Fanta$tic Mr. Fox

Fantastic Mr. Fox. On the 22 bus I passed a poster for the upcoming screen version of the classic Roald Dahl book. Roald, is that a name? Anyway, what I saw was so off the point I must comment. Mr. Fox is a story about poverty and the need to forage for whatever he can to feed his family. He was not a suave gangster. In the movie he demands his gang wear hoods on their missions. They have taken the title 'fantastic' and completely misinterpreted it. To me, and I may be wrong, the story is about greed and poverty. Relevant? Yes.

I love the book. Fantastic Mr. Fox was scavenging for what food he could using his cunning to outwit a bunch of oafs. In the book we are also made to feel sorry for the bad guys. They have been personalised and their existence itself is sad. The movie does not convey this or the plight of those living in poverty. The film makers have also signed a deal with McDonalds for promotions. Surely KFC if anything?

Edit: I assumed all of this without watching the movie.

Edinburgh Tramps Works

Part time traffic lights. What do they do the rest of the time? Do traffic lights have other commitments? Maybe a gap year traffic light working to get a big job in the city. Temporary traffic lights too. "I'm only temping as a traffic light, looking for something a little more permanent." Temporary traffic lights do look amateur to be fair. This particular one has character though.

Plenty of temporary positions around Edinburgh at the moment. The market is pretty saturated and most will be redundant in a few years. Sadly, there will always be some other detached city council ready to cut the arterial artery of another fine city.

"MONORAIL! MONORAIL! MONORAIL!".

Dirty Money

When I was a kid I accidentally swallowed a pound and as nature goes I shat it out. I was 8 so my granny made me shit in a bucket and she fished it out. It was meant to be a memento but I spent it on sweets. What I'm trying to say is somewhere out there is a pound that has been right through me.

Lonely, Crying Only

I turn the key and with a creek the door slowly opens. The flat that once welcomed after work is an eerie wasteland of emotions. Something is missing, but I haven't been burgled. Today I didn't need a daily anecdote, such as the photocopier jam. The post skidded across the floor as I stepped in. Someone usually lifts the post and places it thoughtfully on my bed, or even more knowingly, on my part of the sofa.

Nachy, my flatmate, is away home for a week. A sudden fear clouded my thoughts. I need someone around, and then it hit me... I will make my flatmate. Time is short so I can't make it talk or do anything. That is not important, but as long as I sit on my sofa and can see something resembling Nachy in the corner of my eye I might make it through the week without heroin.

I begin to move him about when I leave the room. Before I know it this is part of my life and I love him. Then I hear a key turn in the door and Nachy is soon undressing his work trousers from my creation and I go to bed confused and in tears again. The photocopier jam was delicious by the way.

Signs

Signs are everywhere in western culture. I think we might just like printing out instructions, or coming up with inventive stick man situations. If something can have a sign associated, it probably will. Signs that tell you to do something, or not do something, like 'Push' when I'm going to pull first anyway. Sometimes the signs lie, like when I walked back and forth in front of an 'Automatic Door' that didn't open, and then the man said go around, meaning come through this open door that you aren't usually allowed to enter. 'No Entry' is says, but on that day I think we all proved that to be wrong.

Signs can also be confusing. Like when I was walking through the airport and there was a sign that said 'Left Luggage' but it was on my right hand side. Then I thought I must have been walking in the wrong direction. I continued walking despite my temporary confusion. Then I thought, maybe the other side says 'Right Luggage' and it's one of those infinite loops. I could have ended walking back and forth past the sign forever.

Yes, it is important which signs you read, though the important ones are rarely obvious, or even considered a sign at all. Most official signs blur the minds sight to meaningful signs.

Watercolour Challenge

Watercolour Challenge - now that was a TV show. Three amateur artists would have four hours to paint the same scene. The beauty was that the celebrity judge always found something good to say about even the bloodiest massacre of canvas. TV was nice and we applauded effort. This is added to my list of programs that I would like to appear on. I imagine being presented with a picturesque view of mountains sweeping to the sea and producing something resembling Hades, the gateway to Hell in reds and purples. Over to you celebrity judge…

Cooking For One

I bought a book recently called 'Cooking for One' thus reinforcing my single status. Imagine the scene in the corner of my kitchen. A table set for one with a dying flower in a vase whose water has turned green. A burnt out candle looking sad - a missed warning of a long darkness.



My new found passion for cooking (for one) is thankfully helped along by Leith FM - "Looking back over my shoulder, I can see the look in your eyes, I never dreamed it could..." - FUCK, there I am thinking again.