I guess that I killed one more park this week. This happened before, and because I am only 27, the feeling that soon another will be part of my list is quite clear.
The first park that I killed was that park in Soho, behind the Astoria. Only 20 and full of myself, living a crazy lifestyle, based in go out every single night of the week and trying to meet more people, and more girls as possible. My job at that point was risky and rewarding, working in the 4 PM – midnight shift as a X-Ray operator I had several extras like the night shift extra charge, the extra money because came from the fact that working with nuclear devices means danger. Plus a really cool friend, an young doctor called Martin, Dr. Martin for you, my amphetamine supplier. The hospital was dull and boring, the only reason that I was there was because of the money. It’s quite hard to remember of any good looking girl there, apart from Therese, a young girl working at the swichtboard.
Therese didn’t like me in the beginning, but one day dancing at The End, I just can’t remember the night, tuesday or thursday, without any doubt a weeknight, because only boring people go out at Saturdays in London, could be Nag Nag Nag, who knows? Therese saw me there, she couldn’t believe that I was into nightclubbing, being quite shy she waved, and few minutes later we were at Bar Italia, sharing a panini and drinking coffee, she told me that always saw me as a dork, an idiot into James Blunt. Trying to be tuff, drinking coffee just because of her, to look strong, ready to sleep, a coffee was the worst idea in the world, could kill my morning, I had to spend at least 8 hours sleeping. For her coffee was necessary, she possibly had to go to work in 2 hours. No deep conversation that night, but a friendly one. I went with her to the bus stop, and we said goodbye.
Next day I didn’t see her, but them a couple of days later she brought me a coffee, and we started to talk. Quite soon I had something else apart from bones that looked like a art piece and Dr. Martin.
Therese didn’t look intense, but she was. She was into the most extreme types of art, and I can’t believe that she could go out with her taste. She told me that day that hated all the music being played in every single club in London, apart from the boat parties organized by Rephlex Records, where the most mental permutations of acid house ruled during the whole night, but she had to go out… and after some pills, anything could turn into interesting according to her. She got a point… I was also bored with the clubs in London, even with the concerts… we were living in a predictable time, everything sounds like something that already happened, everything looks like something that you already saw… even the feelings are old, everybody looked unreal.
Therese and I quickly started to go out, and when I say go out, means that we started to sleep together. In less than a month, she was living with me. For economical reasons, because all the hipsters discovered bloody Dalston, the rent started to go to the roof, and make a move like that could guarantee some extras for a trip to US, something that we’re planning a lot those days.
But was an early move… and I regret. Theresa was too extreme to me. Apart from art, she was into weird stuff… one night she suggested if I could bite her arm really really strong when we were in bed, and I am cool with little perversions… I was under control, maybe she was a kinky girl, I liked even more. But them things started to go a bit further, she wanted more hardcore stuff. Things that I can’t even mention, I am ashamed just to think about that… how a 21 year old girl could even KNOW about that. And I started to think about her boyfriends in the past… what kind of thing was passing thru her mind. On top of it, I was missing the action of go out every night… I liked Therese, but I knew that she was cool for a while… nothing could last forever at that point of my life. I guess that the whole sexual paraphernalia was just a big excuse to say: isn’t working. Was simple to just say: I don’t like that… instead, this feeling got locked in my head and everyday was a battle. At some point I didn’t want her in my flat… didn’t need her money, US could wait. I wanted my “normal “life back.
So I decided to tell her in a park, because a park is a safe place, a neutral place. That park always looked cool to me, the one behind Astoria. Was quite calm, but also central. Being quite straight I told her that we should split ways, happiness wasn’t on my side, confusion was a daily subject… all that crap that we say when we want to do this kind of thing. She was quite floored, but quite alright some weird way. All the months together where pretty good, but come on… she wasn’t that crazy about me either. When I arrived from work, she was always sleeping, she never left a simple fucking toast for me! I used to wake up early just to see her or arrive before my shift start to take a coffee with her. Was a good arrangement for her… cheap rental, a house ready to live… a great music collection(she went nuts when saw that I had some Crass Lps… that I saw Sunn:o))) live… that I even had common friends with Chris Corsano). And fast internet connection… she loved that, she always said… your internet is sooooooo fast. She never said: I like your kiss… but she could speak for HOURS about then internet connection!
So the reason that I killed that park is that after a month, I started to miss Therese… A LOT. And that was crazy… I think I liked her, maybe was the feeling of being too scared to live with somebody, maybe with the perspective of spend the rest of my life with her. I was so egoistic to kick her out without a solid reason. Few weeks later, she left the hospital, and for good 2 months I was 100% sure that was because of me being such an asshole. One day I got an e-mail for her… the e-mail was HUGE, and she was saying that was so happy, that was confused at that point… and now living in Berlin, was working with a friend in a bar. I didn’t ask what kind of bar, because there was a very strict line in the end of the e-mail, saying: don’t answer this message. And every time that I pass in front of the park, I missed Therese, the sentiment of being an asshole for my actions was something that never left my head.
Last week I killed another park. A big one… Regents Park. Living at the north side park, around Camden, but not in a flashy location. A couple of friends found a pretty bad, but huge and cheap basement flat. I had my own room with bathroom… was a council flat, I was paying only 100 pounds to live in central London!!! And my new job was in the other side of the park, near Marylebone train station, in a designers company, now anybody could be a designer, and I was one… doing trendy street art for non street art organizations. I was trying to make Marks & Spencers look like a grime party in deep Hackney. And again I was with a girl.
Valerie was everything that I wasn’t. She was from Croydon, from a traditional family, did big schools, was in a great job working with James Smith, the trendiest writer according to The Guardian. She was his sidekick… booking tables for him to share with the greatest minds of his generation, organizing trips, buying cool clothes… or better, just receiving cool clothes. She looked like the coolest secretary ever … with big hair and very cool clothes. And she was quite normal, and I liked that… I spend all these years after Therese still going out a lot… started to go out with a Spanish girl that stole some money from me to buy cocaine… pretty sad, things like that, Valerie was the exact opposite, she cared.
With Valerie, I had a pretty normal life… we see each other when possible, all the weekends. She had her own flat in south London, near Clapham common, her family gave her the flat when she graduate. To avoid any problem, and being a north London boy, I didn’t even tried to move to her flat, even if she insisted quite a lot over the years that we were together.
So everything was great… my life was great. I was paying 100 pounds in a quite bad flat, but I had my own room… and i was making quite a lot of money, 3000 pounds per month… for a 27 years old, that’s quite good. I had Valerie, that cares about me… I had everything, and at the same time, nothing. Nothing because again… happiness is a warm gun. Missing some edge of my life, I found out that I was being lived by a life, not living one. That Valerie was great… and she was ready to get married, ready to have a child, we were ready to move to Clapham. And all I wanted was to go to Thailand to find more about Asia, not know what’s gonna happen next day. Now I know how wrong I was… how good is to have some peace in your life. For good 7 years I was living this crazy life and you know what? People get old. People get old very early. Because you got tired. Maybe is a problem of my generation… we’re a bunch of losers. My dad didn’t even went to college and with 19 years old was married and had a kid! My mum did college in her spare time as a nurse and worked like hell so I could go to school everyday and not have to work in my spare time. And this happened with all my friends and relatives. Everybody went to the university, everybody took a year off to discover the world… we’re a disgrace to the human race, for Christ sake… my grampa was in a war with my age, we’re a spoiled generation.
Kill another park… that was the thing to do. I was so wrong, so wrong. I killed another park for a similar reason. Meeting Valerie on that afternoon, I was dry as the leaves on the ground. At least instead of being foolish as I did with Therese, I told the “real reason”, that I was unhappy… that I need something more in my life. And Valerie started to say that was her fault, that her job turned her into a old woman… she even blamed Clapham for her problems. And instead of loose a bit of my seriousness, I did even worst things, like being quiet when she was talking… I could say, don’t say that… could even leave a bit of hope and say, ok… let’s just have a break… let’s think. You know, things that people do all the time. Instead I helped her to go even deeper… left her with the impression that everything was her fault. And wasn’t… I had several crimes on that relationship. And I killed Regent’s Park… because again, few weeks later I realized how bad I was, how horrible was every single thing made on that day. And worst… realizing, that this time I knew Valerie, and she knew me… and we’re together for longer than I stayed with a girl, any friend, any human being apart from my parents. This is serious shit. When I was going to my job after that, was impossible pass thru the park… the park hated me, the park could send me a wave of pigeons to make me fall out from my bike. Or crossing a bridge, have something faulty there, and I could go straight to the tiny river and get drowned… all these things that an angry park could do with me.
And I suffered a lot… tried to track Valerie down, she was out in US, 6 months doing a masters degree. She couldn’t handle the park either… any park, she could not handle what I did. Change scene, it’s the best thing to do when something like that happens, because in our lives, we kill parks, streets, restaurants, houses… we destroy everything near our hands, sometimes with reasons, sometimes without any.
