Good seagull.
I was walking by Brighton Seafront at 9:30pm and it’s beautiful and the sky is going to be turning purple soon and I walk slowly listening to Hip-hop on the old I-pod and a woman pushing a wheelchair stops me:
“Excuse me, do you know of any chocolate shops around here?”
Slightly thrown: “Chocolate shops?”
Lady: “You know, to munch on!”
Did she think she could munch on a shop made of choco? Does she feel she is deprived of chocolate generally and want a Hansel und Gretel style candy-land? I sent them them down the way of the Pier to get a crêpe or some shit. I hope a seagull didn’t steal it off her either.
The death of Michael Jackson doesn’t really surprise me, nor does it sadden me. Rather selfishly, it makes me think of myself a boatload. I think of the first album I owned - my mother actually bought “Bad” on vinyl for me because she knew I loved to cut a rug to the Wacko. I think back to the first time that I played my favourite computer game Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. The moment you steal your first car, "Billie Jean" comes on and you’re skirting around 80’s Miami with the sun beating down , primed to start the game, with a big smile around the face with nostalgia. I also think how the unfeasible 50 focking dates that he had lined up to London was a mockery of a sham. The stress surely significantly contributed to his cardiac arrest. Putting everyone’s judgements aside for a moment, I feel that it was a sad demise but his poor soul died a long time ago. His music will never die though. Best song? "Man in the Mirror."
I swam in the sea! It felt better than any wave machine does and doesn’t cost the world. It was the best feeling in the world and it really was deep ocean blue. There was a damaged seagull on the pebbles near the water. It had ripped loads of its wing off. As I was sunbathing and reading my book, I overheard the police reporting it over the phone to the RSPCA. Like the policeman said over the radio, it was amazing how serene the bird was. I felt that he was sharing the moment with me, simply taking everything in for the moment. Accepting its fate and not ripping up garbage bins or terrorizing residents of rooftop attic flats squawking into the night past 2am. Good bird.
“Excuse me, do you know of any chocolate shops around here?”
Slightly thrown: “Chocolate shops?”
Lady: “You know, to munch on!”
Did she think she could munch on a shop made of choco? Does she feel she is deprived of chocolate generally and want a Hansel und Gretel style candy-land? I sent them them down the way of the Pier to get a crêpe or some shit. I hope a seagull didn’t steal it off her either.
The death of Michael Jackson doesn’t really surprise me, nor does it sadden me. Rather selfishly, it makes me think of myself a boatload. I think of the first album I owned - my mother actually bought “Bad” on vinyl for me because she knew I loved to cut a rug to the Wacko. I think back to the first time that I played my favourite computer game Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. The moment you steal your first car, "Billie Jean" comes on and you’re skirting around 80’s Miami with the sun beating down , primed to start the game, with a big smile around the face with nostalgia. I also think how the unfeasible 50 focking dates that he had lined up to London was a mockery of a sham. The stress surely significantly contributed to his cardiac arrest. Putting everyone’s judgements aside for a moment, I feel that it was a sad demise but his poor soul died a long time ago. His music will never die though. Best song? "Man in the Mirror."
I swam in the sea! It felt better than any wave machine does and doesn’t cost the world. It was the best feeling in the world and it really was deep ocean blue. There was a damaged seagull on the pebbles near the water. It had ripped loads of its wing off. As I was sunbathing and reading my book, I overheard the police reporting it over the phone to the RSPCA. Like the policeman said over the radio, it was amazing how serene the bird was. I felt that he was sharing the moment with me, simply taking everything in for the moment. Accepting its fate and not ripping up garbage bins or terrorizing residents of rooftop attic flats squawking into the night past 2am. Good bird.