Here is an illustration for a story that has not been told, much less sold. I invite you to write that story and then either tell it in a comment on this post, or sell it on the open market. (No compensation to me, other than acknowledgment that I inspired you, is necessary.)
I had some goalless drawing fun today, so without further ado:
Goal might be Attainment or Aspiration or Ball Meets Net. Post: Mail Pickup/Delivery or After or Online Creation or Cylindrical Supportive Object or Emily the Mannered’s Last Name. And Goal Post is either End Zone Structure or Benchmark Blog Entry.
I had intended to do a special Goal Post called “Blog Post #1700: Score!” Alas, I lost track, and this is actually Blog Post #1704. “Our beginnings never know our ends,” said Thomas Stearns Eliot. How right he was, and remains.
grant that a metabolism runs on atp
obligating intake lets an anabolic be. o
as we take our nourishment in mres or feasts
let’s feed our spirit with an imam rabbi monk or priest
EVERYONE has a Spiritual Side, Friends. Everyone believes SOMETHING, if only “I believe I’ll have another beer.” Your beliefs are your motorized transport. Safe passage to you!
PS–ATP is muscle fuel. Anabolics build muscle. MREs are Meals Ready to Eat. Imams are Islamic clergy. Robbis are Jewish clergy. Monks and priests are Catholic or Buddhist clergy.
p a n e l i s t
perhaps a needed epiphany lurks in some trickery
The United States is in many ways the worst country on Earth in terms of the coronavirus. And Arizona is one of the worst states, and Phoenix one of the worst cities. Here I am, a house-arrest Exile. But I have chosen to share my image with a remastered Botticelli’s Venus. Her clamshell will protect her.
Camelot just got the axe…Other regions proved too lax…Venus clamm’d by Botticelli Isolates her fare-thee-well…Desperation wrings a Belle.
In a sense, this drawing has taken more than six years to do. In late Spring of 2014 I was working the graveyard shift at Sedona Winds Independent Living Retirement Community. A small part of my job was recycling the day’s menus, about 150 of them, into scrap paper. We had far more scrap paper than we needed so I would use some for myself. One use was the making of 15×15 grids so that I could do the newspaper’s crossword puzzles without marking up anyone’s paper. I also drew grids for my own crossword puzzle construction, and for my artwork. The grids on this page were done in that longago faraway time. The checkerboarding and the drawing and the word balloons and the though balloons have all been done within the last 24 hours.
The bird is saying “Well, this is AWKward.” Scrutiny will reveal that the bird has left a calling card on the steps.
The man is thinking, “Very Funny, Guy Who Drew Me, putting me in underwear and naming me Art.”
My signature is saying, “It gets worse, Dude. Your last name is ‘Saek.'” His full name may well be Art 4Art Saek. In Latin Art for Art’s Sake is “Ars Gratia Artis.” For many years the Latin phrase graced the MGM roaring-lion logo. The implication was that Louis B. Mayer and Sam Goldwyn didn’t care about money, just Art. Hooray for Hollywood, Friends!
The Pawn leans toward all three but does not say or think anything. People who use Pawns sometimes get uncomfortable if the Pawns don’t keep their thoughts and words to themselves. To me, my Pawn seems to be in “Watch And Learn” mode.
“journal lissome” is, of course, a Bizarro-World take on “journalism.” The crucial questions of Journalism, Who, What, Where, When, Why, and How, have here been Bizarroed into Hoo, Wat, Wer, Wen, Wie, and Hao. One reason for this is that when you see a drawing or painting that is deemed “non-objective,” i.e. not supposed to represent any object made or found, the human mind cannot help but compare what is seen WITH things already seen. So “That looks like…” is a common reaction, when faced with something that isn’t supposed to look like anything but itself.
What I have drawn with pen and wash and Magic Marker looks calligraphic to me, or like dancers, or plant life. When you bring your own lifetime of visual experience to my drawing you will see something at least slightly different.
Hoo Wat Wer
Half a freeway costs us now
O we Cheatham yes and Howe
On the Rote its sweet and Sour
Wen Wie Hao
With a Bowie we say Noh
Endostrictive with a Boa
N E 1 beheld may Lo
Pen and pencil on Stonehenge drawing paper, 5″ x 15″.
About two years after I was born Isaac Asimov wrote a story called “The Dead Past.” The story centered around an invention that could capture images from long ago (supposedly), and the effect of those images on those who used the invention. When I searched for the story to refresh my memory on when it was written, I noticed that there is a .pdf version of the story. It may be in the public domain, and the curious may be able to read it at no charge.
Twenty years later Damon Knight wrote a story called “I See You.” It had a similar invention, but one that was available to everyone. It too is worth reading, and I am grateful to have read it about 45 years ago, because it was a cautionary tale with a chilling message: Sooner or later EVERYONE will be able to watch EVERYONE ELSE do WHATEVER THEY DID during their ENTIRE LIFE. So it behooves us to act as if we are being watched 24/7.
Alas, my behavior is all too often shameful, and I would be mortified if other parties saw what I had done. But when I am mindful, and because the story has more than started to come true, I am careful what I do and say.
This latest installment in my “n.e.s.” series addresses the issue of surveillance. It was informed by the Asimov and Knight stories mentioned above, but also by daily modern life.
Res ipsa loquitur, I hope. But just in case–in the United States there are some people who cannot bring themselves to say “Black Lives Matter.” In my experience all of them have been white people. They would rather say “All Lives Matter.” They are stubborn, even though many of them have no problem saying “Blue Lives Matter,” meaning the police. If Dr. Seuss were alive, he could have a field day with this. 🙂
I put a smile-emoji in there, but believe me, this is no laughing matter.
Black Lives Matter, Friends.