mostly david ephgrave

Every nose-blow at the moment is like a small, yet potent explosion.  My cold is going through its various stages very quickly. Yesterday, I had next-to-no voice, so we had to cancel recording IYIE. Today, it's gradually found its way back to existence, though at a quieter, more gravelly level than usual. I sound like a timid Rod Stewart (though Rod was never known for his timidity; picture his trousers, for Chrissakes). While I'm glad the germs seem keen to vacate my system fast, I wish they wouldn’t do it in force via my nostrils every five minutes. The noise (and all that goes with it) is very embarrassing. To compound the situation, I ran out of tissues this morning, so my trip to my mum's house to walk her dog was made with a big box belonging to my wife filling out my bag. It made me feel suspicious, though I may have been over-thinking it. I was meant to do a gig in Kingston tonight, which, had it been yesterday, would ha...

What’s the point of drawing graffiti like this, if you don’t make his nose dangle over the wall? Not doing this was a missed opportunity. For some reason, the whitewashing finger-artist went for a proportioned hooter instead of a bulbous one. They opted for nasal naturalism over caricature, yet went all out with his hair and ears. It doesn’t hurt to be consistent. The scale of the whole combo concerns me. Either the man’s very big or the wall’s very small. The size of the bricks are in proportion to the face, but if they’re standard house bricks and the wall's only four high, it raises the question of where the rest of his body would be. He’d have to be (1) standing in a hole, or (2) a contortionist. (I could be overthinking it.) …and don’t get me started on the Kilroy / Chad debate.