London by night

Killing time before meeting a friend in SoHo, I thought I'd pop on and leave a few lines. I'm sitting in Peter's flat high above Regents Park; he's flitting around singing aloud to Sammy Davis Jr. and doing his accounts--tax day coming up. This morning I moved from Roy's flat out in Limehouse to Peter's in Central London.

The past few days I've been thinking about the ability of London to conjure up utter magic and then, as quick as one of the passing showers that spit on the cobbles, the city can turn its back on you and make you feel like the loneliest mutha on the planet. I've felt both this week--just ask Gustavo (well, we can't ask him, because he's disappeared into one of the English schools on Oxford Street where he'll learn to leave behind his old Brazil). We met in a rather unsalubrious scenario and shared chips and fanta near Liverpool Street Station. I've drowned in champagne surrounded by cool people and as well I've been alone on the dark streets. The view above sunset over The City from Roy's balcony, where I spent a few days alone drinking coffee and reposing in his hallowed library.

Tomorrow I'm on official chav watch as Roy and I head to Tonbridge for a night, and then I'll be back in Minneapolis, hopefully with a few nights on the lash in between.

luv
jas