A Gravy-Stained Time Machine It must have been a strange sight: a large, portly gentleman in a checked linen Borsalino, sitting on the passenger side of a beaten-up left-hand drive Rav4. Well past his prime, just like the car. Its blue-green paintwork was as faded as his hair and patchy, like his memory. His eyes…
Hieronymus Bosch,What a load of tosh,Art, my ass—I hear you gasp,Yet it’s in the eye of the beholder.But you get bolder—What a load of crap!Oh, shut your trap.I like it,So fuck you.
The Strange Process of Aging Ageing is such a strange process — oddly insidious, it creeps up on you. When I hear on the news that something happened forty years ago, for a second, I think of the Blitz. But of course, that was much further back. Forty years ago was the eighties, not the…