BDP Woohoo!

On my own street!

*As I walked out to the kerb, a Pigeon took off at high speed in the opposite direction. They have been watching me. Maybe I should stop sleeping with the window open.

*A blackbird chasing a squirrel. Nothing to say about that except it was hilarious.

BDP News!

*BPC is still in gutter. It is looking a little hunchier than it was.

*New Spectacular Dead Pigeon in the middle of the road. One whole white wing leading to a scarlet spatter that goes on for about three feet. Glorious.

Many thanks to the intrepid BDP photographer (whom we shall call merely ‘M’) who took these shots.

Shock! Horror! at the BDP

The big street-sweepy machine has done its job well.

*Farewell DNA Pigeon. Farewell SSDP. Rest in peace. Or pieces. Microbes, anyway.

*The two Pigeons in the centre of the road remain unchanged. How long can this go on before they become liquidised? Time will tell.

*Tiny Baby Pigeon Corpse (BPC) in gutter. Awwwwwwww.

Biddley Diddley Ping

*Pigeons in the middle of the road are much the same shape as yesterday.

HOWEVER!

*Did not see SSDP or DNA Pigeon, as a large street cleaner was trundling through, washing the gutters with the big brushes at the front of it. Update later.

*Bag and concrete gone. Presumably, it had filled its purpose.

Yarrrrrr, me hearties!

Conditions under the BDP today.

*Damp - despite the beautiful weather recently, the BDP hoards water from rain showers jealously. Possibly to aid the Pigeons.

*Busy. Large quantities of Pigeon activity both on the ground and in the air.

ALSO!

*The two DPs in the middle of the road are now 1/4 inch thick gunk.

*The SSDP is hanging on to Pigeon shape valiantly.

*Another tyre has appeared. However, the warehouse adjoining the BDP had its door open today, and appears to be a massive empty garage, so that may be an explanation.

*New item. A rubbish bag, around the same size as a normal black sack, with a foot long rectangle of concrete inside. The concrete had a couple of holes in. What sort of warfare is this?


In other news... I'm feeling a bit better.
Also, I am going camping in a couple of weeks.
Thank you.

Three things.

Firstly: The BDP has had an area of tension over it today.

*DNA Pigeon is still DNA-ish. I have noted before that it takes a long time for a sploosh of Pigeon to become nothing. Hence Zombie Pigeons, perhaps?

*All three other Pigeons remain much as they were. Flattish sort-of-Pigeon-shaped lumps. Am wondering whether the fact that two are almost central in the road, and one is by the edge relates to this. Perhaps lighter traffic.

Secondly: I hate myself today. I know this isn't the place to talk about it (although maybe it is. This is like a diary, isn't it? God, I dunno). I'm not looking for affirmations. I just need to note it. Because I can then look at it objectively and ask myself why. Of course, the answer is always 'because you're hideous', but at least I can see that I wrote it down. And it helps. It does. It does it does it does it does. Please let it.

Thirdly: I love Poppy Z. Brite books for their use of... almost... taste. I adore books that describe food in a way that makes me want to cook something exotic.

From Drawing Blood:

"Then he was in the French Market, surrounded on all sides by delicious smells and harmonious colours and all the symmetry and bounty of the edible vegetable kingdom, heaped together in great glowing piles under one old stone roof.
There were pyramids of tomatoes so achingly scarlet that they hurt the eyes, bushel baskets of eggplants like burnished purple patent leather, the verdant green of bell peppers and the delicate, creamy green of the tender little squash called mirliton. There were onions as large as babies' heads, red and gold and pearly white. There were nuts and ripe bananas and cool frosted grapes, fresh herbs by the bunch, great thick braids of garlic and dried red tabasco peppers hanging from the rafters. There were stalks of fresh sugar cane, sold by the foot so you could gnaw and suck out the sweet juice as you walked through the market smelling and marvelling. There was home grown rice, and barrels full of shiny red beans to cook it with, and long links of smoky Cajun sausage to throw in for flavor. There was a fish market to the side where you could buy fresh crabs and crawdads and catfish, bright blue Gulf shrimp as long as your hand, even alligator if you liked"

In this way, I love this book in exactly the same way that I love 'A Year in Provence' and 'Toujours Provence' by Peter Mayle.

Books I am reading...

Native Tongue - Carl Hiaasen
Self Made Man - Poppy Z. Brite
Stupid White Men - Michael Moore
The Blue Train - Agatha Christie

And now I am off to see a man about a dog. Updates later.

*ETA (and I don't know why -I could have just mentioned it in the update I'm about to do...) These are in addition to the book I mentioned in the last post.
And also, I finished Self Made Man, and then read Wormwood, another Poppy Z. Brite anthology of short stories. They both kicked buttock.

B *boom!* D *crash!* P *fanfare*

Quick note...

*On the way home, there was a second Dead Pigeon in the centre of the road. Clearly fresh. Developments will be noted.

NOT BDP

What frustrates me about reality TV - and I've watched some shite in my time - is the fact that it has (gasp!) gone downhill. Now, I'm not arguing for reality TV. After all, it has spawned innumerable horrible Z-listers, but I remember the first couple of Big Brothers.

There were people with some intelligence in there, rather than the single token 'boffin', as the tabloids insist on calling them. There were people who didn't shout and scream constantly. There were people who didn't feel the need to show off their genitals, boast about how many people they'd slept with, or try to hump every other breathing creature in the house. There was a guitar-playing Irish lesbian ex-nun, for christ's sake, and I wanted her to win. Oh, I wanted her to win. Because she was nice, she was intelligent, she was musical, she was funny, and I just liked her.

She didn't win. Craig - who I'd originally dismissed - won. And gave the money to a friend who desperately needed an operation, but couldn't afford it.

Now, I also admit to being hooked. Every year I'd watch avidly, despite my original vow of abstinence.
This year, I watched the original show, y'know, the one where we find out a bit about them.

Oh my god. Is this seriously what the British mindset has become? A baying mob more concerned with exactly how quickly a girl shows her nipples than a sight (please!) of intelligent, funny people having amusing and pithy conversations for nine weeks?
It's not like any of them are attractive!

I think this is best described by the fact that 'Sam' (boasted that she had three vibrators and wore them all out. Whoop - de - doo.), having been voted out third, then appeared, over the course of the next five days, in (I believe) five different publications. One in a bikini, two in lingerie, one in a boob tube, and one naked.

Why are people subscribing to the 'cult of celebrity'? And if they're going to, then why pretend that this girl is a celebrity?

ETA that I missed my original point to this... two of this year's contestants BOASTED that they had never read a book. And they weren't reviled! That is all.

Gosh, this post sorted of wandered into a rant. Sorry about that.

On the other hand, a good thing is this book:
Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time by Michael Shermer.
Got it from Amazon today, am partway through. Excellent writing.

I'm a boffin.

B to the D to the muthafucking P

Today:

*Pigeon outposts on the ajoining warehouse, previously Seagull territory.

*No sign of Seagulls.

These two signs lead me to believe that the Pigeon / Seagull turf war has blown up BOOM! and the Pigeons have won this fight. There can be no other explanation.

*Smooshy DNA Pigeon has (I looked a little closer today) some feathers and bones glued to the road underneath the goo. Yuk.

*SSDP is progressing nicely. About half an inch thick throughout.

*Previously un-noticed Pigeon now no longer quite as Pigeon - shaped.

BDP Update

On the way home.

*DNA Dead Pigeon (splooshy) hardly recognisable against the tarmac.

*SSDP still half flat, half sticky-up.

AND (steady yourself)

*A previously un-noticed flat Pigeon in almost the exact centre of the road. Sort of still Pigeon-shaped, but wider.

Also two broken bottles. Possibly a remainder of the Seagull / Pigeon turf war.

Seagulls noticably absent today.

Today at the BDP

*Large Dead Pigeon unrecognisable as anything other'n three patches of bloody mush with a couple of feathers on.

*Slightly Smaller Dead Pigeon (henceforth referred to as SSDP) strangely only half flattened.

*No cheeping.

*Pigeons very, very active (other than the two mentioned above).

*I narrowly escaped dive-bombing.

Pictures, pictures, pictures!

The signature



The smooshed pigeon.

And more Acci...

Dead Pigeon, you're the one,
You make walking lots of fun,
Dead Pigeon, I'm morbidly fond of you!

Woo woo be doo

Dead Pigeon, joy of joys,
When I prod you, there's no noise!
Dead Pigeon, you're all decomposing, it's true!

Doo doo doo doo, doo doo

Every day when I
Make my way to the office,
I find a little fella who's
Dead and grey and noxious!

Rub-a-dub-a-doxious!

Dead Pigeon, you're so dead,
And I notice you're fetid,
Dead Pigeon, I'm morbidly fond of you!

Every day when I
Make my way to the office,
I find a little fella who's
Dead and grey and noxious!

Dead Pigeon, you're so dead,
And I notice you're fetid,
Dead Pigeon, I'm morbidly fond of-
Dead Pigeon, I'd like to abscond with-
Dead Pigeon, I'm morbidly fond of you!

Doo doo, be doo!

ETA To the tune of 'Rubber Duckie', of course.

Accipiter and LaMa describe the BDP...

"The Bridge of Dead Pigeons is one of the highlights of Edinburgh, and its fetid aroma is detectable from all over the city. Like the City Sewers and other dank areas, the BDP was formed by manual labourers many years ago.On the right-hand side there are signs of early graffiti of about 1970-1985 AD, when the high ground was defaced by menacing animals and marauding pigeons. It was a strategic pigeon perch from which to spy advancing artists from a distance, and the view from the BDP today -- framed by dead pigeons in the shadows, or dramatic piles of offal to turn the nose -- remains unsurpassed in Edinburgh."

"The Bridge of Dead Pigeons was made world famous by the celebrated website "Museum of Hoaxes", as part of a guerilla cyber-art project by noted urban artist Boo of the Haggii. Ever since her graphic descriptions of filth and decay, as a symbol for the corruption of our society, appeared on the net, hundreds of young alternative web geeks have come to Edinburgh for the sole purpose of seeking out the bridge. The Dead Pigeons have become symbol of the decay of morals in our society, and the ever present poo is a strong metaphor of the contribution of our mass media, although artist Boo once stated that it symbolises our Politicians as well. As a symbol of the demise of our urban environment captured in a vivid art project, the bridge is worth a visit by those with a sense of the odd and thoughtfulness"

"The BDP is open to the public 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Admission is free, but donations to the Feed The Starving Boo Society are welcomed eagerly. Beer is not provided, so bring your own."

These men are very clever bunnies.

BDP update

Today I took a photo of my signature on the bridge for verification purposes. I shall post it later.

*Large Dead Pigeon corpse has now become three separate... splooshes of DNA, although one of the splooshes is still recognisable as Pigeon. Again, picture to be posted later.

*Pigeon egg missing.

*No sounds of cheeping today. Most mysterious.

Oh, and the latex gloves are gone from the BDP.
I suppose that their evil purpose (or porpoise) will never be known.

BDP

Today:

*Cardboard box missing - vanished as mysteriously as it arrived.
*Large Dead Pigeon fairly schmushed, but still a recognisable corpse.
*Broken egg still there.
*Cheeping louder than ever.


On a related note, seagulls were seen standing guard on the adjoining warehouse today.

The BDP

Now I have signed the BDP, I shall commence comments.

Yesterday:

*Mysterious cardboard box - possibly not Pigeon related.
*Cheeping noises from girders
*Large Dead Pigeon (road) with one broken leg sticking up in the air.
*One shattered Pigeon egg under the spot that the cheeping is coming from.

Syringing the hamster.

Sounds like a metaphor.

Just sayin'.

Today.

Today is a strange day.
No particular reason, it just is.

I wonder if I'll be taken out to dinner tonight?
That'd be nice.

It is 4.30

It is 4.30 (or 16.30, if you will (I won't)) on this, the first day of my blog. The sky is slightly overcast, the wind rip-roars past the window like a gentle butterfly, and what of I?

Well, I am still here.
Zookeeper is still here.

I'd have thunk that when you put animals with their kin, rather than all mixed up with predators, they'd be happy. Instead, they pull a horrified face as if you've shown them a picture of a kitten being run over, then vanish.

Oh well. Such is life.

Alphabetti Bites.

Words are good.

1) Squid.
2) Owlet.
3) Schism.

Literacy is so important. What do you think, Baldrick?

Biff! Pow!

I may be turning into Batman.

Zap!

If I had a ray gun, I'd have zapped the woman I can see in the opposite block of flats. Just gently, though.

Why?

Why do zombies eat brains?
Are they particularly nutritionally balanced, with all their brainy goodness?

AND!

I wonder how this thingy here works. And what a 002 error is.

Huh.

You know, the more I think of it, the more I like the name for this thing.

It expresses the theme of it so well.

For is it not true that the name sprang fully-formed into my head, like a Satyr? (yes, it is)

Y'see, I'm quite random.
If a person can be said to be random.
Which, y'know, they can. 'Cause who's going to stop me? You? With your tiny head and pointy feet*? I don't think so.

*This may be a description of a ballerina of some kind.