Jul 01, 2009 09:43
I tend to rearrange half-glimpsed bits of the universe so as they fit better into my world. Most often, this manifests in mis-readings of words. The West End’s current revival of An Inspector Cats, for example. (Top Cat becomes Officer Dibble’s superior! What farcical larks!)
This morning, crossing the road, I was passed by a car blaring out the young person rap music; the lyrics seemed to be about an “ambler gambler” because you know how hip-hop stars love early Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci.
Further down the street, I thought the little girl in front of me had on a White Stripes backpack, because of the red/black/white colour scheme of the protagonists; closer inspection revealed it was a High School Musical tie-in.
By the time I got to the end of the road, and saw a small boy channelling the spirit of the music-hall, I was vaguely prepared to believe he was doing nothing of the sort, and that I am in fact too unversed in the ways of the youth to know that holding one’s bag straps out as though they are wide lapels while attempting a perambulatory cancan is in fact how you hail a bus these days. But he was DEFINITELY a secret dancer. Only when his sister’s back was turned too.
Brilliant.
brain confusion,
observational observations