Bathroom wall, shrinking moon, Friday night

23Aug10

Don’t worry, I didn’t write on the bathroom wall myself. I did take the photos though. I figured it was better than the girl who took her drink into the stall with her. That made me feel a bit ill. I’ve never got why people do that. Maybe it’s something to do with a fear of drink spiking. Or just no fear of filth.

The other day I found out the moon is shrinking. And I don’t just mean dissolving in the sky as part of the lunar cycle. It’s actually shrinking. (But not by much.)

I wonder if people writing on bathroom walls — or any walls for that matter — has anything to do with our caveman days. Or so I was wondering on Friday night as I went about documenting bathroom grafitti.

See, I sometimes discover in myself an anthropological bent after about 10 in the evening and then set about occupying myself with small solitary adventures such as this one. I guess it’s better than pilfering cigarettes, which is the other thing I sometimes find myself getting up to after 10pm.

The only problem with my… shall we call them projects is that my epic discoveries and lightbulb moments never shine quite so brightly in the morning. It’s all so much closer to cringe-and-headache than it is to revelation.

I’m only stopping by here briefly. To tell you the moon is shrinking and show you some poorly-lit photos. I have a dead leg and only the dregs of a laptop battery remaining, which means it is time to go.

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