-The greying smoke of industry pours out above, whilst they amble aimlessly, grazing like goats, consumed and alienated, whilst amiably herded in their dozens above and below the ground by big metal shepherds. The consumer volcano erupted a long time ago. The stark yellows of the Selfridges’ bags complimenting nicely to the reds and yellows and oranges of the wonderfully luscious lava as it laps at the feet of the grazing mules as they bleet and greet each other with butterfly air kisses and motions of newly purchased trinkets. The lava flows gracefully, covering everybody in its gentle and overpowering fluid motion.
The lava has been here for years, the crystallisation clearly seen in every shop and window, mirrored in big bug-shaped sunglasses and the glass shopping malls and the ‘I Love London’ Hooded tops and we all turn to each other and smile patiently and expectedly as we pay for it on card.
London fail. Whilst the London-individual succumbs to the ’idea’ of expectation, when listing themselves as one-in-the-millions which resides in London, many generally tend to fail within the system by not allowing it to guzzle and swallow and drain them of their worth, prising from them their cash and their dignity, their morals by staying shut scared away, unfazed by the faces on the trains in close germ[an] proximity, not relishing the flexibility and durability of the city-shaped landscapes, the spontaneous combustion of activity free-flowing ambition. Some shut away with partners. Some shy away with pets. Others are too lonely so they lash out, staking their place through their hide outs - stalking the public, then the limelight - in all the papers, then come the lights out. My city image has failed me. Middle twenties is my age and I’m the lucky one to still be so young and daring. I have the job- I’m not in the bargain basement end where the scraps are being stifled by the egos and the dole, but up there feasting and dining on the cuts, looking down on these pawns with chips all over my nice, big, shoulders. [Meaty pun.] To those in London. Those who don’t fail, but are successful and content, and motivated and dull. Kiss me quick, before you’re stifling 9-5lives cut to the punch line which none of you will understand. This Blog is for you. Please understand. I’m one of you, but I fail. I fail because London expects failure. Winning comes by taking the ease options and not being one’s own worst enemy. Losing comes with the beautiful manifesto of shooting oneself rightly, in both feet and through the forehead.
