Sunday, October 10, 2010
London has Many Tall Buildings and Smells Funny
You know what's the best thing about being a puppet?
All of your days off spent in a sack!
You know what's the second best thing?
There is no second best thing, but on a completely tangential note I am in London!
It's true. After years of success, improvising song on the streets of Toronto, dancing energetically to the 'tinkle tinkle' tune of consistently undervalued Canadian currency and indulging in sweet hybridized West Indian Curry, it's all over. I was hastily bundled into my sack by my boss (henceforth to be known as 'The Biped' or 'He Who Knows Not The Purpose of Soap'), spent 8 hours listening to what vaguely sounded like Iron Man 2 on a distant PA system, and finally emerged into a strange country in which the people say Guhvnor a lot.
My initial impressions of this Town called London are sketchy.
I was most astounded by the sense of POWER here. I mean, gosh. Look at all those buildings, so ancient and old! So elegant, yet so dark in colour scheme! Centuries of soot and exhaust have settled and bit into that stone, yet they remain firm and sort of unsullied. And how? Generations of wage slaves willing to clean it, that's how! I mean, keeping a place this mad relatively tidy necessitates ridiculous amounts of power! And money! I'm sure there's some of that around here somewhere, too.
It's an odd place though. I feel as if London is a town haunted by its own obsolete history. The faces are fresh, tough, sterilized, and moving fast...and the old towers look down upon them longingly. Spare a glance?, they seem to say. Some consideration? But nestled at the feet of these lonely edifices there's a whole garden of plastic and neon fungus, swallowing attention with greed and rabidity, and the great tumult marches on into the gullet of modernity. Woosh!
The Biped is apparently attending a Theatre/er school, so I expect to be dragged to many performances and what not, and I will keep you (whoever YOU are) updated. Otherwise I shall be exploring this Metropolis with my comrades in arms (or on arms, as the case may be), and mayhaps one day London too shall ring with the silver bells of Improv Song.
Adieu for now! I go now to explore the internet, which, as many have told me, is the key to this Great Luminous Age - but so far all I've found are boobies.