I feel like I've joined a cult

On Sunday last, I proved myself to be weak-minded and easily manipulated - not just once, but three times!
I'm a perfect candidate to be lured into some dodgy cult. I hope there are no Scientologists reading this.
So I took myself to the Mori Art Museum in Roppongi to enjoy what I thought would be an illuminating look at the life of Leonardo Da Vinci. About 30 minutes and 12 euro later, I realised I'd been duped into seeing a glorified advertisement for ‘DaVinci Code: The Franchise.’
There was NOT ONE actual historical document, piece of art or artefact. Instead there was a slick, interactive multimedia presentation of the theories posed in the book (and now movie).
It was all swanky computers decked out to look like pictures in frames or old dusty books. As you approached them, they would come to life and lead you through explanatory notes, zooming in and out of the painting or text as necessary. Very impressive, but totally style over substance.
The scary thing is this manipulative extended commercial worked. Having been oblivious to the hoohah surrounding the Da Vinci code for almost three years, I came out of the museum itching to know more, and ended up buying the book. Like I say, I'm one red string short of becoming a Kabbalah bore.
In my humble defence, I will say that I bought the Japanese version, so it's kind of like study, too. It's a real page-turner, certainly much more so than the dry textbooks I usually have to read.
I was so into it the first night that I covered 66 pages. Not bad when you think that only four years ago, the only book I was able to read was 'Wise Mr Daffodil!' (For kids aged five and up).
Going hell for leather the first night was probably not such a great idea. Me eyes were killing me the next day. You have to remember that for novels, 'we' Japanese read back to front and top to bottom. It was a real workout for some unused eye muscles.
I've gone into raptures about the design of Japanese books before, but it bears repeating. Irish publishers: Get your fingers out!
The books are literally pocket size (see above). About 12cm by 8cm. They divide big novels up into volumes 1 2 & 3 (上、中、下 - jou, chuu, ge), if necessary, so they're always light. And before you snark, they divide the price accordingly, too. They print it on really fine, light paper, so you can actually turn the pages single-handed with your thumb. The idea being you can use your free hand to hold onto the handle in the train, eat your lunch, scratch yourself, whatever. And best of all they cover the book (sorry Mother Nature) so it's easier to recycle (Mother Nature, are we cool?)
Anyway I promise I won't use this blog to launch into my thoughts on international conspiracies, evil secret societies and massive earth-shattering cover-ups. This will be the first and last of my Da Vinci speak. Don't want to scare away all three of my readers now, do I?
As I said up at the top, cult recruitment was not the only sign that I am clearly lacking a strong and defined identity.
After the Da Vinci business, I attended a free concert of music and dance from Botswana. As I floated away on the tribal rhythms and joyful dancing, I felt that my life would only be complete if I were to move that instant to the savannahs of Africa.
Before I bought my ticket and started my course of vaccinations though, I had a plan to see an Italian movie in Shibuya.
As I don't speak Italian, it was more exercise for me eyeballs, trying to keep up with the Japanese subtitles (that should be side-titles I guess - remember reading from top to bottom).
I caught enough of the meaning to truly enjoy the movie.
All thoughts of Africa were forgotten and I felt I could only be satisfied in life if I travelled back in time to 1970s Rome and got the flat, the clothes and the life featured in the movie.
I definitely recommend the film. It was called Buongiorno Notte (I think). In Japanese, it was something like 'Good Morning, Night!'
It was about the kidnapping and eventual murder of the then President of Italy by members of the communist /terrorist ‘Red Army’group.
It was very Hitchcockian in its use of one apartment for most of the scenes – so claustrophobic. But what I really liked best is that, though the President was the actual prisoner, the terrorists were far more imprisoned by their ideology, fixed thinking and brain washing. And there we come nicely back to my original theme. Someone was awake in Creative Writing 101.
It is clear from my Sunday adventures that I am but a blank canvas waiting to take on whatever personality comes my way. I must have no strong thoughts, opinions or character of my own. Otherwise I wouldn’t be so easily swayed into wanting a whole new life all the time.
I'm on the look out for a new identity as we speak. Any suggestions? I'm thinking pirate - I'm sure I have the nose to offset and eye-patch!