So it is not all over after all (not that we thought that it was).
We have ‘Omicron’ – but I can’t quite face looking into it (will we ever be able to leave Japan and get back in again?…..)
A year and a half ago, we were just into the first stages of an unknown illness, which was taking the world by death and hysteria, and / but somehow, we got drawn into an online Tokyo Sunday event called Covid Cabaret, a collection of storytellers, folksingers, actors and god knows what trying to pull some levity and entertainment out of what was undoubtedly a very grave situation (for those about to cancel; remember – during the Black Death in the 14th century humour was one of the best protections; you do have to take the piss out of what ails you, your enemy ): we were not being flippant: just trying to express something other than what was being bandied about in the ugly media. A valve of darkness – and some light.
We just happened to have a pangolin – bought from the recycle shop you may know from several posts, and which D had naturally spray painted gold. As a pangolin was apparently Patient Zero, meeting some bats, and some pigs, this formed the momentum behind the impromptu ridiculousness that was our entry to the evening’s programme, where we incorporated the 12″ Japanese remix of Paul Hardcastle’s British number one single 19, with a tape we once bought twenty five years ago at a Capucin cellar in a church in Rome, a song from Brian De Palma’s sublime Phantom of the Paradise, and Duncan dancing about with a glowing golf ball to a hippie song – Mandala – by Sally Oldfield.
Pure nonsense. But kind of fun. One minute we were doing the laundry, and having Sunday lunch like everyone else, the next we were upstairs against a green screen, live, which I found quite daunting, and which was a shambles, ducking and diving, having no idea what was going on, spurting tomato ketchup on my face ): I’m not quite sure what it was all about, and why I was required to decapitate my own boyfriend at the given moment (at around the 7:00 minute mark: D fancied some Grand Guignol, for sheer expurgation, the theatrical horror of the time in late nineteenth century France also a way of catharsis for the people to let off steam during times of death and violence ): but I suddenly feel like putting it up, as this shitshow continues to careen across the globe.