Thanks to Yahoo UK on the inspiration for that one. They have this series of ads on the tube - like above a seat there'll be a little poster card with an arrow pointing at the seat - the arrow reads "Your Future Wife." Only problem is that there's either some big, fat bloke or a woman who looks like she's had one too many facelifts to permanently rob her of all expression. So she communicates in sign language. Go figure, eh? Anyway, the ads also extend to the escalators to freedom, where they point down with words like "Sardines" and "Claustrophobics" and up with "Winter Weather" and "Fresh Air." Simple things you notice when you get off the Northbound train to Cockfosters and on to the Northern Line route to Angel. Gotta love London.
Saw the moon real low this evening too. Odd - I mean, it was below the rooftops and so on - sure, the rest of you who've seen this and on a regular basis won't think much of it, but I thought it was cool. And it was fucking bright enough to outshine the streetlighting. Which made me wonder - why is it that the moon ... well, I skipped a point, but I thought the moon was beautiful. And what is it that makes the moon so beautiful in my mind? Is it all the romanticisation over the years of my life that I have acquired from all fronts? Or is it really, well and truly more wondrous than that humble streetlight, glowing in that orange-ish hue soon after its birth till its sputtering and forgettable death?
Beware that you don't ever sink into depths of depression that you get comfortable in. It's not a pleasant place to be.
Till the forward looking man of Galilee turns West.
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