Wednesday, 13 January 2010
i'm just looking
"you must set about it more slowly, almost stupidly. force yourself to write down what is of no interest, what is most obvious, most common, most colourless...."
"make an inventory of your pockets, of your bag... question your teaspoons"
so in the spirit of the mass obsevation twelfth day surveys...
woken up by a clanky combination of beer delivery to the white horse and crows on the roof come for their cheese and nuts breakfast. turns out there's a skip in the road too - the first i've seen down here. the man who stands in his window all day like he's in kraftwerk is already up there in the black and yellow egyptian thing next to the paladium. it's dark and gloomy. tea - pg in the titan missile museum mug. soya milk no sugar. the refigerated lorry has arrived for it's daily attempt to rattle the place to pieces - if you ever need cover for a bit of drilling into a bank vault from the shop next door a brakes food delivery van will do it just fine. more tea.
up and at 'em and down to eagle place for as much marveling sighing and desperate hand wringing as i can get in before the fuckers tear it all down. tea and a custard tart in sergio's. baron of piccadilly has been a place of wonder and a shop front to salute especially of a winters evening when the sign has a soft gorgeous glow for as long as i can remember and i promise to buy something there before it's rubble honest.
goddamn you crown estates.
come the glorious day.... well we'd all be puffing on whopping great cubans from m. landow as the bastards begged for mercy (which we'd give gawd help us) if only we'd stepped up just a little bit sooner just treasured that beautiful alley that saved us the marauding tourist hordes of a long given up piccadilly circus as we zipped through down to jermyn street and on to the park
and on down to bates. deep breaths. home before there's tears. the bastards. in a city full of horribleness why did the rotters have to pick one of my favourite bits. bugger.
home. sulking. in the spirit of the thing empty handbag -
bag of walnuts (for feeding squirrels in the park)
flier for vintage film season at prince charles cinema
pen (black stabilo s)
lip conditioner (mac - virtuous violet)
five pence piece
wallet - tatty black mess with losing lottery tickets sticking out
key ring - three keys and welcome to london bus
true confessions dvd i forgot to return to the library (must remember tomorrow or else). it was nowhere near as good as i remembered it neither
decide that that's about as much excitement as anyone can take and call this whole thing off till the same time next month
>sergio mendes & brasil 66 - look around
gene pitney - i must be seeing things
nb - some dates may've been changed to protect the lazy and good fer nuthin'
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'Inspiration desperate' she says!
Mind, I had to Google mac virtuous violet lip conditioner: very bold.
very kind of you squire. it's a tragic loss old eagle place it really is - the whole block from diccapilly to jermyn street all rotten and ruined. heartbreaking
I love the look of Baron of Piccadilly. I must get a Paisley cravat before it's pulled. We've still got one near us (can't remember the name) but has the anti~fade lucozade colour blinds in the window. And undies sold from drawers under the counter. It's days must be numbered like Man At Barry's which went yonks ago.
Love the Sergio tune very sparkly spring.
Back in the groove ally!
You'd best move mighty fast mondo dear - the final days are upon us.
If you don't make it there my pals shop on earlham street is a cravat riot
and thankyou darcy - I think all that lots done my poor back good and proper
Lovely piece. Shops and areas like these help to give London its character.
I just finished reading the novel of True Confessions - very good indeed, a bit of Ellroy and Chandler mixed together. Don't think I ever saw the film (I assume you mean the DeNiro/Duvall flick).
You give good elegy. I'm minded of your Walthamstow dogs post. 'Bates' photo is particularly great.
Fashion footnote: when did aristo pretensions go out of vogue for men's outfitters? The Barons, the Lord Johns, the still more improbable Gaylords? There was a time when we all wanted to dress like a bunch of counts.
These days it's all Urban this and Diesel that. Bogus grit. IT consultants dressing up as Midwestern truckdrivers. What happened?
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