FIFTEEN OF THEM

The other day someone said that something I did was "spectacularly pretentious" and "avant garde". Sniff. That's the most BEAUTIFUL thing anybody has ever said about the stuff I do. You know, the shiznit.

It is the polar opposite of "okay boomer".

I am profoundly moved.



A GAME OF EXISTENTIAL DESPAIR AND ANGST

Meantime, someone else didn't want to see all those depressing social media posts, and planted a list of questions.

* Favourite nut: Pecan pie.
* Steak: Pork belly stewed with salt vegs.
* Italian or Chinese: Why not both?
* Coke or Dr Pepper: Neither.
* How many tattoos: None.
* Ever hit a deer: No.
* Rode in a ambulance: No.
* Last text: None.
* Favourite season: A time of cholera.
* Broken Bones: Whose?
* Favourite colour: Torn among burnt umber, raw Sienna, and yellow ochre, though cerulean blue would be a close second, as well as several shades of green. The first three pigments are great fun, but you can't go very far with blue and green.
* Sunrise or Sunset : Teatime is the nicest time of day.
* Ocean or Mountain: Peat-bog.
* Dogs or cats: Both.
* Favourite Flower: I'm sorry, that's such a Southern thing.


Feel free to post your own answers in the comments, if you feel so inclined, or create your own list.


Disclaimer: I do not often eat nuts EXCEPT in pie or pastry. Or curry gravy with coconut cream. The peanut is not a nut but a legume. Haven't had a steak in years, but stewed pork belly is better. Also, I can't stand tattoos. Childish skin doodles.

When my appendix ruptured I could of ridden in an ambulance. But it would've taken twenty minutes to get here, then dropped me at SF General Hospital, where my being sane, sentient, and not bleeding, would've put me last in line and I'd have probably died, because in all likelihood the diagnosis would have been "middle aged hysteric with heartburn, give him an antacid". Followed by a huge bill to "decedents address of record", which would've been several hundred for the ambulance and several thousand for "treatment". The taxi arrived at the door in less than five minutes and got me to the emergency room of SFCH in record time, where they had me on the table lickety split. I have a cute little scar now.

I don't text. To the best of my knowledge I have not broken anyone's bones recently. The beauties of the four seasons are stereotypical and largely unexciting. There are lovely seasonal moments, that could almost exist separate in time and place.
Not much of a sunrise or sunset person. Early morning, well after dawn, can be quite lovely. Tea time really is the nicest time of day.


I don't have any pets.


Don't ask a Dutchman what his favourite flower is. The answer would probably confuse you, and if you're American you probably don't know enough to talk intelligently on the subject.



Did I ever mention how silly I think tattoos are? Here you have a beautiful body that Mother Nature and millions of years of evolution gave you, and you go and mess it up with dumb-ass graffiti.
What are you, stupid?




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