Two Unusual Things That Happened Today...

Firstly, this morning, on the way to work, just by Blow Up (not, unfortunately as interesting an emporium as it sounds - they're a Reprographics firm...) I see, dried up and slightly shrivelled, two frogs conjoined. The smaller (I'm guessing) male sits in mid-hump atop the larger (presumably) female (although, it would be folly to rule out an accomodating and like-minded fellow male of the species, given the unusual nature of their whole flagrante delicto situation) - unless, of course, he's trying quite literally in this case to leapfrog his partner (or not, as the case may be) in order to escape whatever instant and ferocious drying agent has frozen them in their apparent union like this.

I'm reminded of the Martin Amis story I read over the weekend. Straight Fiction is set in a parallel-universe New York City in which to be gay is the norm. The marginalised and barely tolerated straights live in their crowded, child-infested Christopher Street ghetto. To cut to the chase, there's a comic diversion which cites an article in the NYT concerning tests on insects that have been conducted to find out more about 'the straight gene'. "Ahh, they're even called fruit flies.." sighs the gay protagonist, Cleve...

Then, later, at work as I pretend to be doing something vaguely constructive with a trolley-full of books, Michelle accosts me. How to describe Michelle? About 5' 11'', long floral skirt, sandally shoes, blouse, ear-rings, long ash-blonde wig, fully made up face - pancake, rouge, lippy, maybe-it's Maybeline lashes, the works - that if it had to be that of any celebrity lookalikey, living or dead, would not be a disgraceful simulacrum for comedy legend Bernie Winters. "Got you doing a jigsaw puzzle have they young man?" she asks of me - as I sprawl like a retard among a tottering pile of play bricks - in that husky baritone of hers that makes no pretence whatsoever to belong to anything other than a man.

How strange.

No one's called me 'young man' for a long time....



L.U.V. on y'all,

Bob

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