One of those times when you’re feeling lonely and insignificant, when you’re feeling like a rotting bit of seaweed in the cosmic ocean, a pointless collection of molecules pointlessly wondering about doing pointless things, when you’re stuck in somebody’s idea of a spoof of a F.R.I.E.N.D.S rerun, drifting, drifting into the half-sleep of humdrum everydayness, you know what you should be doing?
Waving at CCTV cameras of course.
Getting over post-teen, pre-midlife existential crises was never this easy. Whoever thought the simple act of staring into the vacant, vaguely hostile gaze of a CCTV camera would be so much fun? I’m sure you’ve done it, even if not, ahem, due to such weighty considerations as mine. I don’t really wave at them though; I’m far too classy for that, and it does not quite fit any role playing fantasy involving me being chased down by helicopters throwing burning barrels at me trying to slow my GhostRider-esque trailblazing through the city.
It’s such immense fun looking sneaky when you know there’s an eye in a shiny, white box looking over your shoulder. You have to check your watch for no reason. You have to look around surreptitiously for no reason, and you absolutely have to turn around to give the camera a grim, I-Know-You’re-There look.
I never wave though.