[confession(s)]
my name is matt, and I'm an anglophile.
I'll tell you what I mean.
the realization has been creeping up on me for a long long really long time. it started, I think, with monty python. I don't remember how old I was at the time, but it couldn't have been more than seven. I was on vacation with family in a hotel room with some uncles and cousins, flipping through the stations. I remember the black knight saying to king arthur that 'none shall pass' and the hilarity that crassly ensued, the knights who say 'ni' and (later) ecky-ecky-patang-patang-yip-boing-rowr,' the knight-murdering rabbit of doom, 'one, two, five!' and so on.
o fateful day.
ever since, I've been hooked on it all: monty python, radiohead, fish and chips and a pint o' guinness, cheers, fog and rain, cricket, parliamentary democracy, '-shire' pronounced 'sher,' douglas adams, mornington crescent, bbc radio ninety-four, future sound of london, words that end in -re instead of -er (and are spelled with s instead of z, and a 'u' thrown in here and there seemingly at random).
throughout my life, most of the girls with whom I've been infatuated have had something to do with england. examples: the one who is very english. the one whose parents are very english. the one who likes pink floyd, who are themselves english. most of the ones I saw whilst in england. the one who likes english muffins. the one who went to oxford and drinks tea and makes scones (and married me).
someday we're going to live there, see if we don't. I want gmt to be my local time. I want to call wankers and mates by their rightful names. I want to go pubbing and listen to dumb hip-hop music and see flashing lights. I want to have a royal family that I don't have to vote for. I want to have high tea at harrod's. I want to drive on the left, through a roundabout.
I want to mind the sodding gap.
...
that's that. you might recall my little run-in with the headache of total annihilation recently. this one was particularly doomful: it was the first migraine I've ever had that actually gave me hallucinations. waking dreams. the things that make one question one's sanity.
since I'm such a forward-thinking guy, I wrote down the visions I can remember.
1. I'm flying an airplane. my bed is somehow crammed into the cockpit and I pilot the thing with my head on the pillow.
2. I'm watching 'I love lucy' from inside lucy's house.
3. I'm in my grandma's kitchen (at her table) watching her make cookies. she talked to me but I don't remember what about.
4. I meet Arnold Schwarzenegger, who shows me his hummer and calls it his pride and joy.
5. I'm in the white house. I don't see anyone important or do anything significant; I'm just happy to be in the white house.
6. (this one isn't a hallucination; it's a recurring dream that I have when I'm headache'd.) inside my head I have a small number. it's not an integer or anything definite, it's just a quantity, like a stack of generic objects. the amount/stack/quantity suddenly doubles in size, then redoubles, and so on. very soon, the number is tremendously huge, to the point where it exerts pressure on the inside of my head. it is violently, painfully large. I realize this is my pain receptors incorporating their nerve signals into my dream. I just wish they wouldn't.
dreams are dumb; pain-dreams doubly so.
(to all you out there who felt my pain: I'm sorry.)
I'll tell you what I mean.
the realization has been creeping up on me for a long long really long time. it started, I think, with monty python. I don't remember how old I was at the time, but it couldn't have been more than seven. I was on vacation with family in a hotel room with some uncles and cousins, flipping through the stations. I remember the black knight saying to king arthur that 'none shall pass' and the hilarity that crassly ensued, the knights who say 'ni' and (later) ecky-ecky-patang-patang-yip-boing-rowr,' the knight-murdering rabbit of doom, 'one, two, five!' and so on.
o fateful day.
ever since, I've been hooked on it all: monty python, radiohead, fish and chips and a pint o' guinness, cheers, fog and rain, cricket, parliamentary democracy, '-shire' pronounced 'sher,' douglas adams, mornington crescent, bbc radio ninety-four, future sound of london, words that end in -re instead of -er (and are spelled with s instead of z, and a 'u' thrown in here and there seemingly at random).
throughout my life, most of the girls with whom I've been infatuated have had something to do with england. examples: the one who is very english. the one whose parents are very english. the one who likes pink floyd, who are themselves english. most of the ones I saw whilst in england. the one who likes english muffins. the one who went to oxford and drinks tea and makes scones (and married me).
someday we're going to live there, see if we don't. I want gmt to be my local time. I want to call wankers and mates by their rightful names. I want to go pubbing and listen to dumb hip-hop music and see flashing lights. I want to have a royal family that I don't have to vote for. I want to have high tea at harrod's. I want to drive on the left, through a roundabout.
I want to mind the sodding gap.
...
that's that. you might recall my little run-in with the headache of total annihilation recently. this one was particularly doomful: it was the first migraine I've ever had that actually gave me hallucinations. waking dreams. the things that make one question one's sanity.
since I'm such a forward-thinking guy, I wrote down the visions I can remember.
1. I'm flying an airplane. my bed is somehow crammed into the cockpit and I pilot the thing with my head on the pillow.
2. I'm watching 'I love lucy' from inside lucy's house.
3. I'm in my grandma's kitchen (at her table) watching her make cookies. she talked to me but I don't remember what about.
4. I meet Arnold Schwarzenegger, who shows me his hummer and calls it his pride and joy.
5. I'm in the white house. I don't see anyone important or do anything significant; I'm just happy to be in the white house.
6. (this one isn't a hallucination; it's a recurring dream that I have when I'm headache'd.) inside my head I have a small number. it's not an integer or anything definite, it's just a quantity, like a stack of generic objects. the amount/stack/quantity suddenly doubles in size, then redoubles, and so on. very soon, the number is tremendously huge, to the point where it exerts pressure on the inside of my head. it is violently, painfully large. I realize this is my pain receptors incorporating their nerve signals into my dream. I just wish they wouldn't.
dreams are dumb; pain-dreams doubly so.
(to all you out there who felt my pain: I'm sorry.)
3 very splendid and worthwhile comment(s):
you do not need to do this quiz, but i present it anyway, as a mildly amusing waste of time: how british are you? http://darrenlondon.tripod.com/britquiz1.htm
i shall bask in the reflected glory of the antipodean, estranged cousin of the british...
disappointing. I was aiming for at least 80.
I am 67.5% British, just like
Sir Elton JohnRoots in the UK, the rest of your hair is in the US.
Take the Brit Quiz at
darrenlondon.tripod.com/britquiz1.htmQuiz written by Daz
I am 37.5% British, just like
Madonna
Just as happy in LA or London. Aren't the narrow roads in the UK quaint
I didn't know Jesus' mom ever went to England.
do not post a comment (or not).
do not go home (the grass is always greener).