I had done A-for-Azalea and B-for-Begonia, and was going to do C-for-Chrysanthemum for Mother’s Day, but this Mother’s Day, as all three ( 🙂 ) of you faithful readers know, I directed my efforts elsewhere. Today I realized it has been almost exactly a year since Mikel Weisser’s untimely, life-ending heart attack. Alas, he did not live to see his efforts as an advocate to the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, to which he devoted the last eight years of his life full-time, result in the passage of the bill that legalized recreational marijuana in his home state of Arizona. So C is for Champion of Cannabis Sativa. C is for Cheerful, Compassionate, Cacophonic Mikel Weisser. (The Cacophony may be heard in his superb denunciation of expansionism, “Manifest Destiny.”)
Mikel, wherever you are, ya done good and I thank you. I was thinking of you when Ted C and I fired up some Train Wreck, celebrating legalization. Your legacy lives on. And I hope you forgive my goofiness with the riff on “Abby Normal” from YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN. I think you and I shared a little of that zaniness.
Aye Be NORML
An Anodyne 4 grief & pain
Yet shunn’d–relief went down the drain. O
Enterprising HEROES for
Bestirment took the Law by Storm
Ending cycle. THANK you MIKEL
An old photo retrieved from the house of my mother, lost to the Earth on December 11, 2020, became the source for my most recent drawing, finished around 5 AM Mountain Standard Time today, which is Mother’s Day. Rest in Peace, Power and Possibility, Jane Bowers Stoneman!
Thwre is no such thing as Unreal. But UnREEL is another thing.
you are bombarded
by r a d i a t i o n
goes right through you
as if ywernt t h e r e
when you’re discarded
(abyss is n e g a t i o n)
use some a yr voodoo
punch out w/some f l a r e
I’ve just discovered a Get Out of Jail Free card for drawings that seem to have a randomness to them. The drawings were born in the Brainforest, where jump-cuts and lap-dissolves are second nature. As Paul Simon sang, long ago:
My thoughts are scattered and they’re
They have no borders no
They echo and they swell
From Tolstoi to Tinkerbell
Down from Berkeley to Carmel
Got some pictures
In my pocket and a
Time to kill…
And I was delighted to discover that embedded in each Brainforest is info.
My thanks to artist friend Richard Schuyler for urging me to keep at this drawing. Thanks, Dick, I needed that!
Starting places and finish lines occlude endless possibilities.
About half a dozen times or so in my substitute-teaching journey, and not always in an art class, a kid would come up to me after class and say, “You’re a good draw-er.” I love that so much more than “You’re a good artist.” Because no matter how much Art is in my images, the SOUL is in the Drawing.
Doing this crazy picture was a joyful adventure. I didn’t do my usual crank-it-out-in-one-sitting modus operandi. I put it aside and come back to it several times, taking several days. My only regret is that I didn’t record the stages preceding completion. Next time i do one of these things I will take a lot of pictures.
Note: I’ve been participating in National Poetry Writing Month, also known as NaPoWriMo, for years. Every April poets are given daily prompts designed to inspire new poetry and expand poetic horizons. Today’s prompt provides link to two different usage dictionaries, one so old the Esses look like Effs, the other restricted to the science-fiction sphere. Per instruction, I chose a concept from both: “celebrate” from the old one and “cyberspace” from the science-fiction one.
Consult a fashionista’s CHIC
You’re well-oppress’d & outre eke
But still your hubris takes its toll
Estranging eyesight poll to pole
Reverb & feedback keep an orb
Secure–or what’s a harbor for
Perhaps a double buttered SHEA
Astride a triple-ply Parfait
Creative brio stills debate [/] where
Eminence then Emanates
Afterword: I was a big fan of Gibson’s world of Cyberpunk after I latched onto his Neuromancer in the mid-80s, when I was in my early 30s. His was a thrilling “anything goes” imagineering, and in fact we will never know how much he influenced the early shapers of the Internet. I hope some day to catch up on my Gibson reading. Alas, I fear the hope is forlorn.
sc a t . t e r . s h o t
pen to paper ink from pen ° again again again again ° do slips and sails and relevance ° and don’t forget the elephants ° produce produce produce produce ° when making smoothies you need juice ° when reeling roughies you need line ° so go to sea as dark as wine ° and in your vessel on the sea ° cast out that line and let god be
Here’s an odd experiment. I started on my sketchpad with a small rectangle.It seemed to want a guitarist, his upper body breaking through the boundary of the rectangle with his head and strumming hand and guitar. Another rectangle below had his right leg break that rectangle’s border. His name would be Tallhead, and he was playing so well he was warping space/time around him. But his bandmate, one Clarissa Pealing, provided vocals so transcendent they attracted the attention of a Goddess in another firmament.
So I would describe this extraordinary event with bizarre, variable calligraphing. At first I thought this was a new wrinkle, but then I remembered my teenage read of Alfred Bester’s The Stars My Destination, wherein Gully Foyle’s kinesthetic sense made hybrid sensations jump off the page. I now tip my hat to sf grandmaster Bester. His friends called him Alfie.
The entire text, transcribed:
t.r.o.c.t. & d.f.v.
the riffing of Conrad Tallhead made local space/time subdivide
BUT it was the DIVINE foreground vocals of Tallhead’s bandmate
c l a r i s s a p e a l i n g
that BURST THRough
our very Firmament
& got a Goddess’s
Some life events, rock concerts included, seem worthy of the note of celestial beings. At least they do to this humble human.