Friday, August 14, 2009

Donkey Business



Donkey Business

We're off to Colwyn Bay to gather bath buns
Up to our knees in hay and turnips
We shout at Neddy to strum his fun
A basket on his head for trips

Monday, July 06, 2009

Gradual Pythonic Deriavations



The tinkle of the cheese grater - the elk hiding under the duvet
Reminds me of my vestibule- the outer coverings of creosote
Creative spoonfilled lumpen gravy - clobbered in hay
laughing like a drain - crying like an old steam boat

fetch me my grey flannels - the onnes made of newspaper
My edam trilby and Goya's favourite hillbilly pipes
The one with the fringe on the top - and the edge of fur
Lift up the corners now - say hello to the packet of wet wipes

Monday, June 08, 2009

Space Cucumber


Meanwhile back on Space Cucumber Nine , Polly and Peregrine were perplexed by the sudden arriavl of Space Cucumber Seven that wasnt due to dock until the 14th ( St. Gherkin's Day ). They pressed their noses on the porthole glass and watched as the Biognomic Flangles gripped the spunnions and sent tiny shards of space crystals out into the starry void. The light was so intense they put on their smokey visors so as not to damage their eyes. Once , Captain Trilby of the Wally Cadets looked out and forgot to wear his and he was blinded for a week and had to spend the whole time in sick bay with a Venusian Flannel over his face.
A strange grunting noise came from the outer deck as the nanoplanks rubbed against the bilge pumps. It sounded not unlike a Martian Goat flossing it's antlers.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

The Handbag Snatchers


Ee by gum! It's a reet crime wave going on't street what with the whippet rustling and chip buttie flinging. The Phantom Hot Pot pilferer has never been caught either our chuck. Now the latest from Oswaldtwizzle Road - Ena managing to lasoo a sneak thief with her hair net - but he snipped through it with a sharp frozen haddock he had concealed about his person and made a getaway.
The Rovers was a gog with excitemant and yatter. Even Ena felt it hard to get a word in scrimmage ways. Our Ken told them to have a bit of 'ush. Wilma told them about the police and the sniffer dogs round the corner shop eyeing up the treacle toffee and bull's eyes. Joe Longbottom interjected that street was going to dogs and everyone laughed ecept Ena who remembers the time a corgi nibbled her fetlocks down t'Co-op.
Now the hand bag snatcher is abroad and in daylight as common as yer please too! The only description being a short swarthy chap with a goitre and a nasty rash on one of his necks.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Captain Helmet


Ah the thrilling days of yesteryear and those Saturday morning flicks - the big feature, the cartoon and the creaky black and white serial in 12 jaw dropping episodes. The Flaming Cube and The Robot Hens, Mr. Invisible and the Plant People, Smudge Gargoyle and the Planet of Fertilizer to name but a few. My absolute favourite was Captain Helmet - Queen of the Flatosphere. A serial so full of gadgets and cliff hanger endings it almost topples over on its side with the weight of them and dies!
Captain Helmet and his Helmet Rangers has to save the universe from the evil Emporer Pong and his robotic warriors from the planet Zlurg, who are bombarding earth with a mysterious custard gas which turns everyone into his slaves and Emporer Pong has enlisted the help of evil scientist Dr. Prang and his henchment who will stop at nothing to get rid of Captain Helmet and his Rangers every ten minutes and you find them dropping into ravines, down wells, mineshafts, in burning shacks. over cliffs, in burning dynamite factories etc. Somehow Captain Helmet manages to escape in the nick of time and every week is able to do battle again with his cardboard ray guns and his bakelite thermo blaster - not to mention the brain wobbling beam.
What joy we had in running home afterwards to make our own ray gun from an old plastic Squeezy bottle and an egg carton and re-living the whole episode all over again!

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Cat To Dog


Cat to dog and back again
Robot kitty to robot doggie
Strange metamorph of my pet
Round again and back to moggie.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

How Much?


How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck would chuck wood? That's the age old question we all have to ask ourselves. The answer comes back - " Quite a large heap of three ply, two be one, and some offcuts".

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Michael Bentine


Find more videos like this on OPEN Fluxus

Piece of chair becomes many things in the hands of a genius.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Falsies


I've tied her to the railroad track
Now I laugh and twirl my moustache
Ha ha! Nobody can save you now!

But who's this? Big Jim Rivit!
He always spoils my fun
Riding up on his white horse
With his gun spinning round
On the end of his thumb

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Chickens


I dropped my shoe from the upstairs loo
Out popped a chicken and a away it flew.
I dropped my chicken the the garden shed
Out popped a great big hard boiled egg.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Custard Sheep Dip

curios cabinet by wastedpapiers on Treemo
Custard sheep dip
Makes my wooly jumpers
Plumper like no other
Treacle goat nip
Gathers fluff for farmers
Under the drippy lip
Of Old MacDonald's mother

Down on the farm
We keep the blancmange
Soft and wobbly
Inside the charm bracelet
Not the knobbly
Tree stump where the jelly
Is hidden under felt
Wanting a new job
Like harvesting wellies

The Other Side

Other Side by wastedpapiers on Treemo
Do you remember the blackout- the smell of trench foot - the pulsating rhythyms of Gerlado and His Orchestra? Those were the days when comics were full of free gifts and only cost a penny. The Squirting Face Flannel- The Sticky Pink Biscuit - The Joke Ironing Board etc. Oh the hilarity. The playground was awash with tears of joy every Wednesday when the Beano and Dandy appeared ( or was it a Friday?). Anyway, awash it was. Jokes to fill a boys busby and giggles galore- enough for a bulging pocket of conkers or a bag of sherbet mice. Yes, the playground fun- the games! Hide The Leg- Dodge That Spit - Cough Up A Gobstopper.
Cigarette cards were my favourite. We used them as legal tender. Played "flickies" and swapped them for the sets we wanted. I was keen on Cricketers of Colonies and anything with drooling monsters like Wireless Stars of Yesteryear- Wilfred Pickles, Doris Chutney and Betty Piccalilly.

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Tickling The Ivories


They laughed when I sat down at the piano but when I stated to play - they still laughed. But, after several hundred lessons with Prof. Stanislav Von Gerbilov I could tickle the ivories with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back. I was invited to play at the most prestigious concert halls in the world and appeared on prime time television to the astonishment of all who knew me before I had my lessons.
The secret is in the ancient Gypsy art of crystal hedgenology, where by my fingers were pinned to the keyboard by clothes pegs dipped in a mysterious Gypsy ointment and the spirits of Liberace and Toscanini were called upon by the Head Fiddler.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Dilly


My old man said follow the van.

Thursday, July 31, 2008

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Mongolese Lifters


Deep in the Mongolian rain forests the locals are busy lifting the woven totem poles for the yearly Festival of Tum. The poles weigh about half a ton each and the outcome is severely stretched limbs as seen in this authentic photo realisation. Using mohogony poles and steel weavings has taken it's toll over the years and now plans are afoot to make the poles from lighter material. Customs and superstition are hard to overcome though and the elders are reluctant to give the new proposals their blessing for fear of angering the Totem Pole spirits.

Sunday, July 06, 2008

The Mail Art That Wouldn't Die


Find more videos like this on OPEN Fluxus

Meanwhile , down at the inconvenience store Mrs. Trubpole was stacking her Spam tins in the window in a kind of lop-sided ziggerat to attract more customers, or so she thought. He left eye twitched spasmodically in time with the ticking cuckoo clock on the wall behind her. The last tin was placed on the pinnacle of Spamness. An audible gasp issued from her wrinkly mauve lips. She stood back to admire her handiwork and a fly buzzed past he left ear and settled in the tippy-top of the topmost can- it wobbled, and before she could bat a green eyelid the whole thing came crashing down around her ankles.

Later she was seen stickig up long curling twirls of sticky fly paper to get her revenge. She stood on tip toe on the top rung of the rickety step ladder and pushed in the last thumb tack which held the fly paper. The steps wobbled, a fly buzzed past her left ear and settled on the end of her purple nose. She attempted to brush it away with the box of thumb tacks she held in her left hand , forgetting the ladder was only balanced on one leg. The whole thing came crashing down and Mrs. Trubpole landing on the box of tacks and the steps landed on top of her. A mighty scream rent the air and all the sticky fly papers got twizzled in the gust of air and came spiralling down onto her big red angry face.

Monday, June 09, 2008

Saturday, May 31, 2008

Stilton Dreams



The sandwiches with the slurry squirt
Massed pots and puddings scrubbing with potatoes,
This shocking apparatus like a harpoon
Unnatural synthetic food whizz bobbin.
The camel became inflated "cow trees".
A finger nails silvered sausage and mash
A tapioca flings it's slotters to entomb
The doldrum light the sun's pale tooth pastes.
Raindrops made of compressed worms
Became warty, and contains nasty tanks.
Suddenly through the bristle and curious tongue
Appears, a spongonable bathing beach.
Before the collapse of vegetable debris..
A symbol of deliverence on the bottom.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Bob Wolf


And thus it was
Bob found a friend
Someone to talk to as they strode
For such a journey can be lonely
And as they walked they talked of black snow
They spoke of the cheap hotel room
And the tin trumpet used as a po

The moon was high
The stars were out
A shadow fell across the sky
Bob woke and felt a shiny tin thing
Poking in his thigh

The wind it whistled through the gaps
It whistled through the eaves
It whistled through the windows
And through the leafless trees
It whistled far and wide
It whistled more and more
But most of all it whistled
I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles
Through the keyhole in the door

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Wasp Terror!


Giant killer wasps are the new scourge of the gardener. They come from the continent where they broke free from an experimental research facilty run by some mad Swiss scientists trying to cross hornets with scorpions. They are very much attracted to skimpy bathing costumes so gardeners are advised with wear shapeless cardigans and reinforced trousers tucked into diving boots.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Spaghetti Strings


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The spaghetti harvest is late this year due to the swarms of pasta fly that have been devastating the crops. Macaroni has suffered a similar fate. Thankfully the trees bearing the ravioli are higher up the mountain and the flies dont like heights.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Trapped!


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Can you help her escape?
Similar to that old urban myth of someone biting into a sausage and finding a tiny rolled up bit of paper and unrolling it discovering a hastily scrawled message which reads " Help - I'm a prisoner in a sausage factory and......" and the rest trails off into a spidery smudge.
Being a prisoner in a collage would be a bit like that only more so.

Thursday, March 06, 2008

The Curse of Banana Bonce


I think Gerry the white alsation knew what was going on before anybody else - even his snail friend Nigel knew but Daphne was oblivious to the changes that were creeping over Derek that windy winter's night.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Unusual Holidays

Belgium


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Too much strong coffee can do this to you.
Ah, yes, Belgium - gem of the Northern Sea. I remember well my trip to a quaint fishing village near Antwerp and the giant squid that got caught in some net curtains in the window of a certain M. Masher Niblick. We chased it for several dasy in some steam driven wheelbarrows but it managed to escape into the folds of a huge pair of Flemish trousers worn my Arch Duke Nerdyfan III. Later it was seen travelling in the smoking compartment of an express train to Boulengerie.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Blakey Fiends


Il mouse dice che "i blakeys" hanno proprietà magiche e possono inserire nei vasi dell'inceppamento più meglio dei bolli. Il gatto sembra molto scettico dell'idea intera.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Slotmeters!



A popular game from South London during the war years when infated bladders of pigs were hard to come by as they were called in for vital war work making barrage balloons and bouncy castles.
The "slotmeister" has seven seconds to pinion the slot by means of a "frummage iron" which they weald by means of a "flange grip". The "slotweiners" then have to dislodge the "glippy tile" from the apponents "vetch shaft" and score a "glipper" in the "fondue glupe". Its all but died out now, sadly, and can only be seen on certain "Slotty Days" near St. Mongers Eve, when the moon wanes and waxes at the same time. In it's dim light the players sometimes hang fluerescent flummox beans around their waists so they can be seen.

Wednesday, December 05, 2007



Also for sale this Christmas - the Jones Pudding Pulveriser, the Jones Chicken Stuffer and combined Mince Pie Rammer and the Jones Festive Yule Log Roller.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Privy Council


We are all gathered here today
To play some musical notes
On the big smiling instrument
Made from old ships buoys
Hand crafted in the sheds
Of old fisherfolk from driftwood
Casks and barrels
Bits of flotsam and jetsam
With the buzzing of insects
The chirping of birds
And the flush of the cistern

Friday, October 12, 2007

Ali Basham's Eyeball



Xavier Brick worked mainly in folded coils of cheap grime and occasionally a long felt want. His unique art comes from a morbid fear of egg cups and unearthly weng. When a child he was frightened by a portrait of Sybil Thorndyke which hung in his father's wardrobe. Since this time he has made over 23,000 drawings and 18,000 etchings of the wardrobe and other mysterious cupboards and bedroom furniture. He has recently begun a series of still lives featuring luggage and oscillating bulbs in silk and parchment on vellum. His work sells for ridiculous ammounts of money to rich people of taste all round the world.

Il mattone di Xavier ha funzionato pricipalmente in bobine piegate di grime poco costoso e un feltro lungo desidera occasionalmente. La sua arte unica viene da un timore morboso dei portauova ed unearthly del weng. Quando un bambino lui frightened da un ritratto di Sybil Thorndyke che ha appeso nel wardrobe del suo padre. PoichƩ questo volta ha fatto oltre 23.000 illustrazioni e 18.000 acquaforte del wardrobe e degli altri armadietti e mobilia mysterious della camera da letto. Recentemente ha cominciato una serie di vite tranquille che caratterizzano il bagaglio e le lampadine oscillanti in seta e pergamena su velina. Il suo lavoro vende per i ammounts ridiculous di soldi alla gente ricca di gusto interamente intorno al mondo.

Monday, October 01, 2007

British Fashion Week


George Pilchradlington- Smytghe is wearing a daring off the shoulder number underneath that delightful sleeveless jumper knitted by Trappist monks in Cleethorpes. The jaunty but practical all weather hat is made from recycled fishermen's sou'westers. George took up modelling after many fruitless years as a barrowboy down the Old Kent Road.

This should be a lovely shade of blue

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Curios Thing Compendium



Buy a limited edition copy this Saturday at the 2nd Manchester Artists Book Fair at the Holden Gallery MMU.


Libro Sabato Giusto 29 Settembre 2007 10.30am - 6pm Il Secondo Dell'Artista De Manchester Sir Kenneth Green Library e galleria di Holden, tutti i san cittĆ  universitaria, universitĆ  metropolitana de Manchester, strada de Oxford, Manchester Altoparlante Maria Fusco, 10.30am dell'ospite nel sir Kenneth Green Library La fiera apre 11.30am nella galleria di Holden, edificio di Grosvenor Officina pop-up, prestazioni, bookstallation, 45 basamenti e l'accumulazione speciale di MMU dei libri degli artisti AMMISSIONE LIBERA

Friday, September 21, 2007

Tongs For Every Porpoise


Today's tongs are used in a miriad of ways throughout the natural world. The interchangeable tongs of the elk are useful when finding those leaves high up in the currant bunt tree or for lifting electric wires from entangled moose. The elongated tongs of the pigmy varmint are essential for all those household chores he has to undergo. The smoothly massaging scalp tongs of the gibbon help him with that awkward quiff. How would the anteater cope without the gentle probing tongs that he uses for adjusting the straps round his luggage?

Assembly Guide

Friday, September 07, 2007

Bronx Cheer


Ofcourse the early "Whoopee Cushion" was discovered in a Neolithic cave along with the bone implements and stone pots of the prehistoric man ( and woman ). First specimens seems to be made of the bladders of the wooly mammoth. In time the inventiveness of the sub-humans new no bounds as they exeprimented with ox bladders, sheeps bladders and brown paper bags. In 1645 the first real factory produced Bronx Cheer was in fact made in Walsall in what was a black pudding workshop - the "cushions" were cleverly constructed from the left over pudding skins and sold in Birmingham at the famous Grub Market in Rissole Street.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Baby Centre



Isn't science wonderful? Here we have the latest in making babies the easy way from Babymat Co. Just drop a coin right into the slot and turn dial to select DNA, genes, hair colour, temperament, abilities, brain power, etc. and wait 9 months and a brand new baby pops down the chute at the back into the waiting buggy! Wow!

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Mind The Gap



Down in the engine room something stirs
With a choo choo chewable puff
From his old briar pipe
The train waiting on platform nine
Is the greatfully recieved chuffer from Planet Kripe

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

A Poem Off The Top Of My Head

Off the top of my head
A poem sprang like a pilchard
Wrapped in a disgruntled doily
It's time weary face
Etched with brine and balsamic vinegar

I weaved a second verse
From an old badger's batik vest
A mildewed resting place
For gannets and elongated ducks
Tired of trifle

Plunged into a third
Vat of words dipped in effluent
I saw an elephant laughing
Skipping like a pneumatic truncheon
Over a puddle of plasticine

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Thursday, May 31, 2007

Dream Catcher



The ancient indian art of dream catching has long been practised in the back of beyond - behind the teepees and cacti - wobbling merrily along with all the tumble weeds. But now you too can have a dream catcher of your very own- the new modern up-to-date version made from a secret ingrediant - only known to Chief Little Big Clanger of the Tooforwun tribe. Part crystal set and part animated doily - it has the power to stretch naps and shrink snoring. No batteries are needed as it runs on natural yawn strops.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Ghostly Gold Tops



There I was waiting for Fritzi Carbolic in the foyer of the Restaurante Espectaculo when a shadow of a shallow grating seemed to pass over me - like someone had just walked over my patch of petunias in size eleven Doc Martens. A cold shiver ran down my spine , down my leg and popped out the bottoms of my serge training trousers. I hurriedly flicked it under a nearby tallboy. I continued reading the back of the matchbook I had found outside in a puddle of Bisto. I had scraped most of it off and could plainly read the address - Final Autoplath. Ctra. Santanyi. There was a phone number too- 20 27 3745. I made a note of it in biro on the back of my left leg. I turend the matchbook over and was horrified to see the face of the beautiful blonde that was there a minute ago had CHANGED! Now she had her eyes closed, as if in some deep trance-like state and her face was covered in what looked like boils and evil fissures. Some foul deed had been done for sure. In the middle of her chest wasa huge staple that had rustedand given the whole thing an air of macabre morthology. I flung the matchbook away in disgust and went outside to gather my thoughts - what little I had left in that raddled ursuline brain of mine.

Sunday, April 08, 2007

The Mother Of Invention



Sporting the latest gadget laden titfer she looks into the future and sees - the electric lobe scrubber, the gas powered flea harness, the micro-botic cornice flange, the steam elevated truncheon, the plastobic filing system, the crown flappit crinkler, the bowler lentil polisher and all things bright and suitable.

Every morning she pulls on her asbestos cardigan over her big hat of gadgetry and sits down to scribble something enigmatic into her enigmatic scribbling diary. Todays entry reads thusly - "Sparking fly traps concealed in HP Sauce bottle caps - must devote time to cork flavoured whistle and the bottled wiffle pins."

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Friday, March 16, 2007

The Little Men Inside Your Noggin



Hoping to get a compedium fitted at Lulu if we can figure out the projectories. I hard copy would make a lovely door stop or useful to stand on at Slack gatherings to see over all the big irons.

Is This A Piece Of Your Brain?

Friday, March 02, 2007

Yoga Lesson - Pt. 1

YOga Lesson- Relaxation.

1. Lie on the bed in a darkened room

2. Legs slightly akimbo- toes pointing outwards - arms by your sides.

3. Breath in slowly but noisily through your nose.
The air going in seems cold. Count how many cubic centimetres.

4. Breath out slowly but quietly through your nose.
The air going out seems warm. Count the cracks on the ceiling.

5. Imagine your big toe.

6. Imagine a tiny ant on a bicycle riding up and down your left leg and up to your waist and armpit and up to your head and across the back of your neck.

7. Imagine the tiny ant on a bicycle going back down the other side to the big toe on your right foot. imagine the wheels on your toes.

8. Imagine a very peaceful relaxing place where you once spent a lovely holiday.

9. Drift off into the arms of oblivion.

10. Melt into the bed like a pool of cool syrup.

11. Fall asleep.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Headless Donkey

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Ah, the tale of the headless donkey
The one with the big green eye
It was washed up at the seaside
When I was only five.

The horrible ghostly "Hee-haw!"
The smackering of it's lips
Made me choke on my bottle of coke
And spill my packet of chips

Monday, October 30, 2006

Halloween Story


'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

The Curse Of The Evil Pixie

Elf or Pixie by wastedpapiers on Treemo
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

Ducky Comes A Cropper


Il suo piccolo webbed i piedi ĆØ 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.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Woodchuck Song


Ah, the plaintive cries of the corncrake and the spoonbill come wafting over the reedy Alphafa beds of Wyoming and we hear the woodchuck singing his mating song. No wonder there are so few of them about - especially the ones that look like this!

Friday, July 14, 2006

A day in the life of a Fluxus artist


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

How Animal Painters Do Their Work


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.