December 14th, 2005

(I've tried patience)

Tate Modern Modern Art

Well, what an extraordinary thing.
In the second-floor toilets of the Tate Modern, on one of the doors, is a The Modern sticker, with the words "Check them out, they're a really good band" written by it.

It's nothing to do with us. We just happened to find it.

It's brilliant. I mean, that is just brilliant.

Hurrah. This deserves a Modern icon even though I've been avoiding using them 'cause I'm all angst! and woe! about them at the minute.

E.
x
(I've tried patience)

(no subject)

Either David Attenborough's film crew manage to make the simple fact that butterflies can fly look like the most incredible thing ever, or it actually is the most incredible thing ever and I just forget. One way or another, I'm very grateful for him and the programmes he's made over the years. Even this series, which I have to watch with a hand over my eyes at times because six legs is too many legs.

So, yes, I had a lovely day with sparksoflight, stopping by Oxford Street to stare at the really astoundingly 80s clothes in the windows of Miss Selfridge (there's some kind of...grey sweatshirt material skirt thing...with saddlebags...in the window) and then heading off to the Tate Modern. I never usually manage to get through more than two or three rooms before having to sit down and catch my breath because I've been laughing so hard at the 'explanations' of the art on those helpful little placards, but since sparksoflight finds it all as funny as I do we held onto one another as we wandered around giggling and renaming installations things like 'Hagrid's Hatstands' and spotting stray New Romantics. It's always a problem when I spot a stray New Romantic these days, since obviously I immediately want to go up and start talking enthusiastically about Duran Duran, and then I remember that right now it's just possible they got their entire outfit from Top Shop or something. So I said nothing, but I smiled; she was gorgeous.

I have been listening to a Dar Williams song all evening, and crying. It's the good sort of crying, though, the crying that happens when a song just shakes you all to pieces. Which this song hasn't ceased to do no matter how many times I've listened to it. She's very good and I wish I had more. I know this is all a bit Bono of me, but some days I really can't bear the thought that other people don't experience music the way I do - for their sakes. How patronising is that? I'm sorry. I mean, I don't mean to be patronising, obviously, but I know it is. But I feel the same way with everything beautiful I see or read or hear, that I wish everyone else could see it, or get the same things from reading it, or whatever. Don't we all? I think I used to want to keep these things to myself - I still do, a bit, there are songs I still get a tug of uneasiness about putting on CD for people. My god, this journal entry is turning into one by someone whose journal I couldn't read half the time because their journal entries all sounded like this. I'll stop now.

E.
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  • Current Music
    hopelessly naïve. 'When I Was A Boy', Dar Williams.