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Me
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| Alternaverse |
[Apr. 4th, 2008|08:23 pm] |
What is there to say when it's sunny every day? When I spend Tuesday afternoons in parks drinking cider, nights drinking magnums of cheap rosé in outdoor cafés, and Wednesdays eating ice creams and having walks along windy beaches? When stealing chairs and dancing in fountains constitute normal Monday nights? When I have few classes, and no pressure to attend most of those on any kind of regular basis? When those classes that I do attend are taught by twitching ladies who speak neither English nor French, but only a strange, shaky mélange of languages in which sentences begin, but trail off into oblivion before they ever manage to find an end? When my only responsibilities are so located so far in the future that I don't even have to feel guilty about spending entire days window shopping and coffee drinking and chattering? When I've been watching so much Sex and the City that pick-up lines in supermarkets seem like acceptable ways to meet men?
The other day, as the result of some silly discussion or other, one of the actual residents of the flat in which most of my friends here live - the flat where I spend all my time - made a sign to put on their door; it reads (in Franglais, of course) "Bienvenue au ALTERNATE UNIVERSE", and it speaks the truth. On the other side of that door, and in places all around this city, there exists a languorous space, different to those which I am used to inhabiting; normal rules and expectations are not applicable. And even though the things that happen in this space may sound strange when pronounced aloud, they feel routine. Days here produce impressions rather than stories, and as such, I can't capture them with my usual narratives. Maybe, in theory, that means that I should develop a new way in which to express them, but in actuality I'm not sure that I can be bothered. For now, all I can say is that I'm so glad I had to come here; I'm so glad I "suffered" through the fall, and meandered ambivalently through the winter; now that Spring has arrived, I'm convinced; I no longer have to tell myself to embrace it - I can even find pleasure in the bad bits. |
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| Rockin' the Suburbs. |
[May. 12th, 2007|09:55 pm] |
I've been meaning to write this post for about a week, but as has been discussed previously, I am very bad at blogging things in a timely fashion; in fact I'm not particularly gifted at doing anything in a timely fashion. I have, however, been spending an inordinate amount of time in the library reading French novels I should have read months ago, so I shall exploit that as my excuse and ask you all to indulge me in my tardiness as I return to the heady days of the weeks just past:
I think that, in my world, at least, it is officially summer. Sure, I have two [now one] weeks of exams and revision left, and today, at least it's overcast and chilly [still true], but it FEELS like summer. I may have a million things I should be doing, and lots more things I should be learning, but everything just feels so light and spontaneous that I find it difficult to care. This is going to be my first British summer. As such, I'm sure I'm over-romanticizing everything - indeed, Charlotte wonders why I've elected to stay in rainy, muggy Edinburgh when I could be in sunny America - but, I have this irrational belief that the sun's magical rays will candy-coat each summer day in red and white stripes; everyone will be attired in a Barbour jacket to combat the crisp breeze that rolls across the lush green grass as he sips a refreshing glass of Pimm's, idly watching the pages of his book rustle in the wind, or maybe watching some of his friends playing croquet. There will probably also be some lighthearted polo playing and fox hunting (the fact that fox hunting is now illegal is obviously irrelevant). This may be a rather Catherine Morland-esque attitude for me to adopt, but I think that life as a character in a Jane Austen novel would only augment my ridiculous fantasies.
( Beginnings of the British Summer ) |
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| On Perfect Afteroons |
[Mar. 27th, 2007|12:20 am] |
Symbolically, as everyone save T.S. Eliot will probably admit, Spring is a time of rebirth, rejuvenation, and renewal (even, no especially in this modern world of depravity, alienation, and industry). And today, it really felt like Spring. Whether it was in eating eggs (because eggs = the source of life itself) for breakfast, or promenading through Princes' Street Gardens in the refreshing, sunny, air, today just felt really light in the way that only the beginning of Spring can. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that classes just ended for the year, and for this brief moment, I have no commitments, no responsibilities, nor really any voice inside my head insisting that I SHOULD be doing something else, something more productive with my time. Yet, this idleness has not so long persisted that it's become heavy, making my days overly languid - oppressive in that it lends sense of inescapable, all-consuming restlessness. For now, this idleness is still a sigh of relief; it's fresh, and crisp and delightful, like the wind and the light that comprise the weather in this city in this moment. For all of these reasons, and perhaps for some others, today was positively JOYOUS. Literally, as we wandered the city today, Steph and I were giggling, laughing because our glee was that unbounded, so absolute.
We started our morning with a trip to what is probably the most designed supermarket in the world,Waitrose where, miraculously, all our favourite things were on sale. We acquired 40p whole wheat seeded English muffins, and £6 Devil Beer. Even the water was on sale!
Upon returning home, we decided we couldn't possibly sit at home on the Internet all day, so Steph suggested a wander, and upon seeing the National Galleries of Scotland, I suggested that we venture to the Modern Art museums in the West of the city. So we walked, five miles round trip, through this glorious city, lit poignantally by the sun, to the delightfully green mansion-museums in the north-west of Edinburgh. At these two galleries, I saw several Matisses and Magrittes and Dalis that struck my interest; I was even surprised and delighted to find some Warhol self-portraits. Yet the piece which made the most lasting impression upon me was an installation of sorts. It's called The Lamp of Sacrifice by Nathan Coley; the title is a reference to a John Ruskin piece on art, religion and (apropos to the beginning of this entry if one takes into account Jesus amoungst things reborn in the Spring) sacrifice. It consisted of 286 cardboard churches - spread out like a city on the gallery's floor - a replica of each church listed in the 2004 Edinburgh phone book. I found it really intriguing and evocative for a great number of pretensions reasons into which I will not delve, but suffice it to say it got me thinking. This whole afternoon had me thinking, and it had me giggling with delight at such a prospect. I haven't had that experience of going to a museum and being inspired in so long, and having had a reprise of that experience today was so refreshing. I'm not sure I've felt this good about seeing art since my museum-hopping days in French Canada. Enjoying a museum again just felt so intellectually rejuvenating; it was at the same time a reminder of my idealistic, over-thought past and the fact that those creative inclinations have a place in my future, even if for now I'm drowning in decadence and gin. This delightful afternoon - this whole weekend in fact - was indicative of the fact that perhaps there exists a medium between miserable, intellectual recluse and good-humoured, flippant, iniquitous party-goer; maybe all I need is the optimism of Spring to help me find it.
On our way back, we stopped off for a sneaky Starbucks. And, to round the afternoon out perfectly, upon returning home, my iPod, which had died on Friday came miraculously back to life; this (pathetically), is perhaps, the thing that fills me with the most hope of all. |
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| It's never right on this side of the Atlantic |
[Mar. 8th, 2003|11:31 pm] |
Today was a fairly good day - for me anyway.
I went to the center of the city, which more often than not proves to be a better time than staying in my pajamas in my room all day. Today, I suppose I can say that is true.
I met Ryon at the train station, and we journeyed to the center of the city. Then, we met darling cousin Laura at Suburban Station, and we started walking toward the library. As we walked, we found Elizabeth. When we got to the library, we found that we, as young suburban children, can indeed get cards for the Philadelphia public library system. That being said, we did. I took out a very exciting film on Jane Goodall to use as a "visual aid" for my presentation next week.
After some wandering around, we found our way to the microfilm section where we spent over an hour having jolly microfilm fun. We made oragami out of the 1963 New York Times microfilm! Right.
Lunch and Liberty Plaza, Photos every three steps...we're home again.
Elizabeth called, I learned a whole new emotion, all in all, it was a productive day....sort of. I got new contacts anyway.
I feel like life/fate, whatever you want to call it may be catching up to me, however slowly. It may just be a delusion, but whatever it takes... |
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