From Down by the River

Sittin' down by the river, waitin' for the riverboat. Middle of June, weather kinda cloudy today but temps are hot an' sticky. Too much walkin' in the city soon exhausts ya. Supposed to see Buzz this AM to give him some solace over his broken heart but Buzz wasn't there when I went to his place. All I could do was wait around for 5-10 mins in the mid-morning heat an' then move on. His dog was barking by the window an' he looked all alone although for all I knew Buzz could have been in there lyin' dead on the carpet.

My plan was simple from there on in - head straight into the city and see the Richard Long exhibition at Tate Britain. Idea was to get a riverboat from Bankside to Millbank an' that is kinda exactly what I'm doin'. Guess it's a case of trying something different, I mean I have been down this part of the river 100s of X before but never been out on the water like I am now, sittin' on the end of the pier being rocked gently by the waters, lettin' the westerly breezes blow through my greyin' hair that sits on top of this crazy head of mine.

Tide is low and people are down the steps an' on the shores north an' south. That's the feminine awesome for ya, she's a tidal lady an' swings to the sway o' da moon. Peaceful down here, only a coupla others waitin' and it is all a nice contrast to the busyness up above where as usual there are so many people buggin' up the scene, buggin' me as I try to make my way through their ever-presence. Different faces thas' all. Bodies all the same. The tourist gawkin' an' their hungry wunda...Quiet down here...the lapping of the waters against the metal pier, the fast flowin' waters headin' down to the big sea about 30 miles east. Brown river water, fast movin' awesome.

Read about the Richard Long stuff in a paper a few weeks ago. He's a man who walks all over the earth, takes photos of where's he's been an' writes about the places, makes compositions on the land with land stuff. Saw of few of his pix in the paper an' though yeah I'd like to go an' see 'em blown up big in that famous pix place o' London down by the weepin' river. So that is what I'm doin.

Sittin' here on the pier and across the water I see a sign that says Samuel Pepys Bar Now Open. Kinda funny sometimes how things in the world pull togther. It was only a few days ago when I was walkin' down forgotten roads round the Waterloo area, roads that were full of an atmosphere of beautiful desolation. When I was there I walked into a 2nd hand book shop that was empty an' bought a copy of a book called Restoration London. It was just the kinda shop where you had to buy a book from. Flickin' through the book today I notice one of the main sources of information for what it contains comes from good old uncle Sam. Guess ya could say he has been a hero of mine for a few years now. The description of his death at the end of Claire Tomalin's The Unequalled Self brought tears to my eyes when I read it first time around. Like so much of London history ya get the feeling that Samuel Pepys will live forever. Hope so anyway 'coz even the briefest reading of his diaries will allow those who have their eyes open to see that he was a man well ahead of his time.

Slept pretty well last night, an' was able to meditate this mornin' no problem. Body relaxed, body refreshed. As ya get older things like that make so much difference. In the early hours dreamt that a plane crashed in the waters of London. Don't know where exactly but it must have been somewhere close to where I live as I saw it from the window of the living room. Remember standin' there an' callin' to Tamdin to come see.

All above written by the river early afternoon. Now evening.

Saw the Richard Long exhibition. Not quite as good as what I was expectin'. All a bit...dunno. He certainly can churn them out, whatever it is he's churnin'. Mud, stones, elements an' stuff like that. Maps stuff he was OK on but the photos I was expectin' more of a wow factor than what I got an' as it was the photos that had drawn to go see him after seeing them in the paper I would have to say I was disappointed with I got.

But that is 100% OK an' it don't mean for no second I enjoyed it any less than what I would have done if I had downright loved it. Eat the paradox? Taste the contradiction??