I hate it when I hit a streak of bad luck. Seems like nothing is going right, and everything is turning into shit. Bummer when that happens. It’s like Albert King said, “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.” However, as Howlin’ Wolf said, “I ain’t superstitious, but a black cat crossed my path.” So I do everything I can to ensure that I always have good luck, or the best luck I can, given the situation.
Now I don’t consider myself “Lucky”. I never win anything, but then again, I ain’t out there wasting my money on lottery tickets. I hate gambling, and rarely leave anything to chance, except when I draw in my sketchbook. I’ve “got lucky” in the past, but those occasions where few and far between, with too much recovery time involved for me to wanna rush back into a “lucky” relationship again.
I am lucky I could retire from Probationland at age 57. And lucky I can still work part-time therein. Although luck really had nothing to do with eating shit for thirty years, putting up with ass-holes and fools, while trying to deal with ‘clients’ at the same time. I’m also lucky that none of that had a lasting impact on me, or in anyway colored my outlook on life whatsoever. Oh yeah…look at how my luck is changin’ as we speak. I got this in the mail today:
Everybody’s got one. Be it called an arse, bum, rear-end or just plain ass. Everybody has a butt. And big fat ones are my favorite. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really an “ass-man”, butt (he he) when it comes to drawing, there’s nothing more intriguing than big fat ones. Ones that can be exaggerated and fill up a page.
Now I know everyone is wondering: “Does Hansi have a big fat butt?”. Well the answer is: “No he doesn’t!” Butt (this is, about butts), I’ve been told to get off mine and do something worthwhile instead of sitting on it all day writing stupid-ass shit for my blog. Someone doesn’t appreciate my ass blogging all day. But (not gonna run that one into the ground), when my ass is blogging, sometimes it can’t help itself and makes an ass out of me. And I hate it when my ass makes me look stupid. [Like probably, right now]
Have you every laughed your ass off? You know: LMAO, or LOL or the one for rolling on the floor keeled over with laughter whilst farting and shooting snot out your nose, or whatever those “Tweets” mean. Wouldn’t it be a trip if one could actually reduce the size of their buttocks by laughing them off. I’ve laughed at other peoples asses, and I’m sure they’ve laughed at mine. I never noticed any reduction in size though. But it’s a nice thought.
One can even get their asses educated, and become like me, a Smart Ass. I always enjoyed that roll in school, and also during my lengthy probation career. Wonder if that’s why my ass never got promoted?
Waiting for stuff to happen is really hard for me. Especially good stuff that I’m looking forward to. Delaying gratification is not my strongest suit. So I was sitting around one night (January 5th to be exact) wondering what should I draw in my brand new sketchbook that The Wife gave me for Christmas.
I started scribbling something down, and low and behold, a vision appeared. But it didn’t appear in my mind first, where visions usually occur, but in my sketchbook. It wasn’t the vision I was lookin’ for, but it was still a vision, so it counted. Funny when that happens.
Today I noticed in my tiny galaxy in the Blog-o-sphere, that there was a lot of Love being shared. Someone got an award, another was just feelin’ happy and content, others were sharing their artwork; not a bad vibration to be found. So I too thought I should share Love, and let some of it drip on you.
Okay, maybe I get a little obsessed at times, and when the though of “Dripping Love” came to me, well…it through me for a loop. See, I’m fascinated with words and how they can sound alike, yet have different or double meanings. Now everybody knows that Love is something that should radiate outwards and upwords. The thought of it being pulled down by gravity, is more indicative of Lust; a close cousin of Love, but not the real deal. Stuff that drips is usually greasy and a tad bit slimy. And although it may look nice and taste good at the time, it is usually bad for you. It’s important to know the difference
I think I’ve accidentally turned my subconscious up to 10. It’s going full blast, and pouring out of my like a night full of drinking cheap beer. Guess its obvious what’s on my mind. And whatever that is notwithstanding, things are just showing up in my drawings.
I am making a major effort at drawing hands more accurately. Even taken to drawing from pictures, like the above two pencil drawings. Drawing from life is cool, but I prefer drawing from visions. In order to make my visions come off well, I gotta practice, and draw from life. I just prefer the life that is in my mind.
So enough with this practice stuff….Its Time To Draw.
Oh Boy Oh boy! I got a letter from Ziggyshortcrust today. All the way from Merry Old England to Sunny Southern California where we’re freezing our asses off with weather that’s been getting down to 30 degrees Fahrenheit at night. Ain’t no sitting in the hot-tub these evenings with a glass of wine at them temperatures.
Anyway, Ziggyshortcrust is one of my favorite artist bloggers, who does exquisite finely drawn ink drawings. Well, she set herself the task of writing (by hand, and I don’t mean index fingers hunting and pecking at a keyboard) a letter a day for 365 days. That’s probably gonna take her all year long to do that, and sure beats my attention span. Now who would have ever come up with such a revolutionary idea: a hand written letter, in an envelope and sent by post. How retro!
Well, she did a post asking if any of her readers wanted a letter, and I replied, “Hell Yes! I want a letter from Ziggy.” And voila: this is what I got. How totally unbelievably cool to get a letter, with original art-work, of one of her favorite subjects: Elves. I love it.
So…now I gotta get busy and write Ziggy back. I promised I would. Wonder if we have any stamps; just can’t press the send button. Thank you for the letter Ziggy.
And now, it’s time to add some color.
Most things in the world are not black and white. We live in a world of color. And, a world of magic, which allows one to show the same drawing at different stages via the wonder of digital photography. I like the bottom version best. Maybe because its a little “off color”.
This is the honest to God truth. I was sitting out on my front porch one night (January 11th to be exact), and it was dark. A car rushed buy, and it had a lit sign on it: Eat More Pizza. I shit you not, Eat More Pizza. Now I was in a highly suggestible state of mind at the time. And all I could think of was: I too should eat more Pizza.
I couldn’t believe what I saw, a neon sign flash by me with a not too subtle subliminal message on it: I wasn’t eating enough Pizza, and it would be in my best interests if I were to eat some more. Needless to say, I started looking around the house for some Pizza to eat. Donuts won’t cut it, chocolate… oh hum, ice cream (always good) I’ll pass. I needed some Pizza!
Well what was one to do? So I got back to my drawing and jazz. Then I started thinking: Did I miss something? Wasn’t that a pizza Delivery guy drivin’ by, Deliverin’ some nice hot cheezie, pepperoni laden dripping with fat Pizza to some lucky person (wonder if they saw the sign too?) Only until later did I realize that I too could be eating more Pizza, and the guy in the delivery car would be the vehicle to make it happen.
But calling for a Pizza would be too much work. Ya gotta find the number, dig through all the coupons ya get in the mail, and if you still have any presence of mind left whatsoever, then actually get on the telephone and make a call; with coherent order, instead of just screaming into the phone, “PIZZA…I NEED PIZZA!!!”.. Okay, that could be done. But then ya gotta wait. Can’t email a Pizza, and attachments are just not the same (even bad, if ya believe what The Buddha said). Why that could take up to 45 minutes! By then I would have polished off the donuts, a few chocolate bars, and a pint of ice cream.
Who could eat Pizza after all that?…..I Could.
I need to Eat More Pizza.
The older ya get, the more it seems ya start thinking about eternity. It is, after all, just around the corner. Closer than it ever was. That should be a good thing: time without end. Bummer is, in order to start enjoying all that eternal time, ya gotta die first. Making the whole notion of time without end a little crazy, cause if you’re dead, time has already ended…at least for you.
Eternity is supposed to be a good thing; never ending bliss. But if life on the ‘other side’ is so damn good, how come folks aren’t lining up to get there and start enjoying it right now. That way you could avoid taking it in the shorts once again because a bunch of Republicans are trying to take away all your hard-earned benefits so their rich buddies can get a bigger tax break.
The whole “after-life” thing sounds like an empty promise to me. But some versions seem appealing like having thirty shapely nymphomaniac wives, who wait on ya hand and foot, and bring ya all the weed you can smoke. Maybe I need to change faiths. [The wife’s vision of the afterlife is to have thirty impotent husbands, all of whom are workaholics, and bring home six figure incomes; Christianity is still workin’ for her].
Well, this is getting pretty close to outright blasphemy. I can already feel the flames of Hell licking up and singeing the hairs on my ass. Although the upside of the whole eternity thing may be subject to debate. I think everyone can agree that the downside is totally unacceptable. I’d rather forever be looking at the face of Jesus, than being placed face down in a pile of hot shit forever and ever, world without end Amen. It might be smart to hedge your bets when it comes to eternity, it could turn out to be a long time.
You can’t go to the store without a shopping list. If you do, you’re likely to waste a lot of time spacing out on all the shit there is to buy. Although that can be a delightful experience in and of itself, totally forgetting why you’re there in the first place, you can catch a lot of hell from The Wife because of what-cha brought home, and be forever banned from going shopping again [a possible win-win situation].
Now, I like going to the store totally stoned out of my mind as much as the next guy, but when I need to get some ‘serious shopping’ done, I always bring a list. Nothing like a list to keep us goal-oriented, obsessive-compulsive over achievers focused on the task at hand. And as much fun as riding around in them little electric carts and being a nuisance is, the bottom line for me is: when shopping, go right to what ya want, grab it and get the hell outta there.
Well, my favorite store, when I gotta go (and I don’t mean pee pee), is Trader Joes. A unique grocery store featuring an eclectic blend of health foods, gourmet items and a huge selection of wines and spirits. Pretty much covers all my needs. They have everything! From the most potent alcoholic intoxicants one can buy (passed off as fine wines), to all the munchies one could imagine to go along with it. Sounds like hog heaven to me.
That’s why I go there weekly. Not only is it a place where you can get everything ya need to get wasted and over-eat at the same time. But it also has natural, un-processed foods which makes the Southern California “Mediterranean diet” oh so luscious. Better add extra virgin olive oil to the list; and some garlic too.
So…and here’s the caveat, when I go to Trader Joes, I gotta be very careful. Not only do I have to feign being disabled so I can ride around in their scooters, I gotta be “future oriented” and not so “in the moment” that I buy everything I see, tripping out on how oh so good it’ll be when I get back home. No easy task. Wonder why they put all them chocolate bars right there at the check-out stand? Mmmmm Chocolate.
I think my list is fairly complete. Can ya think of anything I maybe left out?
I don’t know about you, but I’m getting sick and tired of all these hand-drawn journal-entry type posts that I’ve been cranking out of late. I’m afraid folks will start to thinkin’ that I’m just a one dimensional blogger, who lays around the house all day getting loaded and drawing pseudo psychedelic self- absorbed dribble.
Well, I’m much more ‘well rounded’ than that. See, I also have a dirty mind, and sometimes lay around the house all day dreaming up filthy poetry and limericks. That was the reason I started my Blithering Idiot blog almost two years ago; as a vehicle for “My way with words” ( also known as the Missionary Position of Poetry). Be sure to check out my early Archives for a shit-load of good stuff.
So here’s a few “Variations” on some classic Nursery Rhymes. I call em (what else?)…Nursery Crimes:
Old King Hans
Had a very old schwance,
A very old schwance had he.
It gave him such a fright
To get up three times a night,
Just to stand there, waiting to go pee.
Jack and Phil went up the hill
To stretch each others waggers.
Jack fell down and said with a frown
“Phil can bugger me anytime he swaggers.”
The Queen of Hearts
Had the farts,
To everyone’s dismay.
The Knave of Hearts
Also did fart,
And cleared the palace away.
The King of Hearts
Smelled those farts,
And beat the Knave sore.
The Knave of Hearts
Couldn’t take back the farts,
But promised he’d let no more.