the giddy

it is absolutely certain that i should not be writing a posting right now. i should be reading up on kitsch and starting my paper on the difference between deliberate and naïve kitsch, which is, inevitably, quite intriguing, but no. the giddiness is too high. there will be no work done tonight, and i do not foresee much sleep either.

i suppose i have not updated this in a long while...i thought i might do so briefly just to check in with the people who may or may not remember/acknowledge that i am alive. london is continuing to be both wonderful and puzzling, and i am both enjoying it and being imbittered by it. so odd, just today i took the same walk twice. you see, i had to get some piece of paper at home that said which books i needed, so i had to walk back to wren street THEN go to the library. wonderful fascist building the library is -- hitler did not bomb it because he was so pleased with it. sigh. ANYWAY, my first walk home for the paper, it was a little drizzly, but i took a new route. it was this tiny cobblestoned road named "collonade" that i could have easily taken for the past two months, but i had never seen it! right in front of my eyes. i loved it. didn't mind the drizzle, peeked inside the windows of the tiny flats, listened to my boots clack along the cobblestones, loved not having an umbrella. anyway, then i went to the brary, got the books on kitsch (including an article by rosalind krauss), and the walk home, the exact same one was absolutely awful. the gray had increased, my boots were sopping, i tripped, the blinds were closed in all the flats, i got home miserable. but that is london for me. a street make you want to fly at one moment, and give the city twenty minutes and you are tearing out your hair. ah me.

last week i went to the tate britian gallery. it was quite wonderful...although i do prefer the tate modern simply because of the overwhelming impact of the place. tate britian probably does have a better collection however -- the TURNERS -- ah i am in love with turner it appears. ignorant kate knew not a thing about him and then oh lala there i am realising all that i was missing. i think i like him more than the impressionists, especially when he paints at sea. there was one painting where they had a little comment that said "turner said that the boat tossed and turned and nearly heaved him overboard, but records show this is a complete fabrication. it was a lovely day" or something along those lines. very wonderful.

but cultural experience more extrodinaire of the past few weeks was probably as you like it with ms joyce hau. we got first row center tickets for five pounds, and saw the beauty of the royal shakespeare company. these people know how to act. it was also great to see the play after one of the fast-talking brilliant ucl professors had discussed the play a few weeks ago. surprisingly, the best part of this rendition was celia. she was incredible. and orlando was fucking hot, god almighty. like, a hotter version of kiefer sutherland. but yes, it was interesting to think about the literary connotations...of...

the boat party was also fun. incidentally, the tate saved me on this party. actually, the boat party was not particularly fun, as i threw up not OFF the boat, but in its toilet. which is very boring. if you go on a boat on the thames, at least throw up your cork-ridden cheap wine from sean's job OFF THE SIDE of the boat, not within its bowels. well, after missing the prime meridian and what not, roberto took me outside and i saw the tate from the river. this changed sickly kate to kate who must dance dance dance. and so i danced on the boat, and that was nice. but really i think the only important part of the boat story is that the tate saved me. it is a story that attests to the glory of the tate. if you want to see photographs of this disaster i have posted some london photography ici. but ironically, i missed the tate. this is because you cannot capture the most perfect moments with the camera. even if you do, it is only a pale shadow. also, i spoke french with the french girls, finally. and they did not laugh at me...very much. they said i had a good accent! i think they were being nice and/or were drunk. this will be tested in a few hours time.

oh. and i bought boots. and i love these boots. too much. they are the pale shadow of NO boot.

clearly the facts are that i am too giddy and excited to think straight, write straight, sleep straight. i want to jump up and down, i want to scream your name, i want to dance in the street. but i will have to save that for tomorrow morning. i have to just sleep, i suppose. good morning, good evening and good night, my darling.