lovely, good on his word, B. i've decided to adopt cummings' short stature of lowercasing all my letters. all letters shall be lower case from here on out, all except for your name B. (xx) it makes me feel artistic amongst so many flourishing and world-stopping artists. the job has been very demanding lately at the tate. and everyone is all in a bother or either a giddiness, me, i am in the giddy group, over the coming exhibit to feature every piece of art that is kate moss-related at the louvre in paris. we are wondering how to compete. but we still have our hands full.
i've just had my 3rd cup of tea (kombucha green). i had gotten into the habit of drinking coffee again. it's so easy to slip into it. it's as if i have tiny magnets in my body and every brew house, quaint coffee shop, and counter made crunchy from grinds, turns up their electro-magnetic force when i enter a 5 mile radius, and the pull drags me inside despite my "nos" and "i can'ts" and i end up inside with the café colored steam rising into me delighted nostrils. yes, i have a sickness. but what scares me the most is i like myself so much better on coffee. i am happier. i feel i can accomplish anything–no task is too great! bring it on! and the even scarier thing B, is that i think everyone likes himself better when boosted by caffeine. except not everyone is better on this beautiful, wonderful coffee drink. i see people, all day long, with paper cups, thermoses, mugs, in their hands, swigging, and smacking their lips. and i see people in their cars reach over and over again to that middle console where their treat sits perfectly in the cup holder, and i notice them become more and more aggressive on the road. america is even worse! the whole country runs on starbucks and now intelligentsia, because it's just that much better and more expensive. at least tea still reigns here, it keeps everyone buzzed but not vein-pulsingly rocketed.
anyhow, it's been one day and i already miss it. should i buy a bag of beans and grind them just in case? no, no. tea is sufficient. i guess.
i'm having a very adult day. i say that because i just got off the phone with my insurance company. everything becomes difficult when dealing with an hmo plan. it's useless. i'm not going to get into it, but i wish i didn't have american insurance, i wish i lived in sweden. although!! good news for men in england: starting in april, men will have 6 months leave when their child is born. women receive a whole year. so england is adopting sweden's policy for post child birth leave. it's very exciting. i wonder if more and more babies will appear so that the new families could have 6 months together. wouldn't it be amazing if america had something like that?
i would take my new child on an adventure. my little family would take the train up the pacific coast highway all the way to seattle, stopping in portland, oregon and perhaps some other lovely destinations. we'd see the water almost everyday and have that smooth pace of a train underneath us. the little one would grow up wanting that movement always underneath it. we'd picnic in portland and get acupuncture, just as the land does in that quirky town. and my love and i would nap under tree like ferdinand's with the little one between us covered with a checkered picnic blanket. and then we'd awake and have mimosas. and we'd make flower necklaces, but for our hair....
maybe i should be at the louvre, and not the tate. people are so serious here. i want to frolic in stripes and a red coat, not a rain coat. i wish truffaut would have put me in a movie. that is, if i were alive at that time.
and lastly here is a picture, as i promised, a treat from across the pond.
a view that i see every day on my way to work:
it's gray as usual. it's a view from the new millennium bridge to the old london bridge. we are always looking back on the past, in my case, usually fondly.
and this one is from my favorite area in east london, brick lane:
it has a rougher edge than the smooth, alabaster white façades of high kensington. and it's vastly more interesting. the streets are crowded with all sorts of interesting people. and there are trash piles to look through and then very expensive boutiques where i give away a lot of money!
and lastly, most beloved, the ceiling of the globe's stage:
can you imagine acting beneath that? already the ceiling is better than you! but how magnificent.
miss you B. miss america. and the pch. kiss it for me today, ok?
love love and rain,
a
xx
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