Monday, 6 April 2009

i love london


i could walk anywhere in london without feeling like a complete and utter noob. i know it's a topsy-turvydom of a city - with it being so old: imagine old 'dickensian' quaint cobbled little alleyways filled with hotfooted city workers who wouldn't waver pushing you off a stairway. if for a second you stop in your tracks to enjoy the view.


and those shizophrenic suicidal cyclists!"...oi! stay on the starboard side mate!!! tis' not exactly a viewing deck of the bloody titanic innit?!"


don't even think of the 'london underground'. it's like an underbelly of an ancient malacopterygian monster whose bowels are the equivalent of the heaving mass of humanity aboard a conveyor belt that will open up to various orifices in the city.


the escalators are horrid gravity-defying motorways. left side is for overtaking. warning: stay on the right lane if you happen to be a slow, fresh out of water bipod who just discovered land - in accelerated 'darwinian' linguistic context, that is. the evolutionary epochal leap from fish to chimp to eyeliner-wearing david bowie metro-sexual-starman.


nevermind that foul-mouthed cockney neanderthal who just gave you a earful very sarcastic version of the 'highway code'. "see number 2"


first time i came to london from a sleepy country town way up north of england, i nearly had a brain haemorrhage from sensory overload. i swore i will never work in london.


tgf wanted to go to covent garden. she has a thing for markets at the moment. she prefers them over shopping malls. with fervid indignation - as if it's an anti-consumerist stance. i don't see the difference. our mutual friend's boyfriend works in a quirky t - shirt shop there. it's called 'david and goliath'. i'm still trying to understand how a shirt with pretty much juvenile sketch drawings of girls throwing rocks at boys can cost the earth. apparently, paul mccartney recently paid a fortune for his “boys are stupid” painting from these guys.


i wanted to go to highgate cemetery to see the final resting place of karl marx. judging from the depth of crow's feet ostensibly appearing around tgf's eyes, i changed my mind. though i explained to her that it's not a place solely for dead communists. a few other artists and poets are buried there.


i went to the the tate modern. walking down from london bridge to the museum was quite plaeasant when i went last summer. not this day though. very cold and windy. but i suppose it's worth braving the nasty weather to see a van gogh and wonder what was on his mind when he painted those swirling lovely yellow skies. i'm pretty sure he was quite sad - like most artists are.


"oh, i hate art."


  1. i only hate abstract art, good to know there is someone to phone or alert his blog in case i find myself lost in london.


  2. sure bry. just gimme a shout case you don't know your way out of the underground. lol!