mind expanding nonsense

Archive for March, 2012

Shaking The Dew Off My Lilies

After I Photoshopped this series of drawings, I took a long hard look to see how I could make a story or rant out of them.  The title of this post just jumped out at me after taking a closer look at the one above.  What else could it be.  I don’t mean to gross anyone out, but then again, if you didn’t want to be grossed out a little, then ya wouldn’t have stopped by, would ya?

I’m a firm believer in squeezing the most you can get out of life.  Why let life squeeze you, when it can be the other way around?

I don’t know if I was was soaring to new heights with this one , or sinking to new lows.  I’ll let you be the judge.

Might as well throw in some political commentary, as long as we’re on the subject of dew shaking lilies:   Piss On ‘Em All

Drawing Lessons

Hey, I’m not pimping myself out by trying to sell drawing lessons online; as if anyone would be interested, (but if you are….).  Nope, this is about some lessons I learned while drawing on the evening of March 21st. [from whenst cometh the illustrations.]  That’s me above in my full listening mode; ready to draw, ready to learn.

The first lesson I learned was: Don’t try and get too fancy when having hallucinogenic fantasies about female Star Trek Officers.  I got cute and tried to draw a star-ship in there, and being too damn lazy to Google a picture of the Star-ship Enterprise and do it right, I thought I’d “Be Creative”, and do my own.  Not only was the drawing bad, but I lost my train of thought concerning Deanna Troi,  Doctor Crusher, and me having a trio of fun on the Holodeck.  So…

#1:  Don’t get creative!  When ya got a hot fantasy going, don’t ruin it with a lot of detail or realism.   I was so distressed by my space-ship I couldn’t focus on activities in the Holodeck.

#2:  When you’re in a rut, go back to what’s familiar.  Nothing like a rut to make ya feel uncomfortable.  And how are you gonna do your best work if you’re uncomfortable and restless?   So when you’re in a rut, do what’s comfortable.  I grabbed a good ol’ #2 pencil, you know, the type ya had in grade school; the kind I learned to write and draw with.  No fancy art pencils or ink pens, just a basic #2 with erasure on the end for when ya fuck-up.

#3:  Explore new horizons!  When I’m really grinding em out, fully ensconced in the right side of my brain, I rarely look up from my pad and paper.  I’m too busy creating new worlds and new characters that I’d like to meet.  Like those chicks on the Star-ship Enterprise.

But sometimes even your own little world seems small, and you need to expand your horizons.  Well old Hansi be dipped in shit if that just ain’t what happened that night.  There I was, sitting in my recliner (I know, what a geezer) earphones on, rockin’ out, and wondering, “What am I gonna draw?”  I looked at my blank paper, then looked up, and low and behold there was my stereo and T V sitting on the other side of the room.  “Wow…How’d that get there?”   “So that’s where the music’s coming from”.  So I drew it.  Who’d believe that some of the stuff I draw actually exists?  Pretty far-out if ya ask me.

Anyway, maybe there’s a lesson you could D r a w  from all this.  I know I’ve learned my lesson.

Picking Boogies

My three and a half year old grandson has lately been afflicted with a bad case of the  “Boogies”.  And when he says ‘”Boogies”, he doesn’t mean like in Woogies.  Nope, he means boogers.   And like most snot-nosed kids his age, he’s got em coming out all over the place, to the point where we gotta constantly remind him to blow his nose in a tissue (which we gotta hold).

Some times I catch him just mindlessly picking his nose.  One little cherubic finger jammed way up there mining for “Boogies”.  I know, it’s disgusting, but hey, that little guy just mastered two parts of his body six months ago.  So if ya got your bladder and bowels under reasonable control, might as well clean out that ‘boogie’ factory up your nose.  Thing of it is, he doesn’t think it’s particularly disgusting; he’s just delightfully taking care of business.

Made me think back to the days when I so uninhibitedly last cleaned out my own boogie factory.   Was probably less than a week ago.  But what a good place to be in:  comfortable in your own body; without social taboos or constraints; and just being yourself in all its magnificent glory.

Here’s a few “boogies” that invaded my nasal passages, broke through my skull and penetrated my brain.  I place them here, of course, for your consumption.

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Sunday

Sunday is a good day to just sit around and  mellow out. That is after you’ve gone to the Gym, run to Trader Joes, worked in the garden  (cause everything is telling me it’s Spring), and  taken a nap.  When ya got all that out of the way, Sundays are sweet.   Everything seems to have slowed down for a day, kinda like a sabbath day, except for it’s on Sunday, the Lord’s day, and not the sabbath day which is Saturday.

There’s a theme in here somewhere.  Maybe it’s about change.  The change in my blog, the changes going on in my life (mostly pretty good stuff).  Drawing spontaneously helps clear the cob-webs in my mind.

I’m sure glad the fat goddess made an appearance; always good to see her.

March 6th

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No words today, just pictures.

March Madness

Sorry, this has nothing to do with college basketball.  It’s mostly about drawing, and that’s  certainly been on the rebound.  Bad puns aside, March has started out with a Bhang Bang!  And a flourish of drawings too.  Mainly because I stopped watching a lot of TV at night.  Instead, I’ve been turning on the stereo and listening to whole albums, like Pink Floyd’s “Dark-side of the Moon”, and drawing.

Why watch a bunch of scary shit on TV, when ya have more that enough scary shit in your mind?  I don’t know about you, but I don’t have room for any more.

Waiting for Saint Patrick

What the heck.  It’s Saint Patrick’s day today, and although I didn’t plan on posting today, The wife has Irish music blasting, green stuff all over the house, and a corned-beef brisket in the refrigerator.  So here’s some stuff I did on the Eve before Saint Paddy’s Day.

Now with Daylight savings going full blast, it doesn’t get dark here in Southern California till after 7:30 p.m.  So you don’t need the lights on till later (is that the savings part?).  But when it does get dark, ya gotta turn on the lights.  But again, if you’re really into a drawing, ya don’t want to get off your fat ass, just to turn on the lights; you could loose artist momentum.  So you just sit there in the dark and finish drawing.  Thing of it is, most of my stuff looks really good in the dark.

Finally!  We’re getting a good storm system through my half of California.   That means rain, and a good deep drink for the garden and fruit trees.  It’s about time; had zippo in January and February.

Dave Hole is an Australian blues guitar player, who is gaining in popularity here in the States after Chicago based Alligator Records signed him.  Dave is noted for his stratospheric guitar solos, and playing slide guitar with his ‘bottle-neck’ over the top of the guitar neck.  I was right up there in the stratosphere with him when I drew that one.

So Happy Saint Patrick’s Day to one and all!  Is 10 a.m. too early to slurp down a Guinness?

When Ice Cream Cones Start to Morph on Ya

O K….this ain’t great art, let alone a philosophical rant, possibly a sixties head-trip; but ice cream cones do actually start to change once they come out of the freezer.  It would be cool if they morphed into something cool like “The Blob”, and slimmed and slithered all over the place gobbling people up.   Sadly, it’s the other way around for the ice cream cone.  But it does morph, especially if you’re not busily slurping up the slime with your tongue.  And unlike sex, the more ya lick it, the softer it gets.  It melts!

What’s worse than having ice cream morph on ya, is having your mind morph on ya.  But what’s better than ice cream is letting your drawing do the morphing for your mind.  There’s all together too much stuff to keep track of and follow these days.  Drawing lets me clear some of the cobwebs out of the old brain and see things in a different light.

Clarity and light may be missing from this one, and probably not a great example.  But possibly this was some of the junk in my brain.  [Sure glad it’s on my blog and not in my brain anymore.]   Just letting it rip with no predetermined outcome, is my way to loosen-up and open oneself to new ideas or avenues to explore.  The date is lettered quite nicely I think.

Cashing In

Okay…I haven’t lost it and drawn all over my utility bill envelope like a total space cadet.  Nope.  The thing of it is: I don’t need that payment envelope from Southern California Edison (my electricity supplier) any more!   See, I don’t have to pay them.  They pay me!   Yep, $48 this month.  That’s cause, just like this blog, my house is an energy generating facility.

No shit!  That’s what my house officially is, according to Edison, ever since I had photo voltaic solar panels installed on my roof.  And because I generate more electricity than I use, they gotta pay me for what I put back into the grid.  Capitalism is sweet.  Having your electric company pay you is even sweeter.

Thanks to Arnold, our former Governor, the State of California and federal government paid for half of it, and recently mandated that any excess I generate I be paid for.   This is almost better than medical marijuana for those of us in the Golden State.

I’d tell ya more about it, but I gotta turn off my computer, it’s starting to get dark outside, and I don’t make no money at night.  This evening, the Wife and I are going to enjoy a candle-light dinner, and later I’ll be playing my guitar for entertainment.  In the dark of course.

Teutonic Goddess of Love and Other Crap

You gotta have a title for a blog post or else nobody would know what you’re talking about.  I’m frankly at a loss for words on this one.

All I know is, the evening of  March 2nd was filled with Love, the Goddess and a lot of other crap.  An interesting night for this old Teuton.

My Point of View

Well, you better adjust your multi-cheeked ass-hats, cause it is time for some serious contemplation.  Everybody writes from one point of view or another, and mainly to express their point of view.  And boy there’s an abundance of view points out there; a bumper crop, from contraception to the government subsidizing your sex life.  [I’d personally like to see the latter, but wouldn’t get to many rebates in the mail at my age.  And I know what we could call it if the government actually did subsidize our non-procreational sexual activities: Fuck Stamps…Wonder where I could redeem em?].

That one slipped out.  But that’s my point of view on a subject; the view point of an old retired guy who thinks a lot of what’s going on is udder utter insanity.  And speaking of insanity (one of my Categories on the right), I thought I’d slip these babies in here.  How you see em is all a  matter of your point of view.

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“Listen Up!”

I always hated it when someone in a crowd shouted, “listen up”.  If I wanted to “listen up”, well then I’d stop bull-shitting and shut my mouth.  But obviously, because I wasn’t actively “listening up”, that meant I was much more into bull-shitting, and listening only to myself.  However, if the person yelling “listen up” was your Mom, then I did shut the fuck up.

Back in the Golden era of  Hansi’s Hallucinations ( I thought I’d link it to see if some readers  were mindlessly spaced out ; and click on my link only to have it return them to the start of this post and  re-reading the first part, only to brainlessly click on the link again and start over and over and over again.  Could be a trip getting locked into an endless mind-bending blog link-loop).

Anyway, for those few not stuck in a mindless blog link-loop, what I used to do was dream up some bullshit and then illustrate it.  Sometimes even the drawings were bullshit, and only remotely  illustrated what I was saying metaphorically.  Now, I’m drawing the illustrations first, and then having to come up with some B S as filler.   And with both approaches, at least one thing has remained constant.   Bullshit.

I wonder if you practiced yoga long enough, could ya stick one of your toes  into your nose?  Two would even be better. You’d have to be pretty limber to do that.

I’ve been doing a lot of ink drawings lately.  “Pen and Ink” is a medium unto itself.  Different techniques, cross-hatching, etc.  But when it comes right down to it, pencil drawing is just so fluid, and allows me a more softer, subtle line.

The top one is Ink, the bottom two, pencil.

Three Strange Days

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Squeezed Out Another One

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Done Got Old

I just turned sixty five a while back, and one thing stuck out in my mind, “I done got Old!”  Not like ‘you’re not a little boy anymore’ old.  Although I’m trying to challenge that assumption on a daily basis.  Nope.  But the real deal.  Like your Mom and Dad type old, or what is more commonly know as just plain fucking old.

Now I really don’t feel old, especially when I’m properly medicated and drawing.  When I’m doing that, it’s just like getting back to where I left off as an adolescent.  But 65 is a milestone.  not a round number but a biggie.  In the US, that’s when you become eligible for Medicare, our version of socialized medicine.  That’s cool.  But what wasn’t, was getting a shit-load of mail everyday, for six months, from a ton of  insurance companies, trying to get ya to buy their form of supplemental health care before ya turn 65.   Gotta love capitalism.

So I suppose I ought to share some thoughts on turning 65.  But instead I’m gonna share some thoughts about turning on in ’65.  It’s what made me the man I am today.

I graduated from high school in 1965.  You think things are crazy today with all the right-wing nut cases trying to bring things back to the good ol’ daze?  Well, let me tell ya, 1965 was no cake-walk.  I was living in Los Angeles at the time, and during the summer of ’65 things erupted when the predominantly black community known as Watts exploded.

It started with the arrest of a black man by a white cop, but soon escalated out of control.  Rage was sparked and five days of rioting, looting and businesses in flames ensued. All of it , of course, being broadcast on local TV news.  The National Guard was called out, a curfew imposed, and order gradually restored after 34 deaths, 1034 injured, 3438 arrests and $40 million in property damages (much of it arson).  Who would have ever guessed that black folk were pissed, and didn’t like the status-quo.   What really blew my mind was not so much living in the curfew zone, but seeing an Army Tank rolling down Florence Avenue.    Damn!  That shit was supposed to happen in places like Hungary or the godless Soviet Union.  Not America!!!

Not America?  Gotta remember that all this race-riot shit happened, 1) After we thought out collective young asses were gonna get incinerated during the Cuban missile crisis, and 2) After the President of the United States was assassinated in Texas.  Again, Shit like that was supposed to happen in Latin America.  Not our America.

I don’t know about you, but I think that was some pretty wild stuff to live through; tends to make an impression on ya.  Well at the end of that summer, I was off to college for four years.  I went to a small private college (Lutheran) and lived on campus in the dormitories, as did much of the student body.

I’d have to say, that despite having to study and pass classes so my ass wouldn’t get drafted,  college was the best time of my life.  And now, in retirement, after being in the workforce, having a career, and all that bullshit.  I’m back!  and it’s sweet.  Not working is great, and getting paid for it is even better.

Guess what I majored in?  Yep….Art.  Probably the easiest “liberal arts” degree one could get.  No tests, no papers to write, just paint or go to the life-drawing class.  Lot’s of interesting folks came to our campus: Dick Gregory, Father Malcolm Boyd, Eugene McCarthy, and even Alabama Governor George Wallace ( what a fuckin’ hayseed).  But by far the most popular guest to make their appearance on campus was Mary Jane.  Us boys and girls went wild with reefer madness.   And slowly things started to get more and more beautiful on campus.  A liberating time of questioning not only authority, but moral standards, with an air of  openness and experimentation.

At last….I’m back.  Where I left off at graduation.  Getting old may be about your body starting to crap out on ya, but for me, it’s about staying young at heart.

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