monday february 11th
british and ready
the journey into london is always so beautiful. you skim by huge fields dotted with swaying oaks, and then race alongside terraced houses built in the victorian era with toy-sized washing-lines and dark brickwork drizzled with graffiti. and you're sitting on a train with the sunday observor on your lap and early morning winter sunshine on your face.
and i was tired that morning. finding out will had won pop idol the night before had made us all giddy beyong belief. as will is a friend of my flatmates, we have been voting for him for the whole ten weeks. he makes me feel funny when he sings. so when ant and dec said he'd won, bo did we cheer, then headed down to the pub to celebrate. the deabte as to who should have won is still going on as we speak.
and for some reason, on the train the next morning, i found myself thinking about how much i do like living in this country. and how although i want to travel right round the world at least three times, i'm always gonna be british, no matter what i do. and that morning, that thought was ok with me.
i began making a little list in my head on why i felt pretty good being british...
because i like marmite sandwiches
because the country is very small, so moods and crazes can sweep the place with alarming speed
because of how the british always invent new music styles
because of the way girls treat each other with a certain degree of respect
because of the white cliffs of dover
because i like fish and chips
and it was really weird to be thinking nice stuff about my country, because i usually don't. i guess that me and my country are stuck with each other, no matter what.
i think there is good in every country, i don't know. i can't explain this weird 'living here is actually pretty cool' feeling either, can't shake it.
and so we headed to the tate modern, which has the most incredible views of london no matter which window you look through. as we made our way to the gallery, a man looked at us through a little pretzel. the warhol exhibition was pretty cool, and seeing as i'm not really into his art all that much, i was glad i went. i just couldn't believe they had a video of warhol interviewing john waters and divine, and no-one was even looking at it. i stood transfixed, explaining to mum that divine was just about the coolest movie star of all time.
sometimes i think the ideas presented by andy warhol are obvious and saturated into the celebrity-fuelled times. then we bot decided that as part of generation x, i must have grown up being fully aware of the cynisism of advertising and i was just thinking, generation what? cept the book by douglas coupland is so good. i want to write like him.
andy warhol was bold with colours and made his stars into icons, his favourite objects into stars. he replicated the mona lisa into four mini-monas and sloshed oily black paint all over the top of them.
afterwards we talked and ate celery soup and stilton bread and talked and i thought, yeah, i like hanging out with my mum. i don't usually see her all that often. and after that we looked through piles and piles of second hand books which were at a stall just by the houses of parliment.
and last night i talked with my boy for hours and i am always floored bout how we can be so close, like the 3499 miles aren't even there. i cannot wait to see him again.
*plus*
i am so excited that people like my zines. i have had 'do americas dreaming #4' on my to-do list since december. i have decided to take time out this weekend, and really work on it. i want to get it donw and copied soon, so i can begin to trade!
suds at