Daiquiris are a girl's drink.

Thursday, May 20, 2004

Sounds from my bedroom window

My flat sits on a corner, at the end of a row of typical north London Victorian redbrick. If the traffic is light and the sash window is open I can hear most of what happens on the street. All these people who think they are alone in the road or cocooned in the solitude of their car, all these people with stereos and arguements, they forget you're never really out of earshot in a city. Here are the aural snapshots from the last day or so.

22:17 Two men talking in Turkish with great animation.

22:18 The arythmic clopping of a girl running in high heels. When I lean and look out I see her silver top and her long blonde hair falling about her face.

22:20 "Tell her," says a woman's voice. "Say 'Just shut up!"

22:38 A man, northern: "Er er what's his name, his name ... Ian Duncan Smith. He was fucked [inaudible] election. Fucked mate."

0:13 "But I didn't drink anything last night."
Giggles, a woman says in a friendly way: "I love you. [inaudible due to passing car] But Amy said... [passing car]"

7:20 Some spacey R'n'B from a car stereo

11:30 Child screaming so hard it sounds like it's about to vomit.

14:42 Man shouting "I've got a sore arm!" and Dizzee Rascal shouting "fix up/ look sharp!" from a radio.

Monday, May 17, 2004

First post

For a long time I've thought there was something faintly embarassing about blogging, as it relates to me at any rate, I'm quite fond of other people's. But still, I'm here now.