The Garden
The Garden

, for as much as London and I didn’t totally agree with one another there are still some pretty cool things here

(now, onward to Denmark)

At The Tate

“In Real Life”

man, the Olafur Eliasson exhibit is really something. it’s so strange how intersections of life occur—the last time I was in London was on a trip in college with Jessica and we were stunned by “The Sun”—which just so happened to be Eliasson’s project as well. Fifteen years later he gets an entire exhibition and I’m still walking around trying to figure shit out. I guess some loops take longer than others to complete.

even with a long-standing history of revolution, unrest and the remarkable culture that stems from it, the deeply romantic aspects of Paris make it the saddest city I’ve ever been to. —the combination of everything gives it such a high bar in terms of social makeup: political, artistic, caring—

and though New York is an uncaring city, given that it’s American it still lends opportunity, or at least welcomes anyone who can generate some economic kickback. that’s not necessarily my vibe, but at least it’s not fuckin’ England.

London is a brutal city. it’s beautiful in the way a luxury store is, where by default it is there to say, if you can’t afford, don’t even ask. the city itself seems to operate as a grotesque advertisement for a caste system.

I guess who can blame them, the Brits have had a system based on inherited wealth longer than most, and at this point the despair that comes with it must just be so deeply ingrained in their social consciousness that the rest is useless. but roaming around, I see America’s future.

It’s not so much an admitted sadness, but an obvious one where nobody has any hope of getting beyond a certain place in life, and even if they achieved an extraordinary amount, somebody else would always be looking down on them just because of their name.

this culture is trash.