Tuesday, November 21, 2017

"Life"...it just goes on.

Life just goes on no matter what.
It just does.
Any insane crap can happen, but folks just keep going.
This is a comfort.
Perhaps it's the only one.

"...my posts are as you see Bi-Polar",...as am I.

I remember "Ice Fog". It never happens in the City. However I remember being with friends long ago driving around upper Vermont. We drove into something we'd none of us had ever seen before. A shimmering fog. We stopped got out, and walked in it. It was an actual fog of ice crystals. A fog of diamonds. So amazing. A routine miracle of nature. I say routine because nature just does this,...if we would just stop, and look.

( Below more posts about the evils in the same world with "Ice Fog".)

...it's just funny that way.


I just read from "Forbes" how one of Trumps son's funneled Cancer Charity funds into his person accounts. He did it legal, but he did it because he could. I'm reluctant to have bigotry against a whole class. Perhaps it's more a moral sense of exasperation. The very wealthy some of them, seem so cut off from their humanity. In the same way that desperation makes the poor self destructive excess wealth seems to do the same thing.

The wealthy have the means to heal themselves of destructive inclinations...the poor have social services which reluctantly barely feeds them.

Of course not all the poor, and not all the well off are destructive, but too many are. The current irrational materialists values enforce this situation. We live with a kind of national cultural undiagnosed metal illness. It's very much like what Malcom X said about racism. To paraphrase..."Racism is a form if Insanity,...it makes it's perpetrators, and it's victims both insane".

As does wealth, and poverty.

I'm just looking at our present national situation from a metal health angle. Our whole society is living with, as I say. We're all living in a republic with a vast undiagnosed form of mass cultural insanity. One the not only permits a gigantic disparity in the means of basic survival,...but encourages it.

...Rewards it.

Monday, November 20, 2017

"An Armored Column in your Pocket"

As ya knows I have this thing for the tiny. Always have.
It's why I've been building models since 1956. There's some Japanese word, and whole tradition relating to this.
Me I just like this stuff. As I wrote it's a comfort.
That's enough.

One can carry about a whole little town in your pockets.
This is magic.
All that inner outer space jazz.
A "Fantastic Voyage" without need for special effects.


"Speaking of Interesting Stories"

Exactly where I used to stand on the Subway. I did this as a kid,...all New York kids do.
I remember a conductor telling a story to another passenger this about a guy standing there looking out.  When a loose low hanging pipe crashed through the glass impaling the guy. Tearing the top of his head off.
I still stand at the front sometimes looking out though.
...figured I'd take my chances.

Hey how bad could it be?

Sunday, November 19, 2017

"Brightly Floating"

For the past few daze I've taken an attempted break from being traumatized. I've been in the mists of dreams, and wonderings. They're keeping me alive this wispy world of shadows, and visions. "Brightly Floating" as the sign sez.

busy drifting, and dreaming about this life. My mortality. Oh life you are so strange so terrible wondrous so short.

ortality mine is no longer a distant rumor a vague imagining. I've sailed just off it's coast, and seen it's mountains mysterious valleys landscapes. Even so I have felt the Bright Wonder of my Life.

Every day a Miracle of sensations.

Walking sleeping hot showers books sorting laundry talking to friends on the phone tapping away on the computer going shopping watching families be families birds cats bugs the wind the rain, and dreams of the perhaps coming snows.

All this, and the everyday attempting to decipher my medical forms benefits rules balancing a small income all that strange, and silly old person stuff. 

Wonder upon wonder.

I lay in bed, and listen to my Heart beat. It sounds just as it did when I was little, and wondered at every new thing.


...it sounded through my pillow as a boy, and still now it goes on, and on. Hardly a missed beat in near a 100 years.

As I said on my birthday, "....'closer to 100 than 20".


So it goes.

"When Imperialism was Fun"

"When Imperialism was Fun". However no it wasn't not for anyone...unless you were some sort of Lord or corrupt Indian prince. However dammit they had such neat uniforms.

Once kaki came in it was just all a killing machine.
Yes it always was, but after there was no pretense to a Jewel in the Crown.
It was just murder for gold.


So far today. Just getting over a bad cold. I'm sitting reading looking out the window went out for a
bit surfed the 'net so much confused rage, and pain all over it shut it off ate some cookies...most of a box did some small repairs...spackle on little cracks at the base boards read some more went back on the web, and watched old footage of German soldiers surrendering.

Signal Corps footage all silent.

Old men young boys surrendering. Their numb faces blank. Underneath in the YouTube comments people posting racist pro-Nazi stuff. I sat thinking about the past present future. I think we're the only animals that do this. Maybe the cetaceans too, but mostly just us.
It's cold now. I needed my winter coat when I went out. Everything had that late fall light. The sun at a lower angle. The colors fading to brown on the trees winter coming leaves to fall soon. Read more.


I remembered what I wanted to tell you. Years ago. I'd do the midnight to six am on air shift. This happened because many hosts sometimes just wouldn't show up or the recorded programs just weren't around. So as the on duty engineer I'd read stories, and play music.

This to keep company with whoever was out there.

Sometimes my radio pals were about. Max Anne Sharon R. Paul. We'd hold forth by telling stories of our collective century of on air radio adventures. Sometimes spontaneously I'd howl like a wolf. I'd howl, and howl. My dear friends would howl with me. I invited all listening to join. We'd howl into the deep deep night. We in the studio, and those alone with their radios howling.

We all of us would howl into the dawn.

"..a Queer event at the Nuptual"

Here are Harry, and Ron's wedding snaps. It was a sweet affair. Even Walt Disney came,..well his head did,...eh in a glass case on wheels. Anyway most of the community of fictional characters of film comix books, and drug hallucinations were present. "Wonder Woman" performed the service, "Bob the Bunny" ran security, and "Spider Man" was best man,...or person. I was hired as wedding photographer.

...still haven't got paid yet though.

Well that's okay I took it out in booze, and steaks at the buffet.

Ron above about to be Baptized into the "Order of the Kindly" before the Nuptual.
This at the Grand Temple of the Holy Boy.

There was a discordant note when that Alabama Judge guy Roy Moore showed up with some drunk Girl Scouts. He said it was fine since he asked their folks if he could get them drunk before he raped them. One of the girl scouts passed out at this point. That's "okay" he said. Seems he had another tied up in the trunk of his car. Anyway when he tried to pass out his campaign crap Harry had him thrown out by the "Hulk", and "Punisher".

After "Bob the Bunny" cuffed him ol' "Punisher" kinda went medieval on da judge. "Hulk, and "Wonder Woman" had to pulled him off the evil jerk.  "Wonder Woman" rescued the little girls, and the crowd chased Moore into the next county. Anyway when shit calmed down we had a swell wedding party. Even the spirits of Harry Haye Ralph Chubb, and Walt Whitman made an appearance.

Yep except for that party crashing rapist it was a swell night.

"...we ain't dead yet"


Oh if only by clicking my Ruby slippers three times I could make a big Happy Cat appear in my digs. Umm...with 'all' her shots catnip toys, and no serious desire to eat me.

Yeah this 'could' be trouble down the line, but I'm sure me, and Kitty can work it out.


"It followed me Home,...can I keep it?!

"Can I?!"
"Can I?!"

"We can keep it in the Bathroom!"


India Ink!  When I was a kiddie we used India ink pens. They came with cartridges of ink ya had to put in them. Ball point pens were forbidden...????  Still don't know why other than they were new, and might be the tools of Satan.

I went to Catholic school...nuff said.

Anyway the desks we sat in had actual ink wells built into to them. The school was built in 1912, and these were the original desks. Complete with carved graffiti from the early part of the 20th century.

Amazing that.

The place is 108 years old now, and still turning out semi-literate basket cases. Tradition is a very important thing! Anyway if I'm feeling better during the week I'm off to get some small bottles of dear old India Ink!  

Seems in the end we somehow always return to where we started.

(I drew the above Faerie back in the late 1970's using a metal nib pen, and some venerable India Ink. I later went on to gel pens. They're cleaner, and far easier to use.)

This modest example was done about the same time as the 
1970's rear projection.
I'd post later more entertaining subjects.
However these I'm told are now questionable.
The page could be deleted.
No more full frontal faeries I fear.


Though here's another "innocent" page
from a little 'Zine I did also in the mid-70's
I think this is safe enough for our
Enlightened Age.

"A Time, and a Place"

I love Nena's song "99 Luftballons". It came out about 1983 or so. That was a happy time for me. Much fun dear close friends drugs sex music the works. We had our own retro 1960's.

This song was somehow always in the background, well that, and Laurie Anderson's "Oh Superman". We were all of us on the radio or in film doing creative magic, and having a ball. 

As I say in the post below this was also my Drug Era. I had one foot in Paradise, and another in Hell. I was damned if I could tell which from which!

Everyone has a 'special' time in their lives, and that was mine.


"Heroin" by the Velvet Underground is a song from the pit of my soul. 'Never a Heroin Addict, but was married to just about everything else in my time. At my memorial I want this played.

Ha! Deal with that as you go into the guests hall to eat them little dried out ham sandwiches, and stale cokes that are always the fare at these things.

Thank g-d, and the CIA for all the drugs I used back in the day...couldn't have made it here without them. They took me to the very edge of Death, and brought me back to tell the tale.

What Buddhist monk wouldn't give his prayer beads for a taste of that! I had the shit delivered. Middle Class style self immolation if you please.  In my Cocaine daze I was in the upper circles.

Diplomatic pouch grade shit from fucking Caracas with a stop over in Fidel's Cuba! Being a broadcaster had it perks. I'm talking 90 to 100 percent pure. Yeah I hear you say 100% is 'not' possible.

Oh pardon me dear friend,...it most certainly was is, and always will be if you know who what, and where, and especially how.

Best shit this side of junkie Hell. It made all the wounds heal all the demons melt away. Just like in this song.

As for Heroin except for snorting some a few times not my cup of hell. For one the "Vomit Barrier", and the other my dislike of needles put me off. Especially since at the time we were just finding out AIDS came as a free extra.

I do Not! renounce my Drug era. Those Insane days, and nights, and months, and years! No more that a soldier would ever renounce his War. It made both of us what we are. Take that away, and we're incomplete. Shadows wisps nothing.

That time was a passage a mad hellish tonic for our blood, and guts.

It made us the Saints we are today.

"Anna Brahms Dolls"

As you know I love dolls. Dolls of all kinds, but especially ones by artists. Anna Brahms, http://annabrahms.com/, is an especially gifted artist doll maker.

Several years ago I posted one of her Jewish dolls. I thought I would find her site, and put up more. Mind you she does all sorts of subjects...fantasy traditional etc. However these haunting pieces stayed with me.

I remember at the time I first post Anna's work a dear friend pointed out Israel's cruelty to her neighbors. This is undeniable. However these images of Jewish girls from the 1940's are not one with the madness of 21st century middle-east nations, and movements.

In fact it would be good, and moving if someone made contemporary Palestinian dolls to stand next to Anna's Holocaust dolls. The world of dolls is magical. In that realm they speak to each other.

I think Anna's dolls, and the Palestinian dolls might find they have things in common.

"It Happened. The 1950's. I Know I was There"


"It's that Time Again"

Comrades don't blow it like I did last year. Get ya damned Flu shots while ya can. I was sick as a dog all winter with a flu I couldn't shake off.

Especially you old folks out there. Don't bleep around just go'n get the damned thing. This way you'll have a lot more interesting shit to complain about all winter.

"Dreams",...Hermione & Draco"

Like everybody else I had thought to do porn shots with my "Harry Potter" dolls. Well naw...guess not. I'm still a little bit Catholic,...the deprogramming didn't completely take.

Anyway messing with them dolls is likely some sort of Venial Sin. I'd probably get 50 years in Purgatory for just 'thinking' about doing it.

200 years for 'actually' doing it, and 'another' 500 for posting it. 

Holy Mother Church has stated rates for each sin, and the circumstances you committed them in. This is what comes from having 2000+ years of celestial bureaucracy against you. 

If I'm lucky an Angelic Public Defender 'might' get it knocked down to just cleaning public toilets in Hell for 10 years.

Yeah lucky me.

Them demented kill joys have a sin for 'anything' that might be fun.