It crept up a lot quicker than I expected, but it is my last day at King’s College London tomorrow. It was a enriching and worldly experience, full of dramas and triumphs and highs and lows and new experiences. The world got a hell of a lot bigger and through King’s, I discovered something special about London, its institutions, and its people, whist hopefully discovering something special about my self. London is a wild social labyrinth full of dead-ends, choices with no choice, and potentially lethal social structures that test the limits of any reasonable education. A hardened blinkered conservatism tried to enter my soul, but I resisted it and took no prisoners.
Londoners are a stony hearted, confident, and worldly people plugged into the world through an historical depth and cultural breadth like no other. They don’t know how to live but they know how the world lives. They can’t build cities, but they are bigger than any city.
I remember sitting on a beach on a island in the bay of Thailand on my way to London thinking what the fuck am I doing. I was playing David Bowies ‘Changes’ on my IPod, a legendary song in a time of transition. “A million dead-end streets, Every time I thought I’d got it made, It seemed the taste was not so sweet”
and…
“Don’t want to be a richer man; turn and face the strain”.
This is perhaps the strain of learning for leanings sake; a liberal arts education is treacherous, it is a privilege and a duty like no other. Europe like anywhere is full of sheep and any one of them would have you lined up in front of a firing squad if their leaders told then too or certain social structures forced their hand. A good education is always the vocation for the Killer of Sheep!
I still don’t know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets
Every time I thought I’d got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I’ve never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I’m much too fast to take that test
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don’t want to be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can’t trace time
I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence and
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They’re quite aware of what they’re going through
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don’t tell t hem to grow up and out of it
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Where’s your shame
You’ve left us up to our necks in it
Time may change me
But you can’t trace time
Strange fascination, fascinating me
Changes are taking the pace I’m going through
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock ‘n rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Pretty soon you’re gonna get a little older
Time may change me
But I can’t trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can’t trace time
One Comment
Aw Craig, the CCH’s Tasmanian Tiger, that endangered species, is gone! You tried to build up some thick skin, but it never was thick enough for London. This city’s dullness can be cruel sometimes, but I thought you’d find satisfying ways out of it. But dont be so dismissive about the so-called sheep, subversion for subversion’s sake only goes so far.. Anyway, youre a good guy and deserve a rewarding place to be in. Lets talk.