Review: Homesickness
Me and my platinum blonde Russian flatmate who belongs in an eponymous biopic had breakfast in the Royal Palm the other day and the grass nearly made me cry. I had trouble squeezing my pastry past the lump in my throat: it was proper, green, tended and sprinklered grass like you might get in a dream vision of Regent’s Park.I keep having these totally irrational attacks of nostalgia. Last night, I was dancing with an Israeli diamond dealer to the heart-wrenching strains of Haddaway’s famous epic poem What Is Love?, and it reminded me of being at university. But why? The human heart is like a drink-addled word association game.
Homesickness is often difficult to distinguish from existential angst and sexual frustration. In this respect it’s like many other emotions, e.g. confusion, irritation, romantic love. In the grip of homesickness, a girl finds herself asking important spiritual questions. Where am I? And why? What’s the point of me? Will I ever get laid again? Why did that funny Dutch man have sex with prostitutes on my bed while I was away looking at giraffes, when he had a perfectly serviceable bed of his own in the room next door?
Homesickness: Better than being sick of home. 3 out of 10.
posted by Eskimo @ 9:24 PM
11 Comments:
Could have been worse: Culture Beat.
He's got a point.
Trust me: if you miss it, you remember it wrong.
Zadie Smith's just brought out a new novel. You might be just far enough away not to have to read it.
don't even go there, autograph man was bad enough.
xxB
Could be worse: Funny Dutch man having sex with giraffs on your bed while your away looking at prositutes, which feeling more like home.
I assume when you say funny, you mean funny odd, and not the hilarious Dutch fellow who happens to have sex with prositutes in your bed?
Incidentally, prositutes in the plural? Hey big spender!
mr k: you don't need to spend much here. you can acquire a whole range of STDs for the price of a pint.
andrew haydon esquire: my grandfather keeps me updated with her activities - i think he's trying to goad me into writing a book.
anonymous: some of the prostitutes may have been giraffes. all i know for sure is that they can't have been the same giraffes i was looking at, which gives me some small comfort.
u sure a that? gerafs get aruoudn prety quick.
I found you today and i can't stop reading you. i'm stuck like glue.
Well don't hold ur breath "chloe" she is far to important to go updating this once wonderfull site that had somthing to read nearly every week which was new and exciting and funny. But now its only when she can be bothered or when shes stops going to fasionable bars for expensive drinks etc. etc.... Well its not funny any more! Im off to do more CRACK. You've ruined me "Everything Reveiwed" ARRGGHHHHHHHHH!
A question to regular commentators on this blog: Why is Zadie Smith on the receiving end of much Cambridge grads' ire? I know she is one of yours and her first book reads as if the editors at Penguin forgot to read it themselves, allowing more than 300 pages of fatty indulgence to ooze through to the poor, undeserving reader. But let it go.
Anonymous: please don't go, your crack cold turkey worldliness enlightens my very soul. Hang on in there; I'm sure the Eskimo has a few more irreverent everythingreviewed rocks to spark up in the near future. Anonymour, you’re my favourite, along with Mr K, of course.
The CRACK is wearing off.... Im feeling low... Must stop doing this. Still, it doesn't affect my abbility to view this site and leave illiterate ramblings.
Eskimo: I have an idea for a Review.........
"Forgeting YOUR site and all that keep it alive - namley US".
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