Old Haunts

Sitting in the sunshine in Dalston, at my old favorite cafe, its hard not to wonder if you can ever truly get over your first loves.  Dalston was the first place I lived in London and there's something undeniably comforting about being back on familiar streets.  

I didn't know I was going to love Dalston the first time I laid eyes on it.  I remember looking at Kingsland Rd and wondering why anyone would ever want to walk up there!  All I saw was collection of shops selling junk and chicken.  Yet it's hipsters, with their uniform of rolled up jeans, art events, and quirky cafes with drinkable flat whites, an unusual feat 3 years ago in London, won me over.  To the point that I loved too the African hairdressers, and even the chicken shops that mark its diversity.  Its hard to let go of something that has wriggled its way unexpectedly under your skin. Still I'm reminded as I watch those around me repeating old patterns, and ending up in the same rut, it's healthy to move on.

Its seems obvious from the outside that continuing to hang out with or even holidaying with your ex is not going to help you get over them.  Yet, and I should know, as it's not only Dalston that has wriggled its way under my skin, when you are in the middle of it, even though you know it perpetuates it, saying no feels like denying your heart, and not following your heart is the worst feeling in the world! Neither am I the exemplar of how to solve these problems.  For the longest time a friend's ring tone for me, was 'Don't dream it's over'.

Yet what I do know is that what another friend told me at the time to ease my pain, was right. She said, you will love other people, it will be different, you will love them for other reasons, and as hard as it is now to imagine that you could love anyone else, you will truly love them.

Dalston will always be there. It's not going anywhere. I feel lucky that know it, but I feel lucky too that I learned to let other places into my heart.

Young Fathers

It doesn't matter what music you are into its impossible not to be blown away by Young Fathers live.

Exploring the lineup for Visions they caught my ear.  Hip Hop is not the normal genre I hangout in, but something intoxicating emanates from their sound that crosses genres.  A raw power that reminds me of where hip hop started out.  Excited by what I heard and saw on YouTube, I was proclaiming they would be act to see at the festival, yet they were more than that, they were one of the best live acts I have ever seen!

Watching Young Fathers is more like watching a stage performance than a gig.  Walking out with challenging staunchness, they created an air of voodoo mysticism that almost conjured you to dance to the beat. Being in the front row was insane! You could watch the sweat sparkling on their hard chests and look in the whites of their eyes as they leaned out into the audience, daring you to drink from their cup. Not breaking character for a second, each song dripped with energy. At times you didn't know where to look, from Bankole's stripped bare chest to Massaquoi moving across the room seemingly possessed by the sound. The ending was as slick and as well timed as the rest.  They went out to "I heard", leaving Hastings on stage, backed by strobe lights, singing the chorus into a subdued mic, until the crowd took over, "Inside I'm feeling dirty, It's only cause I'm hurting".  Then he was gone, leaving the crowd heaving, aching for more.

Caught up in the wildness, at the end I was as drenched as they were. But my sweat was worth it. I can't help feeling I was present as something was being born into the consciousness of the mainstream.

Ammirazione

Half Italian, half English, she had the delicate complexion of an English rose but with the Italian temperament coursing in her veins.  It was a potent mix.  She was young, but old enough to know what she was doing.  "I find her the most terrible kind of person" she said, speaking of her friend's partner, "Oh she's pretty", she said, mistakenly thinking we had assumed this wasn't the case. "No she's the worst kind of terrible....Stupid.  There's no excuse for stupidity. I can forgive the ugly, they were born that way, there's nothing they can do."

We'd been discussing if we had any A-sexual male friendships.  The conclusion was no. Unsurprisingly she had a lot to reference.  I know them all from my neighbourhood she said, as if it was the most natural thing to walk around the block and make new "friends".  That's how I met my boyfriend, "He's 39....All my lovers have been 10-15 years older than me." I swear I could hear the swish of male heads snapping our way.  Seemingly pondering him, "What part of the male body do you like?" she asked.  "I like feet", "My most sexual experience was washing a man's feet."

Crossing her ever so slightly chubby pale legs, she tucked her curly brunette locks behind her ear and took a drag on the cigarette she'd been nursing.  "She's blonde", she said, going back to her friends partner, "and a TV presenter".  She gave us a demonstration of how the blonde would stand when greeting people, legs crossed, hips out, shoulders back, hand reached forward. Sitting down again, she gazed out into the courtyard.  It was one of those perfect Saturday evenings were you could stay out all night in light summer clothing. From our spot on the balcony we had a view into half a dozen other apartments. It was fascinating people watching.  It reminded her of Hitchcock's 'Rear Window'.  "Its a stunning movie", stunning, a word she liked to use to describe a lot of things, "Grace Kelly at her peak".  "Its funny, most of my favourite actresses are blonde", the incongruence of this and the TV presenter's blondness bothering her for a second…

We were interrupted by a young man on another balcony taking his shirt off and dancing around in a drunken attempt to entertain his friends.  Conversation moved on.  "How are you finding the long distance relationship?", asked my friend.  "Oh terrible,  I'm not coping at all!". About to finish her thesis, her plan was to move to Brussels and get a job in European public policy. "I'm giving myself until January 2016 before I return to Italy".   "He understands, I'm young I need my time to explore."

Somehow I doubted if her Italian partner was as understanding as she said, but I admired the sexuality and confidence she wore on her sleeve.  I love that I'm allowed to.  One of the few biases tipped in a woman's favour.