I see you long pig. Head down. Hands in pockets. Negotiating an Edward Hopper meets Mike Leigh landscape. Another round fought to another split decision. You're going the distance but what a distance. You make eye contact with a weirdo who thinks you're a weirdo. You find a tenner but you lost twenty. There might be something on the telly tonight but you know that there probably won't be. The telly's broke anyway. Dieter and Annabelle have invited you to dinner but you're not going because they sound pretentious. A friend texts you to tell you that you're a 'miserable bollocks'. You text back 'so?'. Somebody asks you what time it is and you tell them that it doesn't matter. You'd arrange a protest march against the indifference of the Universe but you know that no one would show up. The Universe wouldn't care anyway. All that can be said has been said except for all the stuff that should be said but never will be. This is getting repetitive. But what's that noise from above? Everyone is standing in the road. Look up long pig. There are crosses in the sky. It's the end of the world ...again.
Moving the Atlantic Inland
7 hours ago