This morning, whilst manipulating hair follicles to cover as much of yours truly’s steadily balding pate as possible, I caught a mirror view of an image created within the wrinkles in my jean thigh. This apparition resembling an elderly chap with long grey unkempt hair and sprawling silver beard.
Incidentally, with this denim vision appearing to bear heavy facial hair, as penned above, I’m assuming the image was a chap. However, respecting prevailing gender sensibilities existing in the current zeitgeist, and after watching the movie The Greatest Showman, perhaps it’d be more prudent to remain gender neutral…… Actually, thinking about it, no I’m not gonna make that concession.
If someone is sensitive enough to take offence from reading creases in my jeans resemble a male face, without conclusive evidence they even possessed a ‘Y’ chromosome, then I’d suggest my accuser possesses worse issues than GJ Strachan. Consequently, I’m resolved to chronicle what I witnessed upon the denim canvas of my trousers as that of a bloke’s face.
Anyhow, despite being indifferent about the existence of apparitions and spirits, my fleeting face sighting among pant creases led to pondering whose vision I’d just briefly witnessed. This view, incidentally, disappearing shortly after a denim crease re-assembly resultant of subsequent leg movement.
As a consequence of the visage glance only being cursory, it’s difficult to give a forensically accurate photofit of my ephemeral view. If I was asked to give a description of the aforementioned sight, the best I could muster would be to reveal the face appeared as a cross between singer Kris Kristofferson and God.
Incidentally, that’s the cliched image of God. The picture oft painted of him as a guy sitting on a cotton wool cloud in long white cloak, adorning long snowy hair and lengthy silver beard. Like the very existence of the omnipresent overlord himself, though, whether he actually looks like that is anyone’s guess.
I suppose when attempting to provide an accurate description of the face I fleetingly witnessed while setting my hair this morning, it’s safer to go with “He looked a bit like Kris Kristofferson, officer.”…… We can, though, rule out the spectre was Kristofferson as he’s still alive (I believe).
I’d guess another question borne from this momentary jean art composition must be “What would somebody from the ‘other side’, who looked not too dissimilar to 85 year old Texas-born Kristofferson, possibly wish to convey to me?”
Additionally, even if I did recognise my spiritual visitor, without the presence of sound, interpreting any message would be riddled with barriers. And, if truth be told, would I ever really want a message from the ‘other side’. After all, if it was a positive message I’d be high sceptical, and if negative I’d potential give it more room in my angst bank than it’d warrant.
Looking now at the material on my jeans there aren’t any facial impressions present which could possibly be interpreted as an apparition seeking to engage with yours truly.
There is one distinctive crease which, as it runs down my left thigh wanders of at various tangents. However, I suspect that’s a consequence of me ironing the jeans after a few bowls of loud mouth soup, not resultant of writer/actor Stephen Fry’s crooked conk attempting to draw my attention to something!