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Kitchen Window is Foggy
Dec. 22nd, 2003 10:02 amI desire the red sun hanging inside the Tate Modern. I saw it - my eyes saw purple afterwards. It was a saturday, cold and windy, the museum was full of tourists. I found a little room afterwards, with a giant screen showing the building of Brasilia (the capital of Brasil) to the words of Samuel Beckett and a German man. The couch I sat on was made of leather, and it sucked me in like my childhood's crib. Then we ate some chicken soup, with bread and butter, and coffee, in a nearby cafe. A woman played with her mobile's ringtones on our way home... Kevin got very cross with her.
Sunday made me very satisfied, because Monday wouldn't be there. Monday wouldn't bring another day in the Tubes, another day in front of the computer. We took Sunday to Camden Town, with my friend Zoue. She took us through the bazaars, the stalls with gothic clothes, incense and vanilla candles. She took us to Virgin Megastore and second-hand music stores. She took us to drink coffee from an Italian food-stand (they were filming the stand - they filmed us laughing at the Italian men behind the counter flirting with Zoue.)
Camden Town was full of students, people on the dole. The same flyers were handed out in every street corner, the same rat-like expression on the faces of the very thin. There was no warmth, eventhough the sun had come out. I still thought of the red sun in the Tate Modern, of the people lying on the ground beneath it - they looked at their reflections in giant mirrors hanging on the ceiling. The mirrors made the sun look larger, ondulating. I wished for everyone in Camden Town to see that sun, that artificial ball of red fire.
Today, I wait for Kevin's sister to wake up. We are going Christmas shopping. I'm glad The Darkness didn't get the top of the charts: they are shit. I'm praying the streets will be empty, that we can shop quickly and come back home. Everyday shopping is a step to the grave.
Sunday made me very satisfied, because Monday wouldn't be there. Monday wouldn't bring another day in the Tubes, another day in front of the computer. We took Sunday to Camden Town, with my friend Zoue. She took us through the bazaars, the stalls with gothic clothes, incense and vanilla candles. She took us to Virgin Megastore and second-hand music stores. She took us to drink coffee from an Italian food-stand (they were filming the stand - they filmed us laughing at the Italian men behind the counter flirting with Zoue.)
Camden Town was full of students, people on the dole. The same flyers were handed out in every street corner, the same rat-like expression on the faces of the very thin. There was no warmth, eventhough the sun had come out. I still thought of the red sun in the Tate Modern, of the people lying on the ground beneath it - they looked at their reflections in giant mirrors hanging on the ceiling. The mirrors made the sun look larger, ondulating. I wished for everyone in Camden Town to see that sun, that artificial ball of red fire.
Today, I wait for Kevin's sister to wake up. We are going Christmas shopping. I'm glad The Darkness didn't get the top of the charts: they are shit. I'm praying the streets will be empty, that we can shop quickly and come back home. Everyday shopping is a step to the grave.
