Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
'Tis was the night of the Olde Crab Dangling and the mad scientist Von SHlap crept dwon to his dark dank and dunk laborotory to have fifteen minutes to himself. He read the Ghoulish Times and smoked a herring. A candle blew out and bat flew up the chimney. An owl hooted in the spikey trees outside and the big door creaked as Igor came in with one of his terrible headaches. OoooooH mashter! he cried and wobbled horribly over to the biscuit tin for a maccaroon. Green stuff slid down the walls and plopped into the puddles of ooze beneath. Some bubbled nearby in the retort. Some retorted and dripped in a bubbling way. Some bubbled and dripped and retorted. It was so noisy!
Anyway, the upshot of it was the scientist had given the wrong headache tablets to Igor and his head swelled up to enormous proportions - twice as big as any big headed thing in the laborotory. So he was sent out round the village to collect sweets and if the villagers refused he banged his big head on the doors of their hovels until they fell down. The villagers soon got sick of this and formed themselves into an Action Committee and went up to the castle with torches and pitchforks etc. with a petition to hand into the Head Head Enlarger. Soon after it got very quiet and then.......
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Since finding the Evil Pixie we have been alarmed by how many things have gone wrong around here. Firstly the electric toaster decided to be very erratic and burn every other slice of toast. Turning the dial down a notch made it even more cranky and the toast came out striped and with odd plaid patterns all over it - one time the word "bilge" was burnt into one side. Secondly the video stopped working and chewed up some favourite tapes - Ken Dodd's Diddymen On Ice and Home Is Where The Kelp Is.
Yesterday I found a spider in my muesli.
Today I have a bad back from stooping too much. I feel like a geriatric. I have a hot poultice strapped to my back with an old garden hose attachment incase I topple over and need to be pulled up.
I think I will get rid of it tomorrow. It keeps looking at me.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Il suo piccolo webbed i piedi è stato portato ad un frazzle ch'hanno filato in tondo come i whelks nell'acquerugiola tutto l'improvviso le rotelle hanno cominciato a ronzare il suo senso dell'orientamento erano unbecoming sopra la scogliera la portata del ciclo dell'anatra e che hanno atterrato tutti mangled in un mucchio di vecchie latte.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Friday, July 14, 2006
A typical day for me is when I wake up and fling open the widows of my thirteenth floor apratment block in Bergen and breathe deeply the wonderful Norwegian mountain air. I say a few mantras to the spirit of Fluxus and fill my Fluxus pipe with some Thrimpton's Olde Percilier Ready Rub that I get sent over from England. I believe Kurt Schwitters used to use the same when he lived there. (Ofcourse he never smoked but used the packets for his collages.)
Then its breakfast of prunes and sennapods and a quick sprint to my ablutions. I fling open the windows again ( who shut them?) and breathe deeply the marvellous nose tingling mounain air and puff happily on my trusty Fluxus pipe glowing in the morning sunrise. I bound three stairs at a time down to the ground floor and peddle my Fluxus bike to my studio. I fling open the windows and breathe yet more gorgeous Norwegian mountain air which assaults my nostrils as we are not far from the fish canning factory. I quickly close the windows and begin to compost my daily doings. I fill my pipe once again with Thrimpton's Olde Perculier and contemplate the small stain on my studio wall and wonder what it can be. I have been meaning to incorporate it into an artwork for many months now and the tricklings of an idea are beginning the circumvent my imaginations. Ahay! I will use this stain for the new elevated prose poem in the lift later. My good Fluxus friend Thoebold Trump Von will accompany me on the electric tuba.
After lunch of dried quails we meet other Fluxus artists in the town square to fill our pipes with Thrimptons Olde perculier for a performance peice dedicated to Roadrunner and Coyote. We blow smoke rings that link up and resemble the Olympic symbols of unity and peace. We break some bollards with dry bread I had been saving for such a purpose and race down to the docks to dive naked into the wonderful frozen waters of the North Sea.
In hospital that evening I reflect on another successful Fluxus day and puff contendly on my trusty Fluxus pipe and fall, into a deep untroubled sleep save only for the smell of burning bed linen.
SCRAPITERIA: Space Junk
Fluxlist: Deep Fat Fryer Attacking South Sea Islanders
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Here we see a typical animal painter at work, getting deep within his sub conscious and exploring themes of elephantine proportions. His lyrical waxing and waning technique is uttermost and the spiral dimentions and paramount in all aspects of his pre-medical efforts on transposing his subject in a context that plays havoc with the notions of transmogrification and elementary subtefuge. The artist holds up a red card and dismisses the idea of natural portions to the players on the artistic pitch of confusion. I can see the art critic tangled in the undergrowth of his own verbal incongruities. The jumboness is almost contorted with feelings of moist flannelations.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Some chinese fishermen were astounded when their boat crashed into an iceberg in Antartica and three deep frozen aliens slid onto the deck from a crack in the iceberg's side! They were kept in the hold with 20 tons of halibut until they landed three weeks later in Hi Pong. Scientists believe they may have been explorers from another planet who came here millions of years ago and somehow got frozen into the ice. No sign of any space ship was found but teams of boy scouts have gone back to the Antarctic to look for signs and to fill matchboxes with a hundred different things.
The aliens have shown no signs of life but are in a remarkable state of preservation. They are being kept under close scrutiny at the Institute for Otherworlds in Fung Tang. A spokesperson said " We have been studying the facial protusions and made a trifle".
Monday, May 15, 2006
Ah, the greatest thrill is crawling about on all fours and making a noise like THIS whilst balancing a canoe on one's chin. How we laughed as Algenon scurried about the patio at Peggy Guggenhiem's biting Max Ernst and Yves Tanguey on the ankle and chuckling loudly whilst twleve drunken gondoliers dressed in nothing but barrels rolled into the Grande Canal. All the guests would applaud and then the fried baby bibs would be served with a purple sauce.
Monday, May 01, 2006
A strange novelty act from the 30's when in the depression they went in for money making stunts like "Pole Squatting" and "Dance marathons" to earn a little extra cash. Steffani had this great idea to glue several small boys onto a grand piano and travel round America, going from town to town, singing and collecting money for the Silver Songsters charity he had set up to provide singing lessons for incontinent children.
Un atto sconosciuto della novità dai 30's in cui nella depressione sono andato dentro per soldi che fanno le prodezze come "le maratone accovacciare" e "di ballo" del Palo per guadagnare i pochi contanti supplementari. Steffani ha avuto questa idea grande incollare parecchi piccoli ragazzi su un grande piano e viaggiare intorno all'America, andando dalla città alla città, cantando e raccogliendo i soldi per la carità che d'argento di Songsters aveva installato per fornire le lezioni di canto per i bambini incontinent.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Il mio nonno ha usato a recite questa rima di scuola materna mentre li ha oscillati sul suo ginocchio: "Hie al jenny del termitary- viene slop- ha rovesciato tutto il suo testoterone ogni goccia - ogni sloppy - ed ogni suit-case - il jenny è venuto a casa con una faccia vuota"
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Ya! Here in the frozen north of Sweden the Mail Boys assemble for the final costume change ceremony. Knitted trousers of elk hair and swedish badger mitts are combined with this years look of the village simpleton. The letters and postcards are kept in a pigs trough overnight and lighted candles ( made from earwig wax) are snuffed out and a song of rejoicing echos around the frozen lakes and mountains. They all troupe off around the villages to knock on the windows with their mail sticks and shout " Verily 'tis the mailstrom- get out of bed and flap your mail", whereapon the villlages don their bright orange skullcaps and dance out into the quaint cobbled streets and and festoon the mail boys with fish bones and potato peelings.
Ya! Qui nel nord frozen della Svezia i ragazzi della posta montano per la cerimonia finale del cambiamento del costume. I pantaloni lavorati a maglia dei capelli degli alci e dei mitts svedesi del tasso sono uniti con questo sguardo di anni del simpleton del villaggio. Le lettere e le cartoline sono mantenute in una depressione dei maiali di notte e le candele illuminate (fatte dalla cera del earwig) sono fiutate fuori e una canzone dei echos rejoicing intorno ai laghi ed alle montagne frozen. tutto il troupe fuori intorno ai villaggi da battere sulle finestre con i loro bastoni della posta e grido "Verily 'tis che il mailstrom- esce della base e che si agita la vostra posta", il whereapon i villlages indossa i loro skullcaps e ballo arancioni luminosi fuori nelle vie cobbled quaint ed e festoon i ragazzi della posta con le ossa dei pesci e le sbucciature della patata.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Non soltanto un colpo grande famoso per quei elves di Bopping ma un nuovo scomparto caldo fuori della pressa e nel vostro freindly fornitore di notizie della vicinanza. L'emozione di guida della vostra propria vite senza fine bianca è una nuova sensazione che è sicura svilupparsi. I randelli e le associazioni dei riders e delle scuderie bianchi della vite senza fine si sono sviluppati velocemente sopra gli ultimi mesi e la tendenza osserva sviluppare tutto il tempo! I celebrities famosi già che guidano le viti senza fine bianche includono Malcolm Clupmeister, Hankopadder dorian e Doris Oggle
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Happy Nerd Eras everyone! At last the feeding frenzy has died down enough for me to strap on my Sale shin pads and Elven cloak of magicalness and take refuge in the Wardrobe of My Imagination.
Here we see Mr. & Mrs Everyman and their Three Line Pica Borders, runners up in the human race but filled with the bountious joys of the equinox. Prizes include a Slurping Cup, for that late night supply of ant acid, and a human heart made of plastic that really works. The trophy is for being just great and the tiny head is just a container for all those pins one needs to stick in the heart and count up to 365. When the last pin goes in its time for charades!
Ere felici del nerd tutto! In fine il frenzy d'alimentazione è morto giù abbastanza affinchè me leghi sui miei rilievi dello shin di vendita e mantello di Elven del magicalness e prendere il rifugio nel wardrobe della mia immaginazione. Qui vediamo il sig. & la sig.ra Everyman e la loro tre linea i bordi di pica, corridori in su nella razza umana ma riempiti di gioie bountious dell'equinozio. I premi includono una tazza di Slurping, per quel rifornimento ritardato di notte dell'acido della formica e un cuore umano fatto di plastica che quello realmente funziona. Il trophy è per essere solo grande e la testa molto piccola è giusta un contenitore per tutti quei pin uno deve attaccare nel cuore e contare fino a 365. Quando l'ultimo perno va nel relativo tempo per i charades!