Not been in the mood to write up anything. I am writing spontaneously now just to break the spell a little.
The squirrels are running rife in the local green spaces, as though they stereotypically can’t remember where they put their cache of nuts. They don’t look panicked about it, perhaps they being modern wild rodents have become complacement that they can play the ‘cute’ card and get us humans to hand them out titbits. What a strange symbiosis between Man and Nutkins, they get food from us, we get..er..fluffy child-substitute from them. Personally I have gone through a period of grey squirrel aversion, not just because they ousted the poor indigenous reds, but they seemed to be taking our hand-outs for granted they were on the verge of becoming aggressive – or at least too forward or pro-active in sounding out your food stash. I’m over that now – I’m ambivalent. Actually they could make decent pie-filling as well – we can get more back from them with the right recipe book.
Why is there a clothes shop in town called ‘BANK’? It was just by the actual bank, which should change its name to ‘DRESS’. I was gobsmacked when restaurants started calling themselve EAT, and everything was starting to peel off its veneer and reveal more of the stark undertruth of dominant capitalist futility. Has capitalism made life more futile, or is it just shortcutting to and reflecting a certain inbuilt pointlessness. Feed, breed, buy and die. Just a cynical moment – there is enough love and wonder in my life to stumble on regardless.
I don’t consider myself grumpy or old, but I feel like starting to keep a tally of my personal Room 101 nominations. a)Victorian anthropomorphic taxidermy, b)People who don’t let you off the train first [substitute any form of fundamentally stupid rudeness], c)Shop-time Christmas – eg. from about Halloween to start of actual Christmas, when sales instantly start, comprised of stuff that didn’t go fast enough during shop-time Christmas.
Well that’s three grumps for starters. Other things I thought I’d want to put in there, like Alan Titchmarsh, most of post-70s Elton John, the books of Jeffrey Archer – I couldn’t give a toss what happens to them, they’re just boring. I’ve not mellowed – I don’t actually like any of those things, far from it – I still want my brain to be challenged, I still want to strike out on that serendipitous adventure through culture. I’m not about to put my mental slippers on. I’m not about to order the latest Cliff & Jedward Christmas album.