Go Chasing Waterfalls

I doubt very much that I have the ability to settle, and just be happy with 'my lot', as some people might put it. The 'lot' being an acceptance of what you have, however little that may be, and plodding along and living your life. I could be wrong of course. I might one day find a life that suits me down to the ground, and I can happily remain there until I pop my clogs. And don't think that I wouldn't happily accept that fate, cause I would. I'd grab it with both hands and fuck it into submission.

So far though I am without a fate to fuck, and don't see a future for myself that is anyway acceptable. And so I'm writing this blog. A weekly blog. Sad as that may be. But my mate Greasy thinks it's a good idea, and as I would never, ever argue, I'm inclined to go along with his plan. Plus I'm drunk.

Anyway, let us proceed on, in an orderly fashion.

First on the agenda today is waterfalls. Not something I would ordinarily write about admittedly, but today I found a wee waterfall that I was quite taken by. Not a waterfall of piss by the way, 'wee' is the Scottish word for 'little'. And yes, we use it often. For example;

'I have a wee sister'

'I have a wee budget'

'Lim-Dul has a wee dick'

Anyway, moving on. Although I KNOW that everybody on Special Attack has a formidable imagination capable of constructing whole World's that would make some guy who imagines whole World's jealous, I thought I'd show this place that I found. A lovely, secluded little coven I discovered on my many travels into lovely, secluded little coven's. Truly a place where a couple of people could get wet and wet if ever I saw one. Unfortunately like most discoverers I was forced to appreciate but not illucidate.

You can watch this in HD by the way. So you can see it just like I did, when I was there. Well.... If I was a person with some pretty severe visual issues. And I am!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mkWTw0LclHA

Now if that isn't a place where some likeminded people could gather to get wasted, then I dunno where is. And when it all comes down to it, isn't that what life is all about? I'm just sorry I discovered it now, when sitting on rocks for more than 14 minutes causes me severe spinal pain.

Undettered by my limitations as a man however, I opted to capture the waterfall and turn it into something I could exploit as some kind of art.

What I've basically done here, is transmogrified the photograph to make it look as if it's been painted. That's right! I deceive people into thinking I have actual artistic talent by transmogrifying photographs. Got a problem with that!? Take it up with your MP, cause I don't give a shit.

Anyway, waterfalls are rad as fuck, and I'll probably photograph some more in the future, if anymore make themselves known to me.

The 585

I fucking hate the 585.

Probably not as much as I used to, but just being back on there today filled me with feelings I haven't felt for a long time.

Allow me to expand a little.

Once upon a time I was a student. Not a particularly good student, but a student none the less. And to reach my institute of study I had to board the... Yep, you guessed it, the 585. Now, I didn't hate the bus itself, and I sure as shit didn't feel bad about going to college. On the contrary, I loved it. I loved to learn, but more importantly, I loved the life that came with it. I met people back in those days that went on to be some of my best friends even up until now. They were beautiful times, they were crazy times, they were times that I will never forget.

'So what the shit's the problem' I hear you ask?

Well, you see that weird gray fuzz in front there? That's the problem. Old people are the problem. See, I dunno if it's the same in other countries in Europe, and I'm sure as hell not going to Google it to find out, but in Scotland, people over a certain age get free bus travel. That certain age being 'Old as Fuck!'

Now you're probably thinking I'm some kind of ageist dick. Like I wouldn't want to share a bus with the elderly. That's not it though. Any normal college going day, I'd be fine. I'd listen to my CD player (Yep, CD players were gay as hell. They were temperamental. Somebody two rows down could fart and it would skip a track) And just pretty much go on with the journey with the minimum of fuss. The only worry I ever really had was the boner that would decide to make itself known about two stops away from the college. I just accepted that as a drawback of public transport.

Although, back then, a conveyor belt at Tesco's probably had a good 50 - 50 chance of giving me a boner.

I digress however.

The problem was that at the ripe age of 17, all I ever really wanted to do was go out and get wasted. And go out and get wasted I did. Every Friday I would board the 585 with nothing on my mind but that first Guiness in the pub. And as soon as college was finished (And sometimes not) we'd pile into the nearest bar and proceed the weekends festivities. And so I wouldn't see the 585 for a couple of days, as I destroyed my psyche with any intoxicant that made itself known to me. And beautiful times were had.

Problem was though, that inevitably, all good things must come to an end, and eventually I had to head home.

And this is where my beef with the 585 stems from.

See, although I had the will and certainly the capacity for intoxicants, my body just wasn't used to what I was asking of it. So whenever I boarded the 585 heading home, I was usually in a state that simply wasn't fit for social consumption. It had to be done however, I couldn't remain where I was. I had to go home.

Now, I should point out that the journey home wasn't exactly a 5 minute jaunt down the road. I could be on there for at least 30-45 minutes. Hell, it could easily extend to an hour plus.

And the reason for that; The elderly.

Now, I have one enroaching memory, that takes precedence over every other memory I might have of that time.

I was heading home after a particularly brutal night. Anything you care to mention happened on this night. Drinking, smoking, ill advised sexual encounters, fighting, Police baiting, more drinking, king doner kebabs, and even more drinking.

So suffice to say, I was not in a good way.

So I boarded the 585 on one of nicest days you could ever expect in Scotland. Not a cloud in the sky and only an 87% chance of rain. This enough was seriously affecting my otherwise irate demeanour, but when I boarded the bus at Greenock, the old folk started shuffling on. I was not in a good way. I quite literally couldn't keep my head up. I was hunched over like a junkie jonezing and I just could not see the journey through. I wanted to paint the decor of the bus a nice new vomit yellow, but of course, I didn't.

I persevered and tried to control my shit.

No mean feat considering what I was going through that day.

So eventually the bus took off, and I kept it together best I could. And even to this day, I'm impressed I did.

Now, the bus journey was a big ole' fucking pain in the anus. Made all the worse by one town. A town that I can never quite forgive even today.

And that town is the picturesque coastal town of Largs.

And picturesque it certainly is. Which is why it attracts so many fucking old folk all year round.

So on this day when I'm wrestling with the worst hangover ever conceived, I was rather perturbed to find the bus stop there for 20 fucking minutes while they all piled on.

And by piled I mean SHUFFLED AT AN EXCRUTIATINGLY SLOW PACE!!

If I had the energy, I would have rose from my seat and dragged them on to the bus.

But I didn't. I couldn't hold it together anymore. Not even for myself. As I watched the nearly dead board the bus, one thing was becoming dangerously clear to me. I wasn't going to make it.

So I got up and started to make my way toward the front, sweating like a fiend the whole way. The old folk looked at me like somebody who had just crimped off a length in their airing cupboard. When I finally got to the driver, I muttered something unintelliigable and jumped out on to the street, where I promptly graffiti'd the pavement in a delightful kebab and Guiness puddle.

And when I turned to get back on the bus, suddenly it was in a hurry. The doors were closed and it took off down the road. Leaving me alone with my shame.

From that day on, I took the train.

And I'm not even kidding.

Sheep Skull

That's right, sheep skull.