were lucky enough to support Beach House through the UK, Ireland, France, Belgium and Holland for two weeks from the 9th of February. Their third album, Teen Dream, had just been released in the UK, and it became apparent that a lot of (well deserved) hype had built up around it. All but two of the shows on the tour were sold out, with excited and appreciative crowds. It was pretty special.
The album is pretty amazing, so it was quite a treat to get to hear the songs live so many times. Their live performances were pretty incapsulating. Needless to say, I enjoyed them a lot. They were all really great to party with too, helped along by their love of tequila.
One of our nights apart from BH, we drove to Saintes, which is a small town in south-west France, nestled next to Cognac, and not too far from Bordeaux (appropriate considering how much we managed to consume).
We played at a festival type party that was being put on by a friend, Francois. It was quite novel headlining a show, and the crowd went nuts. Way too much cheese and wine and cognac, followed by Francois’ most amazing goats cheese quiche.
I’m not sure whether I can describe how awesome the tour was any further, so here are a couple more pictures.
Driving across snowy UK to Glasgow.
Grand Place in Brussels, Belgium.
