The really cool part about getting into the right side of your brain is not just the stopping of time by being in the present moment, but also what ya come up with.

Both of these drawings had no finished look in mind, no vision I was trying to illustrate, but just sorta happen spontaneously.  The geezer cowboy was just a squiggle of a few flowing lines, from whence came Yosemite Sam. [I didn't know he was hiding in there].  The ostrich?   Damn, that one crept up on me, and BOOM…there was an ostrich head.  Well ostrich heads alone are good for nothing but soup.  It’s the white meat ya want, or maybe them two massive drumsticks.  So…I had to draw the rest of him.   See what I mean.

OK…The demon just snuck up on me too.  That one started out as a profile of a bald guy with pointed ears.  But like ostrich head soup, demon heads are basically only good for broth.  So, having committed to a better draftsmanship, I did a profile, and added wings, because I’ve been copying some Albrecht Durer wood-cuts, and most of his folks (the saints and Virgin Mary) all had wings.  The more I got into it, I realized that this ain’t no angel, it’s a demon.

Everything was going pretty well, even though I got bored drawing the wings: As stated above, I usually don’t draw birds.  Well things started going straight downhill when I drew his right hand.  See, when you’re groovin’ on the right side of the brain, you’re more interested in spacial relationships, line and proportions.  Not necessarily concepts that are verbal in nature.  So when I had a left side of the brain flash, I saw what I created.  Wonder how that happened?

You can leave your guesstimates as to the demons dong in the comments section below.

With its multitude of uses, it’s no wonder that Aspirin is a true “wonder drug”.

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I loved the science fiction movies of the 50′s.  Stuff  like “Invaders from Mars”, “The Day The Earth Stood Still”, and my favorite, “War of the Worlds”, all blew me away as a kid.  The sight of these huge machines with alien creatures inside, walking around and blowing shit up was always a must see for me.  Even today, I’m still fascinated by these images.

Boy was I glad I wasn’t around yet when Orson Wells did his original radio broadcast of War of the Worlds; freaked a lot of people out cause they thought it was for real.  What a bunch of ignorant hayseeds folks were back in them days before days television.  Cause as we all know, television is for real, and you can believe everything ya see and hear on it.

So, the above drawing is a take on the whole alien invasion theme, except in my hallucination, it’s mentally retarded idiots in shirts and ties  going round, blasting people with all manner of bullshit.  And trying to destroy civilization as we know it for their own well being, kinda like the Earth has some rare mineral that they’ve run out of on their home planet, and they wanna take ours.

I know…You must be thinkin’ that I’ve dipped into the medicine baggie a little too generously with these ones.  The idea of Idiots driving huge stuffed shirt machines around?  How insane.   That could never happen in real life.  Real life is about a bunch of greasy skanks living on a New Jersey shore, or maybe folks racing around the world, or just surviving on an island, willing to do anything for money.  Perish the thought that there may be, an intelligent race of beings with sophisticated technologies, trying to take everything from us common earthlings just to serve there own sinister purposes.

Oh yeah…Why does all this alien shit always start in America?  This is God’s favorite country after all.  Why ain’t He delivering us from all this evil going on?

OK, so I gotta run out and buy flowers and a card today, cause I don’t want to be a bad boy and eat some shit while having to stay in the dog-house for a while.

The only good thing about getting older, and having a whole lot less testosterone to propel ya through life, is that the old vaginal wrench seems to have loosened it’s grip on ya.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I’m not against Valentines Day, in fact I’m basically all for it.  I mean it don’t get much better than that guy Cupid (who makes you stupid) running around and shootin’ folks in the ass, smiting them with lust and passion.  Damn….he oughta have a blog; bet he’d get a lot of comments.

Nope….All that is just fine with me.  Maybe even, the world would be a much better place if everyone spent more time actually screwin’, rather than trying to be in charge of who gets to screw who. Phew….(few?).  But what gets me about V D (Valentines Day that is), is that inorder for the day to be meaningful, you got to spend money.  And the more money ya spend, well the more “meaningful’ the day will be, and therefore the appreciation of your meaningfulness will be.  Sounds like love for sale.

Well I don’t want everybody to think I’m just a grumpy ol’ codger, so here’s my greetings to you on this “special’ day.

I like routines, cause a good solid routine makes things predictable.  Not like End Of  The World predictable, or shit like that.  But just having a good idea about what’s gonna happen next. [I guess if I prayed more often on a regular basis, I'd have a pretty good idea of exactly when this year The End will occur].

Now, I’m not very good about making predictions, (actually I am good at making predictions, just not very accurate on what I predict, especially if it’s about something that may happen in the future; I got the past nailed down).  But it sure is nice to have a “heads-up” when something  bad may be coming your way, like the Housing Collapse or Wall Street crisis.  Stuff that can really have an impact on your life, like whats for dinner.

So if there’s a point to this post, it’s that I did these drawings 0ne night when I wanted to break out of my evening routine.  There may be a theme in there somewhere.  The first one, done in ink, was inspired by Madonna’s Super Bowl Half-time entrance: the Cleopatra being pulled on a sled by a bunch of buffed-out slaves (well paid extras in this case) thing.

Maybe the theme is: My Own Little World, where I’m content to be an Elf.  Tuned out, earphones on and rockin’; doing some pencil drawings.  The only thing scary in “my little world” is, should I use pencil or Ink?  Each is a technique unto itself.  Hey…I’ll do both!  That way I can mess around stylistically.

Anyway, breaking a routine once in a while can be fun.  Don’t want to do it too often though, cause then ya might forget what’s supposed to happen next.   Hmmm, wonder what’s for desert?

This has been so much fun spending an evening drawing,  having all my own ‘media’ in my own head, that I think I’ll do it again.  Perhaps on a regular basis.  Got the 6:30 to 8:00 p.m. slot open

“Wowie-Zowie Hansi.  Congratulations.”   “I’m a big fan of yours and read your shit every-time it’s deposited in my mail box.  Keep up the good work; love the drawings btw.”

I know, “big fucking  deal”.  Writing about the fact that one has been compulsive enough to crank-out  200 (that’s right Two Hundred !) posts and mange to say nothing of true importance, let alone anything profound, is an exercise in egomania and self absorption [kinda sounds like something more akin to an adult diaper than mind state].

So why am I writing about the fact that I’ve turned 200 today?  Well, because I ain’t got shit. Yep… No big Ideas for new posts.  Nothing to say.  Although technically, writing about nothing is really the antithesis of writing about nothing, cause in reality you are wring about Something, it’s just that the something is nothing.  On some level that makes sense.  Anyway, I got a whole bunch of drawings I’ve never posted before and wanna show them off.  Hey, I ain’t just sitting around the house doing nothing.

So, using the tried and true Bloggers trick on how to squeeze out a post when ya don’t have one, I’ll use this opportunity to rant about this whole 200th post thing.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t keep track of how many posts I’ve done on a little piece of paper filled hash-marks.  Nope WordPress tells me how many I’ve done every time I ‘publish’ something.  That’s cool, cause sometimes I forget to put a hash-mark down on my special piece of paper I keep next to my key-board.

But now, WordPress is setting goals for me and providing a little sliding chart with my next goal [in this case 200] clearly visible, which I need to achieve.  But isn’t it good to have goals?  Hell no.  Not if you’re retired.  Damn, if you be retired, you’ve already hit the big goal; which was to no longer  have any goals.  I don’t like things to be forced upon me.  And that especially goes for societal ‘norms’ or expectations.   And I don’t like the subtle WordPress encouragement for me to continue in compulsive behavior, in this case blogging.

Anyway, sure glad I got that off my chest, and also snuck in a no-brainer post.  But since my Hallucinations are turning more into a drawing blog, I thought I’d let my art-work speak for me instead of words.

OK OK!  I know some of these drawings are a little “Questionable”.  But consider also, maybe you have a dirty mind and are seeing more than what’s really there.  I mean like, if you’re seein’ penises and vaginas instead of Zeppelin airships and yawning teddy-bears, well shame on you.  The guy in the picture (me) is bailing  from any such notion.

A fist coming out of a man’s crotch?  A metaphor maybe.  Or maybe, I  just got the anatomy all wrong.  But I got to admit, it’s pretty hard not to see dominoes going up someone’s kiester in the last one.  But it was originally drawn for my post “The Hershey Highway,”  which is definitely not my way. so those a really little chocolate bars.

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All the words (except these) are on my other blog  The Blithering Idiot.

Well, the three year old grandson was over last Tuesday.  The Wife (aka Grandma) and I provide child care for our daughter two days a week.  The other two and a half days he spends in Pre-School, while his older brother attends 3rd grade.

Pre-School, what a concept.  Babysitting that helps (teaches?) little kids how to get ready for school by following instructions, being quiet and not soiling themselves.  Maybe it’s kinda what “pre-retirement’ was for me  the last  year of my career as a crime fighter:  I was learning how to be retired by not doing  jack shit at work.

Anyway, there was no such thing as ‘pre-school’ for us working class kids growing up in the fifties.  All I remember is my mother dropping me off at this place called kindergarten one day, and me totally freaking out.  What the hell did my mother do to me? Needless to say, I hated the next twelve years that followed.  College wasn’t so bad.  At least there,  you only had to be in class, when there was class, and sometimes that was even optional.  The rest of the time was basically yours to do as you please; which in the sixties was: drinking beer, smokin’ a little weed and desperately trying to get laid.

Back to what this is supposed to be all about.  It’s really different around the house when the three year old gets dropped off.  Definitely a different kind of energy from the ‘grueling  pace’  that usually goes on in the Hansi household.  Well, he got into the crayons again, and had a very productive day.  I was later looking at his work, and noticed he’s moving on from just scribbling and starting to draw some primitive figures.  Not bad.   All they needed was a little ‘touch-up’.  So I added my own hallucinogenic brand of Photoshop, and here’s  some of the results.

Now, Disney coloring books were for babies, unless you got a Davey Crockett one, or something with pirates.  What better to stifle creativity in kids, not to mention do a little social engineering to breed conformity, than to give em a bunch of art supplies, but tell them they got to stay within the lines in order for it to be good.  No sloppy work allowed.  Maybe that’s why I went on to something else after filling in a few of the coolest pages.  [But coloring books sure got me primed to be a government worker, and crime-fighter extraordinaire.  Just show up, stay within the lines, and scribble it in with some bullshit.]

Well, anyway, I had this big flash.  I’ve got all these ink drawings laying around, just sitting there in black n white.  Why don’t I go back and ‘colorize’ them, kinda like they did with old silent movies, except instead of using digits, I’ll use some colored pencils.  Trippy.

So these are a few of my coloring book pages.  Got to admit I tried to stay in the lines.  But it was more fun that way cause I didn’t have to think, I just had to color.