Download your copy: .PDF | .DOC

I remember the pathos of the pedlar In the backstreets of Little India in Singapore, (where prostitutes sit half dressed in dim red interiors open to the street) I watch this old man anointing a wooden phallus which he cradles, optimistically erect, in his shrunken lap; a knot of gawpers stand round him apparently ready to disemburse for this Elisir d'Amore, listening to his patter:
"You are putting this on your private part and you can go twenty…thirty minutes…I am selling this from twenty years" etc etc

In Chinatown, Krung Thep I watch two Buddhist monks in saffron robes rooting around at a stall devoted to karaoke mikes and vibrators.

In Tokyo, outside a dubious looking shack with flashing lights in Shibuya, hopefully entitled: JOYFUL ADULT SHOP hovers nervously an elderly highly respectable, suited man with an umbrella. I feel the utmost tenderness towards him; for I too will become just another sexual unperson, a wraith weaving unseen through phalanxes of passionate youth in whatever Byzantium ("no country for old men, the young in one another's arms, birds in the trees,..." ) end my days.


need these streets
city sublime
seismic city
chopper shot
perfect city
dark city
global flaneur
shanghai and seoul
city tourist
loathsome centres
krung thep
sex city
hong kong
nightmares dreams
new sublime
dickens in la

  verybigcity: e-Book by Rodney Blakeston
  :: SITEKICK.CO.UK :: 2002©Rodney Blakeston