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Saturday, July 03, 2004
Sporadic rain falls on Trafalgar Square, as it's fallen over all of London this week. I've only seen it through workplace windows, or found its evidence on just-wet streets. Last night's pseudo-Pixies plans fell through, thanks to an unforeseen dust storm and a 16 hour day at the office.
I'm in a pretty odd-but-good mood at the moment, sitting here in the Charing Cross library, but that's to be expected when you're alone and an ocean away from home. Next door is the Garrick Theater, where Mamet's Oleanna will be performed in just an hour. I sprang for 7th row center, spoiled by my seats at the second part of His Dark Materials a few months back. In my limited theater-going history, I've found that if you can't see the whites of their eyes, you might as well stay home and save the sterling. Speaking of which, tomorrow marks my very first July 4th away from home, stuck here in the very country from which we celebrate our long-ago liberation by shooting colored explody-things into the sky. Not a big deal to me, I guess, but Boston makes quite a party out of it... and I will miss floating on the Charles as fireworks-shrapnel bombards Amie, myself, and a few boat-friends. "The library is closing in 10 minutes!", announces the woman at the desk, louder than she should be allowed. Then again, she's making the rules. It strikes me that British accents seem far more suited to librarians than any other. Maybe it's a Giles thing. So that's my cue to pack up and figure out how to spend the next hour or so before the play. I've already wandered the square, where the London Pride festivities are in full swing. It's multi-colored madness out there, I tell ya... a sea of leather pants, crew cuts, and sleeveless fishnet shirts, and it looks like the pavement is drying up ... 
 A rare empty bench in Leicester Square, near a full brass band playing semi-familiar songs to much applause. They stop in time for the Swiss clocks chimes, picking up again when they're through. I read a bit and head over to the theatre, excited for some live action drama and David Mamet dialogue.  Sitting in the Garrick, a plastic pint of Carling Lager, ticket holders file past, paging through programs and turning off cell phones. A murmur of many accents fills the room with just 5 minutes before show time. Again, it's time to shut down... The play is over, and I'm rattled. Sitting on a bench in now-sunny St. James Park, processing what I just saw while I people watch. Time to find some internet access, upload these words, and maybe grab some dinner. Once more into the underground I go ...   |
 neil halstead live in cambridge, ma on november 14th, 2008 previously: joy formidable - boston 2011 recent posts on the 'nac... on the nightstand boston-area music bloggers
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