roads to somewhere

thirty three

2006-02-25T19:00:00.000Z

thirty two

2006-02-25T18:59:00.000Z

twentyfour

2006-02-17T09:43:00.000Z

thursday or friday night

twentythree

2006-02-16T09:41:00.000Z

twentytwo

2006-02-16T09:39:00.000Z

untitled no 1

2005-10-24T13:43:00.000+01:00

untitled

2005-10-23T13:41:00.000+01:00

all poets are alchemists

2005-08-31T12:48:00.000+01:00

(day six: 6.342km, 304.4kcal, 10571 steps)

and magicians and apothecaries of words and blood and love as it flows from me into you into me again and everywhere

john and his friend henry used to live here quite a while back. the parties were legendary as you can imagine, they would sometimes go on for days, dawn after night after day of dragons dancing and singing and kissing, john then got a few books of verse published and buggered off to nw3, never found out what henry did

bermondsey it scares me

white grounds of blue houses, painted and barred for your convenience
metallic louvres of air leading to gelding place: there are no handles on those steel doors, is there a code or a touch or a thought?

the royal marines with their high pitched ropes have taken over lilliput hall

once upon a time, your beige brick double glazed imitation cottage roofs came from ikea (inside your fairytales you play happy families most weekends)

bermondsey it scares me (everything is on sale in bermondsey)

i cant be going the right way which way wrong way turn the map around and around jamaica road is wide i like it, where does it go

on balconies: oh hello, putting your washing up? yes im putting my washing up while our caretaker washes the windows, hello, james, his poor wife is very ill, such a nice man and all, james, fancy a cuppa? let me finish this window first, is your son coming later? (fade out)

follow a path of dried leaves, crunching under foot, estate teenage boys, open the gate for the car, breathe in breathe out, this is no hellmouth, there was no cemetary here, no ghosts or crooked leylines

bermondsey it scares the shit out of me

and then i get to the river

will you be waiting for me in the star alley?

2005-08-16T18:11:00.000+01:00

(day five: 4.768km, 269.6kcal, 7947 steps)
vroom vroom in the dwarfmobile, deeper and deeper under ground, what would you like today, madam? oh, i will have one trillion coins today, thank you
up, on some different stairs, feed the birds tuppence a bag, feed the rats with wings banned from every single rail station in london
on a day like this the city is a hostile boiling cage of compasses and throgmortons (heehawing happily after a good lunch)
on a day like this the city doesnt like me and i dont like it back
glass steel concrete concrete steel concrete 17th century christopher wren church glass steel concrete concrete concrete glass
blinded by the neon sign, ‘welcome to the plantation palace,’ you will never want to leave
past mincing lane where the underwriters are the butchers of today
through seething lane and crutched friars into the savage gardens
this is where yeah thats ok
this is where oh this gas is bugging me, my stomachs been funny all day, all we had was that pizza last night
this is where i guess i could
this is where are we there yet mummy
this is where your boyfriend said hed text you didnt he i bet you he forgot i bet you he got off with whatshername shes such a bitch she really is are you bovvered
this is where oh that looks interesting look at those drawings
this is where you can be so selfish sometimes i never said a word i hate arguing in public
this is where what this way
this is where i cant remember
this is where i love you

pine trees in fair street still smell sweetly (secret garden gate, secret garden, unkempt)
what does ‘dare quam accipere’ mean?
the cat and cucumber café has been closed due to the stupidity of the name. also affected: topnotch health clubs (“dare 2b different”)
under the bridge, druids are celebrating deities of porsche and scrap metal

today i shall mostly be wearing haggerston

2005-08-07T12:32:00.000+01:00

(day four: 7388 steps, 4.432km, 247.8 kcal)

roads spreading like life before me, in red of blood and life, giant keith harring creatures of dress patterns i see bricks in my windows in my houses

who's audrey?

peeping through thin openings in walls and, on the other side, a secret green joy

three women are sitting outside a ground floor flat, barefoot on a white sheet or blanket, scarves on their heads to cover the hair, talking

on the forgotten side of the park, new shrine circles of car tyresand then, in an instant, accidentally, i am in southpark as i laugh to something a turkey tells me. i am communicating with them telepathically as there are young children present.

where are the doves and who's audrey?

in columbia road, a brave young felix snoozes on the pavement. a very different estate, of colour, cream and dark orange and pastel pink and pastel green, is this what new orleans is like and why new orleans and not havana? where exactly is columbia?

a shoe shop where they sell man sandals (one for £15 and three for £40) and i'm back on shoreditch high street. it is here that i wonder if i definitely have no mapreading abilities whatsoever, regardless of the fact that i drew the route myself. to the left. to the right.

french place of backdoors and backwindows, then glass panels with smoke vent lower ground labels. what does this mean?

down a road of worship where you're not really meant to walk leisurely or anyhow, you're not really meant to be standing oustide smoking embarassedly, only cars are allowed down this road, danger of death, exterminate

a pigeon jumping around on his one good leg, the other one has a rump instead of a talon and looks sorehave a cigarette in the semicircle while logan runs

i am now four days away from north london (and counting...)

i am writing a revolution of words

2005-08-07T12:29:00.000+01:00

day three: 3.650km, 6084 steps, 196.1kcal
today, walking towards the walking starting point, without the map which i stupidly left at home, where will the city take me?
its hotter and sunnier than they said it was going to be and im hot. my legs dont hurt but my bag is heavy. gerry signs in at two o'clock sharp
on the canal, a canoe swerves slightly, swishing rhythmically in the heart of rubble, spoiled only by the noisy flipflopping of my bag
objects found but not kept: one russell hobbs microchip country style toaster; white
first stop: (albion drive leading to) albion square. i do not have many thoughts as to what it might look like, possibly half expecting it to be a bit rundown. it isnt and is utterly silent in a daytime monday kind of way. i do not go around it as squares confuse me
then no, line painting is not line dancing, nowhere near as funny either
wilton way: i redraw the routemap from memory, strangely inaccurately, compressedly (music: fake plastic trees)
two red phone boxes which appear to be in someones front garden arent really. this is where dr who lives, i think
i follow the scent of the postmen as they spray their territories with red elastic bands (objects found: one)
middleton road: horror holiday homes (straight out of pinewood or elstree workshops) of beige and white and fake architectural details who lives there nobody can live there, next door to a holy mis-en-scene, saying, 'come in and hear life changing testimonies. you will be amazed.' as im writing it down, a pentecostal grin, 'you will be coming later then?' 'yes, cheers,' i reply
(we are in wilson road, an artist is giving a talk, the artist is scottish or from up north, his paintings depict building after building after building of beige brick; it could also be a different painter who painted similar brickscapes; both their names escape me)
how many policemen? seven? eight? two police vans and a car screaming up and down the road, a white goth girl sitting on top of a stone wall, her (boy)friend standing not far, the policemen are holding a black man, with his face to the wall, inches away from where the girl is sitting, two policemen firmly holding his arms behind his back, slightly uncomfortable, i transfer the notepad to my left hand, quicken the pace only just so, hoping nobody notices the camera ('what are you writing in there...?')

day two

2005-08-07T12:27:00.000+01:00

get off the bus in curtain road, a traffic jam, police tape at the corner with old street and to the left, 'officer, can we walk through?' 'yes,' the policeman takes the tape off the lamppost. my mind in denial of thought. walk to primary colours then cross the road towards the next busstop. two elderly women (neighbours?) bump into each other on their way to or from shopping, 'did you hear what happened?' 'no?' 'my son just phoned me, its on tv, there are bombs everywhere, in hackney, wood green, everywhere.' i pause hoping my md is recording this. get a bus then get off three four stops later. 'whats happening? i just overheard a woman talk about bombs...?' 'let me turn the tv on - theres been a blast on a bus, a man was arrested in downing street...'
trumans road and crossway, a dudleys alsatian in front of a clothes shop, untied, will he wont he go in i never find out
the battery dies again to the sound of silver police sirens
in a shop, turkish news with cnn footage, not understanding a word, 'where is this? where is this?' i ask. the shopkeeper says, 'who takes the bus? who takes the tube? normal people like us.'
boleyn road, another bridge for tall people, over railtracks, over western junction
power tools power snacks power naps then a bit later power praying
forest road: dried, stale summer smell of incontinence
two boys alone in a playground, playing football with a basketball ball, windows on the ground floor bricked and boarded up with blue plastic or metal; first one then two butterflies on the grass, up, try and catch them, where did the other one go? where do butterflies go when they die?
i stop to cross the road and an elderly woman comes over. 'its shocking, you try to cross the road and they behave like they want to kill you.' 'yeah,' i say.
landsdowne drive: estate estate estate satellite dishes and a school across the road, deadly silent, while the windchimes whisper
and here, a shadow over a bench, also: a discarded dolls house, a jacket on the fence, someone was on the run, threw the clothes and the dollhouse behind him or her?
stats: 10950 steps 6.570km 361.6kcal
items found:
two elastic bands (red)