“We sat so close together on the subway
a policeman walked up to us,
took out his nightstick,
put it under his chin like a violin,
& pretended he was serenading us.
That was the year we loved each other
so much he could have arrested us for it.”—“Serenade” by Hal Sirowitz (via clavicola)
I think Camden has grown on me. I know intially I hated it, but I’m beginning to like the feel of the place, and starting to feel proud that I live here. It’s a place with many things to see and to do both during the day and the night, apart from the fact it gets dodgy at night (but don’t all places?) I really am starting to love it.
Just this morning I was walking back from a friend’s place, I slept over at hers as we were late coming back from a party and there were no more trains. I borrowed one of her jeans, she gave me one of her pairs that was loose (she’s smaller than me), but the thing is that they were in acid wash and had rips in it. Picture this- me with bed hair and raccoon eyes from a lack of sleep, wearing ripped jeans and ankle boots on the tube- I’d fit right in with the people here in Camden who are into alternative fashion, I swear people on the tube were avoiding me, and thoroughly expected me to be a resident of Camden Town, which I am proud to say, I am. Now I only have to join a punk rock band…
I must have been looking pretty down when I walked into Waterstones today, because a security guard randomly struck a conversation with me as I entered the store. Just before I entered the store, a motorcycle made a loud ‘popping’ noise like a firecracker, and I nearly jumped out of my skin as I crossed the threshold.
'Loud, wasn't it? Motorcycles have a habit of doing that.'
I said I didn’t know they were inclined to make noises like that, and I explained that I was still getting used to living in the big city. He asked if I lived around the area, but I said no, that I had just moved here to study. I told him I had just started reading law, and he said there were law books downstairs, and that he knew some guy who would march into the store with his secretary and demand the newest editions of certain law books.
But I told him that no, I wasn’t looking for law books, that I needed a break from the books of that kind since I’d been studying most of the afternoon. He must have sensed that I wasn’t feeling particularly enthusiastic about law, because he then told me to be positive, saying that thinking positive would help me succeed. He asked me why I chose to study law when I didn’t seem particularly interested in it, so I said that it was because ‘I knew it was good for me.’ Which is the main idea, now that I’ve hit a wall and passed the twilight moments of, ooh I’m a law student. But he then said, ‘your parents must be proud of you, and they must believe in you for sending you to study here and paying for your education,’ which does ring true, and was exactly the sort of encouragement I needed during reading week to get off my butt and get to work. Funny how encouragement comes from the random-est, kindest strangers, especially here in the big city.
Being positive’s a terribly simple concept, but one that is simultaneously so difficult to apply when I feel so knackered looking at columns of text that has made its mind up to be ambiguous. I normally love reading, but the lack of a creative outlet at the moment has me at wits end. And it’s all my fault, not joining any creative societies. It’s partly me wanting to meet like-minded people, but at the same time getting intimidated by the extremely professional, brilliant minds who know everything there is to know about the subject. I suppose I’m into a number of things, but not quite a specialist in a particular field, sort of like a jack-of-all-trades but really a master of none.
But to end this post on a positive note, I’ve decided that I’ll take my camera on a trip to see the independent side of London. (I bought a book today that prides itself in being a ‘directory’ of sorts for independent shops!) That is, if I get through my contract reading.