Month: July 2014

As If!/ If Only…/Magari…

As the non-existent visitors to this site must have gathered by now, I like to end my 6-pack chunks on some note or other; happy by preference but I’ll settle for whatever is going on at the moment. Today I decided to start on an optimistic-contemplative mode. Think of this illustration as a little piece of wishful thinking, a modest attempt at sympathetic magic. I neither live in a cave, nor do I have any need to invoke bison or fallow deer. If I want food all I have to do is walk down the shops. But my vestigial hunter’s soul still longs for the Big Game, it does, poor thing. It also longs for some justice, a modicum of groovy righteousness and merry retribution. But there’s none to be had; not here, not now, not by me, worse luck. So, it’s up to the Ineffable Black Goat of the Foggy Woods of My Mind to enact the reckoning. And for the Flowerettes to rejoice and celebrate Milady’s exploits. Cheers. Update 18/07/14 It never rains…etc. Here be the latest. The first is just a wee please-yourself exercise in tiling. No more no less. The secons shows a family scene: The Mice Queen, with her flaming heart of fire, travelling on her polydimensional vehicle, has come to exchange gifts with her mates the Mice. The Mice are staunch Republicans and the Queen is a devoted Anarchist, but they both like to play anachronistic games, what can I say? It does pass the time and sharpens the old acting skills. And last (BNL): Rejoice! Or weep, as you feel fit. It’s Adopt-A-Lost-Soul-Day again in the delta of the Urook. It comes once a month; it has to, in these unhappy, entropic days. The Flowerette on the right has decided to adopt the little Triangulated Thing, if only on temporary basis, as the LTT is already doing very well -he was last heard attempting to whistle The Internationale. The Flowerette on the left has opted for a “surgically stricken” Palestinian child. Always a plentiful option, alas… Update 31/07/14 A family snap. aka Shindig in the Primal Void. It’s a little known fact that the Mother of Bumba, back in her vertiginously distant yuff, was a wild, wild Thing and very fond of notional ice-cream, dancing and playing pranks on the Other Things. She used to sneak behind the ProtoAzathoth and scream “Order!” Order!” top of her voice. That got the poor bastard every time and made him jump a couple of dimensions to the left. When she grew more solid and sedated, and after she had her only child, the lovely Bumba, she remained very fond of dancing and music. Eventually she went on to invent what later would descend through the aeons and the dimensions and become Flamenco. Here she can be seen sponsoring a juerga with the Turtlelettes and the QuasiSnake Girls. Bumba has just invented the Flamenco guitar, bless his stardust socks. Update 01/08/14 Let’s end on an unhappy, ranty note, shall we? I’ve said my say on Gaza, so it’s back to my ongoing gripe with the Zombi MeejaWhores, and the fuelling of the hot cold war of words, and to kissing American ass, and to trying to drag Russia into open (armed) conflict. I do hope like hell that Putin will continue NOT to buy into the sort of hysterical shit. Nuff said. Here’s our advice to anyone willing to listen.

GoodNewsTilesPannel-1MiceQueenFor Gaza...againProtoJuergaStop-It!

Living the Blues

For reasons unknown, lately I’ve been craving blues and its relations. Must be the Muse in a wobbly mood. Anyways, here are some. The first is a common or garden mandala, or an anti-mandala. The second is a snapshot of the Fuzzy Demonettes and their Shoggy chums in their beautiful night garden. From it they bring you the Fleurs du Mischief, as the TeddyBear Tree is not in season (it blooms later in the year). Put then on a vase; or make tea out of them (VERY good as an antidote to BBC vibes)…Or put them in your pipe and smoke them; and then wait for the pretty allucinations to beging (highly recomended). Update 09/06/14 It’s back to basic reds, apparently. Don’t ask. Here be The Fish Dancer. He dances fishes, he does. He doesn’t dance with them,or makes fish dance, he dances them. Once the fish have been danced they’re never the same again. Big juju, this being danced by the Fish Dancer. If I were you, I’d make sure you never meet him in a dark alley. Also, an improvised birthday card for the Fenian, born on the 4th of July. Honest.  Update 10/06/14 I’m closing this segment on a s-tile-ihs note. Voilí .