They
will
always
correct
my
direction
even
though
I
know
there
are
no
wrong
writes,
just
the
one's
left.

For Megan

“We do have things in there that are meant to say ‘we like this band’”. And so the echoes of British pop music begin and to be fair you don’t have to look very far. Stephen Street, the producer of Blur for many years is drafted in and the clues continue with the lyrics and the subjects and ultimately the pose that The Kaiser Chiefs adopt.

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This is the other main character from the untitled project, Jonathan Winthrop. After Winthrop’s invention shop, “The Suspension of Invention”, is burned to the ground by mysterious forces, Winthrop sets out to investigate those same unknown forces with one of his patrons, Cecily the Fairyskate. However, Winthrop doesn’t believe in the unknown forces.

The Suspension of Invention

It's called the suspension 
of invention because
there is no such
thing as the
invented!
Yes, I fear
it is a comprehension 
of total misapprehension;
a belief from an invisible
incongruous dimension,
because I ask, 
how can it be made,
if it fails to exist?
Inventions are 
the invented intentions 
of extremely demented
head-ghouls who work
by ghostly-dark.
And head-ghouls are
notoriously uncemented
and mixed-up!
No, no, no, trust me, 
they all are...
That's why they hang in
graveyards 
digging other 
people's thoughts.
Yes, I know what 
I'm talking about!
Flights of fancy 
simply can't exist, 
they never-ever will!
That's ipso facto final!
So what are we 
doing here you ask?
Why we're inventing truth!
You're not even listening...
Now why on Earth did you
just give me a kiss?

Yesterday I was killing time on RPG.net and stumbled across this thread.

The premise, for those of you not well schooled in the Dungeons & Dragons roleplaying game, is that in recent editions D&D has been putting some unlikely looking things among it’s weapon choices for player characters. These include things like:

The Orc Double Axe — Think of two axes joined butt to butt.

The Dire Flail — two spiked ball and chains joined butt to butt.

The Dwarven Urgrosh — an axe with a spear point comming out of the butt.

The author starts out posting a few examples of progressively less likely weapons that he’s made up, like these. And then people take the ball (and chain) and run with it.

So, being the ardent embelisher of trends that I am, I tried my own hand at a couple.

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Having giving up the life of door-to-door message sales, I’m once again hanging with the Employment Mouse. I.E., rather than planning a triumphant return to the world of work any time soon, my job is now solely focusing on making movies. This is Cecily the Fairyskate, one of the main characters from the ever evolving and yet untitled project I’ve been working on. In addition to being obsessed with bicycle modification and repair, Cecily can’t fly even though she has wings.

The Illusion of Flight

You just
don't know 
what you're
talking about...
Saying I 
can't fly...
Saying I 
might as well 
give up 
dreams of wide 
Big Sky...
Should I 
curl up 
and metaphorically die?
...
Ho-Hum.
...
Well first off, 
Big Sky is a place
(IN YOUR FACE!).
And for 
your information,
it's a 
town down 
in Montana!
And if a sky 
can be place,
Then I'll
elude your illusion
with my spoked
wheels flying
in a bicycle race!

Initially the Corporate Art topic was intended to cover art works I’d actually done using found materials and stuff at work generally to spruce up the place. But procrastination beckoned, and now I’m getting back to it, but of course the digression must come first.

So today a little tangential story for yall. This falls more under the idea of “corporate art” I think loki probably suspected I was going to deal with when I mentioned the idea of these entries months ago.

From my experience, a more fitting title for this piece might have been:

But that seems a little on the long side so the original will have to suffice.

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I’m done with college. For now and ever more. So, as a projects blog, I’ll give you now a rundown of my situation and what I’ve got on my plate, or at least planned.

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The panic had spread.
They phoned me up.
They told me of some 
bubbling madness,
about how
"ITS"
eyes slid shut.
"Impossible!" I cried,
"Even inside the 
bullet proof tank
of a closet 
made of dark?!?!"
"Yes," they replied.
I asked,
"Did you tell it not to dream
of things like 
Tennis in the Sea,
or Sphinxes weird 
from trapdoor realities?"
"Yes," they muttered, 
"and nothing works."
So I put the phone down.
Now there's little
left to tell you, 
so if you'll excuse me,
I'm giving into my fear
like we all do.

Go Easy. I havent written a poem for years. I lost the art writing Lit Crit.

Without You

Without you, when the sun shines, my heart aches with the heady perfumes of Spring. Without you, when it is Winter and night, and the sky is clear and visible, like insignificance, I seek out signs that precipitate desires, shooting stars, constellations even, that suggest an order to hope.

Without you, in the street, I seek out lucky pennies to wish on and I wish magpies a good day, whenever I see less or more than two.

Without you, I hoard my luck. No lottery, or bets. no games of chance, even flippant bets to hit the waste paper bin are passed up. I hold my breath, the pennies held tightly in my hand, to be spent with you.

And hope as well, I save my hope like luck, a precursor to the real and not lost and frittered away.

My hope is a declaration of action, of love and doing; an emptying of the blue from the sky into my lungs and life, open and ready.

Without you happy sad because without you leads to with you and without is presence banishing fear of nothing with the potential for everything; with you.

Well, After years of nearlys, yesterday my football team was relegated or demoted or whatever you want to call it. It is quite sad. We now have to sell our players.

Secondly, Some American tycoon who owns tampa bay bucaneers and hasnt ever been to see football in england has bought Manchester United. Its caused a great deal of controversy hear, mainly because whn I say he bought, he actually borrowed £300 million of the £700 million and put the club into debt. Thats buisiness I suppose and its always amusing to see a club that courted merchandise and its brand so regularly as a buisiness to be bought and run like a buisiness. You sow the wind and you reap the whirlwind. PLC means you can be bought and you have already sold out. We laboured under the illusion that the buisiness men before were concerned with the spirit of football. At least its out in the open. Some American Cu*nt has bought what he sees as a good deal and doesnt really care if its a team or a it buys and sells oil. Thats the way of the world. Sad but true.

Finally, if you ahvent done already, listen to Groovey Train by the Farm or Safety Dance by Men with Hats today. Its always good to revisit the old ones.