Pigeon English
For some reason I've been taking photos of pigeons recently.
I think, when I grow up, I shall become famous for my pigeon photography. People will see me and they'll know it's me, cos I'll be renowned, renowned as one of the leading figures in the illustrious field of pigeon photography. I should probably point out now, there is no punchline.
------------- ----- ---- --- -
You know, the previous post (*^_~* what? I'm lovin' this...) wasn't meant to offend anyone, neither was it my way of screaming 'no one understands me', like some eyelinered teenager scratching black poetry into her parents' walls.
Honestly.
I meant what I said. Once you put something out there, you have to let go to a degree, you have to be prepared for interpretation. But Looking Back is one of the most important things I've written in this journal.
Honestly.
In terms of the way it makes me feel every time I re-read it (and that isn't something I often do with my journal), and in terms of the way it obviously connected with the people who read it. So I wanted to say what I meant by it when I wrote it. What it meant to me. And I was in the mood to add to it - I like to write, and when the mood takes me, I don't like to ignore it. =)
------------- ----- ---- --- -
Should I be worried that everytime I go to put a tag in scrapbook beginning with 'P' the first thing it suggests I might want to write is 'pub'..? ^^;
------------- ----- ---- --- -
Life throws moments at you sometimes, moments that stand out, moments that are worth snapshotting - in memory, in words, in however you choose to keep your life.
At work we have David's iPod plugged into the speaker system, on random, which can be pretty random, there's not many places that you'll hear Muse followed by Bucks Fizz. I was sat up the back the other day and from the speakers some new-age pan pipey music was drifting across the shop. Just out of sight of me a bunch of teenage girls were looking at the Living Dead Dolls. Now, if you're not familiar with them, Living Dead Dolls tend to have some badly written poem on the front of each doll (4 lines, always rhymes), generally involving words like rotting, demise, corpse, fate, hideous, dead and so on, I'm sure you get the idea. And one of the girls, in a slow, girl-pitched, monotonous voice was reading one of these poems out.
So what? You might think... Well, as one of our neighbours in an indeterminate direction had just decided to start hammering at the moment, through the walls there came an intermittent, muffled banging which, combined with the almost chant-like recitation from the girl and the eerie pipe music, made me suddenly feel as if I'd fallen into some Temple of the Evil Cult scene and where I sat I was the aural witness to some ceremony of worship only a thin sliver of reality away, bleeding into my world...
Do you think I watched too many movies as a kid, read too many books? ;)
------------- ----- ---- --- -
We now return you to the already in progress Oblivion (Xero parallel), where our wayward Khajit, Claw, is trying to come to terms with his recent contraction of vampirism. We re-join him as he considers actually returning to the main plotline, but then again... there are those Goblins just down the road that would look much prettier on fire...
I think, when I grow up, I shall become famous for my pigeon photography. People will see me and they'll know it's me, cos I'll be renowned, renowned as one of the leading figures in the illustrious field of pigeon photography. I should probably point out now, there is no punchline.
------------- ----- ---- --- -
You know, the previous post (*^_~* what? I'm lovin' this...) wasn't meant to offend anyone, neither was it my way of screaming 'no one understands me', like some eyelinered teenager scratching black poetry into her parents' walls.
Honestly.
I meant what I said. Once you put something out there, you have to let go to a degree, you have to be prepared for interpretation. But Looking Back is one of the most important things I've written in this journal.
Honestly.
In terms of the way it makes me feel every time I re-read it (and that isn't something I often do with my journal), and in terms of the way it obviously connected with the people who read it. So I wanted to say what I meant by it when I wrote it. What it meant to me. And I was in the mood to add to it - I like to write, and when the mood takes me, I don't like to ignore it. =)
------------- ----- ---- --- -
Should I be worried that everytime I go to put a tag in scrapbook beginning with 'P' the first thing it suggests I might want to write is 'pub'..? ^^;
------------- ----- ---- --- -
Life throws moments at you sometimes, moments that stand out, moments that are worth snapshotting - in memory, in words, in however you choose to keep your life.
At work we have David's iPod plugged into the speaker system, on random, which can be pretty random, there's not many places that you'll hear Muse followed by Bucks Fizz. I was sat up the back the other day and from the speakers some new-age pan pipey music was drifting across the shop. Just out of sight of me a bunch of teenage girls were looking at the Living Dead Dolls. Now, if you're not familiar with them, Living Dead Dolls tend to have some badly written poem on the front of each doll (4 lines, always rhymes), generally involving words like rotting, demise, corpse, fate, hideous, dead and so on, I'm sure you get the idea. And one of the girls, in a slow, girl-pitched, monotonous voice was reading one of these poems out.
So what? You might think... Well, as one of our neighbours in an indeterminate direction had just decided to start hammering at the moment, through the walls there came an intermittent, muffled banging which, combined with the almost chant-like recitation from the girl and the eerie pipe music, made me suddenly feel as if I'd fallen into some Temple of the Evil Cult scene and where I sat I was the aural witness to some ceremony of worship only a thin sliver of reality away, bleeding into my world...
Do you think I watched too many movies as a kid, read too many books? ;)
------------- ----- ---- --- -
We now return you to the already in progress Oblivion (Xero parallel), where our wayward Khajit, Claw, is trying to come to terms with his recent contraction of vampirism. We re-join him as he considers actually returning to the main plotline, but then again... there are those Goblins just down the road that would look much prettier on fire...