I found this photograph between the pages of an old black and white 70s Marvel UK reprint comic. I was pleased by this, because I like an excuse to use lots of adjectives.
It's always fun to find something personal in a second hand item. It's usually a boring dedication/finger in a book, but sometimes it's something more impressive, like an autographed ring.
This photograph is interesting. Let's take a closer look.
I don't have a scanner, so this is a photo of a photo. The real thing is much clearer and crisper. On the real thing, you can clearly see the sneer. The sneer is the most noticeable thing about it. People don't sneer like that nowadays. This is a vintage sneer.
Who is this person?
Do you know him? Is he you?
He's wearing white trousers and a white shirt/blouse thing. Is he a cricketer? A morris dancer? But what about the black jacket? And what's he holding? A scarf? A long truncheon?
Why is his hair like that? Did everyone have hair like that back then?
When was back then? The fashion doesn't really help us identify the era. Was it taken around the same time as the comic was released? Or was it taken later, and placed inside the comic for safe-keeping?
Was it a bookmark?
What's that wall in the background? Some kind of wall?
Is this Neil Gaiman? It looks a bit like Neil Gaiman. Could it be Neil Gaiman?
Is this man still alive? Is he old? Or was this only taken a few years ago?
Is it me? Did I take a photo of myself and look different? Did I hide it, knowing that I'd find it in the future?
Have I had some kind of memory-removal/plastic-surgery foisted upon me? Is this a clue to discovering who I really am?
Am I asking too many questions?
Yes, I am?
Great?
Yeah.
***
I'm not looking forward to the next month or so. This period will begin with a birthday, and end with a house-move. In between will be Christmas. I don't really want any of these things.
I'm looking forward to having moved. I'm looking forward to living in a new place. But I'm not looking forward to all of the moving and signing forms and boxing and organising and forgetting and worrying. I have been dreaming about it.
I really am incapable of dealing with even the most minor events which constitute life.
I can't even deal with that fact, so I'm going to change the subject.
Peas!
I didn't use to like them, but now I do. Delicious green spheres. And mushy peas? I'm a convert! I never had them, then I had them, and now I CAN'T STOP HAVING THEM!
Good old peas!
Good old life!
***
I've been unwell. Because I've been coughing a lot during the night, I've been sleeping on the sofa. I don't like to disturb Lucy, so I selflessly leave her to sleep in peace. I really am the most considerate man alive.
To be fair, she's also ill, and is ill because she caught my cold. Also, I've been generally useless and whiny, and keep hiding her Lemsip. Also, I keep leaving guns in her socks as a funny joke. So, all-in-all, I'm not the best of cohabitees. But still: the sofa. That's got to count for something, right?
The sofa is quite comfortable, but I kept waking up due to thoughts and germs dancing a tango in my brain. In the middle of one of these deliria, I "wrote" a "poem".
I even noted it down on my phone, in case I forgot it come daybreak.
I didn't forget it. I remembered it and tweeted it, but had no response. I don't want to waste valuable things-I-have-thought, so here it is:
Heather gazed thither
so I tethered her hither
I can't live without her
and I can't not live with 'er
I'm prolific.
It reminds me that I haven't done a tweet compendium for ages. How long? Since before September 11 (this year)!
I have been fairly inactive in that time tweetwise, but there's probably some Marmite to be scraped from the bottom of the jar.
That can be something to look forward to.
Let's look forward to it.
Shh.
Shh-shh-shh!
In silence.
Let's all just be quiet and look forward to it.
There.
***
Here's a song I heard today. I think I like it:
I've allocated the next hour and a half for fear. But there will be no inquest if I overrun.
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