Blogged in spaaaaace...

Blog blog blog...
my brain, as once an ocean, creeps, stagnant, viscose, unelectrifyingly electrified in my neurotransmitter-nursery of blogging, pay TV and toxins which keep the mighty beasts shackled...
but at least my blog world is cultivating beyond a failed TAFE assignment...

It's so much like radio- no matter how much you try, you may never be able to reach into the dark and pull out any valid lifeform voluntarily scoping your work.

Kinda like chucking rose-petals into the night...

New day in isolation...

This morning I awoke, walked onto the verandah just as the first drop fell- rain- sweet relief after cooking for days isolated to one less-hot room. It felt kinda fateful to find such timing. I felt happy, sweet relief after a 100-calibre nightmare night alone in the arena of my demons (which assume full power on Saturdays, Christmas completely alone and in the black of night in those infinite unsleepable hours. Sometimes trying to go to sleep is like lying my brain down in a nest of barbed wire and the heavier the thoughts in that brain, the harder the barbs cut in.

So- having achieved happiness from the feelig of the rain within the few minutes of the day was so serendipitous that I was left wide open to...a rich, coagulating howl of my cat calling to me. Like lovers lost in the dark until he appeared at the door. Thinking he was coming to me because of the rain, I looked eagerly, but stopped short. He had in his mouth a headless baby rabbit.

OK- I know in Oz and especially on a farm, rabbits are a pest- but that doesn't stop each one from deserving humane (!) treatment. After all it was because of spoil, cruel English shmucks who brought them over for hunting practise and even to cure those homesick blues!!!!! What a shame we can't reverse time and give these people the punishment. Who knows- maybe they reincarnated appropriately and found themselves looking at terror from the other end of the stick!

I used to have 2 pet rabbits before I knew better. There's a certain vulnerability in making pets of rabbits- heartless people who joke about killing and eating your pets and worse- the danger of predators who may attack in the night. When I was a rabbit person, I was not a cat person. My instincts became so attuned that I would awake to the sense of a cat in my yard. Cats were the enemy. I was a vegan so I felt universes away; despite a life-long love of animals, including cats in a big way.

Half a year after my rabbits died of myxo, I was given my cat as a suprise. I became a cat person and fell for my cat in a huge way...but it was in Leura, The Blue Mountains, that Jimi, my cat, developed a taste for possums. I carried him, empty-handed on the 3-hr public transport trip to Sydney Airport, handed my armfull to the man, turned and walked away, my last sight being those two sad, scared eyes looking up at me from the scales. My best friend had just become luggage. He was sent home to my parents, where he now lives like a king, but we have never been as close.

It's maybe hard to picture this 'love-affair' with a cat, but if you knew him, you'd know. He's one hell of a charismatic cat...just as long as he keeps the gifts to a minimum. The last time he really dumped one on me like that was when my aunt died, I stayed up, upset. When I finally fell asleep, I awoke to a dead rat beside my head. I guess it was his way of giving me something because I was sad...guess that's why cats don't work for Hallmark...!

In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, baby!

One of my favourite moments just happened on the Simpsons...when they're in church and Bart substitutes the hymn papers with 'In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida' by Iron Butterfly. Most viewers don't get the whole relevance of the song.
Homer- "We used to make out to that hymn, remember, Marge?"
Rev. Lovejoy- "This looks like rock and/or roll."

The real relevance here is that even though Inna-Gadda-Da-Vida was a great piece of prog-rock and most probably served as background smoking music for many, its origins were actually in Church. A member of the band was tripping out of his head and wandered into one of his father's sermons, which was on the Garden of Eden (slur to Inna-Gadda-Da-Vida).

The title is linked to IB's web site, but to try to get any indication of why they rocked so hard, you would be disappointed, or at least, mislead. The site is very 2005 and they are obviously still cranking them out.

I have every reason to believe their music that once captured something almost magical, would now be as lost a cause as listening to the new generation of Pink Floyd, Astro-boy, Sesame Street, David Bowie, Yes, Jefferson Airplane(Starship), etc etc etc...

Hot, bored, straight

I am so damned sick of this! I am houseminding in the heat with nothing to watch but stupid free-to-air non-ratings-season crap. Yes- Australia. I know you dream of coming here, folks...even to escape the snow, but let me tell you- in the cold, you can add layers, but in the heat I can't really strip my skin away. I am simply existing. Illegal toxins dislodge from my body while I replace them with legal ones...actually just one...good'ol alcohol, my 'ol buddy and pal...
I should be learning, seeking contacts, starting my career in this vaccuum of sober isolation...but fuck it- I'm just too damned bored and hot and straight...
now I'm blogging mundanely about my day...can't stand those prosaic blog entries going on about the annoying events of the day. Days pass and are mainly forgotten for good reason, kiddies!!! If we remembered everything, our brains would be like junk-mail-cluttered mail-boxes...with no hope of getting to the real stuff

hhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm- beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer!...

Thesaurus word for the day...'ridiculous'...

Entry: ridiculous Part of Speech: adjective
Definition: absurd
Synonyms: antic, bizarre, comic, comical, contemptible, daffy, derisory, droll, fantastic, farcical, fool-headed, foolish, funny, gelastic, goofy, grotesque, harebrained, hilarious, impossible, incredible, jerky, laughable, ludicrous, nonsensical, nutty, outrageous, preposterous, risible, sappy, silly, slaphappy, stupid, unbelievable, wacky

Source: Roget's New Millennium™ Thesaurus, First Edition (v 1.1.1)

Is there anybody out there?

OK- this is more a test to see if the Bloggites actually posts recent posts. I have reached a level of deep blogsession and I have discovered the 'recently blogged' bit. I posted a test blog, but I couldn't see it under the most recently blogged list. So I wanna know: is it all a facade, bloggeees? Am I one blogger sitting alone in a room tapping away like a hungry crow at seed?...If you can see my blog in the recently blogged list, please let me know. It's no popularity excercise- I just want to know this aint one great Trumanesque joke on ol muggins ere! Cheers*

Thesaurus entry for the day...imagination...

Entry:imaginary

Part of Speech: adjective


Definition: fictitious

Synonyms: abstract, apocryphal, apparitional, assumed, chimerical, deceptive, delusive, dreamed up, dreamlike, dreamy, fabulous, fancied, fanciful, fantastic, fictional, figmental, fool's paradise, hallucinatory, hypothetical, ideal, illusive, illusory, imaginative, imagined, invented, legendary, made-up, mythological, nonexistent, notional, phantasmal, phantasmic, pipe dream, quixotic, shadowy, spectral, supposed, supposititious, theoretical, trumped up, unreal, unsubstantial, visionary, whimsical

Source: Roget's New Millennium™ Thesaurus, First Edition (v 1.1.1)

Sunset

Sunset. My furry grey and white friend pays me his company and slinks away when I pay him mine...
Sky- as if to lie beneath a celestial shearing grate above which giant pink sheep shiver in the golgen light of powerful furnaces which smelt the cloud-laid golgen eggs of lore...
And violet oceans boil, playfully throwing fuchsias across their licking mists.

Who am I...

OK- so the Wild Blue Awaits as I tread tar. Who, what am I? Well, I'm a multi-disciplined mainly digital artist- for want of a better word...I just don't think anyone can call themselves an artist- it's a title earned through the effective and sublime experiencial perception of others.

In other words, if the grain of inspiration or primordially-formed feeling or concept can successfully transcend the expressor, travel to the experiencer and re-form as unique and moving and ideally inducing some kind of physiological change, that expressor has achieved the level of artist.

The art of doing this is in the perfection of the source. The reciever is the 2nd part of the reception; just as the quality of a TV and its antenna affect the quality of the programme being recieved.

In entering the viewer's being the data hits the viewer's conscious mind and may not register- like an arrow to a lifeless dartboard- but in the physiological and subconscious aspects, we are unwilling participants in the dance of every colour, sound, texture, tone and beat.

I want to find the keys to expression itself and I've spent more years at school than not...but the true inspiration is the ambrosia of the living, sunshine-charged realness which floats mellifluously past classroom windows and shuns the dusty bowels of the concrete grey institution.

It is out upon the wild blue yonder that we are to set sail for the big adventure. As elusive and ephemeral as bubbles of jewelled walls fleeting and unseen, I wish to capture so many unimaginable images; my camera and mind as net-less butterfly catchers. Right there right then in so many a land whose name I have not yet heard...

Obscure...

Submitting the word, obscure, into Google Images, this Hannibal Lecter-view of Barbie appeared. It was sourced from an Italian guy's blog, whose name is Giavasan.
I dunno what was spookier; this image of what's apparently Paris Hilton Barbie...or that just last night I pondered..."I wonder when they'll come up with a Paris Hilton barbie...or maybe it was actually a shot of the real thing.....

Don't it look worth scattering yer brains over...

Attack of the awfully cute kitten!!!

He's cute!

He's fluffy!

He has charm with a bite...

and ge's got a taste...

FOR MILK!!!

Don't we all need it...

New Life

Renewed, we begin again, we begin a gain.

"Tomorrow is another day."said Scarlet.

Present presents presents.

Time passage passes age

Wisdom is wizz dome?

Without humour we are clay.

When we laugh, life trickles through us.

Here's to the holy "HA HA!"

Velvet black

"In the velvet darkness of the blackest night, burning bright there's a guiding star- no matter what or who you aaaaaaaaaaaaaaare..." Rocky Horror

"the long dark tea-time of the Soul"...Douglas Adams...

How can I describe the long laboured hours of sleep, stolen- replaced by the most voracious of demons...when the act of merely describing such horrors feels as futile and dangerous as trying to catch a lion bare-handed...after a good fight I face the dawn, bloody-souled and limping- only to find a kitten sitting there licking my blood from its paws.

In the next room my love slumbers. I was left today. Yes- it was one of those wretched days when someone dumps you and you're left flailing suddenly in the wind- but that wind disappears to the point of vaccuum and the thought of living without that personification of solidity leaves you gasping, umbilical-like oxygen cable waving as your essense spews out into the undeserving void. When the severing blow hits you, you are simply existing from one moment to the next, suspended, asphyxiating. At this time, simply existing from one moment to the next alone seems a million times worse than the thought of enduring the entire rest of one's existance alone.

I seem not to have been completely disposed of, I suppose, as my lover sleeps, self-expressed and blissfully unbothered. But, I am a woman whose worth has been thrown at the wind. My pride has been injured, but I will not remain complacent. That moment of true alonenes today was enough to shock me back into independance... As the phoenix, again and again crucified upon the shores of love, I will re-build. I will prepare for the storm. I must be prepared for when again the banshee winds of aloneness scream. howling through my soul and the great flapping holes in my proverbial ticker. "Do you think that the wizard could give me a heart?"..............

Heart- fleshy organ of vulnerability and strength- the metronome which counts out my existance in measured hits- every moment more another taste of the Cat-o-nine's tail. I take my leave of thee. You are a mongrel who poisons my voyage and obscures my path. I must regain myself; batten down those hatches before the tsunami of the soul finally rips me away from this painful attachment I have with reality. The continuation of this pain is as sure as the flashing of this cursor as I navigate into the velvet black...

Groovy!

Hey, groovernauts!
Why don't you boogey on down to the most happening place in town with Nevill.

watch him crank out the hula-hoop of chiropractic doom as he spins some of his most up-to-the-moment-on the hit-parade-hits!

BYO sherry and poppers!

Bachelor #3

Hello.

My name is Donald Feldman. To view our compatability, please send the details of your biorythms. If we are computed to be of compatable breeding stocks, Mother will be expecting you over for a roast on Sunday. Dreaming of you as I go to sleep...Donald.

Bachelor #2

Hey, ladies- here's Dr. Herman and his funky off-sider, Spongy. They're awaiting you to join in their great petrie dish of lerv!

Martin the Magnanimous!

Here's to Martin.

He's a happening kind of man-about-town.

So- ladies just send in your underwear via carrier pigeon;- they tend to get lost in cyberspace...

Say Cheese...

The one thing you cannot do is be intimidated by others' insecurities. Why kindly diminish oneself to pander to the insecurities of others. Shine if you can. It's the one thing you can truly do independantly and don't you let another dare to poison one ounce of who and what you are.

me. 2005

ok- so here am I. Again unshackled by institutions I skate freeform. New goals entice. Jewish theories...emotion and colour...
2005 is a fresh leaf and the wild blue yonder awaits...

*