Feeling so frustrated day in day out requires this pathetic outlet, sending ashes into space, where the outcome isn't really the priority, but the method's significance brings a little comfort.
I know that London isn't responsible, although I do love to channel various Zadie Smith quotations about London's inability to accommodate. It makes me love London more that 'it' can be such a poor host. It makes me love cities more when a character is applied to them. When I heard that Major European cities were named after characters from the Iliad it drove me wild with excitement, and I still don't know if it's true, or want to know.
I came home and posted a letter into a famous designer's studio asking if I could use her swimming pool in return for performing odd jobs. Her swimming pool is so gorgeous, I've seen pictures of it online, and peeked in through the shutters on the secluded Notting Hill road. In Iceland swimming is a basic human right and if my intrusiveness comes up in court I'll blame it on the damaging influence of lefty Nords, and I'll bet all artists respond well to that.