all those great american writers had hollywood on their side; televangelising the globe with enchanting lies; marking the world with all that geography. the mississippi, the grand canyon, the great lakes, golden gate, empire state, 34th street and route 66, rushmore, niagara, miami, chicago, seattle. cleveland (ohio), washington (D.C.), nashville (tennessee), they all come tumbling off the tongue. new york, new orleans, san fran, san diego, memphis, milwaukee, detroit. oklahoma, kansas, kentucky, texas and louisiana. a city of angels in sunny california and las vegas out in the dripping nevada desert. dallas, denver, boston, austin. ...and i'm not even from London. The rest of England doesn't even exist, Scotland just attaches directly onto the north side of the M25, somewhat like an unruly attic full of archaic curiosities and mythical beasts. Oh, and the Beatles live just outside of London in a pool of livers (or something).
"where you from, kid?"
"uk"
"oh right! neat accent you got there"
"right"
"so what's it like living in London?"
"i didn't say i lived in London"
"ohh..."
"i'm from Birmingham"
"oh, like Alabama?"
"......no, not really".
in America people have genuinely asked me whether i know the queen, as if i wake up, roll out of bed and poke my head into buckingham fucking palace to ask Liz if she wants a biscuit to dunk in her mid-morning cuppa.
HA!
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