So my friend Rosie sent me this employment ad. It is, of course, the perfect job. Can you IMAGINE the fun? But get this: in addition to the cover letter and resume, I must include a joke. Did you hear that? A JOKE. I know. And sure, I've got jokes. I've got a couple involving raccoons. I've got about eighty involving quadraplegics. But somehow...I don't think that's what they're looking for. So I'm halted before I even begin. Someone! Quick! Give me a joke!
In other news: London Yelp is celebrating its one year anniversary next Tuesday. And where are they celebrating? MY OLD NEIGHBORHOOD IN LONDON. Yeah, I know. It kills me, too. They're doing an unofficial travelling dinner and pub crawl of ALL my old haunts. (Except for the pubs, Grampa. I didn't haunt those.) This makes me rejoice and ache in all the same spots.
Speaking of rejoicing and aching: the recent rain is making me photograph awful, sentimental things. Like leaves, and the houses across the street. I'm not kidding. Look:
I spent about fifteen minutes squatting on the sidewalk for these leaf photos. And all these people kept shuffling past me and without looking up I could tell they were all like, 'wtf, mate? That comes from a tree.' I was almost late to dinner at a girlfriend's house because of this blasted leaf. But I couldn't LEAVE it. It was too MUCH. Finally I took it with me, and I put it in my pocket even though it was all wet, and I gave it to my friend, and she promised to press it and I hope she does, because I love it.
And these houses! These are my neighbors! I took this from my living room WINDOW! Isn't that nuts? I swear these houses are more beautiful in the sun after the rain than any other time. But then, life in general is more beautiful in the sun after the rain than any other time. And this is why the rain needs to stop. Because I say crap like that when it's raining. And if it keeps thundering and crashing and doing all sorts of other wonderful things, you'll be seeing some awful poetry on here soon. And I apologize in advance.
Now for something legit from a real work of art (from which I got my blog title), Today I Wrote Nothing, an anthology of the works of Soviet absurdist Daniil Kharms--though apparently to even call him absurd is absurd, that's how good this guy was at redefining style--before he died in jail in the 40's for being...well...too 'strange' for the Soviets' tastes. Go fig:
Now, one day, a man went to work, and on the way he met another man, who, having bought a loaf of Polish bread, was heading back home where he came from.And that's it, more or less.