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From: Reginald
Category: Other stuff
Date: 25 April 2004
Meat balls are the best thing to eat in Mario's, a place few will frequent. After food while not take a turn in the Kensington Gardens,or a wander along the clean streets of Nottinghill awash with tweeded chaps, beaded gals, fresh from their trips to India. Further down the hill the day tripper can find more beads, less tweeds which are replaced by hooded tops, converse trainers, baseball caps, and more of a Brit pop behaviour in trendier pubs. Rastafarians lean out of car windows, designers dine on large white plates, on bed of table cloth, sunglasses crushed and peppering. Nails and hands, tanned toes and strappy sandles tying these types to the area in case they leave for a less harsh environment. Blonde pink face children race past in the seasons colour, same as their cheeks, with matching mum and dull dead husband. The park alternative offers similar characters, they are the same just made up of different stuff. On the green backdrop of the park they perform different activities, acting out different ideas, quietly, unknowingly scratching out another chore on the life list, to enable the progression to this idyll's joyful decay. All is good, all is well. Wander futher down this garden path, to the Serpentine Gallery, where a mix of people writh and coil together. Wrapping themselves serpentine in their cold sex connections. Like at a wedding people freeze in summer dresses, men swathy in suits, to celebrate more art and alcohol. Their voices lifted by watery breeze up and away, lost words, like some horrible novel.
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