FOWC: Silkscreen

FOWC: Silkscreen


Shit day, apart from noticing that M has eyes in the back of his arms, which also look like Ani (anus plural). I’ve taken the photo and will put it further down for those who get disturbed by skin close ups, I wasn’t; I am now.

Turns out we’ve all got aches and pains at the moment from sleeping in a peculiar position with the window open and the breath of night lapping at your hips any number of excuses or old wives (sexist) takes. I’m beginning to think I may be getting a click hip, I have to haul my fright foot in to the car with my hands. I’m not ruling out that I may be getting a little older and probably need to discipline my self somewhat, but i’m not necessarily ruling it in either, it could all just be a silkscreen, which is a thinly veiled smokescreen which succeeds in only covering the age issues with a pathetic net curtain type cover, which in itself betrays my age. Christ damn those net curtains, they are not for my demographic, although now I fall into the 45-55 age bracket, maybe they are, and my life is slowly regressing to my mother and father’s life when they were my age.

I spent a good hour wading through bushy nettled fields today and came across these caterpillars, having a fight on a bush, you could have said they were beating around the bush, but they didn’t seem to be all around the bush so i’ll leave it at that.

Car gear box went bad today, its a company car so i don’t really care, but I do care about the time and effort I had to endure trying to get the thing taken to the car home where it will be left in a corridor until a mechanic can be bothered to check it out. 3 hours I waited for the AA (not alcoholics anonymous) to come and recover me, I’d also ran the battery out listening to the cricket on the radio, so another AA man had to come to charge the battery, he recognised me from the last time in January or December, so we al had a laugh about car issues, my self laughing to try and fit in with them and their car banter or “Canter”. These things exist. Turns out the bloke who took me and car to the clinic was a cricket fan and member of the “Barmy Army” so we bonded in that way. You’ve got to talk about something, it’s uncomfortable not knowing about cars when you’re in a tight spot surrounded by the detritus of Automobelia.

Anyway in the words of an evil predatory cartoonist,

“Can you tell what it is yet?”



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