letter ten to rahel: sweet. baby. jesus. (aka matt corby)

psnuuuuuuuuuuuuki!

is it strange that i got off the phone (well, skype) with you literal minutes ago, and miss you already? again? still? well, that’s how it goes. and oh, what a skype sesh it was; with two and a half hours the longest we’d had in bloody ages! seeing as we just spoke, you’re pretty much up to date with the excitement that is my life, but i know that some people who may or may not be reading this (louanne? christa? magnus? julien?) aren’t. and i intentionally withheld some information when talking to you, only so i’d have some more things to tell you in pseudo-epistolary form.

let’s start with saturday: as you know already, i had to get up at the crack of dawn, strictly speaking before that, even, after only two hours of sleep. but hey, who needs sleep anyway (i do. i truly do). the reason of my early rising was a video shoot for james’ band, the one i’m singing bvs for, planned to take place on primrose hill. and to primrose hill i went. rach, it was freezing. freeeeeezing. luckily i had brought a flask filled to the brim with samahan (an indian hot drink consisting of a great mixture of warming spices), the filled lid of the flask being handed from person to person to either have a sip or simply hold it in order to warm their hands. my fellow band members were also introduced to the concept of “penguinle”, which they all rather enjoyed. the camera crew were setting up, and we tried not to freeze, when suddenly a man approached our group. his name, as we’d find out later, was marcel, and he somehow decided to become a part of our filming team. he was in his late forties, i’d say, maybe early fifties, maybe younger, and frankly somewhat drunk. that didn’t stop him from being the best hype man ever, pretending to be a security guy with a headset when joggers wanted to run through our set or cheering us on after each take. great times. well, short lived great times, for about half an hour into our filming process we were interrupted by the most passive aggressive of park rangers i have ever encountered. after telling us we had to vacate the premises basically asap, he parked his car on our set and started taking photos of us packing up. pfft. dick. i then suggested we’d make our way to kilburn to film in good ol’ kilburn grange park instead. which is what we did. somehow, knowing how close my bed was, hearing its beckoning call, already made me feel physically a bit warmer, and when the sun finally cast its warming rays upon us, it almost felt like spring.

i spent the weekend in a, uhm, haze of board games and whispered pillow talk (that’s when one pretends two pillows are talking to one another, right?), joining you for the book club meeting on sunday afternoon. and oh yes. the looks. we just know what the other one’s thinking, don’t we?

and then, then it was tuesday. the day of the matt corby gig. the day jesus rose from the dead to serenade us at the roundhouse. and oh lord. oh sweet baby jesus. oh christ in the heavens above. what a concert it was. i was genuinely mesmerised. that voice. that beard. those eerie lights (i shall add a small selections of snaps below. because one photo simply wouldn’t suffice). it was almost too much to bear. i’m not usually that much of a fangirl, but guurl, that man is somethin’ else. you’ll definitely be finding some more matt on april’s playlist.

today i’ve been productive. i worked on my dissertation, i started reading “the colour purple”, i made a massive stew, and i went for a run. oh yes. funnily enough at probably more or less the same time, speed and for the same distance as you did. twinsies. i ran (well, what consider running. i.e. simply only having at most one foot at a time on the ground. it was more like trotting) to green park, where the sun was setting beautifully and with the birds chirping and the magnolias timidly opening their blossoms, it truly felt like spring was just around the corner. i already told you about the stranger who somehow cheered me on via my running app, but i didn’t tell you about the lovely old lady. not that there’s much to tell. but there basically was this lovely old lady walking on a cane, and somehow, when i ran past her, we looked at one another and just somehow had this mutual understanding of the respective other, resulting in our both just smiling stupidly and bowing our heads in greeting. beautiful story. i know.

sooooo. the book. we made quite some progress those past few days having read, what, 150 or so pages? about a dozen of which just happened now, via skype. i’m still enjoying the read, although i do think your idea of quickly jotting down what happens in each chapter/parts probably makes the different storylines easier to follow. as i said earlier on, i find it easy to relate to the characters and the situations they’re in, except for the constant “everyone’s cheating on everyone”- thing that seems to be happening for reasons unknown to me. it truly would be interesting to read the stories one at a time at some point. but for the time being, i have nothing else to add other than the fact that i’m still enjoying the ride and hope that dear ted doesn’t die. he wouldn’t deserve it. he’s a lovely man.

i miss you. but i’m repeating myself.

gioia

p.s. is it actually looking as though you might be visiting for a week in late august/early september? i know it’s almost half a year away and unconfirmed as of yet, but i4u egrbdfgludfpöihnewopdishp4398ewhdpäq$wkads$ä8uhw3’aps0üoih94iweuadsjèQW?ejkdsfnöioiqow¨’jäer0$üi£çWèe’aso^weoid$S^’¨ôwefds^pro3WE!’diqw’eifjhöliurdfsöoigredföofhn!!!!! if you catch my drift.

 

 

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i mean.

 

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like, fo’ realz?

 

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just look at this!

 

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oh, what i’d give to be that guitar.

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