Greg, he writes letters and burns his CDs, they say you are something in those formative years.
September 19th, 2005
6:15 PM
Sitting at Embankment Station, waiting for my field trip to begin. There are so many people here. Mostly business folk. It's rush-hour time, I suppose everyone is getting out of work. Almost every man is in a tie; all the people surrounding me are carrying leather briefcases or handbags; I see a lot of four inch Nine West/Aldo/Shelly's high heels walking to and fro. Sheep.
Many of these individuals are buying an Evening Standard on their way to the tube. I imagine they would read it on the ride home, or maybe go home to a hearty dinner, prepared by a beautiful wife, protected by a beautiful house. Warm. Maybe someone will choke on a carrot.
The Talking Heads just entered my subconscious.
"You may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife, and you may ask yourself 'HOW DID I GET HERE'?"
Ah, Brian Eno.
6:15 PM
Sitting at Embankment Station, waiting for my field trip to begin. There are so many people here. Mostly business folk. It's rush-hour time, I suppose everyone is getting out of work. Almost every man is in a tie; all the people surrounding me are carrying leather briefcases or handbags; I see a lot of four inch Nine West/Aldo/Shelly's high heels walking to and fro. Sheep.
Many of these individuals are buying an Evening Standard on their way to the tube. I imagine they would read it on the ride home, or maybe go home to a hearty dinner, prepared by a beautiful wife, protected by a beautiful house. Warm. Maybe someone will choke on a carrot.
The Talking Heads just entered my subconscious.
"You may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife, and you may ask yourself 'HOW DID I GET HERE'?"
Ah, Brian Eno.