Month: December 2013

Year Out, Year In

2013 is nearly over. There were one or two good things in it, but on balance it was a pretty crappy year; what, with all the political shenanigans, and the mass-snoopping on us, poor chilangos. And Old Chthulhu (my older computer) died for good, and my eyes are playing up. To round up the shit, this computer, my last surviving one, is giving worrying sings of wanting to follow its companion to the cold computer common grave. Oi!… So, in case this happens (if it happens) before the year is out, here comes Blott, the Badlands Golem and his fearsome bodyguards, Pearl and Lisette, the UltraChickens. They bring us the Cup of Mixed Blessings, full to the brim with a powerful brew of severe bloodymindedness and sarcasm laced with a generous dose of disbelief of ANYTHING the BBC  and/or The Guardian says. Salut i força al canut, as the Catalans would have it. Update 01/01/14 Happy New Year & All That. (Sounds cruel, doesn’t it? And it probably is. Sardonic, at the very least…). Have a good one, anyways. Or as good as you can make it; or circumstances will allow; or………………..(enter your option here)………………………….. Stay awake. Stay stubborn. And semper adversis, naturally. Update 14/01/14  We was having a drink, us girls, and the Shub-Niggurath was bitching non-stop about her all-too-numerous and exceedingly badly behaved Young, as usual, when the delicious GorgoMormo had a splendid idea: Instead of wallopping and scolding them all the time, why not give them a treat? Then I remenbered that once, back when and up to the 9thC. AD, there used to be a flourishing cult of the Ineffable One in Sicily. Why not revive it, to cheer everybody up? So we did. And the Young were so taken with the whole enterprise that they even volunteered to learn the Tarantella Siciliana and stage a demo for Mother’s benefit. And would you know, it went swimmingly! The Young ones behaved almost well and danced even better -with the odd exceptions here & there, of course. (They are monsters after all…). So a couple of them did a Sevillana instead of a Tarantella. And one of them insisted that maracas was essential to the soundtrack. So what? We all had a marvellous time, even Milady, who never once smiled, or stopped grumbling or fessed up to having a grand time. See here the snapshot of the shindig at its peak. The “solid”refreshments have been left out of the picture so as not to offend the sensibilities of they who think bankers, politicians and transnational CEOs are nice people and should not be eaten by bulky transdimentional creatures. And here be a link to one of the inspiring tarantelle. Salute! Tarantella siciliana – Marranzanu – Scacciapensieri Update 22/01.14 Right now all that stands between me and a Blues the size of the Taj Mahal is my graphics. So whatever little real, usable Time&Space the pain, or the shortness of breath, or the general impaired vision will allow me goes into them. Shoot me now… The first one today is one of those for-tablets-crappy-free-tool/Flash crossbreeds. The second, a tribute to those two Caledonian past-masters of chaos and aural dissonance, the glorious Cthulhu Brothers. (See link to their site.Do.) It’s been inspired by the … things that grace their site. Cheers, lads! NB. In due course, my two … things, will move. See if they don’t! Ha. Update 29/01/14 To end on a happy note…a bit of bad poetry and a couple of girls that most definitely don’t shave their armpits. May their fuzz grow long and their contrariness prosper. Next post: Rabbits!


With My Penultimate Breath

The title of this post is a misquotation of the English title of Luis Buñuel’s biography, With My Last Breath. Things are not quite so drastic with me, these days, but they are pretty crappy all the same. I seem to be loosing sight at a rate of knots and I feel permanently as weak as a kitten. Etc. Ah, life… It’s just as the Spaniards say: like a chicken coop’s ladder: short and full of shit. Still, it goes on. And the Shoggoths keep on coming. Here be the latest crop. One is this year’s YuleTide card and needs no explanation. The other is a take on an old visual icon. Just like the justly famous “Odesa steps” scene in the wonderful Battleship Potemkin, lots of folks have done a take on it. The Shoggies, bless them, decided to carry the concept one step further. They have taken over a deserted rock just off the coast of Magaluf and hoisted their flag (the only flag I can tolerate, along with the Jolly Roger). They’re still there, hurling scathing insults at the holiday makers and singing them rude songs all night long. You gotta love them (the Shoggies, that is, not the vacationing cattle rabble). Update 15/12/13 In my pursuit of all things Ligottian, I came across (in the delicious Lovecraft e-Zine) a most promissing lead. A woman called Nicole Cushing, whose short story, A Catechism for Aspiring Amnesiacs, featured in a recent issue. Said story totally bowled me over. So much so that, trowing caution to the howling winds, I wrote to her saying how much I’d liked it and where could I get some more of her stuff. Some exchange of emails ensued and, to cut this sory short, she send me a wee chapbook containing some of her earlier produce. I loved it and, for reasons that we don’t need to know here & now, it elicited the two following pics. The minimalist one is a small “thank you note” for her. The second is a more baroque elaboration on the first. And it’s true, anyway. The Larvae have been restless, lately. They miss Imogen and Rudolph awfully. They miss the soireés and the Bach recitals on Hideous Flutes and cracked spinets and the bankster’s balls canapes, poor Things. So, Edwina, always ready & willing to soothe troubled spirits whereever they may be found (when she’s not stirring trouble in all the right places), grabbed her trusty guitar, donned her kick-ass boots, enlisted the aid of the Wee Fishis and an obliging Deep One (Defected) and dropped in on the wretched maggots with her Songs of Soothing Anarchy and old Spanish Republican melodies. The Larvae have somewhat calmed down. There. Don’t you love happy endigs? I do. They’re so very rare… Finally, thank you Mike for that great issue of your mag and thank you Nicole for your stories. Please keep them coming! PS. I may try to find a good link to the Catechism… and if Nicole permits it, I may put a link to her site, Laughing at the Abyss. Just for the name is worth a visit, wouldn’t you say? Update 21/12/13 At last, the Solstice. The light will soon return. By all means, sacrifice a Ben Bernanke or two to the airborne BearThing Clones, si le coeur vous en dit. And on sacrifices and tributes, here’s at last a tribute to that landmark of my adolescence, he who contributed to the basisc weirdness of my soul, MR James, master of hairy creepiness. Here’s to you Monty!

FlagsOfOurShoggies YuleCarolCognitiveDissonance A Toast BearThingsCountMagnus'Keeper