This actually did happen to a real person, and the real person was me. I had gone to catch a train. This was April 1976, in Cambridge, U.K. I was a bit early for the train. I’d gotten the time of the train wrong.
I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of cookies. I went and sat at a table.
I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind.
Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There’s a guy sitting opposite me, perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase.
It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.
Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies.
You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know… But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, what am I going to do?
In the end I thought, nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought, that settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another cookie.
Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice …” I mean, it doesn’t really work.
We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away.
Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies.
The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who’s had the same exact story, only he doesn’t have the punch line.
L S D X O X O / S O F T C O R E
1. MY MAN (Intro)
2. Truth Tella ft. Cakes Da Killa
3. OMW ft. Chapman
4. NI666A PLZ (Interlude)
5. Thirsty ft. Jay Boogs
6. In 2 U ft. DonChristian
7. DIVIDENDS ft. Dyck Van Dyck
8. Slut Rave (Interlude)
9. Cumming ft. Leaf
10. PVSSY (Interlude)
11. Burn ft. DJ Uniique
12. OI$HII / Outro
Download full ep here: http://www.hulkshare.com/pmmgc5noc45c
Cover of Naomi by Neutral Milk Hotel.
Sometimes I do other things too. All these things can be found here.
Remember when the Littles went to the orphanage and had the opportunity to give a kid a loving home and instead adopted a fucking mouse?
YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT YOU’RE PRETTY DOPE. IT’S IMPORTANT THAT YOU KNOW THAT. EVEN IF YOU’RE HAVING AN OFF DAY OR WHATEVER, NO ONE PULLS OFF ‘YOU’ QUITE LIKE YOU DO AND THAT’S COOL AS HECK.
YOU’RE COOL AS HECK.
The Pop Diaspora of M.I.A
One of the most entertaining and frustrating things about being a fan of M.I.A has been watching white critics struggle to articulate her style while challenging her right to the aesthetic she cultivates. Artists of color aren’t often recognized for their sophistication or intent. Rather, they’re ascribed a “primitive rawness.”
With her synthesis of diverse but connected motifs M.I.A gets dubbed “cut and paste.” Words like “patchwork,” “slapped-together,” and “scotch tape” are regularly used, and that’s from positive reviews. American critics, unsure of the cacophony of identities and experiences M.I.A offers, commonly project their own uncertainties onto her.
The reception of her albums can be charted along her public perception, which took a hit in 2010. Her increasing success hadn’t changed the tone of her antiestablishment politics and the juxtaposition made scoffing at M.I.A as fashionable as dancing to Galang had been.
Listen to: FLIES by Francesco D’Andrea