Thursday, June 26, 2008

Trains, Breasts and Identity

On my train home today there was this big black geezer. He was listening to music on his headphones and mc'ing, loudly, along to the words. It went something like his:

"Give me the punnani,
Ca me real horny,
Me grab up the breast and batty,
Fuck her up real bad bad baddy,
Squeeze her till she can't breathe,
And dem sheets are bloody and reed,"

Them lyrics are pretty full on, for any situation. But bear in mind that he was doing this on a packed train with suited and the skirted all trying their hardest to look oblivious.

I was cracking up inside but tried to keep a calm, disinterested exterior. I got off at Lewisham and this guy was still going strong. It was funny.

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I'm reading this book called "New York Trilogy", by Paul Auster. It is made up of three strange, noirish (kinda, but not really - they're set in the 80s for one) detective stories. The first one I'm reading starts with a guy who gets a wrong phone call asking for... a Paul Auster (the author - weird) who he says is the only person who can save him. He says wrong number and forgets about it. BUt the phone calls continue, the same person calling again and again for Paul Auster. Eventually the guy gives in and says he is Paul Auster and this is where the strange and macabre story begins. I won't say any more - it's good.

It is similar to an idea I have in the novel I will write someday. Basically centering around the idea of identity. What makes us, us. If you were to vaporise tomorrow how would a detective find out who you were, what shadows would you leave behind and would they amount to anything of worth or meaning?

2 comments:

jeany. said...

my favourite book about new york is bright lights big city by jay mc inerney. Oh less than zero rules too. My fave book about southern california is Less than zero. Bret Easton Ellis is brill.

Kalou said...

It's really hard to do that oblivious look sometimes. If no one tried to fake it like they weren't listening/effected it would be matter.

The other day in Catford post office there was some woman standing in the middle singing brimful of asha. But she kept singing it wrong so I decieed to correct her. She was actually grateful and I think everyone in the que was happier. She also gsve me a tissue when my hayfever became especially bad, so yep.