Friday

| 2018 | 12 | 10 | why is batman not manbat? |

I find it a little odd we name animals without asking them first.


I might apply that principle to people around me. 

I shall call you

fluffy.

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honest to god I'm sitting here asking the important questions

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I think my favourite comment of the week was on a vegetarian facebook page I follow....

'why y'all doing so many vegetarian recipes. maybe consider something with meat in it'


AND THEN.

wait.

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It's almost 2019. I've been doing a lot of planning.

I've also been doing a lot of thinking .



I was put on this earth to look. To have a really good look at things. While you're all out there seeing, I'm looking and doing a damn good job of it. It doesn't matter on what or which scale, the looking can be done in relative intensity, taking in every angle of a leaf or the breadth of the Thames.

Oh she's back to talking about that river again. Classic.

However, for me time passes so infinitely fast during moments of pleasure and catastrophically slowly during those of pain my timeline is confusing and flawed. I lose track of everything, quite often when I'm looking at leaf. The one marked point I can happily refer to is the river, flowing undoubtedly and without change toward the sea.

I know I go on about the Thames. I know that my hobby, my life, is found somewhere along its murky waters. Hours are spent staring into its depths trying to firstly establish the question I'm attempting to answer.


For sure it taps into something primal. Something instinctive. But also. It never lies. It never has a motive, just a journey. It does have secrets, but if you go looking then you will find them.

Here are some more points along that thread.

Time moving slowly. Never before have I seen it inch so achingly round the clock than at a recent funeral. A great man. An inspiring man. A man who in his absence occupies more space than he did when yelling in my face. A man who could, and would, not lie.

To draw parallels between a person, time and the Thames may seem tenuous. But in this wild old world, I actually think it makes sense. sort of. if sense is made without point and purpose.