Let me set the scene, my left leg rests upon the melted remains of a plastic bin, my right upon a weather-beaten fence, my genitals neatly concealed from every conceivable vantage point.
The bus arrives.
I was caught out. Having left a friends house I stood counting my change realising I was several minutes early. Without my usual companions of biker-cum-pub-quizzer I'd realised those extra impromptu beers racing through me. If i was ever going to survive the forty minutes home I would need to release the inevitable evil force amid my bladder.
So I let go, the tension flowing free, all over the pavement.
Amidst the pitter-patter of my last beer against the slats of the fence I hear and all together different pitter-patter, that of someone running, someone about to intrude upon my personal pee session. My heart races and I question what is worse; openly urinating in front of someone at a bus stop or giving my Jeans a toilet acid wash and making the 40 minute bus ride home a whole lot worse for everyone on board.
Choosing the more charitable route I finish up comfortably and seconds later the bus arrives. I have joined the club of a lucky few
The guy standing behind me doesn't look impressed though.
I open my eyes to view the beauty that is dust sparkling in sunlight, a ray formed between my blind and the windowsill. The easterly orientation of the window lets me know that it is morning. My mind turns to today's tasks, no doubt something academic, what else?
As I un-fold myself upright my bookshelf of developed negatives passes through my periphery on my way to the bathroom. A checklist of photo ideas scrolls past my eyes as I note the sunshine and distinct lack of clouds as I look west. Flushing the toilet I turn on the shower and wish the water would fill my head with essays. All I'm thinking about is that my trusty SLR is too temperamental to use anymore...
Today's goal has been realised.
Belt buckled, laces tied, jacket zipped, door locked - I step energetically forth into the chill sunlight and head townwards.
Full of trepidatious anticipation I push open the door, the blue and yellow logo passing through my periphery. Down the alley lined with vacuum cleaners, towards the forest of musical instruments. My eyes are focussed behind the glass. One, two, three, camera bodies, blind and decapitated without their lenses.
My enquiries leave me disheartened, not a single lens in the shop that would mate with these bodies, nor one at home. I go to leave and search out the other Pawnlands, but wait! I hear the call and return to the desk where she awaits me.
As my eyes follow every curve I know I've seen her before, dreamt about her, longed to feel her tender grip, the sweet sound of her release...
'Denise...' I whisper ecstatically under my breath.
'Sorry?' The assistant looks at me out of the corner of her eye.
'...uh, nothing.'
Shit, they'd have a field day if they knew I already had a name for her... Denise Sloane Lolita-Reagan, our beautiful partnership has begun...
And now just a week short of our Quarter-Year Anniversary I'm going to re-cap some of our greatest moments.
March
I bought her a lens-cap, gotta keep those eyes pretty.
Dundee has some real contrast to it.
She went drinking with me.
Old signage, always pretty.
How quaint, this spray can is in love.
Magdalen Green. Finally some sun. I like the bandstand, you'll see.
April
Also got her a screen protector - safe-screen is fun screen.
All things placed in our streets should be this pretty.
I always think the night adds something to the character of a city.
Alien Grass. It's a potent illuminator.
I like that it's slightly dutch-angle, adds to the horror. Is that a person on the roof?
Phwoar! How's that for April showers!?
Our memories of WWII crumble like dragon's teeth, soon just another grain of sand.
A lonely Tentsmuir resident. Light rain is refreshing on a bike ride.
The view from my bedroom. The flare on the right hand side was a full moon and I spent hours trying to get different shots.
Some light sunbathing, pretending to be lost in Tentsmuir
Exercising my manly fire-making expertise. Warming beer like a numpty though.
May
Introduced her to Mr Man Frotto, sturdy chap, bit on the heavy side though. They got on like a chain and anchor, swimmingly.
It can be blue in Dundee sometimes. (Maybe I should remember to change my white balance after shooting long exposures.)
Seymour Lodge. Project Horror incomplete as of today.
I love wrought iron. Daffodils and quiet nights wandering the city.
'Hello? Why yes I did see an odd fellow wandering around with a large stick and a blue jacket.'
The jacket took on a decidedly luminescent characteristic.
Pier 23 - Home to Mr Bright-Buttocks.
Tesco and Riverside from up high. Project incomplete.
I really love light-painting.
Went on a double date with Frotto and his new partner Reme Oat. He's a very patient and quiet guy but I'm getting a sneaking suspicion that he and Denise have a strong connection, they get on very well, they even finish each other's exposures and I'm starting to think they have a passing resemblance to a certain Parks and Recreation character.
So I'm obviously on a musically-related tippity-tapping-typing frenzy today because I'm at it again, this time the delightful recipient of my well-educated self is Bruno Mars - Marry You.
Bruno Mars can blame the nice executive at Debenhams, or whoever chose the playlist that repeats all day long at my recently acquired job as 'Food Services Adviser', I don't even need to invent a snazzy title for my CV, they've amped up my job-title already!
But anyway, without this repetition I would never have reached the point of actually listening to the lyrics; it's a nice enough tune and suitably boppy to accompany the serving of customers. But I have reached the point at any job where I suddenly wake up and the music is already playing in my head, while this is annoying it's nowhere near as annoying as the bagpipes that plagued my previous position:
I can't even press play to check it works for fear of the Cashmere-Cave memories.
Back to Bruno though
It's a beautiful night,
Okay, nothing wrong here, scene setting is just fine if a little cliched.
We're looking for something dumb to do,
Yup, normal premise for a song written by rich people with nothing to do...
Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you.
What?! Where did that come from? I can imagine the normal response to this would be:
'You think you want to marry me, sorry wanna marry me? Why don't you try asking me properly first and then I might think about it. You might also want to revise the think, it doesn't really inspire confidence.'
Can you imagine Mr Mars asking the girl's father for her hand in marriage?
'Hey old man, how's it hangin'? You know, I'm gonna get with your girl, you know, the deal with the rings and that banging organ tune? Only if that's cool with you of course?'
'You got any ginger ale I can have with this?'
I think that young gentleman would be tossed out onto his rear-parts rather sharpish.
In the second verse the plot thickens, it appears this young chap doesn't know whether it is the look in her eyes or the dancing juice that makes him want to do the dumb thing and marry her. We all know that vision is a good trait to look for in a mate but should it be the only thing you consider alongside dancing juice? Which, if it's not alcohol, I'm desperately trying to think up a funny alternative that it could be. Google tells me it's ginger ale and rum but I prefer to imagine this...
'Dancing juice? I thought you said...'
Continuing with the theme of providing good reasons to marry Mr Mars suggests
Who cares if we're trashed? Got a pocket full of cash we can blow oh, oh, oh,
Sound reasoning right there, but just in case the ladies aren't convinced he just tells them
Don't say no, no, no, no-no, Just say yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah.
'Okay Mr Mars, whatever you say! I'm sure you're serious about this, the repetition told me so!'
And the icing on the cake? Amongst further repetitions of the stupidity of this whole marriage idea (the chorus), Bruno reveals his true motives:
If you wake up and wanna break up that's cool. No I won't blame you; It was fun girl.
Well that's just fine. It was all an (barely) elaborate ruse to get this lady in the sack.
Kinda feel sorry for anyone who decides to start their life together on this premise...
I'm told a lot of his music is as cleverly written and insightful as this. I hope for my few readers that I do not come into contact with it because there could be a whole lot more blog posts like this.
I'm continually fascinated with my attitude towards music, so much of it has been associated with an ideology like Punk, or developed a rivalry; the rock kids vs. the rap kids. Now that I'm older and ultimately wiser (allegedly) I have given all this up and I simply listen to whatever I like, whatever the genre or influence. Like this!
The Cat Empire - Brighter Than Gold
This next song shot me back to being eleven or twelve, constantly trading seats in front of the computer as my friend and I tried to collect all the letters to make up the word SKATE, this was my first introduction to Tony Hawks Pro Skater.
Millencolin - No Cigar
And this has opened a can of worms; most of my teenage music comes down to one man. Tony Hawks, not the comedian who hitchhiked round Ireland with a fridge, but the first man to land a 900 on a skateboard, The Birdman.
Not happy with his already legendary status he gets other amazing athletes to join in and invent the next most awesome olympic sport, skateboarding doubles...
I suppose in reality it was the gaming franchise that dominated the minds of young teenagers the world over and for that we have to thank Neversoft, a company that made thousands of teenagers cheer with enjoyment as we saw the new way in which their logo grotesquely imprinted itself in our memories forever.
And now thanks to YouTube you can watch them all here. They are even immortalised in the world of Call of Duty and teenager's call-signs all over the world.
Next song on the YouTube-Memory-Lane-Spectacular?
Goldfinger - Superman
The list goes on and on, ollieing from one game to the next, my musical development crafted by a computer game. I love how simple it is to invoke those memories, the frustration as you tried to complete challenges, and the sheer joy as you succeeded. The contrast between these joypad-hurling moments and the moments where tears of relief stream down your face is genuinely one of the reasons I play video-games... perhaps that isn't too healthy, it did after all lead on to this...
CKY - 96 Quite Bitter Beings
The world of CKY videos, Jackass, and eventually the brutal Welsh equivalent Dirty Sanchez (really, really NSFW). I suppose it was the true rise of fame-for-idiocy, but then You've Been Framed was always far too tame anyway.
Perhaps it is a little worrying that I was so clearly influenced by product placement. but then again it's also nice to be able to relive those memories via the simplicity of YouTube suggestions, and now I'm lost in a haze of nostalgia... OK, playlist's finished, I think I'm done now.
