The Rainbow is cool.
I know it. You know it. The baby knows it.
This could apply to any art or job. You know what ‘fantastic’ looks like, and you also know you don’t produce it.
American radio presenter, Ira Glass talks about the embarrassment of your taste exceeding your talent.
‘Er, Excuse me’ A studenty looking girl stopped me in the street.
‘We’re making a film about injustice and exploitation and we’re looking for volunteers to be in the video.’
Me (Straining to fully understand her): Err, hmm maybe. What do I have to do?
She becons to a shirtless young man standing back. ‘Well you can start by grabbing a hold of the leash attached to his dog collar and pulling him down the street…’
…………….. I’m back in the Raval!
Went to Decathlon and bought a cheap pair of running shoes €15, some hideous but comfortable tights and a sports bra (best money ever spent – women with boobs take note).
Thought about running.
Thought about running. Felt guilty about having spent money on running stuff.
Called friend, who out of sheer monumental boredom, agreed to join me on her bike. We walk/shuffle/cycle along the esplanade in Barceloneta. This is strangely exhilarating despite the fact that everyone overtakes us. We discuss my future overindulgence in the sport. Its agreed I should definitely stop before I get a runner’s body – no waist, no butt, no hips and hard sinewy legs. We end the run hanging upside down from the climbing frame on the beach. A fantastic start!
I find to my utter amazement, no sudden death or injury has occurred from last night’s run. I am a little sore from swinging about the frame though.
The first runner’s wall – my friend cancels. Another friend points out that it’s Friday night on Carnival weekend. I go anyway. She gets worried.
Sore. A friend calls me at 12pm to see if I’m coming out. I’m already in bed. She hangs up in disgust.
Sunday morning. I wake up and glance at the clock. Its 8 am. I think ‘if I get up right now I can go for a run before I start work’. Then I think ‘who am I!!!!?’
This is almost exactly what we looked like, but with sports bras :
Miffed man: Where are you from? India or Pakistan?
Miffed man: The women of India are very beautiful.
Me: Yes they are
Miffed man: But none of them are in Barcelona
Me laughing: No they aren’t.
Miffed man sweeps out with a triumphant flourish, having put me in my place.
Insults seem to be the new chat up lines in the city. With lovin like that how can I ever say no!
T and I got home in the wee hours of the morning the other night. The living room carpet looked a bit more colourful than usual, thanks to the rubbish bin lying in ribbons in the center. Picking his way tipsily through chicken bones and tin foil, T looks around him in disgust.
The cat pretends nonchalance.
T: You have to make sure you close the kitchen door, not leave it open for the cat. Look at the mess she’s made!
blurry bleary-eyed : Damn I thought I had remembered.
T: Well you obviously didn’t.
Me: Wait a minute…… you were the last to leave the house today….
T (starts clearing the mess away rapidly): Thats not the point!
Me: Helpless tipsy sprawling on the floor kind of giggling
Cat: pweh! Zzzzzz