I've had them before, just the once, in Leon, in a side salad with a ridiculous name that I was embarrassed to say. They are so GREEN. It is a delicious yellow-green, and they shine. A smaller, fatter kidney bean, with an edge of almond, sharp join, as though to be cracked open. They taste like the sweetest peas and soya creaminess. I won't buy the Sainsbury's Basics ('varied shape, still taste great') Peas again, they are that cheap for a reason, and that reason kept me away from peas for about 22 years. But these, edamame, soya beans, woah. Amazing little treasures. Maybe they are the taste that she was talking about, umami, which is one of the Japanese-translated words for a savoury taste we haven't really defined in the West. This kind of makes sense, a protein satisfaction. I don't get it from quinoa, I do get it from these beans. It doesn't just taste like a vegetable. They've got omega-3 and A and B vitamins. That's pretty special for a little green wonder.
Next door are playing 90s R&B classics, Brandy - Another Day In Paradise, is on now. It sounds alright through the wall. They do enjoy themselves. It's a weird house, we don't know anything about each other. They have the whole house whereas we just have the upstairs (flat). I enjoyed that article about housing trends, even if it was a bit class biased. You just use your home in relation to your class, it's not really a choice of whether you want to be a slummer or an entertainer. I feel weird about my house (flat). I read that over 50% of people in Germany rent. I think it's only slightly more expensive than a mortgage. I don't want to share again, again. I want to go back to living with people I have chosen. There's that interesting thought that the only difference between someone you 'know' and someone 'random' is time. Whether you knew them before you moved in or not. I think that often at work with customers, the only barrier between us being friends is time and place. Now, I'm behind the counter and it's not the right place.
Someoene said I was trendy to my face yesterday. It was weird. Trendy is gross, shopping in Top Shop, being a Shoreditch hottie, being LONDON, doing what people expect and falling in with a crowd. Being an amalgam of Now, or Now Just Gone, which I strive not to be. Not consciously of course, that would be sick, but I seem to have a natural buffer towards anything trend-like, similarity, and expectation. I like to float and be light of touch with things whilst at the same time being committed to and believing in solidity. My hobbies are ridiculously varied and some might say rather too wholesome and middle aged. I like to think I float around everything and land on things that matter. But sometimes I do feel that my balance above everything actually leaves me floating without anchor or direction. Like these days I spend 'working', when really all they are is 'researching me' and trying to come up with something totally new. To me, new to me, though inevitably this will be reciprocated in the world.
It freaked me out that I bought a black Camper backpack for my bike antics in January, and it has this smaller inner mucky beige nylon bag, which I've been carrying in it's own right, lazily to Sainsbury's on a Sunday, or on a work break. Then Vogue runs this piece on The New Way To Carry Your Bag (May), and I'm doing it for two months before they even thought of it. I didn't watch anyone and think I'm going to do that, just grab my bag and go, look how Kate Moss I am. I just thought, this piece of bag looks funky-shit, I'm going to carry it like I don't care if I get mugged, like my mom would tell me to be careful, because I'm free and that. So I'm doing this rather by now boring action, and Vogue is reporting on it as though it matters? Is that what this course is all about? I've been struggling placing myself, where do I fit, what can I do, when all along I don't want to fit and can make my own do, so why the fuck don't I just get on with it?
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