Monday, November 21, 2011
Show Me a Sign
Grim little thing isn't it, but it could have been a bit darker. I saw this one night while working dispatch from midnight till dawn for the nice boys in blue. Seems there really is a four hour span between four AM and five Am and no amount of coffee will change that.
So in that endless time between the changing of the hours I looked up from my console and saw this staring back at me. It lasted just a second and then oddly enough turned back into a shoulder patch on the patch board.
Patch board. Police guys like to exchange shoulder patches, it's like belly bumping at a football game or trading baseball cards, no one knows why really, they just do it because its been done that way since before the cave guys organized the first hunting party and said, "Hey if we run into any other cave guys let's exchange skins with them."
Of course trading is fraught with snares and traps. What if you think the other guy's skin isn't as good as the one you are wearing?. You want to trade a genuine Dire Wolf pelt for a lousy Sabre Tooth skin? This is what led to the organization of both police forces, to break up the fights over skins and the tradition of tailgating at games. Oh sure you go kill a mammoth and see if you want to drag it all the way back to the cave before you set a match to it and chow down. Mammoth dragging is hungry work.
So having seen the face of death staring back at me I grabbed a bit of scratch paper and scribbled it down. Got a nice poem out of it and an interesting image.
So you see when I urge you to consider a Gothic art Show, I come prepared to enter myself.
And on these dark and stormy nights there's just no telling what you will see grinning back at you when you glance up...