happy meals 05.12.2005

saturday 12 rolled through the door like a snowball onto an apalachian timber village,and so i thought id drop into the theatre. billy bumpkin elliot was what i had penciled onto my dorm room door and so round 12 bells i rode hard until i got there, hitched my horse to the nearest bobby on the beat and mosseyed on in to the Victoria Palace.there was a thinning queue,however i asked the pony tailed sugar, 'whats the story love,can i get a ticket?', and she was pretty apologetic and said there were none. i noticed her name tag it said , 'victoria palace, so i said thanks victoria,ill see you soon.'
id wanted to get close up like most people do to a power station , Battersea power station. i think my hair might have stood on edge similar to the time when youre in high school and all the kids in your class make you touch the 'van der waal generator cos you look weird doing so. its like a big loaf of bread,red in brick and art deco in style-woulda made a great slice of toast in its day. it has 4 immensly elongated white projecting chimneys,-wouldnt mind toking one of 'em. it sits in a barren wasteland, soon to be revived into a shoppping mall, a sad sad day i say. i captured a cupla images and blazed on my merry way.
saturday night was an absolute stormer of an eve. please do not read on any further should you be squemish, demented, have a tender heart, find that people walk all over you or if youre just a sorry sod.Mj from work had sent out an email asking if anyone wanted to come over to her place for a 'soup evening'. im thinking whatever,itll probably pass unnoticed,and so i thought it had, until the thursday before the saturday i found an email in my inbox waiting to be deleted. so i figured i check out this party, since at least my liver wouldnt have to go through the torture of being pickled cucumber-style by cheap english booze and it would have been something i had never done before.
i get to sainsburys, picked up a herd of carrots and a bulbous butternut as they galloped towards me and to the deep south i did go. i get there and i hear im the only lad there. im thinking either its the sorta day all lads contemplate with a carrot in hand or we'll just make soup and discuss world politics.the plan was then to butcher your poor little veggie into smithereens and then lob it,alive and squeeling, into a boiling pot of salt, pepper, stock, and a hint of coriander.thank goodness for that soup for it subdued the onset of scurvy for a little while longer.it sounds a wee lil gay but it was a damn fine soup and an eve that id tell my grand kids about, i might even do a screenplay on it.
the next morn, all hung over because of those carrots and suffering an immense overdose of beta carotene, glowing orange and all,i headed off to cambridge at round 12.30,and pulled into the university town round 14.30,with the sun setting at some ridiculous hour like 16.30, that didnt give me much time to paint cambridge up by number.so if ever there was an instant just-add water tour of cambridge,then ive done it.it was a rather superficial glance at the town,but toit nonetheless.at cambridge you can punt, you can pint and you can climb a hill, you can snack on a Maccers or a pie or two. you can run the courtyard before the dial turns 4 with 'chariots of fire' the background score. you can buy a scarf, red yellow blue, you can touch a cathedral-theyre stoned too.a bicycle can be ridden,every ones doing it-the uber toit blonde belter with those cherry pie stained red lips,the grandma on her way to Tescoes to eat an orange and spit the pips, as well as the professor too with his brown jarmins and sweat stained armpits. a great little town, however i ought to return to give it a lil more respekta
the following weekend saw me see stuff that id never really seen before,one being a sweet a*s snowboarding store,man alive, the store is gridded in these boards and skis.the hefty boots and clip-ins are pretty 'space odyssey'.snow just seems too foreign for me at the mo.but just like i wana surf,so i wana board.the boards were properly crafted, chisseld pieces of resined artwork, worthy of any modern art museum. theyd probably set you back more te*ticles than you have. but a joy indeed to see.the other stores were the music stores-the guit and drums stores. this wee road will make any rock fan drown in their own drool.denmark road is choccers full of all the wood,the brass, the air a good kid needs to survive in an urban jungle.i dont play an instrument but sure as shyte i love the sound,maybe someday ill start a rock band.
windsor and eton,you catch a train from a station ABBA called Waterloo. plush red seats, red lcd dispalys and a whole lotta rail infornt of you.it has a castle, her royal majesty's and a school, for harries and andrews,football fields in and amongst wild brush,ducks and geese and a gun shop for popping foxes.its quiet crazy i say. tamara and i strolled around the agrarian town,getting my white kickers dirty and seeing my thumbs turn purple from the icy cold.so i see a pond and when you see a pond,you lob a stone,so i lobbed a stone and when you lob a stone,nature says,oh yes, she does, that itll sink,and so it didnt, it hit the surface and skidded wayne gretzky-style.i couldnt believe it. my first frozen over lake. it woulda been great to lick.
then it was off to the Redbull Railstorm.this was a kicka*s event held in trafalfgar square.redbull engineered a massive snowed ramp and handrails onto which the snowboarders, decked in west end massive pants and slick goggles could carve it up samurai-style. after the americans won the event the presenter,with his jackson5 afro and leopard skin coat announces a great gig to follow. hearing the sounds of AC/DC 'thunder',im thinking 'fu*k me,this is why im in london town,so i start bouncing gummy bear style,im simply blown away,then after 2 songs the lead singer says'ey everybody,this is my band,AC/..DC -the tribute band.'gsus h crumbs,dude what the f*ck,all of a sudden most people just did an about turn and went home to knit.
coffee,man. i drink decaf now.but drinking decaf is like drinking nonalcoholic beer.i dont like that kick,it takes me to places i dont wana be.
hang tuf old faithful, from the scratchings of a tired ladthe chaito man,russian bear hunter master swordsman and owner of a blue velvet dinner jacket.