Monday, January 30, 2006

Musing on why the world won’t ever be alright...

Apathy Jack writes:

Like all bloggers, I’m a fat beardo with rubbish hair. While this doesn’t disqualify me from being in the top tenth percentile of physical attractiveness for people in the “blogosphere”, it does mean that if anyone wants to think of a faintly insulting nickname for me (and remember: my days consist primarily of making teenagers not like me) then “Peter Jackson”, or occasionally “Hagrid” are easy options.

Originally uploaded by Brain Stab.
I get both fairly regularly at school (which, in the name of taking the small victories where I can find them, isn’t as bad as it sounds – they have far worse epithets for most of the other teachers) and occasionally from passing drunks when I’m in town. I’m not overly worried about any of this – you know what Oscar Wilde said about being talked about, and putting up with it takes less effort than shaving regularly.

So anyway, I was in town a while back, when I came across my friend Kai busking. Now, while he was not dressed in his most elaborate frippery, he was wearing gear that would befit a guy wanting to attract attention to his show.

Originally uploaded by Brain Stab.
As we hung, the always immaculate Spiggy wandered up, bedecked in his finest summer trenchcoat/cowboy hat combination. With him was a young woman I don’t know, who wore her goth past on her arms: her light top didn’t so much show off, as not-hide the fact that her arms and the tops of her breasts were wallpapered with scars.

So the four of us were walking along the street – these freaks and me in my jeans and t-shirt. As we walked, a car hooned past, and someone screamed out of the window as us:

“Peter Jackson!”

Like I said, I understand the concept, but I had a carapace of goths around me, and they got nothing.

I don’t get people...

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