Skylewriting

That´s really good. Well written.

Lateral think oh look giraffe?

Yes. You get the gamma radiation and all the exuberant photons and predatory behavioural science dopamine nudging from the grass, while the phone grounds you in physical reality, breath, and feeling vibrantly alive. No, no, hang on. It´s the other way around, isnt´t it.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of Marmite."

As a published poet writing poems on Bluesky, I hope things pick up instead, to spare you the ignominim - ignonomics - ignominininy of having to read poems on here.

How about a nice history of concrete instead?

www.amazon.co.uk/Concrete-Sev...

Tiny good news on a big charity project I hope to get going. It will help spread information about public health among vulnerable communities, and coordinate this with hospital trusts and the World Health Organization. Beginning to at least look good enough that I can start checking for funders.

I think you might be right. Not to toot my own horn, but I can lurk with the best of them. (Also, tooting a horn is a bit of a beginner´s mistake if you are trying to lurk, obvs.)

I think he might have had a bad day. I wasn´t doing it "creatively enough". C´mon. The AMOUNT of time I trained for that event . . . I had trained until the level where I could lurk behind a MIME. In front of TOURISTS. In SUNLIGHT. With a half-off Farmer´s Market NEXT DOOR.

. . . but once you reach "regards" only, then it´s pretty much done for. Then they obviously think you will pour tea in before the milk as you gibber and heap dollops of jam on top of the whipped cream on scones until your dying day.

There is the terse, explosive charge of "Best" before that, still affording some leeway on whether they think you are a lackluster attempt to create an invertebrate who would open your print copy of The Observer all over someone else´s brunch table on a sunny Saturday morning, or not . . .

I did alright. Three of the eight judges couldn´t see me at all, but the Italian judge had it in for me, he really did. I got the bronze for my class, but . . . Yeah, without him, I would at least have looked at silver. The AMOUNT of training I did for that event. Sheesh.

Well, I did lurk in the Winter Olympics in Vancouver in 2010. Nice to use some of the old skills again.

"Finally, my make-or-break script was done. My magnum opus. My one-way ticket to glitzy fame and outrageous fortune. The Yurt Locker."

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in the world, she had to walk into mine. Bad Grammar. The stunning, red-headed English teacher mercenary, an AK-47 slung behind her back. You just knew there would be hollow-point semi-colons in that clip."

But track him they did.

Oh, sorry. Plat Ypus. He is this really cool dude, a hardboiled PI, fond of whisky and wit to rival Raymond Chandler. Known as "Plats" to his friends and "Ypus" to his enemies, underneath the cynical façade hides an artist, seen is his water colours of the vulnerable faces he meets in NY at night.

Platypus?

Thank you. *buffs up the three already shining buttons on the left side of his purple frock coat until they shine so brightly he can keep writing on the novel in their light as dusk falls, and as the two peacocks call three times each when the sundial goes dark in the maze*

...like a morning on decaf? Like a morning when you realise your remaining bottle of absinthe is in fact a bottle of Fairy dishwashing liquid? Like a morning when you realise your colourful artist beret and scarf were forgotten in that Brighton seafront hotel room with the one-legged ballerina?

I think you´re right about that.

Brilliant. Thought I better check, in case I was wrong.

Is it alright if I am wrong about by guesstimate but still jump up and down on the spot a bit?

Princess, and their famous song Acquaintances Will Be Acquaintances.

This phone case comes with blessed Sir Terry´s Greengroc´ers Guild logo version too.

That really is the perfect fit as Treat for Our Time at the moment.

I read that as a Tom Waits monologue. #burmashave

I´d like the one with the sign, please.

"Nice roses you have there, sir. Pity if any . . . war would happen to them."

Ah, but if a post falls in a blue sky and no-one reads it, does it not still make a sound across the street?

I really enjoy it too! Thank you for joining in with me. Sleep well. ❤️