Friday, April 02, 2004
THINGS I LOVE ABOUT SPRAWL
Or should I say, things I love about driving in sprawl at night after a particularly heinous shift in a corner of the city diametrically opposite to my own [in many more ways than just one], when rush hour has ended and traffic is moving and I absolutely own the road... I can't say it any better than the Mekons do in Enter the Lists:
(Coming over the brow, swooping down onto the city. The traffic is well spaced and moving at a smooth pace. The city is spread before Me, white and pink in the winter sun. I shall enter this beautiful city and grasp its center like My lover's corded veins and tendons. Later, at night, the city lies glittering. Thrown over the river valley, breathless, as I bear down on it. This is My city and I pass into it with the rush of wind and the sound of quiet thunder. A bar, a cube of light, throb gently as I park My car and , triggering the electronic locks and alarm, I move across the shining tarmac to the noise and warmth. My breath is pluming in the bitter cold then the heat of the bar enfolds Me ardently as I push through the throng to My table. I am there and I know it will be good tonight. My list is endless.)
That about sums it up. And co-incidentally, my list is endless too.
Or should I say, things I love about driving in sprawl at night after a particularly heinous shift in a corner of the city diametrically opposite to my own [in many more ways than just one], when rush hour has ended and traffic is moving and I absolutely own the road... I can't say it any better than the Mekons do in Enter the Lists:
(Coming over the brow, swooping down onto the city. The traffic is well spaced and moving at a smooth pace. The city is spread before Me, white and pink in the winter sun. I shall enter this beautiful city and grasp its center like My lover's corded veins and tendons. Later, at night, the city lies glittering. Thrown over the river valley, breathless, as I bear down on it. This is My city and I pass into it with the rush of wind and the sound of quiet thunder. A bar, a cube of light, throb gently as I park My car and , triggering the electronic locks and alarm, I move across the shining tarmac to the noise and warmth. My breath is pluming in the bitter cold then the heat of the bar enfolds Me ardently as I push through the throng to My table. I am there and I know it will be good tonight. My list is endless.)
That about sums it up. And co-incidentally, my list is endless too.
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