Last night I finished the Bill Bryson book I'd been reading. Being a filthy backpacker I can only carry around one book at a time – I need the rest of my backpack space for tubes of Vegemite, and boots (I can't give them up). So, desperate for something to read, I started browsing through my flatmate's bookcase. I didn't have great expectations; my reading tastes are erratic at best. However, I was still ill-prepared for how low-brow and inadequate I would feel mere seconds later.
The shelves contained every book I have ever aspired to read, but haven't. Rimbaud, Alain de Botton, and Nietzsche, the history of civilization, commentaries on the Arab-Israeli conflict. It was like the ghosts of good literary intentions past. I finally picked out The God of Small Things – the cover was pretty. After 50 pages I had to concede defeat. The wandering prose, subtle similes and sombre tone just didn't hold my interest. And it doesn't end there: the only thing I know about Salman Rushdie is that he cameoed in Bridget Jones' Diary. I have no idea what A Suitable Boy is about – relationship advice, I presume. Also, I hate The Catcher in the Rye. It's not for want of trying: I re-read it every a year, hoping in vain to see the light. I understand that within the context it was written it would have been ground-breaking and irreverent. Nowadays the ideas still resonate, but they are not extraordinary. Salinger's protagonist is essentially just another emo I don't want to hear from.
I'm not proud of this. I didn't set out to be a literary philistine, it's just turned out that way. I find these books are uniformly intimidating, and usually depressing, so to be honest I'd rather steer clear. Some might say that this is characteristic of younger generations – we're too used to things being dumbed down to appreciate fine linguistic turns of phrase and abstract esoteric thought. Personally, I think sometimes some of us need a break from the gloom and doom we are bombarded with on a daily basis. I hate that an inanimate object can make me feel obtuse, or depressed at the futility of existence, so mostly I'd just rather relax with a Ben Elton, or Dazed and Confused.
That or I'll give A Suitable Boy go - I could use the dating tips.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
YEAH! is the answer.
Every so often you come across an accessory that stops you in your tracks, that makes your heart skip a beat. You know immediately you know you have to have it, whatever the price, whatever the impracticality.
This happened to me last weekend, shopping with my friend Amy at Spitalfields Markets. We were feeling fragile having over-indulged in vodka and hot chips the night before, and had been left looking like drowned rats, thanks to the kind of weather that is London’s specialty: not technically raining, but definitely not dry either. Suffice to say, we were not in the highest of spirits as we dragged ourselves along a cursory path through the stalls.
And then, the clouds parted (metaphorically that is - this is London, after all). There before us was the most amazing, most perfect necklace I had ever seen. The pendant was four gold block letters, each about an inch and a half high, an inch wide, and an inch deep. Their message was pure and direct: “YEAH!”.
Please don’t be fooled by this deceptively simple approach to form and sentiment: the “YEAH!” (as it shall henceforth be known) achieves a level of style and desirability that is rarely found in more elaborate pieces.
Its versatility makes it the holy grail of accessories. I will wear it with a baggy tee and high-top trainers, with my beloved tutu and slouchy boots, and with my oversized vest, fishnets and stilettos. It will even add a dash of funky-glam to my gold bikini, white palazzo pants, and tan leather sandals.
This is grown-up costume jewellery for the modern blingtellectual. It makes a subversive comment about today’s culture of ambivalence, and cheekily gives the finger to all the emos who think “WHATEVER” is the way forward.
So give the “YEAH!” a go. After all, no may mean no, but “YEAH!” will change your life.
nb. Having saved my hard-earned coppers for weeks, the "YEAH!" will finally be mine this Sunday. Pics to follow.
This happened to me last weekend, shopping with my friend Amy at Spitalfields Markets. We were feeling fragile having over-indulged in vodka and hot chips the night before, and had been left looking like drowned rats, thanks to the kind of weather that is London’s specialty: not technically raining, but definitely not dry either. Suffice to say, we were not in the highest of spirits as we dragged ourselves along a cursory path through the stalls.
And then, the clouds parted (metaphorically that is - this is London, after all). There before us was the most amazing, most perfect necklace I had ever seen. The pendant was four gold block letters, each about an inch and a half high, an inch wide, and an inch deep. Their message was pure and direct: “YEAH!”.
Please don’t be fooled by this deceptively simple approach to form and sentiment: the “YEAH!” (as it shall henceforth be known) achieves a level of style and desirability that is rarely found in more elaborate pieces.
Its versatility makes it the holy grail of accessories. I will wear it with a baggy tee and high-top trainers, with my beloved tutu and slouchy boots, and with my oversized vest, fishnets and stilettos. It will even add a dash of funky-glam to my gold bikini, white palazzo pants, and tan leather sandals.
This is grown-up costume jewellery for the modern blingtellectual. It makes a subversive comment about today’s culture of ambivalence, and cheekily gives the finger to all the emos who think “WHATEVER” is the way forward.
So give the “YEAH!” a go. After all, no may mean no, but “YEAH!” will change your life.
nb. Having saved my hard-earned coppers for weeks, the "YEAH!" will finally be mine this Sunday. Pics to follow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)