Whilst it is true that I by no means detest attention, there are times, living in Japan, when I am made to feel like the main exhibit in a budget zoo. I honestly believe that this has less to do with my narcissism, and more to do with the fact that I stand out like a chipolata at a Barmitzva. People here just love to stare and nowhere is this truer than on the trains, where I feel like I should start charging people for the privilege. Obviously tight red jeans that are of a length that reveal a good three inches of lime green socks probably emphasize the effect, but under that nauseating smell of meat and milk I’m human too; allegedly.
This evening we had the strike party for ‘Picasso’, for which a karaoke system had been hired especially. This was a lot of fun, even if it did serve as an untimely reminder that I really cannot sing anymore. The sad reality of course is that I probably never could, but oh how I dreamed, how I dreamed.