So, I stopped on the end of lane…in the little corner of zebra
Pink, purple cheesy in the early dark sky
Moon was there with pearl-white
I was there with autumnal bittersweet…
Memories
And
I was there with fresh elastic private motion capsule
Confusion…or expectation…
In and out…I was there
Time… moment…
Passing me by
And I was there for a little moment to entertain a motion
I am with my black leather jacket
Temperature is just comfortable
Autumn…
I like that she said that word
And I can remember only this word that she said
And I don’t remember much more what she said
Because I stopped walking…
So I am travelling in different time scale
And
Keep walking and walk
And stop again
See the difference or not
Maybe one day…
Earth will be up turn in front of me
Showing posts with label Walk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Walk. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
My Walk in Hampstead Heath to Kenwood House 06/10/07
I began my walk entering the Heath by the entrance at the bottom of South Hill Park it was two o’ clock in the afternoon.
My idea was to concentrate on my audio-visual senses first, but there were too many things to hear and to see that it was making the whole thing rather impossible. There were dogs and owners, parents with children, elderly and frail people with their friends, lovers in love and so on. I felt bothered by all these people and wished it wasn’t Saturday. Nevertheless I arrived at the first pond and found two mothers, one sitting on the bench feeding a baby and the other feeding the ducks with the help of a three year old girl.
I reflected on myself and felt nostalgic as memories of my own children came back. It seemed like yesterday but indeed time has somehow flown almost unnoticed.
I accelerated my steps in the hope to escape deeper into the woods, The roars of the cars on my left sounded as though they were coming through loudspeakers purposely to hurt my ears.
I felt desperately in need of quietness and decided to walk away from the visible paths. I went under the trees walking gently so as not to step on plants. My mind was calm and soothed until a loud voice not far from where I was began to speak on a mobile phone.
How inconsiderate I kept thinking and felt irritated, the conversation was now enhanced by a manic laughter. Once again I had to divert myself from my path, I reflected on the feeling… The feeling of invasion was intensified by a strong longing to hear the singing of the birds and sound of the woods.
At last there were no voices and I continued in the quest with heightened senses. There was a smell of wet wood, I stood for a while filling my lungs with the lovely fresh air, a childhood memory came. It was the visits to my godmother’s house through the shortcut by the brook and under the dripping trees. I then began to visualise the monsters I use to imagined coming out from under the cave wearing heavy coats of dark green moss. Or the phantom branches with arachnid fingers that would seize me up into the hollow tree and would keep me there, waiting for amoreme.
Suddenly a black crow landed heavily about two metres from where I was standing and begun to peck on the floor, as it lifted its beak up I realised it was eating a worm. How horrid I thought, and then I heard my mother’s warning,” do not fall asleep in the woods, crows belong to the devil.” I stayed with that thought for a moment feeling silly and uneasy. I’m NOT superstitious I thought, but nevertheless I walked away from the crow feeling eerie.
I arrived at a clearing and stood listening and observing. On the tree behind me I could hear crackling noises, looking up I counted five squirrels hanging upside down eating the sycamore seeds. I watched their agility with fascination, slowly I became aware of the tweeting of the birds, the croak of the frogs, zzzchzz of the crickets and the loud sqwaaack if the crows, I was safe!
Back into the woods again I could see many shapes and silhouettes, some of animals others of phoney people. I found a tree with a thick branch hanging very low and my instinct was to sit on it. It felt comfortable and looking around I saw a slope with brown grass on the top resembling the shape of a lazy lion with sad face. I thought about my reasons for finding the lion sad. Close to it was a fallen tree and had some branches chopped off, the remaining trunk resembled a large woman carrying a sack of potatoes.
At last I arrived at the green grass of Kenwood House and I went to find a Henry Moore sculpture that I had seen before, to my surprise it wasn’t there, I felt disappointed, at least there was a Barbara Hepworth, Good but not the same!
On my way back I just walked fast but wherever I looked I could see all sorts of figures and patterns.
By this time, the pond was less crowded and I sat down to look at how the weak afternoon sun was hitting the magnificent yellow, green and brown trees at the other side of the pond. The shade rested on the water transforming the colours into a yellow and aquamarine fashion cavalcade. Emerging through the middle came marching in a couple of black ducks with bright white beaks resembling two men wearing tuxedoes.
On my side of the pond I watched without blinking the ripples and waves of the water, slowly they became large translucent space crafts with me inside cruising the galaxies. Somewhere in outer space my stomach rumbled, I realised I hadn’t eaten, I landed my craft and went home
My idea was to concentrate on my audio-visual senses first, but there were too many things to hear and to see that it was making the whole thing rather impossible. There were dogs and owners, parents with children, elderly and frail people with their friends, lovers in love and so on. I felt bothered by all these people and wished it wasn’t Saturday. Nevertheless I arrived at the first pond and found two mothers, one sitting on the bench feeding a baby and the other feeding the ducks with the help of a three year old girl.
I reflected on myself and felt nostalgic as memories of my own children came back. It seemed like yesterday but indeed time has somehow flown almost unnoticed.
I accelerated my steps in the hope to escape deeper into the woods, The roars of the cars on my left sounded as though they were coming through loudspeakers purposely to hurt my ears.
I felt desperately in need of quietness and decided to walk away from the visible paths. I went under the trees walking gently so as not to step on plants. My mind was calm and soothed until a loud voice not far from where I was began to speak on a mobile phone.
How inconsiderate I kept thinking and felt irritated, the conversation was now enhanced by a manic laughter. Once again I had to divert myself from my path, I reflected on the feeling… The feeling of invasion was intensified by a strong longing to hear the singing of the birds and sound of the woods.
At last there were no voices and I continued in the quest with heightened senses. There was a smell of wet wood, I stood for a while filling my lungs with the lovely fresh air, a childhood memory came. It was the visits to my godmother’s house through the shortcut by the brook and under the dripping trees. I then began to visualise the monsters I use to imagined coming out from under the cave wearing heavy coats of dark green moss. Or the phantom branches with arachnid fingers that would seize me up into the hollow tree and would keep me there, waiting for amoreme.
Suddenly a black crow landed heavily about two metres from where I was standing and begun to peck on the floor, as it lifted its beak up I realised it was eating a worm. How horrid I thought, and then I heard my mother’s warning,” do not fall asleep in the woods, crows belong to the devil.” I stayed with that thought for a moment feeling silly and uneasy. I’m NOT superstitious I thought, but nevertheless I walked away from the crow feeling eerie.
I arrived at a clearing and stood listening and observing. On the tree behind me I could hear crackling noises, looking up I counted five squirrels hanging upside down eating the sycamore seeds. I watched their agility with fascination, slowly I became aware of the tweeting of the birds, the croak of the frogs, zzzchzz of the crickets and the loud sqwaaack if the crows, I was safe!
Back into the woods again I could see many shapes and silhouettes, some of animals others of phoney people. I found a tree with a thick branch hanging very low and my instinct was to sit on it. It felt comfortable and looking around I saw a slope with brown grass on the top resembling the shape of a lazy lion with sad face. I thought about my reasons for finding the lion sad. Close to it was a fallen tree and had some branches chopped off, the remaining trunk resembled a large woman carrying a sack of potatoes.
At last I arrived at the green grass of Kenwood House and I went to find a Henry Moore sculpture that I had seen before, to my surprise it wasn’t there, I felt disappointed, at least there was a Barbara Hepworth, Good but not the same!
On my way back I just walked fast but wherever I looked I could see all sorts of figures and patterns.
By this time, the pond was less crowded and I sat down to look at how the weak afternoon sun was hitting the magnificent yellow, green and brown trees at the other side of the pond. The shade rested on the water transforming the colours into a yellow and aquamarine fashion cavalcade. Emerging through the middle came marching in a couple of black ducks with bright white beaks resembling two men wearing tuxedoes.
On my side of the pond I watched without blinking the ripples and waves of the water, slowly they became large translucent space crafts with me inside cruising the galaxies. Somewhere in outer space my stomach rumbled, I realised I hadn’t eaten, I landed my craft and went home
Monday, October 29, 2007
WALK IN A GARDEN
I turned the handle to the garden doors, and I pulled them open.
Crisp air hit my face, fresh breeze messed up my hair and it stick to my lipgloss.
I took deep breaths and I stepped out in to the garden.
Most of it was in the shade, but a small part was splashed with the yellow autumn sun.
I quickly moved towards that lovely, sunny corner.
I felt the warm sun on my cheeks and neck, which was nice.
The ground was wet after the morning rain and it had that earthy, heavy smell...
BREAD
MILK
OLIVE OIL
KOSTKA OXO
BROKULY
TOILET PAPER
WASHING-UP LIQUID
ZIEMNIAKI
....I think that's it.
I started to walk slowly around the garden, the sun was gone.
I felt goosebumps on my arms.
The noise from the street was coming to me more clearly from this part of the garden.
Almost forgot about that...
THREE PEPPERS (must be red)
TWO CAN TOMATOES
SOUR CREAM (duzy)
CHILIES
...that's for my soup recipe, it is going to be yummy.
I heard the "pianoman" playing, I thought it was time to go to the shop, to do my groceries.
I turned the handle to the garden doors, and I locked them.
Crisp air hit my face, fresh breeze messed up my hair and it stick to my lipgloss.
I took deep breaths and I stepped out in to the garden.
Most of it was in the shade, but a small part was splashed with the yellow autumn sun.
I quickly moved towards that lovely, sunny corner.
I felt the warm sun on my cheeks and neck, which was nice.
The ground was wet after the morning rain and it had that earthy, heavy smell...
BREAD
MILK
OLIVE OIL
KOSTKA OXO
BROKULY
TOILET PAPER
WASHING-UP LIQUID
ZIEMNIAKI
....I think that's it.
I started to walk slowly around the garden, the sun was gone.
I felt goosebumps on my arms.
The noise from the street was coming to me more clearly from this part of the garden.
Almost forgot about that...
THREE PEPPERS (must be red)
TWO CAN TOMATOES
SOUR CREAM (duzy)
CHILIES
...that's for my soup recipe, it is going to be yummy.
I heard the "pianoman" playing, I thought it was time to go to the shop, to do my groceries.
I turned the handle to the garden doors, and I locked them.
My walk in Hampstead Heath to Kenwood House
My walk in Hampstead
Heath to Kenwood House
Saturday 6th of October 2007
I began my walk entering the Heath by the entrance at the bottom of South Hill Park it was two o’ clock in the afternoon.
My idea was to concentrate on my audio-visual senses first, but there were too many things to hear and to see that it was making the whole thing rather impossible. There were dogs and owners, parents with children, elderly and frail people with their friends, lovers in love and so on. I felt bothered by all these people and wished it wasn’t Saturday. Nevertheless I arrived at the first pond and found two mothers, one sitting on the bench feeding a baby and the other feeding the ducks with the help of a three year old girl.
I reflected on myself and felt nostalgic as memories of my own children came back. It seemed like yesterday but indeed time has somehow flown almost unnoticed.
I accelerated my steps in the hope to escape deeper into the woods, The roars of the cars on my left sounded as though they were coming through loudspeakers purposely to hurt my ears.
I felt desperately in need of quietness and decided to walk away from the visible paths. I went under the trees walking gently so as not to step on plants. My mind was calm and soothed until a loud voice not far from where I was began to speak on a mobile phone.
How inconsiderate I kept thinking and felt irritated, the conversation was now enhanced by a manic laughter. Once again I had to divert myself from my path, I reflected on the feeling… The feeling of invasion was intensified by a strong longing to hear the singing of the birds and sound of the woods.
At last there were no voices and I continued in the quest with heightened senses. There was a smell of wet wood, I stood for a while filling my lungs with the lovely fresh air, a childhood memory came. It was the visits to my godmother’s house through the shortcut by the brook and under the dripping trees. I then began to visualise the monsters I use to imagined coming out from under the cave wearing heavy coats of dark green moss. Or the phantom branches with arachnid fingers that would seize me up into the hollow tree and would keep me there, waiting for amoreme.
Suddenly a black crow landed heavily about two metres from where I was standing and begun to peck on the floor, as it lifted its beak up I realised it was eating a worm. How horrid I thought, and then I heard my mother’s warning,” do not fall asleep in the woods, crows belong to the devil.” I stayed with that thought for a moment feeling silly and uneasy. I’m NOT superstitious I thought, but nevertheless I walked away from the crow feeling eerie.
I arrived at a clearing and stood listening and observing. On the tree behind me I could hear crackling noises, looking up I counted five squirrels hanging upside down eating the sycamore seeds. I watched their agility with fascination, slowly I became aware of the tweeting of the birds, the croak of the frogs, zzzchzz of the crickets and the loud sqwaaack if the crows, I was safe!
Back into the woods again I could see many shapes and silhouettes, some of animals others of phoney people. I found a tree with a thick branch hanging very low and my instinct was to sit on it. It felt comfortable and looking around I saw a slope with brown grass on the top resembling the shape of a lazy lion with sad face. I thought about my reasons for finding the lion sad. Close to it was a fallen tree and had some branches chopped off, the remaining trunk resembled a large woman carrying a sack of potatoes.
At last I arrived at the green grass of Kenwood House and I went to find a Henry Moore sculpture that I had seen before, to my surprise it wasn’t there, I felt disappointed, at least there was a Barbara Hepworth, Good but not the same!
On my way back I just walked fast but wherever I looked I could see all sorts of figures and patterns.
By this time, the pond was less crowded and I sat down to look at how the weak afternoon sun was hitting the magnificent yellow, green and brown trees at the other side of the pond. The shade rested on the water transforming the colours into a yellow and aquamarine fashion cavalcade. Emerging through the middle came marching in a couple of black ducks with bright white beaks resembling two men wearing tuxedoes.
On my side of the pond I watched without blinking the ripples and waves of the water, slowly they became large translucent space crafts with me inside cruising the galaxies. Somewhere in outer space my stomach rumbled, I realised I hadn’t eaten, I landed my craft and went home.
Heath to Kenwood House
Saturday 6th of October 2007
I began my walk entering the Heath by the entrance at the bottom of South Hill Park it was two o’ clock in the afternoon.
My idea was to concentrate on my audio-visual senses first, but there were too many things to hear and to see that it was making the whole thing rather impossible. There were dogs and owners, parents with children, elderly and frail people with their friends, lovers in love and so on. I felt bothered by all these people and wished it wasn’t Saturday. Nevertheless I arrived at the first pond and found two mothers, one sitting on the bench feeding a baby and the other feeding the ducks with the help of a three year old girl.
I reflected on myself and felt nostalgic as memories of my own children came back. It seemed like yesterday but indeed time has somehow flown almost unnoticed.
I accelerated my steps in the hope to escape deeper into the woods, The roars of the cars on my left sounded as though they were coming through loudspeakers purposely to hurt my ears.
I felt desperately in need of quietness and decided to walk away from the visible paths. I went under the trees walking gently so as not to step on plants. My mind was calm and soothed until a loud voice not far from where I was began to speak on a mobile phone.
How inconsiderate I kept thinking and felt irritated, the conversation was now enhanced by a manic laughter. Once again I had to divert myself from my path, I reflected on the feeling… The feeling of invasion was intensified by a strong longing to hear the singing of the birds and sound of the woods.
At last there were no voices and I continued in the quest with heightened senses. There was a smell of wet wood, I stood for a while filling my lungs with the lovely fresh air, a childhood memory came. It was the visits to my godmother’s house through the shortcut by the brook and under the dripping trees. I then began to visualise the monsters I use to imagined coming out from under the cave wearing heavy coats of dark green moss. Or the phantom branches with arachnid fingers that would seize me up into the hollow tree and would keep me there, waiting for amoreme.
Suddenly a black crow landed heavily about two metres from where I was standing and begun to peck on the floor, as it lifted its beak up I realised it was eating a worm. How horrid I thought, and then I heard my mother’s warning,” do not fall asleep in the woods, crows belong to the devil.” I stayed with that thought for a moment feeling silly and uneasy. I’m NOT superstitious I thought, but nevertheless I walked away from the crow feeling eerie.
I arrived at a clearing and stood listening and observing. On the tree behind me I could hear crackling noises, looking up I counted five squirrels hanging upside down eating the sycamore seeds. I watched their agility with fascination, slowly I became aware of the tweeting of the birds, the croak of the frogs, zzzchzz of the crickets and the loud sqwaaack if the crows, I was safe!
Back into the woods again I could see many shapes and silhouettes, some of animals others of phoney people. I found a tree with a thick branch hanging very low and my instinct was to sit on it. It felt comfortable and looking around I saw a slope with brown grass on the top resembling the shape of a lazy lion with sad face. I thought about my reasons for finding the lion sad. Close to it was a fallen tree and had some branches chopped off, the remaining trunk resembled a large woman carrying a sack of potatoes.
At last I arrived at the green grass of Kenwood House and I went to find a Henry Moore sculpture that I had seen before, to my surprise it wasn’t there, I felt disappointed, at least there was a Barbara Hepworth, Good but not the same!
On my way back I just walked fast but wherever I looked I could see all sorts of figures and patterns.
By this time, the pond was less crowded and I sat down to look at how the weak afternoon sun was hitting the magnificent yellow, green and brown trees at the other side of the pond. The shade rested on the water transforming the colours into a yellow and aquamarine fashion cavalcade. Emerging through the middle came marching in a couple of black ducks with bright white beaks resembling two men wearing tuxedoes.
On my side of the pond I watched without blinking the ripples and waves of the water, slowly they became large translucent space crafts with me inside cruising the galaxies. Somewhere in outer space my stomach rumbled, I realised I hadn’t eaten, I landed my craft and went home.
NO UNAUTHORISED ACCESS BICYCLES CHAINED TO THESE RAILINGS WILL BE REMOVED SLOW Resident permit holders only Mon – Sat 8.30 pm – 10.00 pm KEEP DOGS ON LEAD Please help keep the gardens clean and attractive by observing the following NO PIGEON FEEDING DOGS ON A LEAD ONLY NO CYCLING Public Open Spaces byelaws DO NOT FEED THE PIGEONS Pay and Display 4 hours maximum Return prohibited within 1 hour PAY HERE No change given GIVE WAY LOOK LEFT PLEASE NOTE: This is a standing area ONLY Thank you for your cooperation Please help us show respect for our neighbours by leaving QUIETLY Thank you NO SMOKING STOP Keep clear Exit from emergency escape route TO ALL DRIVERS PLEASE SWITCH OFF ALL MOTORS ON ARRIVAL TO KEEP NOISE DISTURBANCE TO A MINIMUM
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Walking in the Rain
The trouble with glasses is they are so bad in the rain.
Tonight’s rain was that fine rain that speckles and spritzes against your face. Fine - so it’s a form of moisturiser for the skin except moisturiser is better.
Here’s the problem though - you may need specs to see - but in the rain they cloud over and (far from helping) they dim your vision.
I’m a fundraiser for Amnesty and that means I’m a streetwalker – not a hooker you understand - but I still walk the streets. I knock on doors and raise funds.
So I set out tonight knowing I’d get wet. It rains - you get wet.
It helps to do my job with a light heart and a smile on my face. I’m friendly – but when it rains like this, supporters don’t want to come to the door. I guess they don’t want to get wet either.
Tonight the streets and the pavements had that sheen – they were slick with moisture.
The night had gathered early and spread a cloak of darkness before its proper time. A gloomy Hitchcock film noir kind of darkness.
There’s rain and then there’s rain. As I grew up I was told that the Eskimos, now called the Inuit, have a zillion words for snow but we just call rain “rain.” Actually we also call rain by storm and drizzle and mist and showers. But I don’t have the language to describe this fine misty drizzle that permeates and wets everything. A constant, unremitting sadness that falls softly from the sky and makes London such a dark and shiny place.
This rain isn’t isolated or local or patchy or scattered or sporadic. It isn’t a shower (anyway what is a shower – when it rains it rains. If you are in a shower it’s raining.) No this is consistent.
As I walked I could feel and smell the rain and see the haloes of light around the streetlights. A fizzing of the light around the bulbs – some yellow some white. I could also hear the difference the rain made deadening the traffic noises like a blanket of calm.
The rain has its own beauty but unsurprisingly tonight’s walk and tonight’s fundraising were not a great success.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Cold boot and off
Type…
Password, enter
Type…
Bookmark, google, enter
Type…
Tate Britain and modern
Type…
A step past Duchamp and three points of Moore
Type…
And I saluted Breton at 6 paces Lefebvre des noettes
And on to three dancers
Type…
E la Quattro stagioni di Twombly
Type…
Up to the number fourteen
Type, type, type…
And ultimately on to the three judges.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Grrrrrrr
Grrrrrrr
Pounding the pavement
To lighten the mood.
Five hours of frustration
Last night on the phone.
Broadband was promised,
All singing, all dancing
New Mac in place,
Hopes riding high.
Old cables untangled,
New connections connected,
Plugs in right sockets,
All gleaming and new.
Excitement is rising,
Geek Squad consulted,
Passwods and settings,
All systems on GO!
The router is faulty,
Connection has failed,
Replacement equipment,
In two weeks time.
Attempting a bypass.
Thow energy at it,
Off to phone warehouse,
To find a real person
Can't put me on 'hold'......
Pounding the pavement,
To lighten the mood.
gRRRRRRR
Pounding the pavement
To lighten the mood.
Five hours of frustration
Last night on the phone.
Broadband was promised,
All singing, all dancing
New Mac in place,
Hopes riding high.
Old cables untangled,
New connections connected,
Plugs in right sockets,
All gleaming and new.
Excitement is rising,
Geek Squad consulted,
Passwods and settings,
All systems on GO!
The router is faulty,
Connection has failed,
Replacement equipment,
In two weeks time.
Attempting a bypass.
Thow energy at it,
Off to phone warehouse,
To find a real person
Can't put me on 'hold'......
Pounding the pavement,
To lighten the mood.
gRRRRRRR
Friday, October 19, 2007
dead man walking
being the worst poet in the world My inspiration came from the ramblings of Bob Dylan and Jean Paul Sartre.
And I quote from the book of Nausea page 31, here he sees a women walking down the street late at night from his flat window and realises he can foresee the future, as he predicts her movements.
" I see the future. It is there, poised over the street, hardly more dim than the present. What advantage will accrue from this realisation?" he goes on to say " I don’t know where I am anymore; do I see her motions, or do I foresee them? This is time, time laid bare, coming slowly into existence, keeping us waiting."
Dead man walking
The sleep that stays in your eyes
The welcome mat which you says goodbye
The wind in your face
While listening to black lace
Keeping up the pace
The rules are made to be broken
But not when its so ken
I need to go straight.
Carpet right
Then eight till late
They say that two wrongs don’t make a right…
But three lefts do….
So I put that to the test its true
The bus stop queue
God I need the loo
I eat to much tiefoo
And always forget to chew.
24/7 booze
A women with big,
boots just round the corner
The red man, a goof and a toff
I do up my Mac for the section attack
The green man beeps a fact
God she has a nice,
racks of fruit and stacks of loot.
You snooze you loose.
I'm still full of booze and in bed
Without the women with the nice,
chest of draws i put on my smalls.
the ones with superman calls.
And I quote from the book of Nausea page 31, here he sees a women walking down the street late at night from his flat window and realises he can foresee the future, as he predicts her movements.
" I see the future. It is there, poised over the street, hardly more dim than the present. What advantage will accrue from this realisation?" he goes on to say " I don’t know where I am anymore; do I see her motions, or do I foresee them? This is time, time laid bare, coming slowly into existence, keeping us waiting."
Dead man walking
The sleep that stays in your eyes
The welcome mat which you says goodbye
The wind in your face
While listening to black lace
Keeping up the pace
The rules are made to be broken
But not when its so ken
I need to go straight.
Carpet right
Then eight till late
They say that two wrongs don’t make a right…
But three lefts do….
So I put that to the test its true
The bus stop queue
God I need the loo
I eat to much tiefoo
And always forget to chew.
24/7 booze
A women with big,
boots just round the corner
The red man, a goof and a toff
I do up my Mac for the section attack
The green man beeps a fact
God she has a nice,
racks of fruit and stacks of loot.
You snooze you loose.
I'm still full of booze and in bed
Without the women with the nice,
chest of draws i put on my smalls.
the ones with superman calls.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
The Walk
We descend onto the path.. a GIVE WAY sign painted in huge white letters on the ground.. the cyclists career past and don’t look much like giving way – or is that directed at us?
Under the bridge.. a bricked-up doorway covered in graffiti, well... tags. Then we see into a window.. is it a gallery? There’s some sort of sculpture... a quick bunk up and I peer into what looks like someone’s bedroom – one of those run-down but probably hugely expensive warehouse flats...shabby, studenty and probably damp. Opposite are the really expensive new developments – ‘islington canalside apartments’ ....
Autumn leaves floating on the smelly, dirty, toxic water – you wouldn’t wanna fall in!
Banksy-esque art work on the rusty bridge.
Stop start stop start snap snap
A bin for dog shit – seems like people round here have actually used it – oh no there was that stuff we just managed to avoid earlier on...
A lost cat poster – “much loved, wearing a gold collar” and a photocopied picture but no description...
The canal boats – some odd-shaped ones I’ve never seen before.. wouldn’t fancy living on one though.. too narrow and damp (again).
A lone fisherman with a can of Holsten...
SLOW.. in big white letters on the ground... as the cyclists whizz past and we have to be careful we don’t fall in.. or trip up on one of those things you moor the boats to – what are they called anyway?
The canal reflected in a frosted window.. snap snap..
More graffiti.. and now the really posh houses whose gardens back onto the canal path. Incongruous hedges, gates and papyrus grasses – bet they have a few break-ins....
A ‘multi-grain’ hula hoops packet lying amongst the red autumn leaves..
The top of a bus just visible on the bridge..
Stop start stop start snap snap snap...
Kids playing in a council estate..
A street lamp reflected in the water..
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12(!) empty cans of Special Brew behind the bench underneath a huge brightly coloured piece of graffiti proclaiming – “HOPE”...
3 coots or are they moorhens diving in the water... a wagtail on a rooftop and 2 geese flying overhead....
A lost scrap of paper on the ground
“London Paddington 10 something
Newport Gwent 12.31
Hereford 13.54”
And finally up to the noisy road again to catch our bus home....
From my kitchen to my bedroom
Red: Nooo! you are wrong; I told you I would have painted that wall red and also orange. At the end of the day it gives to the room a strange mood, that’s true… well with some beer and a couple of friends it could be a nice pub. It is perhaps the colour of passion and, actually, it fits very well with the furniture and the curtain isn’t it.
That pendant, that pendant made of a panettone box it’s been a good idea, and even more good is the red bulb I put inside of it. The red light is coming out of the stars I carved in to the cardboard making the entrance a kind of a whorehouse entrance.
Green: They love it, I swear, they probably thing to be in a kind of an indoor garden, that’s why they don’t go out really often. This two lazy cats love to make their nails on it and they loooose hundreds of hairs that after I have to clean up.
Marta hate it, she always says – Let’s change that bug collector! Well, we can not do it we don’t have enough money, and to be honest it remain when I was child… At home we had the same carpet.
Red: I can’t sit there any more, it has become their bed…
Grey: He left the house, and I don’t even know where he is now. He was such a good guy, he probably left that helmet here as a kind of present but I can’t use it, my bicycle got stolen and I’m not going to buy another.
Black: I promise, tomorrow I am going to buy a basket and I will fit all of them in to it.
Blu: AGAIN… HE DID IT AGAIN… HOW MANY TIMES I TELL HIM NOT TO LEAVE HIS SLIPPERS HERE…
Yellow: Those eyes over the door window always make me scared. What do you want now? You want to come in don’t you… lazy hairball.
Blu: That tin is always full of nuts, how is that possible?
Squirrels are happy but I can’t feed the entire animal I have in my garden. I have never spent a pound for those nuts… I have to ask Marta about those nuts…
Pink: I always had some doubt about it. Well, it is just a phone but that colour… I never thought to have a phone like that even because when someone calls a big red heart on top of it starts to flash... What a horrible think!
Green: They look really horrible, are they dieing? How is that possible?
Well probably six month or more without a drop of water is a long time even for a cactus…
Cream: I hate that wall colour, even the cats hate it, and they make their nails in that corner and they scratch all the paper. I am sure, the landlord is going to tell me off for that, I didn’t do it, I have to do something, I will think about that tomorrow.
Brown, white, yellow, blue, red: I haven’t any other place to leave it… well a bin could be a right pace, but I can’t do it… that guitar is anyway a nice memory. Well the paint my friend Piero made on the top of it is horrible; I am not a hippie, I don’t want to be a hippie, let’s put it in the cupboard.
Black, green, white, blue, brown, yellow: Is getting bigger, that pile of boxes look like a kind of modern sculpture, a totem pole, I could make a nice piece out of that…
Good night Marta…
That pendant, that pendant made of a panettone box it’s been a good idea, and even more good is the red bulb I put inside of it. The red light is coming out of the stars I carved in to the cardboard making the entrance a kind of a whorehouse entrance.
Green: They love it, I swear, they probably thing to be in a kind of an indoor garden, that’s why they don’t go out really often. This two lazy cats love to make their nails on it and they loooose hundreds of hairs that after I have to clean up.
Marta hate it, she always says – Let’s change that bug collector! Well, we can not do it we don’t have enough money, and to be honest it remain when I was child… At home we had the same carpet.
Red: I can’t sit there any more, it has become their bed…
Grey: He left the house, and I don’t even know where he is now. He was such a good guy, he probably left that helmet here as a kind of present but I can’t use it, my bicycle got stolen and I’m not going to buy another.
Black: I promise, tomorrow I am going to buy a basket and I will fit all of them in to it.
Blu: AGAIN… HE DID IT AGAIN… HOW MANY TIMES I TELL HIM NOT TO LEAVE HIS SLIPPERS HERE…
Yellow: Those eyes over the door window always make me scared. What do you want now? You want to come in don’t you… lazy hairball.
Blu: That tin is always full of nuts, how is that possible?
Squirrels are happy but I can’t feed the entire animal I have in my garden. I have never spent a pound for those nuts… I have to ask Marta about those nuts…
Pink: I always had some doubt about it. Well, it is just a phone but that colour… I never thought to have a phone like that even because when someone calls a big red heart on top of it starts to flash... What a horrible think!
Green: They look really horrible, are they dieing? How is that possible?
Well probably six month or more without a drop of water is a long time even for a cactus…
Cream: I hate that wall colour, even the cats hate it, and they make their nails in that corner and they scratch all the paper. I am sure, the landlord is going to tell me off for that, I didn’t do it, I have to do something, I will think about that tomorrow.
Brown, white, yellow, blue, red: I haven’t any other place to leave it… well a bin could be a right pace, but I can’t do it… that guitar is anyway a nice memory. Well the paint my friend Piero made on the top of it is horrible; I am not a hippie, I don’t want to be a hippie, let’s put it in the cupboard.
Black, green, white, blue, brown, yellow: Is getting bigger, that pile of boxes look like a kind of modern sculpture, a totem pole, I could make a nice piece out of that…
Good night Marta…
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
IKEA
The entrance is marked with the self-same word – an instruction rather than a flourish of architectural persuasion. The full-length wall of windows shows an unhappy diagonal of two flights of escalators taking customers towards the heights of a corrugated ceiling and intertwined barricades of steel girders.
I do as I am told
and enter and join the flow upwards.
Blue and yellow signs are suspended from above:
NEW! DISPLAY. SHOP ONLINE. GOOD IDEA!
A celebratory mix of instruction and description
that already jars when read deliberately.
Grey pathways
trail through
laminate living rooms.
Price tags sway
as people brush by.
Arrows printed
on pathways
point pedestrians
around the store:
from this post
to the next to the next,
ad infinitum until end.
Vistas of suggested living arrangements make recommendations:
Divide our lives into manageable compartments.
Decorate our lives with polished pebbles and dyed dead twigs.
Have a lie in every Sunday with coffee and croissants in bed.
‘THESE PICTURES ARE ALL AVAILABLE DOWNSTAIRS.'
Bored customers simulate bored living as they pause to rest on the showroom furniture to discuss intimate details of their furnishing prerequisites. Their conversations are lost to the noise of tannoy instructions, screaming children, intermittent slapping and the slamming of laminate cupboards being tested for durability.
Directed
downstairs
the landscape
changes.
The floor a barren, cracked and scarred concrete, interspersed with wire cages filled with vast numbers of tea towels, bottle openers and ice cube trays.
The aisles between cargoes are strewn with abandoned trolleys. Their bare structures suggest a desertscape of carcasses stripped by vultures and bleached by glaring fluorescent lights.
I feel like a flaneur lost in a vast Kerouac landscape.
Gradually the warehouse opens up into a canyon view with towering piles of flat packs. Large signs announce SELF SERVE
and people help themselves to the cardboard building blocks.
Their faces looking like they never really comprehended
the promises made upstairs of civilized, happy and harmonious living. Ubiquitous grim determination perhaps suggests that they never really needed them.
As we queue
at the tills
a final insult.
SHOP ONLINE
signs that swing
above our heads
demonstrate
that at least
one person
working here
has managed
to retain their
sense of humour.
I do as I am told
and enter and join the flow upwards.
Blue and yellow signs are suspended from above:
NEW! DISPLAY. SHOP ONLINE. GOOD IDEA!
A celebratory mix of instruction and description
that already jars when read deliberately.
Grey pathways
trail through
laminate living rooms.
Price tags sway
as people brush by.
Arrows printed
on pathways
point pedestrians
around the store:
from this post
to the next to the next,
ad infinitum until end.
Vistas of suggested living arrangements make recommendations:
Divide our lives into manageable compartments.
Decorate our lives with polished pebbles and dyed dead twigs.
Have a lie in every Sunday with coffee and croissants in bed.
‘THESE PICTURES ARE ALL AVAILABLE DOWNSTAIRS.'
Bored customers simulate bored living as they pause to rest on the showroom furniture to discuss intimate details of their furnishing prerequisites. Their conversations are lost to the noise of tannoy instructions, screaming children, intermittent slapping and the slamming of laminate cupboards being tested for durability.
Directed
downstairs
the landscape
changes.
The floor a barren, cracked and scarred concrete, interspersed with wire cages filled with vast numbers of tea towels, bottle openers and ice cube trays.
The aisles between cargoes are strewn with abandoned trolleys. Their bare structures suggest a desertscape of carcasses stripped by vultures and bleached by glaring fluorescent lights.
I feel like a flaneur lost in a vast Kerouac landscape.
Gradually the warehouse opens up into a canyon view with towering piles of flat packs. Large signs announce SELF SERVE
and people help themselves to the cardboard building blocks.
Their faces looking like they never really comprehended
the promises made upstairs of civilized, happy and harmonious living. Ubiquitous grim determination perhaps suggests that they never really needed them.
As we queue
at the tills
a final insult.
SHOP ONLINE
signs that swing
above our heads
demonstrate
that at least
one person
working here
has managed
to retain their
sense of humour.
untitled
I leave the house
Eventually!
Destination unknown
Intentions unclear
I walk on
My feet carry me to a place of duration
I stand with the others
Awaiting commencement
My vessel arrives
I am contained for now
Regular images
Faces a bluurrrrr
My earphones are buzzing
It arrives at my stop
I don’t leave I continue
We all continue on
Where am I? Am I lost?
Continue my journey
My mind starts to pace
That council estate calls
I get off
With a frog in my heart
And fuel at my feet
Floating
The frog in my heart makes a pain in my head
Familiarity,
Security,
Regenerated habitats
Apparently!
Why go to work?
Not today I’m not due?!
Its something I know
Who I am
What I do
Walk into the office
The space is not filled
Faces on me way too much
I’m unsure
Can’t bare to leave
Wander round
Sit outside
As my cigarette burns
So do my eyes
On this sunny day
There is rain on my cheek
Ok I must leave
Such a random pursuit
Awaiting my arrival
She rings!
Where am I?
Wish I knew
My feet are aground
My head is aloft
Walking through delusion
Litter here
Passers by
My heart beats
as I die
Wait for my friend she’s a bus
And she bends
She comes but she leaves
Alone yet again
I hear in my head 76 takes u Angel
I take this and I go
Naively I search for the Angel
A friend
I sit and I wait till my journey reaches an end
Bank
Waterloo
No Angel for me!
I walk around
HAWARD
ONWARD
AWKWARD
TIRED
TICKET
CONTENT
DESENT
STAIRS
As I lower my view point
A piano doth play
Performance art
Is coming my way
I stand and observe
I leave none the less
BETTER
NOT CURED!!
Eventually!
Destination unknown
Intentions unclear
I walk on
My feet carry me to a place of duration
I stand with the others
Awaiting commencement
My vessel arrives
I am contained for now
Regular images
Faces a bluurrrrr
My earphones are buzzing
It arrives at my stop
I don’t leave I continue
We all continue on
Where am I? Am I lost?
Continue my journey
My mind starts to pace
That council estate calls
I get off
With a frog in my heart
And fuel at my feet
Floating
The frog in my heart makes a pain in my head
Familiarity,
Security,
Regenerated habitats
Apparently!
Why go to work?
Not today I’m not due?!
Its something I know
Who I am
What I do
Walk into the office
The space is not filled
Faces on me way too much
I’m unsure
Can’t bare to leave
Wander round
Sit outside
As my cigarette burns
So do my eyes
On this sunny day
There is rain on my cheek
Ok I must leave
Such a random pursuit
Awaiting my arrival
She rings!
Where am I?
Wish I knew
My feet are aground
My head is aloft
Walking through delusion
Litter here
Passers by
My heart beats
as I die
Wait for my friend she’s a bus
And she bends
She comes but she leaves
Alone yet again
I hear in my head 76 takes u Angel
I take this and I go
Naively I search for the Angel
A friend
I sit and I wait till my journey reaches an end
Bank
Waterloo
No Angel for me!
I walk around
HAWARD
ONWARD
AWKWARD
TIRED
TICKET
CONTENT
DESENT
STAIRS
As I lower my view point
A piano doth play
Performance art
Is coming my way
I stand and observe
I leave none the less
BETTER
NOT CURED!!
Sunday, October 14, 2007
walking text- interactions
Through the electric impulses, which were sent from one neuron to another, the body was forced to perform the movement. Through the friction of the foot and the surface and complicated yet unconscious ability to balance, the body selected the direction. Rhythmic bending of knees and a smooth movement of feet moved the body across the surface; rather forward than backward and to the sides. Hardly ever backward. Incomparable proportion.
A mixture of sound, movement and physical force along with distant, individual and completely alienated actions of the consciousness. The sound remains harmonious even though the intensity and timbre constantly change.
Khshhhh,
Khshhhh,
Khshhhh,
Khshhhh
Three hundred and twelve
The sound changes its timbre into a smoother form, almost impossible to hear.
Fifty seven
The surface is replaced for the second time and every single step mixes with this metallic echo, so inartificial. The amplitude grows.
Bam,
Bam,
Bam,
Bam
(with the short “a”)
Twenty four
There is another aspect. The actual process of walking with its relation to the surrounding and the experience which takes place only in that very moment. The only evidence of this interaction is the sound, which disappears as quickly as it comes into being.
agnieszka
A mixture of sound, movement and physical force along with distant, individual and completely alienated actions of the consciousness. The sound remains harmonious even though the intensity and timbre constantly change.
Khshhhh,
Khshhhh,
Khshhhh,
Khshhhh
Three hundred and twelve
The sound changes its timbre into a smoother form, almost impossible to hear.
Fifty seven
The surface is replaced for the second time and every single step mixes with this metallic echo, so inartificial. The amplitude grows.
Bam,
Bam,
Bam,
Bam
(with the short “a”)
Twenty four
There is another aspect. The actual process of walking with its relation to the surrounding and the experience which takes place only in that very moment. The only evidence of this interaction is the sound, which disappears as quickly as it comes into being.
agnieszka
The Walk
North Greenwich Tube, my walk hasn't officially started yet. It won't start until I walk through the "O". But I have already got that physical nervousness in my stomach, this is pain. Oh! the "O" isn't even open, I have to go through side doors, and that "O" was such an important part of the whole O2 experience, they said...
I walk through the doors and my walk begins. The security guard notice my insecurity; Hello, how are you? Yea good. Can I, er, help you with something? You notice straight away he is doing something he has been told to, I know, I was at the O2 introduction too. I have to put my bag through that X-ray thing.
It buzzes as I walk through, a guy with a detector-stick, the phone in my pocket, no worries... I am now on hostile land, that’s how it feels, this is not public space in the way that the streets are, I have no particular right to be here and do as I please, this is cooperate land. own by AEG. I am here in an act of art, they just do not know...
Walking towards what they call "the entertainment avenue" the place is massive, it is made to impress, the decor is art deco, it looks shit, like an airport, or like any entertainment venue anywhere in the world, I could be in LA, or Japan. They said this was unique, my arse.
I really don't want to meet anyone that I used to work with, least of all him, the biggest cunt I met in my life. But as soon as I turn in to the "avenue" I see him coming towards me, together with some guy I never met. I'm looking around, mostly upwards, (that's what you're suppose to here) as I'm waiting for us to get closer, close enough, we are acknowledging each other for half a second before I say:
-Hello Richard. A proper hello, not hi or anything, and the name, I am proud of this.
-Hi, how are you? He even smiles, he is a rock.
-I'm fine thanks, you?
-Good
Whoosh, we have past each others. So weird, that two people can act so cool, when the last time they saw each other, it was so hostile. The conversation lasted as we met and were in talk able distance. It didn't cost anyone of us anything, but still... He must wonder what I'm doing here, because I have a hung-up on what happened, he must understand that, embarrassing, yes. But it actually make no difference what he thinks, I realise to my delight I even believe it. Because he is the biggest cunt I met in my life. That statement is effective, it is my shield... my walk continuous.
Passing bars restaurants, some of the bars I don't remember, but they must have been here then, three months ago, when we were carrying stools and tables, passing that sculptural thingie I'm just passing right now, thought I would hit the furniture in that thing. I got so agitated when the guys wouldn't let me carry anything heavy, there are weak guys to, I go to the gym.
The last bit is passing the big open space, where they are going to do the Ice later. In the summer it's going to become an indoor beach, yeah, I thought I was going to puke when he said that. Some workers lie on their knee's on the floor, probably preparing for the ice. There is really nothing left to see here now, but I have decided to walk to the very end, rounding a big palm like it was a mark in a race. It got to look strange. I'm now heading the same way back, the worst scenario that could happen did happen on the way here, so I'm not worried anymore, but my knees are still weak.
Those people that work here, how do they put up, perhaps they are just as stupid as all those people, god knows who they are, but they obviously exist. Those security guards who look at me suspiciously, or those people talking behind the bar, perhaps some of them look at the art-deco decor with the same disgust as me, just that they can keep their faces straight. Because even I could have put up with this shit, but I couldn't keep my face straight.
Walking past that bar, I feel an urge to walk in, meet some of the people I worked with, some of which I actually liked. But that is not what this walk is about. Have to continue, just out and leave, by tube. As I walk out of the dome, I see the 'cunt' in the corner of my eye, smoking. I'm finished here now.
I walk through the doors and my walk begins. The security guard notice my insecurity; Hello, how are you? Yea good. Can I, er, help you with something? You notice straight away he is doing something he has been told to, I know, I was at the O2 introduction too. I have to put my bag through that X-ray thing.
It buzzes as I walk through, a guy with a detector-stick, the phone in my pocket, no worries... I am now on hostile land, that’s how it feels, this is not public space in the way that the streets are, I have no particular right to be here and do as I please, this is cooperate land. own by AEG. I am here in an act of art, they just do not know...
Walking towards what they call "the entertainment avenue" the place is massive, it is made to impress, the decor is art deco, it looks shit, like an airport, or like any entertainment venue anywhere in the world, I could be in LA, or Japan. They said this was unique, my arse.
I really don't want to meet anyone that I used to work with, least of all him, the biggest cunt I met in my life. But as soon as I turn in to the "avenue" I see him coming towards me, together with some guy I never met. I'm looking around, mostly upwards, (that's what you're suppose to here) as I'm waiting for us to get closer, close enough, we are acknowledging each other for half a second before I say:
-Hello Richard. A proper hello, not hi or anything, and the name, I am proud of this.
-Hi, how are you? He even smiles, he is a rock.
-I'm fine thanks, you?
-Good
Whoosh, we have past each others. So weird, that two people can act so cool, when the last time they saw each other, it was so hostile. The conversation lasted as we met and were in talk able distance. It didn't cost anyone of us anything, but still... He must wonder what I'm doing here, because I have a hung-up on what happened, he must understand that, embarrassing, yes. But it actually make no difference what he thinks, I realise to my delight I even believe it. Because he is the biggest cunt I met in my life. That statement is effective, it is my shield... my walk continuous.
Passing bars restaurants, some of the bars I don't remember, but they must have been here then, three months ago, when we were carrying stools and tables, passing that sculptural thingie I'm just passing right now, thought I would hit the furniture in that thing. I got so agitated when the guys wouldn't let me carry anything heavy, there are weak guys to, I go to the gym.
The last bit is passing the big open space, where they are going to do the Ice later. In the summer it's going to become an indoor beach, yeah, I thought I was going to puke when he said that. Some workers lie on their knee's on the floor, probably preparing for the ice. There is really nothing left to see here now, but I have decided to walk to the very end, rounding a big palm like it was a mark in a race. It got to look strange. I'm now heading the same way back, the worst scenario that could happen did happen on the way here, so I'm not worried anymore, but my knees are still weak.
Those people that work here, how do they put up, perhaps they are just as stupid as all those people, god knows who they are, but they obviously exist. Those security guards who look at me suspiciously, or those people talking behind the bar, perhaps some of them look at the art-deco decor with the same disgust as me, just that they can keep their faces straight. Because even I could have put up with this shit, but I couldn't keep my face straight.
Walking past that bar, I feel an urge to walk in, meet some of the people I worked with, some of which I actually liked. But that is not what this walk is about. Have to continue, just out and leave, by tube. As I walk out of the dome, I see the 'cunt' in the corner of my eye, smoking. I'm finished here now.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Psicomagia and walking...
Cilean Artist Alejandro Jorodowskyi, believes in the power of "Poetic Gestures", apparently impulsive and dramatic actions taken in order to communicate symbolically with the subconscious mind, free the unecessary suppressed emotions and break old patterns..
These "Poetic Gestures" which later developped into a real "science" called Psicomagia, could include anything from a symbolic amputation of a sexual organ ( for someone with a problem related to his sexuality for example) to the sacrifice of small edible animals such as chickens, ect..( which were then cooked over dinner with friends and family) as a way for example to clear inner anger...
For how crazy it might seems people following these acts of Psicomagic ( or teatro panico) found relief and at times healed completely the broken part of their personality...
the subconsciouss mind responds very well to symbols.
However...
One of the Poetic Gestures Alejandro tried to make when he was younger with his then girlfriend, a poetess herself, was to try and WALK IN A STRAIGHT LINE.
The two poets (so they called themselves at the time), started walking in a straight line without avoiding any obstacle or object found along their way but facing it...for example if they came across a wall or a car or tree they climbed over it climbing instead of changing direction...if the two arrived to a door of a house they would ring the bell and explain to the person living in the house that they were poets doing the poetic gesture of walking in a straigh line...and that they had to walk through the house and its garden in order to keep the poetry in their action alive.
Our homework in critical practice for the last week was to walk somewhere and to write a three minute long piece about it...so when I found out about Jorodowsky's walk I though of putting it in this blog.
It is a great example of how to use imagination in order to break the pattern of the normal repetitive reality we are accustomed to (such as walking) and altering it in order to create magic-or aliveness.....which makes us remember we are the creators of our own reality..
SIMONA
These "Poetic Gestures" which later developped into a real "science" called Psicomagia, could include anything from a symbolic amputation of a sexual organ ( for someone with a problem related to his sexuality for example) to the sacrifice of small edible animals such as chickens, ect..( which were then cooked over dinner with friends and family) as a way for example to clear inner anger...
For how crazy it might seems people following these acts of Psicomagic ( or teatro panico) found relief and at times healed completely the broken part of their personality...
the subconsciouss mind responds very well to symbols.
However...
One of the Poetic Gestures Alejandro tried to make when he was younger with his then girlfriend, a poetess herself, was to try and WALK IN A STRAIGHT LINE.
The two poets (so they called themselves at the time), started walking in a straight line without avoiding any obstacle or object found along their way but facing it...for example if they came across a wall or a car or tree they climbed over it climbing instead of changing direction...if the two arrived to a door of a house they would ring the bell and explain to the person living in the house that they were poets doing the poetic gesture of walking in a straigh line...and that they had to walk through the house and its garden in order to keep the poetry in their action alive.
Our homework in critical practice for the last week was to walk somewhere and to write a three minute long piece about it...so when I found out about Jorodowsky's walk I though of putting it in this blog.
It is a great example of how to use imagination in order to break the pattern of the normal repetitive reality we are accustomed to (such as walking) and altering it in order to create magic-or aliveness.....which makes us remember we are the creators of our own reality..
SIMONA
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
The Undesired Destination or the Movement of the Heart
The heart consists of two intermittent muscular pumps, the right and the left ventricle
Each Pump is filled from a reservoir, the right and the left atrium.
1 The right ventricle pumps the blood through the lungs to the left side of the heart
And the left ventricle simultaneously pumps the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
2 The beating ventricle pumps the blood through the lungs to the left side of the heart
And the beating ventricle simultaneously pumps the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
3 racing pumps the blood through the lungs to the left side of the heart
And the racing simultaneously pumps the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
4 fluttering the blood through the lungs to the left side of the heart
fluttering pumps the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
5 pounding through the lungs to the left side of the heart
pounding the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
6 palpitating the lungs to the left side of the heart
palpitating through the rest of the body and back to the right side
7 quivering to the left side of the heart
quivering the rest of the body and back to the right side
8 trembling the left side of the heart
trembling of the body and back to the right side
9 bursting of the heart
bursting and back to the right side
10 The right ventricle pumps the blood through the lungs to the left side of the heart
And the left ventricle simultaneously pumps the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
And I made it to my undesired destination.
Each Pump is filled from a reservoir, the right and the left atrium.
1 The right ventricle pumps the blood through the lungs to the left side of the heart
And the left ventricle simultaneously pumps the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
2 The beating ventricle pumps the blood through the lungs to the left side of the heart
And the beating ventricle simultaneously pumps the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
3 racing pumps the blood through the lungs to the left side of the heart
And the racing simultaneously pumps the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
4 fluttering the blood through the lungs to the left side of the heart
fluttering pumps the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
5 pounding through the lungs to the left side of the heart
pounding the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
6 palpitating the lungs to the left side of the heart
palpitating through the rest of the body and back to the right side
7 quivering to the left side of the heart
quivering the rest of the body and back to the right side
8 trembling the left side of the heart
trembling of the body and back to the right side
9 bursting of the heart
bursting and back to the right side
10 The right ventricle pumps the blood through the lungs to the left side of the heart
And the left ventricle simultaneously pumps the blood through the rest of the body and back to the right side
And I made it to my undesired destination.
Brick Lane= My Road, Music= My Life
I press “Shuffle “ on my Ipod.
I walk out my front door.
SLAM!
The music fills my ears.
“He walked into my life, And now he’s taken over”
As I turn right the sickly familiar curry smells of Brick Lane fill my nostrils.
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.
And the onslaught of my journey begins.
All I need right now is alcohol.
“And it’s beautiful, Yes it’s beautiful”
The noise of my red heels on the cobbles draw attention.
I cringe.
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.
“Hey hey sexy lady” they holler.
EURGH
“Fuck off” I say under my breath.
“I’ve gone with better looking guys, He’s gone with better looking girls”
I cross the busy hectic street.
“You want curry … we do very very nice curry here”
I pay no attention and make a point of fiddling with my earphones chord to emphasize my obvious ignorance.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
I can’t believe he hasn’t rung me yet. What an arsehole!
Ignorant dick.
What’s he’s problem?!
“But now we’re beautiful, I think we’re beautiful”
I dodge a pile of vomit .. mmmm tasty.
I pick up my pace check the time and continue.
Tick, tock, tick tock.
If he does ring me now I’m gonna ignore him.
Obviously he thinks my text message was ignorance worthy.
What a wanker!
“I don’t need love affairs anymore, I don’t love affairs anymore”
I pass through a group of hoxtonite wannabes.
Hmm…that girl has nice shoes.
Then into a group of brick lane ghetto boys.
“BRAP EEEAAAAAAAZZZZZYYYYY NOW CHEK IT BITCH”
“can’t you see it’s the chemistry”
The smell of putrid rotten food passes over me, it smells like bad breath .. sexy.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
I run my hands over the cold black railings as I approach café 1001.
That fucking twat I hate him.
If I ever see him again I’ll punch him.
ARGH MEN ARE CUNTS
“You really must agree together we are beautiful, we are so beautiful”
I turn the corner
I’m greeted by the familiar faces of my friends and the ringing of my phone.
I answer.
It’s him.
“I am the rain, he is the sun. And now we’ve made a rainbow. I think it’s beautiful, It’s really beautiful.”
Tick, tock, tick.
untitled
of wild growing grass.i feel water slowly dripping from my chin.
it's fifty three minutes past one.i'm walking faster.
the letter i wrote to you i probably wet in my bag.
i received one from you which soacking wet as i took it
out of my mailbox,remember?i told you.
it's tuesday.it's pouring rain.
09/10/2007
The beet of the world under my feet, pulsates through my head. It gets stronger when you take into account the fact that i head phones in my ears. It's designed to drown out that incessant back drone of the road, the rush of every annoyed egotistical bastard on the road. Saying that they aren't a lot different when they are walking on the road around me.
"Free London Lite!"
I swear the next person to shove a 'free' paper into my face will get one shoved right up their ass. It's like they want you to hate them.
Waiting at the lights as they change is like a face off. Everyone lines up with each other, picking out which is the weakest on the other side then turning and looking for the traffic to stop so that they can go.
Then, the lights go, bang everyone goes had first at each other and the weakest have to zigzag through the hoards of people coming at them. Its like that scene from the Lion King, where the wilder beasts come herding over the hill at Simba all at once like there is no escaping it.
There are so many of these lights as well it's confusing, almost like a stress test. See how far we can push them before they completely crack. The only way to get through this is to run for the door of your building, not that in any way or form do you actually want to get there. But the way you run is important in this city. You have to look like you know where you are going but what you are actually thinking is that you want to yell is "i am trying to get rid of you lot!"
"Free London Lite!"
I swear the next person to shove a 'free' paper into my face will get one shoved right up their ass. It's like they want you to hate them.
Waiting at the lights as they change is like a face off. Everyone lines up with each other, picking out which is the weakest on the other side then turning and looking for the traffic to stop so that they can go.
Then, the lights go, bang everyone goes had first at each other and the weakest have to zigzag through the hoards of people coming at them. Its like that scene from the Lion King, where the wilder beasts come herding over the hill at Simba all at once like there is no escaping it.
There are so many of these lights as well it's confusing, almost like a stress test. See how far we can push them before they completely crack. The only way to get through this is to run for the door of your building, not that in any way or form do you actually want to get there. But the way you run is important in this city. You have to look like you know where you are going but what you are actually thinking is that you want to yell is "i am trying to get rid of you lot!"
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