470: Bus Station Observations

A group of people – two women and a man – stand around a pram containing the babiest fourth member of their group. One of the women held a lit cigarette directly over the infant as she yammered on about whatever crap such morons talk about. She took occasional drags, moving the cigarette to her own face, but always returning it to its position above the baby. Not once did she look in the direction of the hot smouldering fire in order to check it wasn't raining down on that innocent wee head. The man took out his own cigarette and, finding himself want of a lighter asked to borrow her cigarette for lighting off. She passed directly over the baby and he lit his from hers over the pram, leaning over with both cigarettes as he passed hers back. Two lit cigarettes waving blindly about above a pram, as the unbelievably selfish idiots gab gibberish blindly.

A black-skinned lady wanders through the large crowds of rush-hour bus-waitingers seeking out other black people. When she finds them she hands them a little leaflet; it looks to me like one of those little churchy 'remember Jesus this xmas' type things. She approaches a group of friends, one who is black and the other two are white. She hands one to the black man and he accepts it; the other two, a man and a woman, hold their hands out and she says, "No, not for you". "Sorry," says the man, and she walks off. I lose her in the crowd, plus my bus arrives and I am about to fall asleep.

The biggest recovery/breakdown vehicle ever created by man or by god is pulling a sad kaput double-decker bus up on its back two wheels. For buses to get out of the station in Piccadilly Garden they have to double back in a u-turn and head off the way they came; it's the only way out due to tram lines and one-way systems. As the breakdown truck tries to tow the double-decker around this tight hairpin-ish corner it becomes jammed in. It can't reverse and it has only inches in front before it hits the barrier. It inches hither and thither for five or ten minutes, with an ever-growing queue of buses running far behind it. Eventually it escapes, moves forward a few metres then has to stop at a zebra crossing... eventually it moves forward a few metres, then has to stop at a red light...

131: 2012, toe death, REM sleep, xmas, crap, and wall-to-wall other stuff

Let’s keep it short tonight as I have some important sleeping to do.  Each eyelid races the other to be the first to come to a complete shuteyed rest.  Then which eye will start REMing up first.  Don’t know, don’t care; all I know is I want sleep.  More than sleep though, I want to stay asleep for the entire of tomorrow.  No chance of that happening.  “I’ve got to write my stupid blog thing,”  “It’s not stupid Kevin, it’s a very good idea and very important,” “No, it’s stupid”.

I’ll mention Richard Herring’s blog Warming Up possibly for the last time, as it doesn’t do to keep reminding my paltry readership that I’ve copied the idea off someone else.  Anyway, Herring’s blog celebrated its eighth year on 25^th Nov 2010 and he began looking forward to 2012 when it reaches its tenth birthday.  To mark the occasion he asked his readers to email him stating where they would like their lives to be on 25^th Nov 2012.  He says he will check back to see how people are doing by then.  I decided to email him with my goals; he seems like a jolly nice man, so I thought “ok, let’s”.  My contribution can be found somewhere near the bottom (as KB) here.  You’ll know it’s mine cos it mentions Japan and my blog.  I could ask you what you want to be doing in 2 years time, but it’s probably not advisable to be copying another of Mr. Herring’s ideas.  “In two years time I want to be acting out my own ideas, not appropriating other people’s”.

But for today we’ll all have to settle for my word-count wasting.  My mind is a complete blank.  A blank canvas is a good thing, but a blank mind is a problem.  Waiting for any idea to form; still waiting.  I am breathing heavily.  Had a bewildering array of colds coming and going for at least a month now.  On the verge of a hypochondriac break-down.  Is my immune system compromised?  Is that ache in my toe the same thing that killed Bruce Lee, or was it Bob Marley; I don’t know.  But this is no good; a blank mind was marginally better than a paranoid one.  Let’s go back to empty-headedness and see where we end up.  Most likely right back where we started.  Where we started?  Huh?  I’m also trying not to think too much.  If I do accidentally think I might wake up and that won’t do at all, what with the early start and the arduous day I have ahead of me.  This is one of those not worth reading blog posts; exercise for my fingers and nothing else.  Nothing.  Sorry if you are a regular reader bored shirtless by today’s post; even sorrier if you are a first time reader put off by this...  But you know, it can’t all be gold.  It can’t even all be soil, or dustbin smell, or pube in the soap.  Some of it isn’t even good enough to be called crap.  What’s worse than being crap?  Being boring.  Or being crap and boring.  Just realised I’m typing with one eye fully closed and the other a tiny slit, the screen is completely out of focus and all that good stuff.

Maybe I could create a ‘blog quality’ graph to chart my ups and downs.  Yes that is definitely not a pointless exercise.  Challenge accepted.

P.S. Christmas decorations went up today in our flat :)