NYC

This is my third trip to NYC and I’ve decided I don’t like it very much. There’s a dark and gritty texture to this city, a thick seam of poverty and desperation layered beneath its skin. So many people working shitty service jobs. Not teenagers out to gain experience like you’d find back home. Older people trapped into submission, this being the only work they could get.

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retroactive

In all the excitement of cracking my head open, I neglected to write a post thanking the Vandermeers who made me a welcome guest in their Tallahassee home for three days. Aside from being constantly amused by their four hilarious cats, we packed a bunch of stuff into the brief time: a Mayan apocalypse party in a Tiki bar, a day trip to Apalachicola where an impromptu oyster festival was in progress, mid-morning at a wildlife sanctuary where the visiting animals on display were — of all things — emus! An accidental encounter with outre folk artist Mary Proctor in her jam packed gallery showroom en route to the gun show at Tallahassee mall. Other stuff too but distance blurs… I’m writing this post mid air via Gogo… just because I can.

Thanks Ann and Jeff — it was a blast!

London: in summary so far

I decided to take my week in London easy on account of the whole head injury thing. Every morning I set out on a Tube expedition from Wood Green & so far every evening I’ve returned to my sister’s place without incident (touch wood). Not only have I not been lost once, I haven’t been late for any of my dates either! It’s been cold and grey — but not too cold and grey.

Wednesday I met old school friend Alison at Stratford Westfields, the biggest megalopolis of a shopping centre I’ve ever seen in my life. The Olympics is being built beside it. You could probably fit every Westfields in Australia inside. We had sushi, then went to see Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, which I enjoyed, despite it not being faithful in any way to anything Sir Arthur ever writ. Most definitely the gayest Holmes & Watson ever. I do hope they’re making a third.

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Incident at 37,000 feet or how I ended up getting my head glued in a UK emergency room

It’s a quarter way through the 8-hour crossing from Dallas Forth Worth to Heathrow. I’ve eaten my dinner, snubbed my nose at the meagre cinematic offerings and settled into a light doze when something suddenly wakes me. My own body heat. I’m burning up and I feel terrible so I get up and fumble my way to the bathroom just beyond the plane’s midriff exit door. Lights are dim, passengers all sleeping. Next thing I know, I’m on the floor, disoriented, head hurting, blood all over my hair and hands.

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