10 posts tagged “london”
i finished the volunteering for the llgff on wednesday evening, which concluded with leaving when the lights came up at the floridita in a drunken stupor blabbering to a director on how much i liked her work.
not so much that i am embarrassed by speaking to her...it's just the way i went about it makes me think that i need to lay off the juice for a bit. this week has been overcrowded with excuses to get hammered. almost every night has been celebrating something at the festival - a precursor for being given enough cobra to get pissed with.
after spending the close part of two days recovering...i would say that either i've overdone it or that my age is catching up with me. i'll go for the former answer.
not feeling exhibition inspired and with the spitting outside, we chose the film option. i had been hearing/seeing adverts about let the right one in and with chris in agreement, we endured a preliminary 30 minutes (yes, i counted) of advertisements to see it. now, i thought, i could see what the rave had been about.
suddenly, on the screen, i see the first image: backlit snow flurries introducing the opening titles. i looked and thought it looked familiar. it was not too much longer before the synapses fused to make me realise i was seeing a film which had already had my $10/£8 contribution.
although i am happy i saw it for a second time, due to its superb construction, i later thought that perhaps i should write more things down.
it was four years ago on this weekend that my entire outlook on life began to metamorphose into something peculiar, unfamiliar yet euphoric.
i have had relationships before. nothing this long or quite as intense. never have i travelled all over the world to be with one person. i swore last time i moved to be with someone that i would not do it again. but this was an exception i could not pass up.
not that it has been easy. some of the time, even what may seem like most, there have been disagreements and petty arguments that go on. but all i have to do is look at his face or glance at his beautiful hands and hold that body of his that seems to naturally fall perfectly into mine and any anxieties or tensions seem to vanish, to dissipate as if they were never apparent.
i have many things to be thankful for on this day of reflection. despite media pressures to feel consumed with anxiety over what is going on a global scale financially or personally with our attempts to apply for the visa that seem to breed a whole range of uncertainties and concerns, the positives outweigh anything in that other list.
i know that i am not with him right now. but every night as i hold my pillow i imagine that it is him, that he is directly next to me. which he is and always will be no matter where we are physically.
one day soon this will be behind us and we will begin to build the life together that we have been speaking about for so very long.
above all other aspects to be grateful for, this enduring love is the ultimate gift that i cherish. i thank life that love can be this good.
and i thank that man halfway across the globe for his unconditional love over the last four years.
you are beyond words.
thnx.
Probably one of the best places to be in London. Even if it is raining and gray. It really doesn't matter.
So what have you been up to since you've been here? has been a very common, straightforward inquiry into a not-so-ordinary visit to Her Majesty's Island.
Apart from the typical response of museum exhibits (must see: Francis Bacon and if you're a Rothko fan, the exhibit is well done. Wouldn't bother with the Cold War Modern Design 1945-1970 exhibit as it seems a bit of a hodge-podge collection of things seen many, many times before) and strolls along the Southbank, pub crawls and curry, I inevitably get the double-take shock when I confidently tell them that after being in London for only a few days, we managed to secure a place of our own.
In a city where the flat shares and rentals surge with the same pace as the Thames, it is no surprise that the selection can often be likened to the drops that make up that same river: vast and dirty. That was our first impression when we travelled to the south to simply get an idea of what we should or shouldn't be looking for.
Bringing Chris along as support and for an unbiased, much needed third opinion, we ventured into New Cross Gate, an area not too far from Greenwich and a quick train ride from London Bridge Station. Elizabeth sounded very excited to meet us over the phone and the photos that we observed on the flat share website seemed promising. However, much like going on a first date with someone you meet from an internet-based socioromantic site, the initial excitement usually wears off when confronted with the physicality of what seems to be anything but what you have witnessed in the photos. How old was that person when the picture was taken? Was it airbrushed or did s/he have a life-altering experience in the last six months that has brought about the wrinkles and thinning hair not so evident from their profile? At exactly which angle did that person take the images of the room? It looked so clean and tidy in the photos. Certainly first impressions are important here, aren't they? Upon entering Elizabeth's flat, it took my much practised nighttime jaw clenching to keep from gasping at the toilet that she was claiming to be the living room-cum-kitchen-cum-dining room-cum-pantry area.
Apart from the tornado appearance of the arena, the guide seemed rather disshevled herself. Once we entered and after exchanging the proper introductory salutations, she proceeded to tell us that she had just gotten out of the shower (thus, wet hair brushing against shoulders leaving a damp residue) and wasn't wearing any underwear (thus...?).
Here's the pantry, she exclaimed as though she was the eager real estate agent going in for the kill. It's a bit of a mess (this she said, pointing at the mile-high debris pile conveniently hidden behind closed doors) but we'll take care of that. "We" as in the often attributed schizophrenic tendency people use when they have the Legion complex.
Up ahead is the shower, I heard her explain as I followed her up the stairs without trying to follow her panty-less behind. I just took out the black hairs from the drain. Her swarm of inappropriate remarks began to collect larger than the refuse we found in the first floor pantry.
You notice that the floors are cement. I had noticed but tried to forget about it. That's for the frequent parties that I like to have. You know, so no one spills alcohol on the carpet and makes and even bigger mess!, she giggled with a combination of self-adulation and flagellation. Oh! By the way! If you ever need a DJ for a party, just let me know!
I'm so excited at the prospect of having two gay men to live with! I just love gay men!!! And I love Jennifer Jason Leigh in Single White Female, but just on the little monitor that I can easily stop at any moment.
I suppose, at the end of it, the three of us had a few laughs. We also wished her good luck (not within ear shot, of course) as undoubtedly some 19 year-old gay twink will come across it and unashamedly say YES!!!
We then headed to Greenwich for a much needed beer after the experience. And that was at noon.
Although we had another appointment that evening, the two of us were on the verge of bailing on the scheduled viewing exclusively for fear that this would be simply a repetition on a theme. In the end, though, we felt the need to at least have a gander with no intentions of securing a place. After all, Pierre had already mentioned that we could stay with him for a couple of months and that would give us enough time to really seek something that was to our liking.
Then we saw it. 18 Ansdell Road, Nunhead, SE15. The street was quiet and unassuming. Peaceful even. The two-story building housed two other women who seemed grateful to see us while actually seeming rather at ease and relaxed with themselves and their place. After seeing the room which had more closet space than we probably would ever need, the washer and dryer, dishwasher, gargantuan back yard, I was ready to move in. Besides the contract is for six months. We can then decide to leave if we so choose. Plenty of time to assess where we want to be and for which reasons: to be closer to friends or work? Or perhaps we will just fall in love with it and never want to leave. At least, that is, for another six months.
And as grateful as we are to Pierre and the others for the ample hospitality, squatting at The Enterprise House for a couple of months is not quite what is in the plan, especially since there needs to be proof of accomodation whilst in London for the visa process.
Oh, the visa process. Coming to a theatre near you...
Please visit our Pinata #2: BITCH page to see the entire set of images from DoEAT's latest project from the Wight Biennial held at the Wight New Gallery, UCLA.
More on London soon...
sleep is one of those past times that, if collectible, i would be at the swap meet every day with tons of knick-knacks to sell. that being said, it tends to be a light sleep and probably an hour or so before i finally relinquish the subconscious to the conscious and therefore the darkness to the illumination of opening my eyelids, i hear almost everything. that isn't to say that i necessarily identify the slams, clamors and bangs with exactitude and precision.
for example, as i was in the early dozings of the marine-layered morning that is so typical of san diego with its coolness that exudes a tranquility but is simply a ruse for the summer that is beset upon us, i kept hearing a repetitive sound (was it outside? inside?) of something strikingly similar to one sopping up a large puddle of water with a not-so-dry towel in the bathroom. this could be a possibility at the place that i'm lodging at for the time being until shannon returns. there are cats, dogs and people galore with baths and water typically utilized extensively. perhaps one of the cats needed a flea bath and given the feline's natural abhorrence to water produced quite the mess for one of my roommates to then mop.
as i was ruminating half-awake on this possibility, the noise shifted direction and no longer did it seem to be coming from indoors. it was a constant click, more refined now and discernible. the night slumber was quickly fading, i knew it, but still i rustled with the sheets in an almost pretend sleep. i had it: someone was pruning a bush or chopping a hedge. snip. snip. snip. with the clear slicing din of the shears immediately brought back memories of when i was still a pre-teen and was forced to mow the lawn every week. how i despised the notion of being out there. getting sweaty and ruining my clothes. the smell of the fumes from the lawn mower made me nauseous and well, i just didn't want to do it because my step-father told me that i had no choice.
along with the years going by and the color of the front door constantly being repainted (as my mother loved to change colors more often than a chameleon would), i began to get used to doing the lawn. in fact, by the time that i left the house for greater evangelistic ops in brooklyn at 19, i was looking forward to getting out in the slightly overgrown blades of grass and even though we had a riding mower for the half-acre, i insisted on mowing everything with the pusher. the straight lines and precision did something for me. like a golf course. the trimming of hedges and maintenance of the grounds was something pleasurable now. perhaps the psychosis was setting in and the obsessive-compulsive behavior was unavoidable especially in a household where everything had to at least look perfect.
it made me think as i opened my eyes that i would like to have some type of garden or yard to take care of. will it be possible to have such a thing in london? or is that still only available to aristocracy or simply be knighted - which doesn't appear to have the equality to the prior any longer.
the sounds are gone now and all i hear are the endless pecks of the keyboard and the nagging voice inside telling me to get up...i have flowers to pick for the wedding to be with renee in a couple of hours.
after a lot of talk and contemplation, boBo and i have decided to get married. or form a civil union, depending on where you happen to find yourself. we began to deliberate on the idea over a year ago but it was not until budapest when we began to give it serious contemplation. the deal is this: i cannot continue to be in the situation i am in right now: not exactly legal. i have been for some parts, but for others: no. many hopes have been placed on the chance to obtain a work visa of some sort...but to no successful avail. but then again, i don't want to leave boBo.
boBo, on the other hand, would be the same as me if we were to go back to the united states on some relatively permanent situation. and since neither country widely accepts gay unions then we have decided to seek other measures in order to be together without looking behind our backs or under the tables, so to speak.
all this to say that soon - although the dates are uncertain at this time - we are going to make an attempt at moving to london and form a civil union together.
with that in mind, i am heading back to san diego for a spell, probably for the summer in order to get my head around this new development. we are wanting to take it very seriously and there is much thought and preparation that will go into it.
it's strange. the thought of leaving italy. it's like i just arrived. which i did in some respects. but it will always be here. but so will everything else.
i like living in italy. i like the flavors, the sounds, the people, the constant changing of life and the array of ways in which i find myself on a day to day basis. that being said, upon arriving in london, i also appreciated the simple comprehension quality of people talking english.
mind you, it shouldn't be taken for granted that i understand everything that is being said. with few exceptions, british english manages to be quite a different monster than the american slang that i am accustomed to. still, the pleasure was all mine on thursday evening.
Cafe Emm with H&C
after leaving boBo and giordana to their own devices, henrik, chris and i headed to dinner. Cafe Emm is a place that is "cheap and cheerful", a term to be reiterated for most of the things that we did over the next three days. the last time i frequented the restaurant was when i dumped whats-his-name in 2001. but that's another story.
we had a lot of catching up to do. it had been six months since i'd been with chris in ventotene, a year with henrik when we visited pinzolo on our last birthday. but like riding a bike, we seem not to forget the momentum and pick up where we left off. over a bottle of wine and an endless amount of laughter, this thought was rather pleasant.
On Exhibitions
boBo and i had discussed on the outset of this trip that we may or may not connect with one another once we left budapest. he has friends there and so do i. he had not been in the same place with both pierre and giordana since they lived in paris many years ago. the agreement was essentially no pressure and if we met up, then so be it.
gratefully the entire group of seven managed to get to the serpentine gallery within minutes of each other on the following day. what struck me immediately upon exiting the tube station was the brisk weather that somehow only affects london, at least in my experience. the sun was in full exposure and the sky couldn't have been a deeper blue than it was. yet the wind reminded us all that it was still march but brought with it a vitality and vividness to the colors and life that made me stop on many occasions and smile inside. for all its negative areas, london is a particular town in my heart.
we observed two exhibitions that day. the derek jarman showing was the highlight and i think the others might concur. being set at the serpentine required that it couldn't have been obnoxiously elongated. the attention deficiency disorder in me appreciated that. besides, being mostly video, the set up was most appreciated. unlike the typical white box where i am relentlessly endeavoring to find a seat because i despise standing up for any length of time, we were graciously provided with large bean bags to lounge around in and enjoy the visuals.
although the second visit was to the tate modern (one of my favorite destinations on the south bank), the duchamp/man ray/picabia show was in complete contrast to the previously mentioned one. long, long, and long. it was worth seeing some of the pieces and i am very interested in dadaism as a whole. i especially enjoyed the short film entr'acte directed by rené claire, written by picabia.
Rainy Saturdays
with boBo off to brighton along with pierre and giordana and chris exhausted from the previous night of drinking and dancing at ghetto, henrik and i met at the v&a for a light lunch and then off to Soho to see the edge of heaven. only knowing that it was recommended by henrik's boyfriend marcus and it had something to do with german/turkish relations, i was amazed at how involved i became in the film. very subtle but made quite a mark. go see it.
with that, the weekend passed and i sit here hoping that work will come soon along with a plethora of ideas for upcoming projects that are mixing around in my head trying to make sense and come to birth on some level.
i did hear back from MIT simply stating that the project had arrived and is in deliberation at the moment. again, fingers crossed.
i've been back from the states, or more luxuriously, not on a holiday, since the beginning of the year. the past two months have entailed a lot of newness for me: opportunities to instruct and probably more profoundly, to learn. to learn how to teach more effectively and to understand where my weaknesses are and where they...well, are not.
last night saw the last vestiges of the first in a series of eight-week intensive courses that i am teaching at The New Renaissance Florence Film School with the showing of the student's film EVEolution.
today i did what i haven't been able to do in quite a extensive period of time: sleep in. boBo still calls me "the farmer" as i do have the tendency to be up by 6:00, maybe 7:00 if i'm tired. rising myself at 11:00, however, felt more on the level of euphoria than possibly much needed sleep. though i must admit i did have nightmares of trying to help the students complete the editing process. war scars?
the intended purposes of the day were to get up and buy a guide book, in english, of budapest. boBo and i leave tomorrow for the city divided by the danube and having no time to read up on it, i was intending to spend the day in a crash course in hungarian history. but after an invitation to brunch by leah, i was easily persuaded.
waffles, eggs, bacon, mimosas...yum.
around 5:00 (late, late brunch), i headed out to a few different bookstores to find the book. not as easy as one might think. but i've spent the remainder of the evening prepping myself for yet another culture trying to grasp that indeed i am about to head out on holiday. the thermal baths are beckoning...
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