Thursday, July 05, 2007
Intense, Jochs
Managed a weekend back in beautiful Copenhagen. When the rain fell so heavily, it reminded me of one late August day, cycling on the way to uni, when Stampy and I became drenched by 'fat rain'This time, Jochen, Bev, Dave and I opted for the safety of the bookshop caf'è
Change
Someone forgot to tell the Global Warming Phenomonen about the existence of an insular, backwater town called London. One month into summer and I consider wearing an extra jacket to work. I can't be bothered to by an umbrella, but if I did, I wouldn't get so wet.
"London" has reached a new phase for me, and Anth as well. Pickles, unable to win a game of Briscola teamed with cousin Anth against Mike and I, has packed his bags and headed south. Mike, too, has said farewell, and while two new friends begin their new adventure, I catch the bus to work.
Had the weather brightened, so too should have faces. Instead, expressions are etched with contemplation of the vicissitudes of life. The collective masses that throng the streets seem to be thinking: "I must get through this crowd; I really hate the rain; shit, I'm late for work".
And then a new thing happened. London is under threat again, a symbol of capitalist greed, a target to be brought to its knees. The Reuters news tape runs hot on our screens. A green Mercedes, amateur explosives, Picadilly circus. Another, Park Lane. A third is suspected in Fleet St, where my office is. This turns out to be a false alarm.
The mood of London sits somewhat on a knife-edge. In fact, the attack was unsuccessful, and failed to hit home. The knife-edge is the next attack. But what kinds of attacks are these, which the media hungrily dubs as al-Qaeda? In my view, the only link these attempts have to the hardcore is inspiration. It shows what can become of a disillusioned lot. The war on terror must take a radical idealogical shift itself - it must become a war on deprivation, starvation, degradation and all those things that can convince someone that there must be something better. Only from the ground up is the solution built.
Not all of London's problems are international. Gang warfare is increasing in frequency and savageness. London's youths make the Nørrebro små gangsters look like three year olds. We've had enough of watching fights, drug busts and shady dealings from our lovely top storey window, and have made an offer for a place in Angel. If all goes well, we'll even have an enclosed terrace which could require an extra beer-fridge, and my room will be the size of our current living area and kitchen. I want to enjoy the vibrant Upper St and get involved in London life - the good side.
As I said, this is a new phase for me (and Anth). We'll miss our housemates Pickles and Mike, but we'll welcome Claire and Laff with open arms, a beer and a stroll in the Upper St sun (A bit like when you keep putting money on red, and it keeps coming up black, you're convinced the luck will turn your way soon. The London sun is the proverbial red.)
"London" has reached a new phase for me, and Anth as well. Pickles, unable to win a game of Briscola teamed with cousin Anth against Mike and I, has packed his bags and headed south. Mike, too, has said farewell, and while two new friends begin their new adventure, I catch the bus to work.
Had the weather brightened, so too should have faces. Instead, expressions are etched with contemplation of the vicissitudes of life. The collective masses that throng the streets seem to be thinking: "I must get through this crowd; I really hate the rain; shit, I'm late for work".
And then a new thing happened. London is under threat again, a symbol of capitalist greed, a target to be brought to its knees. The Reuters news tape runs hot on our screens. A green Mercedes, amateur explosives, Picadilly circus. Another, Park Lane. A third is suspected in Fleet St, where my office is. This turns out to be a false alarm.
The mood of London sits somewhat on a knife-edge. In fact, the attack was unsuccessful, and failed to hit home. The knife-edge is the next attack. But what kinds of attacks are these, which the media hungrily dubs as al-Qaeda? In my view, the only link these attempts have to the hardcore is inspiration. It shows what can become of a disillusioned lot. The war on terror must take a radical idealogical shift itself - it must become a war on deprivation, starvation, degradation and all those things that can convince someone that there must be something better. Only from the ground up is the solution built.
Not all of London's problems are international. Gang warfare is increasing in frequency and savageness. London's youths make the Nørrebro små gangsters look like three year olds. We've had enough of watching fights, drug busts and shady dealings from our lovely top storey window, and have made an offer for a place in Angel. If all goes well, we'll even have an enclosed terrace which could require an extra beer-fridge, and my room will be the size of our current living area and kitchen. I want to enjoy the vibrant Upper St and get involved in London life - the good side.
As I said, this is a new phase for me (and Anth). We'll miss our housemates Pickles and Mike, but we'll welcome Claire and Laff with open arms, a beer and a stroll in the Upper St sun (A bit like when you keep putting money on red, and it keeps coming up black, you're convinced the luck will turn your way soon. The London sun is the proverbial red.)
Monday, July 02, 2007
Detailed in Stone
Oh Florence! Great structure of stone
You welcome us back
We feel at home in your streets,
In your bars and cafés
Oh Florence! With your heart of gold
We arrive in the night
But boldy stride to places familiar:
the Arno, the Duomo, Ponte Vecchio
We remember every detail
Crafted in stone
Sunday, July 01, 2007
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