Thursday, January 23, 2014


Not exactly getting my shit together: I don't like the slow realisation of realising that I suffer now and forevermore from “old man's hair” syndrome. What was once dark brown and wavy and (on occasions) soft is now a grey/white Brillo Pad made of some alien and unruly material that refuses to behave and when uncombed or untended makes me look like a future lunatic or some unstable inmate of a sex offender unit. Ok perhaps that's going too far but bad hair is an irritant unless it naturally oozes nicely from the scalp and forms a smooth, perfect shape and colour set upon your head. On balance however most of my head and ears and nostrils is covered with it so it's hardly an endangered species and it still keeps me warm, it's just not the hair I remember or so took for granted for about 50 odd years. It's changed and it did so without asking my permission; that applies to a few other things come to think.  Time you look up testosterone suppliers on Amazon.

Pebble dash and tyres: How do stones actually get into your regular shoes (not flip flops) when you are far from a beach and why is it nobody cares about your new tyres? Starting with the tyres; I'm realising that it doesn't matter to other drivers what tin bucket you drive. You're just an object in space to them in one of three abstract states that they can unpleasantly interact with: a)the slow idiot in front of them, b) the twat grinding along behind them and up their arse or c) the buffoon who has stopped and is opening his/her door in the path of their fast moving car. That is all you are,  series of ill-judged events and states summed up by a badly badged, anonymous tin box, nothing more (unless you collide). Your lovely, pristine tyres that are now fully legal and rolling on the tarmac and into the pot holes mean nothing and the model of car you inhabit is just another chunk of doomed metal and plastic that happens to move. Stones in shoes I don't get, firstly, once the walking machine has started they only appear after a little while, not right away. So where were they at first? Did you step through some tiny meteor shower or avalanche of dust and debris, are mice throwing tiny stones at you as you pass, can stones pass through other materials and then reform themselves once  inside the dark, sweaty matter of your shoe? I'm puzzled and troubled by this one and my left foot hurts a little.


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