The Information Jungle

That’s what I dip my toe in each morning when I hop out of bed.

I took this photo a few days ago when I was reviewing some snaps. That might do, I thought, for a day when I have run dry on the word front. This morning is still all about voids in my head, but I am mindful of Daftburger’s potential concern about my disappearing up my own arse, and of course the dear Wray Barton’s anti-void campaign, so I won’t go there for now. Then, as I type, Ed Milliband has been giving a good account of himself on the Today programme which I would like to analyse in terms of willingness to embrace one’s own learning curve: a pin-up for the business I am in.

However, bearing in mind those sensibilities and another blog reader’s devotion to all that is modern and art, here goes: my own side of the bed.

NB. This is pure coincidence, Amy Winehouse seems to have forgotten her pump, nothing is staged – all is where I (or a child) dropped it.

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Posted on September 29, 2010, in Art, Nostalgia, Radio and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 17 Comments.

  1. What your side of the bed looks like has remained consistent for as long as I can remember.

  2. That’s not the side of a bed, it’s an installation.

  3. It’s funny, but when I look at the photo I think

    What’s that, why is that there?

    When I am by the side of the bed, I don’t notice.

    As a result of this process I have now removed the Body Shop menthol lotion for feet, which I have had for years and don’t like.

    It’s in the bin. What next?

  4. Remove/fix the dead extension lead?

  5. …And I find it hard to believe that the phone works.

    I’m a bit disappointed there’s no vodka. Unless it’s in the Stoke City-spotted cup.

    • The phone is connected to a disconnected landline, but maybe it’s not disconnected because I think I am paying for two landlines and I need to sort that out. Sometimes it flashes the red messages button at me and I pick up the receiver a centimetre and drop it back down without listening which seems to stop the flashing.

      The phone is like a reminder to sort out the whole cancel contract thing.

      WBWC that’s also a bit like the drive to London to see what number I used to live at for the DVLC > I’ve still not telephoned them either.

      My administration skills are void.

      PS There was a whisky glass there earlier but someone contaminated it with water. Ugh.

  6. Oh and just to square the circle: I’ve taken the batteries out of the handsets on the other telephone line because they keep beeping.

    So basically, call the mobile. I’m paying for two landlines, neither of which I use. Go figure 😦

  7. That bedside is crying out for a void.

  8. Also, where are the fags?

    • I don’t mind a wee dram in bed (medicinal purposes only), but I would draw the line at fagging it between the sheets.

      It might look cool and sexy in a French film, but it is a non from me.

  9. My what big feet you have! 😀

    To save you the time Diva. “All the better to kick you with!”

    I wasn’t concerned with you disappearing up your own arse I was more concerned with you coming our of your own arse in a void filling and emptying internal type scenario.

    Thats not a real picture there are no pants 😛 and socks!

  10. Fair enuf. My feet are not big! Size 6.

    And I don’t drape underwear about a la Emin. That’s just nasty.

    Well maybe I do sometimes.

  11. What I admire about the shoe situation is that there are three of them yet we are no nearer a pair.

    • This is the god’s honest: only this week I had to wear two non-matching flip-flops for a bit.

      But if any of you think the jelly roman sandal is mine, then you don’t know me at all!

  12. The ugg boot is yours tho, right? (If we call that a shoe there are FOUR of them and still nowhere near a pair.)

  13. There is also a red shoe stuck under the bed.

    I will never get to Oz unless I get it out.

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