My dog took me for a walk, which isn’t usually news, but you don’t know my dog. he’s a four year old foster jerk named bam and he hates walking with me (he doesn’t respect me) and he doesn’t like walking in any of our nearby parks (too many incidents to detail here but in one park he was alarmed by a horse and we can’t anymore Go back).
So when he started pulling on his leash to turn his afternoon outing into a walk to the end of the mile, I had to follow him, even though he had no phone, no headphones, and was wearing flip-flops.
In a way, I quite enjoyed the 40 minute diversion. With no distractions, following a 16-inch-tall dog on a private tour of London guided only by the faint smell of urine, I was able to experience a different texture in my local area than I might have if I were plugged into a podcast.
For example, I saw a pub around the corner doing great business even at 3:00 p.m. m. on Monday. I noticed a new blue plaque. I was dragged into a chip shop with an interesting smell. I noticed bam he had a chicken bone in his mouth and it took me two minutes to get it out. i noticed that she had a ferrero rocher in her mouth and that took even longer. the leaves fell yellow from the trees and turned to dust below us and I felt a brief wave of peace.
I’m thinking of hiring him by the hour for people who feel overwhelmed by having too much of an online life. lying at home in adilettes, fingers stained with spit and chocolate covered, didn’t look forward to seeing what instagram had to say at all.
okay, house of the dragon, then. unfortunately I loved it so that’s at least 60 more hours of my life that I’m going to have to book (I can already feel how this is going to go: I’m going to read all the recap blogs; I’m going to end up deep in the subreddits at 3am, reading a 4000 word explanation of a flag – the ending is going to fundamentally disappoint me). house of the dragon reminded me of what I loved most about game of thrones, which was twofold: it was one of the last true vestiges of event tv, something people watched at once or woke up early to watch so they couldn’t be spoiled for them; and it also had boobs and blood.
bad times, culturally, for bare breasts and gore. “why do we need to see the boobs”, people shout, “and why is there so much blood?” I can see what they mean, but I also like to see this kind of thing, because it’s fun and I’m an adult. I like to see someone impaled on a sword, or watch them drown and gargle with their own blood, or have the top of their skull chipped off with a hammer. it’s fun! It’s fun and it’s different.
we live under the yoke of marvel’s pg-13 right now, where a building-sized alien can whack tony stark in the head and only get a slightly broken eyeglass lens, and i think we miss something visceral about it’s. as soon as matt smith took a sword into someone’s penis and sliced it to gristle, i thought, ah, that was disgusting. and then, immediately after: although… very cool. please matt smith. neutralize more civilians.
It’s funny that we’re dumping raw sewage into the sea, isn’t it? It’s so British I can’t get over it at all. “the sea? yes, the big blue thing that we all love to be around and draw undeniable peace. yes, yes, one of the most vital ecological systems on the entire planet. yes, anyway, the government voted to keep putting shit into it.” That’s it. It’s funny.
I thought of this while floating in the same sea last week: the coolness of the water, the sun setting gently in the egg yolk orange sky, the lapping of the water around me, and just as I was at the top From a calm and peaceful advance, I had a unique and intrusive thought: sewage.
At this point, you must assume that the government is playing an elaborate game with the British voting public, to see what deranged and more than villainous thing it can support because it helps business and still has voters trying to defend it. I’m really surprised we haven’t had a news special in which a homeowner in a turtleneck furiously explains that a slushie is “good for the water” because it “helps fertilize the algae” and that this generation of snowflakes I would never get it.
It seems strange that we’ve gotten to this point where I have to come out like this politically, but I have to say: I’m very much against pumping sewage into the sea. I’m sorry if that offends.
It rained today, finally, prompting what I’ve been suspecting for a while: summer is descending, and fall is coming in its place. I’ve worn a hoodie twice this week, for example. At one point last weekend, I covered myself with a small blanket while lying on the couch. it’s happening.
normally i’d be excited about this i’m an absolute ultra autumn the season of stews and flares and the new fifa but i can’t help but dread this year’s and that’s because i can hear the rising speech now a mere whisper in the wind but that will become a howl: put on a sweater.
Putting on a sweater has been many people with warm homes’ answer to energy costs for several years, because they believe they are the only person on earth who ever thought of wearing a sweater around the house. they gently come down from the mountain and proclaim: if you’re cold, put on a sweater before you touch that thermostat. and, yes, obviously. what if i’m still cold then? then put on a… I don’t know. gloves? or if you have a scarf, maybe?
Unless you’ve been very cold at home, it’s hard to know how miserable the experience is (one winter I had to sleep in my sweater, gloves, scarf, and socks, and still woke up – inexplicably! – sobbing). I think it’s a bit of a state failure that the idea of having heat at home has gone from being a necessity to a luxury and then to an extravagance, but what do I know.
the news that 70% – 70%! – of the pubs hoping to fight this winter fills me with a certain dread, I have to say. I think we strangely underestimate pubs in this country – they’re a cornerstone of so many people’s social lives (nothing makes you more aware of this than when you’re not drinking and trying to see friends, and alternative options are, uhh, I mean, I guess we could go to the movies?), and a focal point for many communities, and strangely a very good place to read or do a crossword puzzle, and we seem to be living through a period of anti-pub agenda.
many locals barely survived covid, for example. the cost of a pint is already rising dangerously enough. losing another strip of pubs because maintaining a fridge costs too much would suddenly cause a cultural shock that I fear may be irreversible. If you can, try to go to the pub this weekend. there’s a good one of mine that my dog can drag you to.