Some shortish items…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s existential angst is centred around the idea of motes.

Excuses for being late. No. 241.
I’m sorry I’m late, but people kept stopping me in the street to show me their apps.

A single overheard remark:
‘I’ve got a static head Peter…’

In the cafe:
I looked up from writing in my little notebook to see a pasty-faced small boy with round spectacles staring at me over the back of his chair from a nearby table. I unsmilingly looked back at him with a Derek Zoolander ‘Blue Steel’ stare, until he turned to face his family again…
(Blue Steel)

A misheard line from a song:
‘You make me feel… you make me feel… you make me feel like unnatural woman…’

I’m thinking of changing my name to Lester Worrybout.

‘He looks like the sort of chap who has banged his head against things all of his life…
What? He’s a rugby player?… Ah, right…’

I was on a bus waiting in Dulltown Interchange on one of the front seats on the top deck; it was five minutes before the bus’s departure time. For some reason I started think about Ray Bradbury the science fiction writer. How very odd! Why would I be thinking about him?
I also had fleeting images of film actors Oscar Werner and Julie Christie too… Well, they were both in the 1960s film version of the Ray Bradbury story Fahrenheit 451
Aha! I realised that I was staring at the reflection of the front of the bus in the glass wall of the Interchange; the number of the bus was 154; the reflected image was of course reversed… a backwards illuminated yellow 451 was hanging in the air in front of me… Problem solved…
(Fahrenheit 451)

Today I feel like a tattoo enthusiast who has just run out of blank skin.

A single overheard remark:
‘I take my own cushion now…’


About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
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