You’re bringing a strong turban game, but some doubter is giving you the side eye
you’re having the mother of all essay crises
The alarm clock is going and you just can’t get up
you pratfall and people just laugh and point
you be feeling the rain even though you’re a lion
you be a badass rap star even though you’re an angel too.
All photos Genoa 2018.
The illustrator Veronica Dearly has drawn her views of the constant creative struggle. Made this accountant chuckle with recognition…
When the morning stars all sang together and the sons of God shouted for joy.
(Actually from the Book of Job, so probably meaning something /about to get quite a bit grimmer. But eh…)
After accidentally booking a holiday in a place (Portland, Oregon) that is even more peak hipster than where I currently live, it seems I’ve done it again. This is the quarter of Istanbul where we were staying. ALL the rose gold / coppers…
Istanbul 2018, Nyks and Cafe Erol
Part of an ongoing series. There have been some crackers recently and the new season’s crop is in:
So my friend Jack has his friend Farid’s name on his foot, and for a while there was thing where if you had Farid’s name on you, he’d take your name too. So whilst Jack’s friends each have Farid’s on them, Farid has a LOT of names
“I’ve seen a lot of deaths, you know.”
“I believe you, scary man.”
“You don’t believe me, let me show you photos.”
“I believe you.”
“Let me show you photos.”
“Lets be clear, was it *a* vagina monologue you heard?”
(Woman) “Men like boobs, but I just think they’re gross.”
“I’ve written to the club apologising for my louche footwear and saying I wasn’t quite feeling myself last night.”
“And wherever I’ve been, I’ve never had scales. This is the first time I’ve had scales.” (Mental image of an urban dragon…)
“I just messaged her and said ‘watch yourself, I have far worse on you.’”
you flew once
over mount taranaki
on fanthams peak
before the snow fell
all over your city
and when they looked up
they thought they saw an angel
but it was just you on your way home
from the supermarket and your feet needed a rest
The run up to Christmas is always a great time for some overhears on the street/Tube/canal paths of London. Every word is true and unadulterated…
“So when he turned up he was just palpitating”
“…Because we need time to prepare. Some of them need to go and put on clothes.”
“So I’m going to Montenegro.”
“You know there’s a wardrobe falling down the stairs?” “Yeah”
(Two coppers to each other) “I got her a sword to go with her two daggers. She’s so not girly.”
“But I did pay him for the drugs.”
“You can’t really drink one bottle at a time, because that would be a twenty year project”
“It’s like a cheese-filled condom”
“And then he said he’d been in a car crash but he’d bought me tickets for the gig too anyway and did I want to go. But it’s bollocks because he was never in a car crash anyway.”
“No I can’t unzip them, it’s my bunions.”
“It’s alright when she lies down, so it must be her neck, don’t you think?” “But it’s also ok when she talks.”
“Do you know anyone who know someone anything about the stock exchange?” “Well they seem to.”
Because it’s been a while since we had cat pictures here, and there’s nothing like a bit of Marie Kondo-ing on top too. Don’t forget to file your rats / mini-pigs in amongst your rolled sock drawer.
13th century bestiary in the Bodleian.
This quirky shot of Larsen’s Winter day at the zoo from Ordrupgaard’s Instagram feed really made me laugh.
“Jeeves,” I said, “I am not the old merry self this morning.”
“No, Jeeves. Far from it. Far from the merry old self.”
“I am sorry to hear it, sir.”
He uncovered the fragrant egg and b. and I pronged a moody forkful.
From the ever excellent PG Wodehouse whose Leave it to Psmith joined me on holiday last month as I sat pronging Devil’s Food Cake in my pyjamas. Greatly relieved it’s now the weekend after a LONG week.