Monday, June 28, 2010
Holy Batman!
Holy Batman!! So it has almost been a month since I have exercised my literary skills on this blog. I have not been lazy I assure you, but the London summer has lived up to every ounce of burdening expectation and reputation that everyone declares with their lives on. I have so much to speak of about life, but in fear that another month may pass before our eyes, I shall write this entry without crossing the “t’s” and dotting the “I’s.”
There are various conclusions to what people deem as true friendship. Since being here, I have come to my own two conclusions thus far. The first is that true friends are friends that help you before you even know that you need help. During my period of home-sickness and finding my feet in London, a few close friends managed to somehow unerringly know when I needed to hear a familiar voice or be reminded that I wasn't forgotten, and before I even had a chance to come to this realization, I would receive a timely phone call or message, just to say hi.
My second conclusion is freedom.
Friendship equals freedom, freedom to kick back and be yourself 100%. Freedom to laugh. Freedom to be a dork. Freedom to muck around all day long without the fear of being judged, as they know who you are and are friends with you for this reason, good and bad. Freedom to talk about everything and anything. Freedom of the past, the present and the future. Freedom of care (if that makes sense). I miss caring for my friends, my loves. I miss being cared by my friends, my loves.
Recently I have had two close friends come stay with me for a couple of weeks. As much as I have reveled in the independence of setting up a complete new life again, spending time with old friends from home is such a gift that can never be measured nor rivaled.
I miss the fuss that is involved with having close friends. I cooked dinner for the first time in ages for Reyes and Ed, and although sadly my skills have diminished (as now, eating dinner for one means whatever is the quickest fix will do), the task made me feel at home. *smiles* When the boys went out for the day and returned with dinner, they would automatically think of me as well. I miss that, just being a factor in someone else’s life. Enjoying the company of home and having them enjoy my company. The day they both left, as the emotional person that I am, it made me teary to once again have to say goodbye. I know I will see them both real soon but it still doesn’t get easier knowing that when I return to my abode in the evening that they won’t be there and my home will once again just be a house.
As mentioned before, my friends have impeccable timing, as on this day where I was a little dis-heartened to return to a somewhat empty household, I instead returned to a mysterious parcel… from Sydney… from my girls. Oh how I fricken love getting surprise snail mail (that are not bills)!! It’s the absolute best thing about living so far away from home.
Your words, your thoughts, your love truly touched my heart and made me cry… again.
There are a million things that I believe I do not deserve and have been too lucky to receive in this life of mine, but definitely on the top of my ever-grateful list are the people that are in my life… that are my life.
You all truly amaze me!!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
one.. two.. three..
a. Have you found a job yet?
b. Have you met someone yet?
c. Are you loving it?
d. What is clubbing like?
.. be a little bit more creative guys… please for my sake..
a. No I have not. In saying that, please do not be sad for I am yet to reach that point yet. My efforts in looking for employment have been quite disjointed and half-assed, being disrupted by travels and pure laziness. The design industry is tough anywhere you go, but more so in the UK and with the economic crisis… the construction industry has basically gone on hiatus. I’ve been continually told I moved over at a bad time, but really, when is it ever a good time? When I am at the point of being close to living life on the streets, rest assure I will get my ass into gear and find some sort of income. For now, I am enjoying the trials of looking for something in my industry. Just got to stop shopping.
b. I have met many a persons… but someone that I could be bothered to share something with, no. I would never have guessed that this question would be so popular, as if it were a goal I aimed to achieve or as if it were an easy feat. The male population is the same anywhere in the world, there are just more of you guys here, which also means there is a lot more rubbish to sort through as well; too-much-effort basket for the time being. Although I would like to point out that I saw more eye-candy in the brief time I was in Lisbon, than the entire time of me being here in London.
c. Now what kind of question is this?? Although, people do assume I’d be living a full on life everyday. Non-stop partying. As are the guys, so is life… life is the same anywhere you go in the world, work, eat, sleep, it’s the play that sets it apart. There is an abundance of play here!
d. Clubs in London are definitely not like the ones in Sydney at all. Clubs, and good clubs are open all through the week, yes even on school nights. This city really doesn’t sleep.
Show pony clubs: if you manage to get onto a promoters guest list, you are pretty much ensured free entrance and free drinks all night. Needless to say all those on the guest list are “attractive” females. The whole thing is to lure in attractive girls with free entrance and free alcohol to entice the male counterpart to frequent the clubs. For males there is an entrance fee, for a group of males you must buy a table, which ranges in the hundreds to thousands of pounds, for the table and perhaps a bottle or two of alcohol. These clubs are filled with girls not out to have a good time but to be show ponies. Some of the clubs I have been to are a lot worse than others.
At Jeloos, the door bitch really is a door bitch. She stands out front with her fancy 2pound clipboard pretending she was from the movie Studio 54. I have seen her blatantly say to girls in a group “you, you and you can come in but your friends can not” due to the mere fact that they do not fit the clubs aesthetic appeal or requirements. Cut-throat.
Movida is another club, all ritzy inside with an attitude to suit. I am not one to really allow myself to be effected by pretensciousness as I enjoy getting all dulled up from time to time, but this club is something different. The girls stand about as if it were like some kind of line-up for an escort service of fake tanned, bo-tox faced females. No they aren’t bo-toxed but the un-relentless grimace displayed on their faces, you would be pardoned to think they physically were not able to show any other kind of emotion whilst they judge everyone that walks by. These girls are not even all “that” in their topshop clad outfits may I add. I walked away from this club asking the question, where is the line drawn to when it is kind of wrong to use your body/appearance/sex for benefits, kind of like offering sex for money, like prostitutes. This is exactly how awful the vibe was in this club.
In saying all this, these show pony clubs also know how to put on a show. Another club, on their opening night had bar-top dancers, magicians, midgets, percussionists and even managed to hi-jack a massive python into the venue. It was quite some spectacle, but the music was a massive let down to the night, so in that sense, it is the same to the Sydney scene.
There are also normal non “Studio 54” clubs out there. The hip-hop clubs that I have been to, are legitimate hip-hop clubs, not pop, which possess a good vibe void of any “gangstas,” “I’m too cool for school” attitude or tension. Genuine nights where people are out to enjoy the music, where the girls aren’t mistaken for being at some sort of trashy fashion parade. I’ve also been out to a few bars here and there, but to be honest, I truly think my trashbag days are over. I go out now, just to check the fuss.
Vyner Street: Open Gallery Night.
The first Thursday of every month sees an influx of art enthusiasts, as they all come out to show their support on Open Gallery Night, (but I have a slight suspicion that a lot of them are more free-alcohol enthusiasts than art enthusiasts). Vyner Street on an ordinary day appears to be like some warehouse backstreet lane. It is, though, occupied by at least a dozen or so quaint little galleries showcasing the creative quirks of various talents. Open Gallery Night sees the laneway transform into somewhat of a mini festival with people spilling out into the lane, beers in hand, sitting on the curb and waiting in line to enter the next room which has more free alcohol, oh and art of course. If the free drinks run dry, they sell beers there for 1 pound! No wonder the art scene is so big here. No, but seriously I love the fact that London has all this to offer, this is why I am here! I felt in Sydney, the art scene was un-accessible, reserved for the “elitist,” for those “in the scene,” while here, all is welcome, even those that have not a clue what art is but is just a curious cat, you are welcome too.
Here it is acceptable to drink on the streets, to park your ass on a curb while smoking a cigarette, well that is a lie, it is most likely a joint here, with beer in hand people watching. Weed can be smelt on every corner and is not a hush-hush occurrence as it is back home so walking the streets stoned is no longer a paranoid experience, but doing the groceries stoned on a Saturday morning is a painful feat. A cloud of smoke usually hovers over the parks on picnic days from the portable BBQs, but I have to question how much of that smoke is actually from the BBQ's and not the spark of the green. Summer is finally here, well sort of. The past week has seen sun, so much so that I have been dying from the heat, but wait for it, I have been dying from the 23degree heat. How shameful, I think I have already climatised and am surely going to die when I return to the Sydney Summer.