Yellow green

This morning whilst waiting, patiently, for a sign from hell or heaven a seagull shat on the crown of my head. It was only the second time in my life. Cooling. And why the crown? Why not soil your dress, shoulder or whatever else stands in the way of a seagull’s toileting? Don’t say seagulls aren’t considerate. It’s cheaper to wash your hair than take your jacket to the dry cleaners.

My consolation – in recovery not so much from humiliation as disgust  – I remembered that folklore has it that a bird relieving itself on top of you amounts to good luck. And what do you know – it did.

Before all of you rush out to be pooed on by birds – forget it. Per chance can’t be forced.

U

Evocative

My mother and I, over the span of the life she and I have shared, sometimes talk about the “senses”. Which one either of us wouldn’t mind to lose as much an other. Try it. You’ll soon come unstuck.

Today, smell came to mind. Yes, smell. I bought a melon. My intention was a WATER melon since it’s the coolest thing when it’s hot but their weight made me buy a small Galia instead. What distinguishes a watermelon from a Galia?  A whole, as yet not cut open, watermelon smells of nothing. A Galia? Oh my god. Nectar of the gods.

Smell is evocative. Be it a perfume, be it an aftershave, be it a flower, be it musty. One whiff – in passing, on the high street, at a party – and what do you know: Bingo. Transported to another time, another place.

What are your smell(y) memories? Do they make you smile, weepy, long for, or full of disgust?

U

 

Growth

I knew there was a downside to being a man (apart from not being able to give birth). It came to me by no simpler means than stroking the edge of my chin.

There I was, lost in the labyrinth of thought, staring into the middle distance (it was dark), when I was jolted out of my reverie as how to make further inroads into the world of blogging without a virtual contract killer trying his luck on me. Stopped in my tracks. A coarse hair. On my soft chin. Nothing that a magnifying mirror, a steady hand and a tweezer didn’t rectify in a second. Give it another twenty years and I won’t be so sanguine. I’ll be fighting follicles and their excesses.

How do you guys live with stubble and rough and coarse? Mind you, the Angel recently remarked, in passing, that one of the pitfalls of the human mind that, if not vigilant, we can get used to anything. Till it doesn’t register any longer for what it is. Scary.

U

 

 

Appreciation

Question: If most people were blind where would that leave the visual artist and the spaces they exhibit in?

U

Dishing the dirt

Remember when people traded in their Rolls Royce for a new one because the ashtray was full?

I can totally relate to the sentiment. I don’t mind battle, yet, occasionally, there is only one way. That of least resistance.

Sometimes things are just disgusting. So disgusting all you want is to get rid of them. Like my keyboard. Of course, I could take the easy way out and pray. Pray that the keyboard will die, thus giving me an excellent excuse to buy a new one without having the sin of waste on my conscience. Hand me a rosary now – and I am not even Catholic.

So what do you suggest? Not least the engineers (in Silly Con Valley) among you. Why on earth, with all the magic the human mind can weave, has no one yet invented a way to prevent the crevices between the keys of a keyboard from becoming a cesspit?

U