SHABBAH
I was wheeling the trolley around Tesco tonight. Just observing- my throat was sore and so I had a rare motivation to keep my mouth shut and my opinions to myself.
It all seemed surreal though, I felt as though I was surrounded by peasents in a Kabul market scene. Splayed toes in cheap sandals, snot encrusted upper lips of Somalian toddlers (or toddlers from any other middle eastern flea-hole) who wail in an air raid siren drone, the reverberations of pig-latin from our fellow EU member states.
This is merely North Londons ethnicity in flesh, but as ever I felt obliged to take a hyperbolic stance, in my mind at least. As if it were a stage. I knew right then and there that I could quite easily make a stimulating film about this. Documentary footage shot in a quirky hand held camera style. A concurrent narrative throughout. I could even account for my efforts in the name of 'art'. A word once treasured by collectors and the wealthy now trashed about in the masses mouths like a deshevilled blow-jobbing cum-recepticle.
Yes, by the time I reacehd the 'Kosha/Ethnic' aisle the illusion had faded and I sunk to industrial trolley-skid-proof tiles with an audible thud. Obliged to continue with more mundane issues, my thoughts turn to this weekend.
I will go to Norwich to stay with Phil. After this weeks events I dont doubt that will be MANY sorrow drowning sessions, much introspection and exhaustive discussions.
Or
In phils words: 'we will go pub, get drunk and pinpoint the starfuckers*
I can hardily wait.
It all seemed surreal though, I felt as though I was surrounded by peasents in a Kabul market scene. Splayed toes in cheap sandals, snot encrusted upper lips of Somalian toddlers (or toddlers from any other middle eastern flea-hole) who wail in an air raid siren drone, the reverberations of pig-latin from our fellow EU member states.
This is merely North Londons ethnicity in flesh, but as ever I felt obliged to take a hyperbolic stance, in my mind at least. As if it were a stage. I knew right then and there that I could quite easily make a stimulating film about this. Documentary footage shot in a quirky hand held camera style. A concurrent narrative throughout. I could even account for my efforts in the name of 'art'. A word once treasured by collectors and the wealthy now trashed about in the masses mouths like a deshevilled blow-jobbing cum-recepticle.
Yes, by the time I reacehd the 'Kosha/Ethnic' aisle the illusion had faded and I sunk to industrial trolley-skid-proof tiles with an audible thud. Obliged to continue with more mundane issues, my thoughts turn to this weekend.
I will go to Norwich to stay with Phil. After this weeks events I dont doubt that will be MANY sorrow drowning sessions, much introspection and exhaustive discussions.
Or
In phils words: 'we will go pub, get drunk and pinpoint the starfuckers*
I can hardily wait.