Shaking The Blossoms Of His Horie Hair
When you have a lot of work to do in a very short time, you tend to finish it very quickly. Which is why I'm blogging. (I realise I only blog at work while waiting for my stories to clear because once I'm out of the office my real life begins; I don't even check email or anything, which is why I'm very behind in email replies and I'm really sorry I suck so bad at correspondence. I'm also really sorry I'm so parenthesis-reliant.)
Anyway Japan is fascinating! I should've taken Japanese instead of bloody French, which sounds smooth but is otherwise bloody useless. The Livedoor scandal, for instance - it's so Big-Brother-meets-Last-Samurai. You can just imagine these powerful old men sitting snug in the mafia-secret world of tradition-steeped corporate Japan smoking their opium pipes (oops that's China; cigars? no that's Mexico) and reading about this young Horie upstart guy breaking all the rules and living it up in plebeian nouveau-riche style. They raise an eyebrow, curl a lip, lift a little finger - and immediately massive police raids are carried out in the Livedoor stronghold and a mysterious businessman locks himself in a hotel room and commits hara-kiri.
This is going to make such a better movie (of course it will be a movie) than Memoirs of a Geisha, which was lurid and pedestrian and only saved by Gong Li, who somehow manages to be smouldering and icy at the same time.
Did Horie actually do anything wrong? Who knows. His blog says no, not that I can read it anyway. Which brings me back to my original point, that I should have taken Japanese. Where to learn ah?
posted by zyn ::
7:57 PM ::
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