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.

Where's The Beef?

OK, so I decided to start a blog. This is where I drink the piss of society and piss it out again all over pages of the internet. And so it begins before I started with Where's The Beef? - a rhetorical question signifying my quest for substance.

At the time of writing I'm 27 and sitting in a cupboard with a bottle of red wine. 27 years have cumulated to this point. I think you get the point. I need to find the beef.