Thursday, June 10, 2004

Kiss of the Thames....

Sleep. The most salubrious of human activities. The anatomical purgatory. The eyelids fluttering, swiping pupils back and forth like REM windshield wipers. The body, strained, convulsing, dreaming, revisiting the inner utero of thought and requests, nocturnally gyrating, palpitating, drooling, tumbling, following, seething, blossoming open into a lotus of sketched pedals...Last night I am in London with a faceless girl who is showing me her underwear before the charter bus ferries us through the swanky suburbs. We are in London and I am with her even though I am alone. I am talking to my mom on the bus, telling her that I have finally made it back, that I have finally made it back to the hoi-poloi of England. The mad dash of red buses, the mixture of suits and bodies. The swelling of limbs being chewed into the underground.

The bus is smashing through cemeteries, motoring through dual-laned roads. My faceless beloved and I are looking for a building, for a brick-lane house. For a place we can make love in. For a place we can cultivate a family in. For a place I can come home to everynight and give her a kiss on the cheek and a smack on the ass.

The England sky is lucid. Certain patches of it are so blue that they are almost appear to be crystal. I find myself walking outside the border of my dream, walking next to the Thames; my body hooked to a visionary-reel so that it feels like with each step I am pulling the entire panel of atmosphere, the ambiance, the scene; with each sure-fire step of my gait I am hositing the next frame of existence with me and I am walking in tandem with the Thames river, walking by myself, walking alone and with England inside of me. I am wearing a suit with my hair pulled back and I am sure and shitfire that the direction I am going is the direction I have gone before.....

2 comments:

daku said...

Darn it David, I used to live right on the banks of Thames. I used to watch boats with my binoculars likea complete dork. There is a street called Brick Lane not far from where I used to live - a couple of underground stops. It's famous for Indian restaurants and shops. And there is a cool club, I think it's called Vibe - where I first heard Moby. I so love London, I can't even begin to say.

daku said...

Oh, and one more thing. For some reason, the association I get with this post is Nick Cave. And the song Loom of the Land.