-Day Eleven-
Today was that day almost all tourists at least assume of doing: go to London! I have been there before and after a many of tours, I immediately tried to assume what else could possibly be there. There was that river, that clock, that merry-go-round. I had seen it all before. Add in a few familiar sights, and I almost feel like London is treading on familiar territory. Of course, that is strictly if you only look at the world from the sides of the river. As I discovered on the hike through the city, the area is pretty huge.
I started the day early, waking up five minutes before Alex came knocking on the door, telling me to get ready. I sacrificed a shower for finishing off the Auteurcast episode on the Game, which I made it halfway through before falling asleep. I went to bed early despite my expectations of making it through that entire episode. 40 minutes later, I was out that door, now self conscious that I smelled something awful. I must admit that I don't think that I sweat up a smell, but I still have grown to admire the morning shower as a moment to wipe away the sins of yesterday's sweat.
After a quick stop at the market, we were on our way to the train. We hopped on the train with Viv, who pretty much gave me the third degree. As dry as my humor is, Alex's reassurance that all of the jabs at me were meant in a loving fashion, I still come from a family that insults in a very comical way, as if they are too insecure to really appreciate the line between insult and love. Still, my quest to be a excellent house guest has caused me to apologize when all she does is joke. In a sense, it feels refreshing to have someone who means well and I still apologize for being the butt of jokes.
After losing Viv, it was time to get started on my day and therefore it was me and Alex walking along the Thames. All of the bridges, including the Suspension Bridge, all had elaborate stories that Alex didn't know. It was nice looking at stuff together and only being able to say "that bridge gets blown up a lot in movies." We also had at least 100 joggers have to run around us. It really did get annoying and made you wonder who has time to jog at 10 AM on a Wednesday. Maybe the speed is more rewarding than a paycheck or creative fulfilment.
Our first stop was at the Globe Theater, That is right, theater geeks. I went into the Globe, or at very least, the museum portion. We asked about tours and then we were out. Viv suggested it, since it is as writery as London gets. Okay, I appreciate people who are ambitious in terms of writing, but my beef with Shakespeare is more rooted in his content. Not that I think he was a pseudo-Nazi trying to cause French takeover. No, I just simply think he was not a very good writer.
You can say that it was because of the time, but the truth is that the authors that I feel should sustain a legacy are those that were in connection with the times. Someone who managed to critique the era while maintaining creative control, a'la you could hear his voice jump off the page. Instead, we get the goofy wording that just feels insincere. These don't feel like characters, but just an opportunity for Shakespeare to convince people to say goofy shit. Okay, before you jump me entirely, I want to say that I call him a hack because I am sure there is a Pete Best equivalent from the era who got fucked out of being remembered forever. Also, the goofy language is puzzling because I know that if you go further back to Plato... he didn't sound like a jackass when he preached philosophy. Nor did Homer and "the Odyssey." Yet somehow Shakespeare gets remembered for what honestly felt inauthentic, trying too hard. It just makes no sense to me. I guess it was like the hollow pop music of the time.
I will cease my complaints on Shakespeare. True, he could write a plot, but the dialogue suffered from overdramatics. I guess not being a theater geek, this doesn't resonate with me.
Our next stop was the Tate Museum, where we got to look at different art. There was the surreal section, that I felt was pretty interesting. However, when we reached minimalism, it caused Alex to say that "art is stupid." I tried to go into theory with him about how art, but it lasted a mere five minutes as we were going down the escalator.
As a writer, who seems to be more obsessed with the making of story than the actual work sometimes (mind you, I would totally read a "making of" story of Girl Walk // All Day, though piecing it together off of the internet is proving pleasurable), I have spent many of boring afternoons trying to figure out how the simplest of words came about. Where did "the" come from? If you consider that language is man made, you go back to cave men. Broad symbols are easier to pick up than saying "I found a rock!" Who invented language, and how did they convince the second person to pick it up?
Apply that to art. Think seriously, all forms of creative art is in some ways stupid. Minimalistic art may be one of the most blatant, but let's go to acting. Why do people want to take on personas and tell stories? The evolution is fascinating, as it is in many ways delusional if you do not accept the basic suspension of disbelief. There is a lot of complexity to it that I haven't quite explored, but as much as I admire performance art, there is still that question of where did it root from, because until it is accepted, it is pretty stupid. As it stands, writing poetry is pretty stupid, but I still think that Bukowski is a genius. Art is the form of making people believe crazy shit. I am proud to be associated with it in some ways.
But yes, I also feel that art is not just throwing shit on a board and saying it is poetic. What works have survived centuries? People that have actually TRIED to make something interesting. Those statues and paintings were all just fascinating endeavors. Even Mozart (who I have wanted to call Amadeus since that movie... dammit) and his music withstood a time when you couldn't record it. Hell, even Scott Joplin's work is pretty great. You know why? It wasn't rocks on a floor or paint on a board. It was effort to say something and have the author's voice shine through.
Art, in its most concrete description, is effort to explain the unexplainable through complex imagery/sounds. There is nothing complex about rocks on the ground. Minimalistic art suffers from being just too simple. I mean, some asshole put a mirror in the museum and passed it off as art. I want something bizarre about the mirror. I am telling you, those shape shifting mirrors at carnivals are far more artistic than this mirror hanging in the Tate. You cannot have an emotional connection with a mirror. It is people like that that give art a bad name. Art should be more selective, I think. Just saying, Alex's photos are more artistic than ones I saw (mind you, I am mostly referencing minimalistic art).
Our next stop was the London Film Museum. It was right across the street from the London Eye. I was excited to go on that until I discovered that it was £20. At that point, I was like "fuck this" and we moved on with our life. I was honestly looking forward to this museum, as it was in a BIG building and hey, film is a subject that I tend to like.
There is a lot of interesting stuff going on inside that museum. Plenty of costumes and relics from films that I tended to admire. None grabbed me as much as the King Kong exhibit, which was rather brilliant in explaining how movies were made in the earlier era, before special effects really made things easier. Of course, King Kong is just a brilliant movie in general. We also took photos in the Star Wars exhibit for Alex. I was more interested in the Alien creatures the next room over. I tell you, they are so scary in person that I wouldn't be surprised if it came to life.
The problem with the place was that we were short on time. Also, for an excessively big building, it was depressingly small. One floor full of great stuff. The rest was empty hallways with doors leading to who knows what. I felt like this place could have been jam packed with the amount of free space that they have. However, I had my bliss moment when I noticed that they had a promo from the Simpsons Movie towards the end of the place. They also had a great amount of section dedicated to Charlie Chaplin, which in a slower day, I would have been there for at least 20 minutes reading every little fact. Sadly, no Buster Keaton stuff, but you take what you get.
After catching the London Underground over to the Royal Albert Hall, we saw Cirque Du Soleil. First, the Royal Albert Hall. The place is large, circular, and I think that the acoustics are good. I don't want to call it suffering from building influenza, but it just felt like another big grand building after awhile. I felt that it looked great and massive. From the top section, it was easy to survey everything and yes, it looked like a really solid auditorium and the only thing that could possibly impress me about it is that it has maintained good conditions for a very, very long time. It got me thinking why we're cutting down our carbon footprints, but we cannot build anything that lasts like a Royal Albert Hall. Now that is a real amazing feat.
The show started off reminding me of an episode of the Simpsons which had the same concept of going to a circus show. I felt like quoting it throughout, but it would be deemed pointless, as I would be the only one who got it. I did admire that they did a whole bunch of preshow buffoonery, like walk into the audience and bug people. It felt like a solid set-up, even though I guess it conflicts on a deeper problem: intellect vs. broad humor. Nothing intellectual about circus humor. I just had to accept that it was a bunch of slapstick, and an odd amount of humping. Definitely seemed joyous. However, it made me realize that I just never was attracted to clowns. I don't hate them nor am I scared, but the gig, as crowd pleasing as it was, just made me want Graham Chapman to jump out and say "this is too silly."
The actual performances were pretty impressive. However, this was one hell of a day of me trying to convince myself that I should be enjoying the suspense. However, as people were on tightropes, I couldn't help but feel that they were professionals. They have perfect balance. I am expecting them to do crazy shit. That kind of damped the mood for me, so I just began to wonder what training they took to perfect it. I wanted to know how they grew to be the flexible performers who could do backflips and walk such great heights. That was far more interesting than the show. I admit that they are really, really good at showing off talent, but I felt like their origin stories would make for a better performance.
I cannot quite pinpoint why this bugged me. However, I think it is largely because most of the show was set-up to the "awe" moments. You slowly watched these people build to those moments when they are hanging from strings in the air and just going crazy. Yes, it was impressive, but after a point, you do realize that these are experts. I oddly found myself wishing that they had more dance choreography. Why am I so into dance in the past few months? It makes no sense.
I didn't hate it, but it was just so bizarre and while I know that you just can't jump into half of those stunts, I feel like the concept of making things effortless only makes me wonder how they got to that point. To say the least, Alex loved it more than I did, especially a hula hoop lady who did up to ten (I think) rings around her body. Also, the broad humor that involved people running around just seemed odd and yes, crowd pleasing. Side note - I am not for clapping except at intervals, like intermission and credits. It really depletes the purpose otherwise.
We headed back to Rye on the London Underground. I was on a very packed subway until Victoria. Alex had me guard my stuff with diligence for the entire time. Oh pick pocketers. I kind of feel like maybe if I had another two weeks, I would have trouble converting to a life outside of public transport. As slogging as it proved to be (our train had a 15 minute delay), it just has this calm effect to know you're going somewhere, but not overly crazy getting there. I don't know. I guess it could be perverse Stockholm Syndrome.
When we got back, we had some dinner and retreated to Alex's room to watch Black Books. It was odd, because my initial reaction was "is this Clerks?" Because it is about a slacker working a bookstore and in the first five minutes, closes shop to visit a neighboring business. Same thing happens in Clerks. The show took awhile to grow on me, but it may be one that I will give a go, if just because I know for a fact that someone with access to my Netflix watched it at some point and therefore I know it exists in America. Still, a rather entertaining show and the first full on slacker show that I feel that we watched. Kudos, Alex, on taking this long to find a slacker show. I must say that TV discoveries have been fruitful on this trip.
The night was over and I went to sleep. London is still at least a nice city to look at. Screw the joggers, just looking out at the river and feeling like there was something quaint about the city just made me feel in awe. This whole trip has been full of nice looking things, and while it is unfair to compare it all to London, I downright enjoyed it. It is too big, though. Either that, or I need to get back into walking more. I didn't tire out in a poor fashion, but Alex's insistence on rushing at points was just too much. I felt we needed to, so I didn't complain.
It was also my mother's birthday, so I wished her a happy birthday. In return, she mentioned that she has been listening to the Les Miserables soundtrack. She got me back into listening to it. Oddly, people on her page complained about Russell Crowe's "Stars" cover. Still makes me laugh. I don't have issues with him, but I need to hear these better versions to better understand what it is that they are talking about.
No Sundance news really to report on. However, my Tumblr has been reduced to publishing photos of Ellen Page in interviews. You forget how gorgeous she is until you get 20 photos a day of her in interviews. Oh, how I wish I could have met her.
Anyways, I need to get going. We're catching a train to the Isle of Wight in a few and I don't have time to talk and talk. Hope that you're enjoying these so far and I will continue to cover this stuff as time goes on. So, I'll see ya later. Sorry for the brief goodbye.
QUESTION: What is Spain?
No comments:
Post a Comment