Where: Photographer’s Gallery, 5 & 8 Great Newport Street, London, WC2H 7HY When: Through 28 January 2007 How Much: Free In my mind’s eye, The grapes of wrath are not purple or red or green. They are always charcoal grey. I must have imagined that the days before color television the whole world was an…
Home for the Holidays
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When you go back home, it isn’t quite the same. I drove by 4245 Wyoming today. It was still brick and stucco and the porch that was all mine was still there. Yet it was like an amputated body part, lifeless and still, in the wet December rain. You cannot go back, I think. Even…
Mia the Meek
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Here’s the first of the Mia Fullerton series, Mia the Meek, by an old school mate of mine, Eileen Burke Boggess. There is something about life in Catholic school that is both iconic and precious. If you were part of it, maybe you loathed it and loved it all at once. If you are one…
Christmas Trees in London
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Christmas in London is here… though it isn’t quite what I am used to from home in Iowa. This weekend, my sister and her family (and likely my parents too) are out on the hunt for their Christmas tree. They do it the way you see in old movies: out to tree farms in their…
Why Gordon Ramsay Buying the Warrington is Good… And Bad
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I work behind the bar at the Warrington. So, theoretically, I should be able to answer questions about the future our beloved Maida Vale pub. We do get such strange people that come in. “Um hello. Is the Gordon Ramsay restaurant open yet?” Both Miriama and I are standing there when the woman asks. Miriama…
A London Underground Poster
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Or… Life, Waiting to Happen On the Piccadilly platform at South Kensington, I wondered. Which work is more meaningless? a. The (nearly) blank poster box, pictured here. b. The person whose job it is to make a sign that says “Awaiting Posters”? This is not to say that meaningless work is useless work. Ironing is…
The Abominable SNOWMAN!!
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…Or, More Love-Hate Consumerism at Christmas Time RARR!!! Spend bad. Me no like spend. Jesus baby manger good. RARR!!! Plastic Baby Jesus manger, made China, Wal-Mart shop! BADD! RARR!!! Errr… err… Star sky night…good … err.. Lights, many, hole ozone…eRRR RARRR!! Make ice melt! Make Snowman melt! RARARRR! BAD! Snowman? Light? Err… err… Me confused.
Zen and the Art of Temping
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If you are wondering what a little slice of hell is, it’s this: being in the office, as a temp, and having the person you are replacing show up, unannounced. Then having her say: May I have a hanger please? as she stares at your coat on the rack with disdain. Then having her say:…
Eat Your Greens!
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So you are tired of your tree? Sick of all the WATERING? All the pouring of water, the dampening of soil, and the decreasing of naturally dry dirt surface area bringing you down? Are you just too poncy and lazy to water your plants, and nothing else? Getting carpral tunnel from lifting a water jug…
The Warrington-Ramsay Waltz
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Or… Living the Limbo Loco in W9 I still work at The Warrington Hotel, a couple days a week. So naturally friends and neighbours and locals ask, confidingly, what my new boss, Gordon Ramsay is up to. Life is conjecture, really. Most of it. After John Brandon stood up at his leaving drinks that October…
Tempus Fugit
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I am standing still on the platform, but time is whipping by me.There are thousands of minutes left in this week, but not that many days remain. I am thinking about loss of time, because 1) I am losing it, 2) it is being eaten away, 3) it abandoned me and never asked if it…
Karaoke King
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Colin Phillips, Karaoke King. K-Box, Cranbourne Mansions Private Karaoke Room The Berlin Room! Leiceister Square Saturday Night Colin did Sinatra and ABBA proud, and sang along with gusto. Maybe it was the Tsingo Taos talking. Or the influence of our Chinese friends we were with. Or maybe Colin really IS the next American Idol. Anyway,…
Cubicle Days
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Seems like just yesterday I was that awkward, gawky new girl in the office. Now, Temp-days are ending. What can I do, to fill my time now? No more hole punch cocktails. No more stapler wars. No more chair spin competitions. No more “ARRARHCCHHGH!” from the copier room, as the feeder jams again. No more…
Gordon Ramsay Eats the Warrington
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…or The Emperor’s New PubBonfire weekend has fizzled out with word that our new man about the Vale, Gordon Ramsay, was skulking about the bar Saturday evening. Apparently, he’s been getting an earful from the locals, who despite being British, aren’t too shy to tug sweet ol’ Gordo by the ear and fill his canals…
Bonfire Night
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We stood at least 15, maybe 20 feet away from the flames. Yet it flung heat at us without trying. Hot on our faces, on the leather of our coats, on the woven threads in our blue jeans. The rubber in our shoes braced itself, ready in case it were forced, by the heat, to…
