Crazycrone (crazycrone) wrote,

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Down On The Corner, Out In The Street...

I shuffle obesely along like a geriatric mong, feeling all mood indigo. For some reason, I crave eggs.
That Patricia Cornwell (Like, is that woman obscenely rich? ) documentary about Walter Sickert was creepily interesting. He obviously was A Very Strange Person, but I don't believe he was Jack The Ripper...Might have known something, though...I have a 'thing' about a little Sickert of Pierrots on a pier that's in the Tate, and I've always found enthrallingly unsettling. I have a good gawk at in every time I'm in there, and strangely, men often try and hit on me, while I'm doing so. At this point in my life, this very seldom happens at all, making it all the more curious. Are they perhaps Sickert-inflamed serial killers cruising for victims? I could link to this picture, I suppose, if I knew how to link.( Perhaps I should look into acquiring this skill...)

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