df taylor

I’m really starting to dislike London. This is the third time I’ve been down in the last six months and, every single time, I’m assaulted by melancholy and dark thoughts. Well, not Peter Sutcliffe dark, but dark for me.

That’s a bit sad because, overall, I’m having a pretty good time. Some new opportunities might be around at work (which will get me out of my current mire) and music-wise I’m having a grand old time. But there’s something missing. Oh come on, we’ve been talking all these years, you know what I’m on about – nothing’s changed, it’s always about girls. It always will be. Everything else in my life could be perfect, but girls always make me crazy.

The disaster that was The Kim Experiment is still stinging. Like a cheap monster from a 1950s B-Movie she wasn’t who I thought she was, but she wanted to take over my life and generally grind me down and make me miserable. Jesus, she’s given me a life-long aversion to doing the dishes because doing them feels like some sort of defeat to her all-consuming ego.

But naturally the relief at being on my own couldn’t last and I’m sort of all over the place now. On the plus side, I’ve got loads of ideas for songs!

Back to London, sorry, I got distracted. You know that about me, I’m always off on tangents. I’ll get to the point – I was managing these feelings quite well but only because I was busy. And now I’m sitting around London in a hotel where the rooms feel like prison cells (some may say “but prison cells don’t have TVs!” and I will look at them sadly) and the hotel bar is filled with the execrable sounds of The Saturdays and my head is telling me to shut up and stop being so soft while everything else just says “I’m lonely”. Because I am. I have friends, I have family… all are good. All are valuable. But I know I’m missing something and I’m not prepared to compromise just to have someone unless they are that something.

And I sort of met that something and now I can’t do anything about it. Oh yeah, that was before I met you I guess but you should know: I’m the worst for trying to do the “right thing” while denying what I actually want. I denied it for quite a while until earlier this year when, soon as I saw her, I was utterly smitten. It didn’t help that Kim picked this night to whine like a rusted gate – it pretty much cast the deepest contrast available.

There it was though. It’s just a phase, I told myself. It wasn’t though and even I knew it. Instead I ended up staying away and then everything kind of collapsed when I came back from the US. Months of resentment burned up and the feeling of release and freedom when I was over the Atlantic became a bitter aftertaste as I realised what my life would become. So I said “enough”.

And from being in a position of doing the right thing for so long I didn’t want to anymore. But the window was gone and I’m not sure it’ll open again any time soon. What an idiot.

So now, I’ve got all this stuff in my head, no way of dealing with it and too many reminders to come.

Well done, David.

Heartbroken. That’s the word. I’ve been back a day and I want to go to the US again already.

I really loved it, even though people didn’t understand a word I said. My favourite example was in the Holocaust Memorial inWashingtonDC.

Me: Hi, can you tell me if there’d be any problems with me taking photos in here?

Older attendant: Sorry?

Me: Am I allowed to take photos inside the museum?

Younger attendant: Uh, there’s a guided tour every hour.

<silent contemplation follows>

Me: I’m not sure that answered the question. Am I allowed to take photos inside the exhibition?

Younger attendant: I’ve got the brochures if you want to read them.

Me: Em… no, you’re not following what I’m saying. <I hold up my camera> Can I use this <points at the camera> inside the museum?

Older attendant: Oh no, no photos allowed.

Huh?

By the end of the trip I was slipping into that horrible transatlantic drawl pretentious Brits affect when they live between both countries. I used to think it was because they were wankers, but now it’s clear it’s because Americans don’t understand anything you say unless you use visual aids.

But oddly enough, they seem to be able to ask you for a tip. Tipping is just weird over there. Most of you will know this – they expect a tip as a formality. I imagine the conversation would go like this:

Waiter: “I brought the plate to your table, that’s worth $5.”

Me: “Please, shout for me to come and get it if it’s that big a hassle!”

This tipping madness climaxed in Downtown Disney’s House of Blues. First off, it was a bit of a let down because it had the sum of nothing to do with the blues. I heard more ofFlorenceand the Machine than I did of BB King in the hour or so we were there. She’s not blues. She’s not even any good.

The food was good though – I had a lovely steak with great mashed potatoes. So, what caused my ire? It was the waiter. Now he did a perfectly ok job. He brought the food, he was polite (if a little too friendly, in fact) but was that worth the 20% suggested tip he wrote at the bottom of the bill?

No, it wasn’t. And it’s not like it’s a hard thing to calculate, so writing it down is both patronising and terribly presumptuous. I gave him 10% for doing his job to a fairly normal standard. Yeah, minimum wage sucks, but if you want 20% of the bill how about you actually earn it?

Overall though, it’s a fantastic place to see – the sunshine, the voices, the beaches, the deeply insane news channels, all are part of a rich tapestry of theUSA.

We finished our trip inBoston, with the wonderful accents and the least credible Irish ancestry I’ve ever seen. Sorry dude, if you’re four generations from the last person that was actually born inIreland, you are not Irish. Get over it. It’s even worse than the “I’m half-Irish” balls you hear inScotland. No, drinking Guinness does not make you Irish, it just makes you slightly untrustworthy.

On the Sunday we headed back to NYC for one last night. It was still warm, but more tolerable thanFlorida’s heat. We did a bit more wandering, I bought a set of harmonicas (a delight for my neighbours, I’m sure), walked to Central Park, then headed up theRockefellerTowerone last time.

Seeing the city, all around you, with all the lights up is staggering. It’s beautiful and the night was clear enough to see past all the bridges. The area whereCentral Parksits is like a black void in the middle of the city, absorbing the light from all around it. Seeing something like that makes me feel a little sad, but strangely connected that we’re all just little lives creating something bigger than ourselves in those moments.

After that, even the flight home wasn’t too bad (mind the turbulence, though). I had a head full of experiences I’d never had before. I’m so grateful to my sister and her husband for such a wonderful holiday. It was generous beyond expectation and everything was so brilliantly planned. Thank you to them, more than paltry words can convey.

But it’s back to normal life now. At least until I save enough to go and see another part of that mad, mad country.

Ok, back in the hotel, fed and watered, and painfully aware of how little sleep I’ve had. But I really don’t care.

I thought I was excited before I went, but having just spent a day in NYC, I think I’m more excited. Even fighting with Laura and Alan’s netbook isn’t dampening my enthusiasm for this massive, alien city.

As we landed in Newark International Airport, I felt all the emotions welling up. First, because it was such a generous present and so totally unexpected. Second, because so much of my world view has been influenced by the most American of cultural influences. I love soul, country, rock n’ roll. And finally, after 29 years, I was actually in the land where so much of it was born with my sister and years and years of desires to come here.

Thankfully, with tears coming down my face, I could at least face the window (even if I couldn’t hide my shoulders shuddering). And even better, my rubbish sinuses finally gave me a positive thing – I could blame the puffy face on that and be done with it. I do realise I’ve just given it all away, but hey.

So, I’ve been up since 4.30am UK time. I’ve been on a plane for seven hours nearly, on monorails and trains for another hour, then walked around NYC for nearly four-five hours. And I’m still awake, trying to take it all in. In the background, Prince, Afghan Whigs, and Ryan Adams (not the obvious song, naturally) have been playing.

Is it odd that I feel at home?

I did get pestered by an aspirng rapper who obviously felt that the mean streets of Larbert (including solid middle-class upbringing and good education, art college drop-out) were a parallel to his harsh, ghetto life. He thrust three CDs into my hand, tried to charm me, failed at getting his goal of $20 and then took two of the CDs away. I left him with $5 and have ended up with a CD I will unlikely ever listen to. Score!

The hotel is gorgeous. I can see the Empire State Building out one side and the Hudson on the other. The bed is bigger than my bedroom at home and the shower… let’s just say I’m going to miss that bad boy. I can walk to Times Sq in about 20 minutes. There are very lovely guitar shops around too.

Tomorrow we’re going to the top of the Rockefeller Building, then off for another wander around the shops. We’re going to give Alan his birthday cake around dinner time, so the day is ours to do with as we please. In the evening we’re going to see Wicked which I suspect may be followed by a couple of beers in a local tavern. Pabst Blue Ribbon, anyone?

I’m having a lovely time. Can’t wait to see more of this amazing place.

It’s a great title – no one better say otherwise! But yes, although I never wrote about it here, I’m about to head to the USA for a two-week holiday.

“David,” you might ask, “surely when you shamelessly imitate so many American greats and are utterly obsessed with the New World’s culture, you must have been there?”

“No,” I reply, in a slightly smug fashion, “simple economics prevented this in the past. Now my 30th birthday is in sight, it is time to ignore economics and travel.”

By this I mean it’s a gift of titanic proportions and one I am massively grateful for. I will try and update my blog everyday (nose grows a little) and I will upload HUNDREDS of photos from the trip (nose grows massively).

I’m incredibly excited!