It's after midnight and I'm setting my alarm for 7.00 so I can get last minute things done...Oh well, I can sleep when I get back to the Qby.
I spent 12 hours in my city today, and a good, oh, six of them were spent soaking wet. It downpoured from about noon (when I was comfortably ensconced in the Lyceum Tavern having a spectacular Chicken Tikka Masala--man, the Brits really do know how to do a curry!) until around six or so (when I was comfortably ensconced in The Sherlock Holmes Pub). Luckily, I came prepared with my umbrella, but it was still a very wet day.
A very wet day, but a very good and a very emotional day. I said goodbye, in whispers, barely moving my lips, barely a breath, but still a goodbye. I'd prefer to be like What's Up Doc: "Let's not say goodbye. Let's say...au revoir." It's played for laughs, and it is a funny bit, but I'd still quite like to be saying a word other than goodbye.
Farewell. That's the word I want.
Farewell. It's a parting, but well-wishing. Be well, do well, have a good life and fare well in my absence.
I said farewell to the big iconic pieces everyone knows; I said farewell to pubs; I said farewell to that tearoom I like so much; I said farewell to the shops, to the buses, to the people. But most of all, I said farewell to what the city did for me. I've changed and I'll carry that with me, yes, but there are certain feelings I have in the city that I don't have in other places. And I will miss that.
For example, I'll miss the noise. I know you're all thinking I'm crazy, the noise is one of the least attractive things about a city. It's horrendous, all those sirens and all those honking horns and you can't hear yourself think. But that, right there, that last bit is why I love the noise so much.
My father has never understood why I listen to music while I study. He and I would argue; he said it distracted me (and to an extent, it did. Let's be honest, I never needed a good excuse to procrastinate...) But my brain doesn't like to shut off. It's why it routinely takes me an hour, two, more to fall asleep at night, always has. It's why I can't find my center in meditation without a guided audio or music. It's why I listen to punk or heavy metal (Sex Pistols and Judas Priest, are you proud of me, daddy?) when I study for finals and why I put on classical violin pieces to write papers. Music drowns out the inane chatter that has always filled my head since I learned how to string words together in endless chains of useless babble. So does the city.
Standing in the middle of the traffic circle in Trafalgar Square is the closest I will get to chanting om and crossing my legs in ways they don't actually bend. I cease thinking. I let the noise drown out the five year old who goes on babbling day and night in my head. She's still chattering away, but I can't hear her. I can only hear the sound of everyone else's lives.
And that's just one example of what the city has done for me. You know, as much as I loved being at Kingston, I really really wish I could have been in the city proper. It'd be such a different feeling to be there day and night, instead of as many hours as I can stand before making my way to the hushed (disgustingly quiet) suburbs.
I had a point to this post, really I did, but I have spent near on 12 hours on my feet and I am tired, physically and emotionally.
And scene.
* A cute little riff intro to a live version of Melody Gardot's Goodnite. I can't find that version on youtube, but it's the iTunes Live from Soho version, if you want to track it down.
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