well hello, Gerard Manley Hopkins

On the tube the other day, I saw one of my favorite poems! It is part of a program called Poems On the Underground. I think it's a great idea: so much better to look up and see a poem instead of an advertisement for Easyjet.


The Windhover

I CAUGHT this morning morning’s minion, king-
dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.


Gerard Manley Hopkins

heartfelt junkmail

This was in a spam email I received today--I only opened it because it was in my Westminster inbox, which, like, NEVER gets spammed. The message made me smile:

I wish I sent your blessings that strikes you the most fresh and worth reading a hundred times, and wish you a happy happy happy birthday!.

Aww, thanks! Five months too early, though.

paparazzi, ping pong

Yesterday was a tribute to the East End.  Rachel and I went to the Whitechapel Art Gallery, then to Brick Lane for beigels (that's the local spelling).  We played paparazzi to the hipsters.

I like the above image because it presents two prevalent demographics of the area.

Beigel in a brown bag = the must-have accessory of Brick Lane.  That, and oversized glasses, skinny jeans, and a single-gear bicycle.  Extra points if you are carting around a large piece of artwork.

Later that evening, we went to the Book Club in Shoreditch.  Dj's downstairs, a ping pong table upstairs.  I left my friends to go to the toilet, and ended up getting sucked into the ping pong crowd.  I teamed up with a sweetheart named Yaz and impressed everyone with my American ping pong skills.

brighton

still getting the hang of this British thing...

Erling: I'm going to go make a cuppa.

Anne: A cuppa noodles?

Erling: No, a cuppa tea.

food & fashion

The other day, Esther and I went to one of the most delicious places in London: Borough Market.  I've been there a couple times before, but Esther had never been.  Considering one of her goals is to have an "eating day" before she leaves London, she was a GREAT food-market buddy.  The sun was out and the food was tasty.  We got baguette sandwiches: mine had wild boar and venison, and Esther's had lamb in it.  We ate in the courtyard of Southwark Cathedral, where lots of people and pigeons were enjoying the food and the sun.

Berry cheesecake for dessert!

Afterward, we decided to follow some signs we'd seen for a fashion and textile museum.  They led us down a street right by the Shard, which will be the tallest building in London once it's completed.  It was a part of London I'd never been in before, and it was really nice!  It was a more residential area: I felt like we were in a separate, small town.  We happened upon a glassblowing demonstration--random, but fascinating!  That's the thing about this city: you never know what you're going to find down all these streets. 

We found the fashion and textile museum after backtracking--we'd walked right past it.  It was a little disappointing, because the only exhibit was one about men's clothing.  Let's face it, men's clothing is just not as interesting as women's.  It featured this guy named Tommy Nutter who designed suits on Savile Row in London.  There were suits worn by Mick Jagger, Elton John, and the Bee Gees.  Based on the suits, those guys were all pretty petite!  One thing I found interesting was this concept of "bespoke tailoring."  It refers to custom, handmade tailoring, and the term comes from the verb "bespeak," to speak for something.  Basically, your suit gets made the way you say you want it. 

We saw three brides on our way to the tube station!

around Holborn

Hillsong

I've been going to a church called Hillsong: it meets in a theatre which shows the "We Will Rock You" musical six days a week, right outside of Tottenham Court Road tube station.  I could attempt at this point to make some witty comment about how, on Sundays, people still get rocked in that building, even though it's a church service and not a Queen-based musical, but I have a feeling I'd just botch it.  (Well.  Too late.)

Anyway, I enjoy the services, and the worship team is incredible.  Apparently they write all their own music, and it gets used by churches all over the world.  Not last week, but the week before, they had a guest speaker named Lisa Bevere--from Colorado!  I'd never heard of her, but apparently she's a Big Deal: she's written numerous books and travels all over giving her sermons and talks.  And I realized that I'd never heard a woman pastor before!  Her sermon was very motivating.  It made me want to go out and accomplish all my goals and dreams and get my voice heard etc. etc. etc.  I realize those things may sound cliched and cheesy, but I think that to a certain extent it's important to buy in to them (well, of course it is!  Otherwise, how would anything ever get done?).  It made me realize how important the books you read and the music you listen to and the people you talk with are in terms of your personal development and outlook on life in general.  One cannot live on Sylvia Plath alone.

Anyway, I'm glad I found Hillsong.  I go there with one of my flatmates, Esther, who is from Minnesota.  Afterward we usually go to Chinatown for dumplings and boba tea or to Chipotle for overpriced burritos.  It's great!

at the British Museum

I enjoy looking at the people visiting museums as much as I enjoy looking at the artifacts and artworks; sometimes they complement each other.

monumental

I climbed to the top of the Monument today.  It was designed by Christopher Wren to commemorate the Great Fire of London "and to celebrate the rebuilding of the City," according to the official-looking certificate I was handed on my way out.  Three hundred and eleven steps up a narrow, spiral staircase.  The view is worth it, even though you are surrounded by chain-link fence.  It offered a different perspective of the city, since it's placed more toward the financial district, all those tall shiny buildings glinting in the sun, and hurried business people darting around. 

St. Paul's Cathedral

Tower Bridge

The Shard

The Gherkin

The Monument

  Afterward, I sat on a stone step thing surrounding a tree outside Monument station.  I saw a young woman leaning against a closed store front, having a cigarette.  She was wearing a leather jacket.  Her hair was dyed black, and she was slightly overweight, shifting herself from foot to foot.  As I watched her, she was approached twice by two different men, each asking her for a lighter.  Each time, she smiled and was polite, handing her lighter over.  The first guy was elderly; the second guy was young and handsome: grey trousers, shiny black shoes, a businessman on his lunch break.  She smiled at him differently than she had at the older man, and the smile remained as she watched him look down to use the lighter.  I was hoping he'd stay and chat with her, but he only thanked her and strolled away, leaving her with the remnants of a smile on her face, a cigarette in her hand. 

Congratulations, Jason Cody!

Today my boyfriend is graduating from the University of Utah with a degree in Mechanical Engineering!  He has put in so much hard work and I'm proud of him.  I'm missing lots of  important events while I'm away, and this graduation is definitely one of the big ones...wish I could be there. 

the poetry cafe

Just got back from a poetry reading in Covent Garden, put on by a small London-based publishing company called the tall-lighthouse.  It was in a small cafe, aptly named The Poetry Cafe.  Went in and sat down at a table; the room was full of grey-haired, balding men drinking bottles of beer and glasses of wine and popping outside for smokes.  Eventually everyone filed downstairs and the reading began.  There was a university student, a girl, who had a sultry voice.  She read a poem in an American accent about a porn star.  All her poems were super sensual, and it made me laugh a little to realize the predominate age-range and gender of her audience in relation to her subject matter.  There was a man with wild curly hair from Wales who read a poem involving a bicycle in a narrow hallway, and a man in a cheesy checkered shirt who was over-the-top theatrical, not very poetical, who read a poem which was a riddle and the answer was The Oldest Man in the World.  My favorite was the man who went last.  He seemed so young, maybe a couple years older than me, and he had a distinctive accent--I'm going to try to replicate it for my flatmates so they can tell me where it's from.  His poems were very personal.  One of his poems, I think he said, was "written" by his young son: he simply shaped his son's words into a poem.  I liked it--the words were full of the unintentional wisdom of a young child. 

I ended up buying a poetry chapbook instead of a glass of wine, and striking up a conversation with someone on the tube ride back, which is a rare occurrence, in London.

muffins, English ones

Scene:  Anne, Michael, and James are chilling in the kitchen.  Anne has just finished devouring scrambled eggs with cheese and red and green peppers and green onion, left over from her Chinese chicken salad.  Basically, she has become quite the cook.  James begins slicing an English muffin.

Anne:  Hey, do you call those "English muffins" here?

James:  No, we call them "muffins."

Anne's cooking skills become overshadowed by her inability to think before speaking.

all's well

The Globe Theatre