Tuesday, blah, more blah and the dead duck


Still on a borrowed laptop, so haven’t got my groove on. Feel like moping but to do it here would make me feel like serial facebook updaters who talk mostly or only about their ailments. Once or twice is okay (especially if the ailment is gruesome or noteworthy), but I know people who post I’m tired of feeling sick etc about once a fortnight, and they’re only talking about hayfever. And after a while you just want to punch them. Or, even more aggressive, de-friend them and banish them to the cyber hinterlands.

The most remarkable thing that happened to me today was witnessing a dead duck on my walk to work this morning.

It was in the strangest position. It was arranged like a golden retriever sleeping in front of a fire with its jaw (beak) jutted out in front of it. Only it was a dead duck. Freshly dead, at an intersection, by a sandwich board, not far from the dairy. Like it was going for an iceblock and just ran out of puff.

Then I had some funny Twitter interchanges about said dead duck. Then I remembered I had about three days’ work to fit into just one measly Tuesday (woe is me) and then I worked at a disconcertingly alarmingly unwaveringly solidly stupifying rate until about 7.16pm this evening.

Then I found this cool picture of a print of a dead duck (its origins can be found here).

Oh, the other remarkable/out of the ordinary thing that happened to me today didn’t actually happen to me, it happened to Si, but it is still the only thing apart from the duck that I look back on about today and will think about again. Because it is not my happening I’m not at liberty to divulge (yes, I know me saying that is about as shit as me moping and going on about feeling sick and sorry for myself). He got a sad email from someone, with a line in it about being kept afloat by champagne and valium. That’s all that needs to be said, but it made me feel miserable inside.

It made me think about sad, cautionary tales, the perils to be found in broken internet boundaries, safety blankets, palliatives, distractions and the symbolism (or lack thereof) of dead ducks discovered on the footpaths of inner city streets on sunny Tuesday mornings.

It is raining now. One of my legs has gone dead and I have just realised that it is my brother in law’s birthday (or was it yesterday?).


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