Today's a uniform day. No sky, no sea, no point at which they meet.
Friday 27 February 2009
26.02.09
Today's a greyscale day. The farouche sky's hiding behind sullen clouds. The sea looks either 2H or H pencil grey, depending on how hard you press, how sharp your paper is, how flat your nib is.
25.02.09
Today the sky looks skype-blue at the top and twitter blue in the middle, and white at the sea's meniscus. The sea looks de.lic.ious blue. It's an internet-themed day of colour and light.
Friday 20 February 2009
20.02.09
I had a friend, Loric, who owned a bar in France. The bar had an immaculate counter made of zinc set into dark wooden joinery, with glass shelves lined behind him. He'd put six boiled eggs with white shells into a stainless steel wire holder with a glass salt cellar set in the middle. It was often quite empty, quite still, unless we were in there. Gauloises bleu cigarette smoke could ascend without dispersing.
Today the sky looks zinc grey, and the sea has that grey-with-a-tint-of-blue that we imagine we'll find in the smoke of cigarettes being lazily ignored by French smokers.
Thursday 19 February 2009
19.02.09
Today is a two-tone identity day. It's days like that this that make you want to start a blog called grey and blue dot dot dot. Today the sky looks two-tone, blue at the top, grey at the bottom. The sea looks two-tone too, grey at the bottom, blue at the top. So looking at this tiny slice of daily horizon from bottom to top we get grey-blue-grey-blue, and from top to bottom we get blue-grey-blue-grey. That's just about right. Yep, just about right.
Wednesday 18 February 2009
18.02.09
Today the sky won - in the watery stakes it just beat that sea outa here. Nice one sky, you ruined it for all of us who try to see the sea once in a while. Thanks a bunch.
Still. Today, the sky looks like 14ml of Humbrol matt grey #1 primer paint that's been spread quite thickly over a dirty white balloon which has been attached to a slightly-dim penlight pocket torch. The air seems moist, warm, and smells of matchsticks. All of the kids have been out in all of the streets with all of their warm wet matchsticks again. Thanks a million.
Tuesday 17 February 2009
17.02.09
Today the sky looks one-way-sign blue. The sea looks that milky beige-grey you get when you add yeast to tepid water.
Monday 16 February 2009
Friday 13 February 2009
Thursday 12 February 2009
12.02.09
Today the sky looks mainly grey. The sea is nowhere to be seen. A snowflake fell on the lens of the camera and some distortion occurred:
The nokia does not like the cold. It becomes an unreliable source of colour information about This City That Lives Next To The Sea But Looks At Its Feet Instead.
Wednesday 11 February 2009
11.02.09
Today the sky looks freedom blue. The sea looks navy blue. An appropriate way to look. An appropriate day. Well done.
Tuesday 10 February 2009
10.02.09
Today, the sky looks back-to-work blue. The sea looks business-as-usual blue. It's an oceanic and celestial recovery plan in action.
Monday 9 February 2009
09.02.09
In a town where people do not look up, anonymity is achieved by wearing different shoes
Today the sky looks like a well-spread kaleidoscope* of blue morpho didius butterflies mounted on a yellow sheet. The sea looks properly blue, an achievement all of its own doing - no taxidermic interventions involved. The ground is being reclaimed by the distribution of ground-up ground from other land. People walk by looking at where their feet fall. Or are they checking me out? I have new morpho didus blue shoes**.
* [This might be a suitable (correct?) collective noun for butterflies]
** [with a red stripe, hooray!]
Saturday 7 February 2009
07.02.09
The sky gave up. The sea is visible by the lights of the milk floats that are heading out there to take midnight milk to oil-extraction consultants, who'll want it by breakfast to pour with seasonally unsteady hands on to their generic whole wheat flakes, and also overboard. White milk on oil-extraction consultants' black suits. Suits that will be poured back on to the real land by helicopters, not floats. Suits need to travel faster than milk.
Friday 6 February 2009
06.02.09
The city looks different today, perhaps it's the snow. At least the date is correct. The sky looks the elegant white of a lazy butcher. The sea looks institutionally beige, as you might expect to find on a hospital wall, on a police-station floor, inside the belly of a job centre.
Thursday 5 February 2009
06.02.09
Today the sky is going in a different direction. It has granite grey clouds, but it looks wistfully blue. The sea looks a bruised-pomegranate yellow.
Wednesday 4 February 2009
Tuesday 3 February 2009
03.02.09
Today the world threatened snow, but instead we got sky that looks rain-down grey. The sea looks uniformly grey, except where the orange lights of loitering multi-storey car-park sized boats stud the water.
Monday 2 February 2009
02.02.09
Today the sea looks darker than the sky. The horizon is a peaceful buffer, the shadowy undersides of clouds. The sea is a thumb-smudged stripe. The sky has been sprayed-on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)