mind expanding nonsense

Archive for March, 2013

Out Of Order.

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I hate it when things are out of order.  Especially after a long trip, when ya pull into a gas station looking for some relief, only to find that their restroom is ‘Out of Order’.  Talk about being pissed.  Maybe it’s my Germanic heritage, but everything seems to go a lot more smoothly when everything is in order. There’s less room for error, which means there’s less of a chance that something could come around and bite ya in the ass.

Well, I had a real brain fart just the other day, and skipped a page in my sketchbook, leaving it blank, and drew on the one after it.  Now that may not seem like a big deal, but when one strives for continuity, and is very careful to date each entry, it really screws up my chronological order, and presents a dilemma.  What do I do with the blank page?

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Of course being a total space cadet, I didn’t realize my error until the day after I drew on and dated the subsequent page.  I could have just pulled the blank page from the book, but then The Wife would’ve accused me having ‘male rage’ or suffering from testosterone poisoning or some such shit. Well, as poisonous as testosterone is (especially those on the receiving end of it [and that includes all them guys on the commercials who are wiping that shit on their underarms like deodorant.  I had the awful thought:  What if I had some of that crap in my medicine cabinet (not that I need it of course), and my four year old grandson found it and decided to be like Grandpa, tried some, and wound up with a beard and a new-found  desire to fuck everything in sight explore his sexuality. One of the many side-effects]).

Where was I?  Oh yea…so I couldn’t just it rip out.  But going back the day after and drawing on it was against my principles.  And God knows ya gotta stand by your principles; even if they’re not working, running the country into the ground, and only benefit the wealthy and few.  Unless possibly, I lied and fudged on the date.  That seems to work for most ‘men of principle’, who’s main principal is to stay in office at all costs by keeping their idiot base happy.

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But no.  I’ll take the High Road (my favorite road*) the road less traveled, and admit that yes,  I totally spaced out and skipped a page.  Like they say in AA, “Hello, my name is Hansi, and I’m a space cadet”.

*  I also like The Road to Perdition.  More traffic on that one, but at times very scenic.

March Mulching Madness

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Well March is almost over, Spring is here, at least in my part of Southern California, and it’s time to turn the garden up to full blast.  See, my other passion, besides drawing pseudo-psychedelic mammary laden, bathroom humor (never gets old) pen n ink drawings is: organic gardening.  I’m a firm believer in growing your own…everything.  And when you’re fortunate enough to live on some of the best agricultural land in the world (the Oxnard plain), which is situated in a Mediterranean climate, where it never snows and rarely if ever gets a frost, well, the growing gods are with ya year round.

There’s nothing better than eating your own food, fresh from the garden, that’s pesticide free and not genetically altered.  In my opinion, Ya gotta watch what you put in your body, and know where it comes from, if you want to enjoy healthy living.  Plus, being in tune with the seasons, helps one stay grounded (no pun intended), and in harmony with the cosmos.

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This year I’m trying something new.  Well, it’s not actually new,  I’ve known about it since the early 70’s.  It’s the ” No Dig”, no cultivation method, popularized by Ruth Stout.  Simply put, her method follows nature, where fallen debris such as leaves, flowers and other organic materials lay on the ground through winter, decompose, and provide a rich, humus soil from which seedlings emerge in the Spring.  She claimed God invented it, and come to think of she may be right; I’ve never seen God out in my backyard turning over dirt with a shovel.  Keeping a permanent layer of mulch (straw, leaves or other organic material) in ones garden was her method in a nutshell (which also makes an excellent mulch).

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So, here we go.  I’m giving the No Work method a try this year…Sure hope It works, and not me.  But I’m also doing this out of necessity.  See, even though I might live in gardeners paradise here by the coast, the major downside is we’ve had very little rain this year, and last year too [Global warming???  Hell no couldn’t be].  And I need to conserve water.  Mulching with straw  is hopefully the answer, and it’s cheap @ $7.50 a bale.  A good mulch, while not only breaking down and turning into compost, also prevents water evaporation, keeping one’s soil moist, and plants happy.  Sure wanna keep my  plants happy, especially my Happy Plants.

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Here’s what I’m growing:  Top photo is Red Sails leaf lettuce mulched with straw, with a row of carrots.  Carrots and lettuce are ‘companion plants” and grow well together.

Photo #2:  Early Girl tomato.  Loves it right next to the house with and intense eastern exposure.

Photo #3: Close-up of  #1

Photo #4: Raised bed, mulched with straw with (from right to left) garlic, beets and more Red Sails lettuce.

Photo # 5:  (below) Cherry Tomato, Swiss Chard and more garlic.

Photo #6: (below #5) Sugar peas, edible pods.

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Waiting

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I don’t know about you, but I’m a very impatient kinda guy.   I hate waiting for something to happen. I don’t like standing in lines.  And I can’t stand it when something I want isn’t happening right now, or right there where I want it.

Maybe that’s a character flaw, or as The Wife says. “A lesson I’ve yet to learn”. Who knows?  But what I do know is: I’m not twenty years old anymore, and I’m running out of time waiting for shit to happen.  That’s why I took Social Security early at age 62, instead of waiting till my ‘full retirement age’ at age 66.  And that’s why I’m glad I’m no longer working full-time and retired from Probationland bullshit nine years ago.  Couldn’t wait to get outta that place.  [We won’t discuss the fact that I’m right back there working part-time, fightin’ crime (but not in my prime, yet still workin’ with slime, but that’s just fine, I’m doin’ it on their dime).  Guess ya can’t get some stuff outta your system no matter how hard ya try].

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Substance Abuse

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There’s one thing I know a lot about, and that’s drug use.  You may be thinking, “Well, No shit Hansi, that’s quite apparent in all your twisted ‘art-work’ “.  No really.  I do!  See when I was a probation officer, I had to attend forty hours of training annually.  Invariably, that would include some drug classes. Times twenty-eight years, that equals a shit-load of drug classes.  Which covered: their use, identification, symptomology, treatment and all that other happy horseshit.  I also had a little “hands-on”  experience during the sixties.

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Needless to say, there’s some really bad-news  ‘substances’ out there to abuse.  Methamphetamine being among the worst.  Less obvious, yet just as destructive is alcohol.  Alcohol?  Hell yes! I consider it a drug (basically a depressant), which when abused can have a profound effect on people (instant ass-hole, just add booze), become addictive, and destroy lives, not to mention one’s health, when used in excess.  Thing about alcohol is: it’s socially acceptable.  Be it slurped down as a beer on a hot day, or enjoyed as a fine wine with a meal.  Everybody enjoys a good buzz now and then.  It’s tolerated.  Everyone’s cool with it.

Don’t get me wrong.  I enjoy a glass of wine with dinner just as much as the next guy.  But I’m finding that more and more, when I drink alcohol, I don’t sleep so well at night.  I don’t wake up re-charged, and only have a half-assed workout at the gym in the morning (if I go at all).  Plus, it takes me til the early afternoon to feel back to normal, when coincidentally I start to think, “Hmmm, a glass of wine would sure hit the spot right about now.”  What’s wrong with that scenario?  Is there a lesson here I’m not learning?

That’s why I’m choosing to forgo alcohol for a while.  Not that I have a “problem”. [Sure, that’s what all people with a “problem” say].  No really.  I’m not an alcoholic.  It’s just that as I’m getting older, alcohol is becoming seemingly more toxic to my system.  And I wanna feel good.  And feel good all the time.  But booze is a great pain-reliever, and swiftly takes the edge off all the aches and pains that come along with old age.

Is anyone out there experiencing the same thing with alcohol that I am?

What…No Ink?

Okay.  I’m breaking all the rules here; Pushing the boundaries; Exploring new 3-9-13 001frontiers, Going where no man has gone before.  It’s kinda like a Star Trek adventure, but without ink.  Here we go.  Just passed a bunch of Klingons circling Uranus.

Well maybe it’s not all that epic in nature.  But it’s new for me; something a little different.  Change however, is something ya don’t wanna rush into, cause it could screw everything up.  Just as you’ve gotten things in order, in their place, just how ya want em, change could throw everything into chaos, leaving shit to spin outta control. And control is something ya Never Ever want to give up.  If ya do, then you’re at the mercy of chance or fate.  So I rarely take a chance with change; never know what may happen as a result.  Hell no!  I wanna know everything, so I can plan around it, and avoid the bullshit and enjoy all the good stuff.

Maybe that’s why I was a Probation Officer for 28 years.  When it comes to being in control, there’s nothing like having the law on your side, and not be on the receiving end like my probation clients.  See, I basically resent authority, so what better way to avoid it than by becoming it. [Everybody knows that people in authority are never held responsible for their actions].  So for 28 long, miserable, and sometimes shit-eating years, guess what I did.  Yep, for eight hours a day I would jump in peoples shit, and force them to change, often times against their will: “Sorry Mr Smith, You can’t use drugs while on probation…and ya got to stop beating your wife; Your ass is gonna change, or it’ll end up in jail; now pee in this bottle.”

Now, I didn’t particularly enjoy that; but it was tolerable (saw a lot of bottles of urine in my day).  At least the shit being jumped in wasn’t mine (unless of course, I missed a jump, and splattered it all over the place).  See…I worked in a bureaucracy, where change was glacial, if ever, and following the rules reigned the day. [Unless, again, you thought the rules were bullshit, and ya tried to get around them without your shit being jumped in.]

So…that’s why drawing without Ink and just using the colored pencils is such a big risk for me.  One must always proceed with an abundance of caution!

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The Lady in this drawing proceeded without caution, and look what happened to her.

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Variations Upon A Theme

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I’m not really sure what the theme is, but here’s some variations.  They are only slight variations.  But variations nonetheless. See, themes make ya stay within certain boundaries and explore the subtleties therein.  And I’ve pretty much worked one-legged people into the ground with this one.

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Maybe what I really need to do is, instead of variations within a theme, I need to vary my themes (very interesting).  I pretty much have only one theme, and a variety may expand my various variations, (although there’s probably a lot more room left to exploit explore one-legged people).  Not that ridiculing the handicapped is a particular passion for me, it’s just that most of my adult experience has been on two legs…Unless I was highly impaired (commode hugging drunk) or begging The Wife for sex.  At this stage of life, getting down on all fours  has no real appeal for me (except maybe metaphorically).

I think that it’s probably best therefore, to stick with the familiar, but change it slightly, thereby giving the illusion that one is breaking new ground, when in fact nothing of the sort is happening.  But that may leave me without a leg to stand on. 🙂

A New Book

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Nothing better than getting a brand new sketch book.  And when it has brown paper instead of white, that means it’s something special.  And it was, because old Hansi done got this on his birthday from The Wife.  Old Hansi is sure getting older.

What’s really cool is not so much The Wife encouraging me with my drawings, which she considers a huge embarrassment to her in front of the whole world when I post em on the Internet, but what’s cool is brown paper, which enables me to do the same old stuff with a new technique.  Guess I’m just following Big Business, by cranking out the same old shit, but repackaging it slightly, so it can claim to be new and improved without the old side-effects.

Speaking of embarrassing The Wife.  What better way to start out a new book , then with a drawing of a bare ass.

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Drawing vs Illustration

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Sounds kinda like a wrestling match:  In this corner we have drawing.  World light-weight champion.  And in the other corner we have Illustration, arch enemy of Drawing.  No holds bared, 10 rounds, catch-as-catch-can.  Winner takes all.

It used to be that I’d dream up a post and then draw something to illustrate what I was talking about.  That was a challenge cause I had to draw something specific that reflected what was written.  Lately, I’ve been just drawing, and dreaming up some bullshit to go along with it (as is the case in this post).  [But maybe ‘bullshit’ is too strong a word for the light-hearted, good-natured banter loaded with sexual inuendo which often times shows up on this blog, and should be reserved for political utterances.  Although that type of ‘bullshit’ is more like a truth that everybody knows is a falsehood.  Out right lying more aptly describes what politicians do, at least on my side of the pond.]  Just about every post of late, is just another finished page out of my current sketch-book.  Which when posted in chronological order tells a story, documents my progress as an artist, or is a case study in senior dementia.

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Sometimes there’s some actual coherency to the drawings; but I’ll let you be the judge of that.  Maybe I should get more serious about my art (such as it is), and take a life drawing class at the local community college.  They probably wouldn’t let me in.  They’d just be thinking, “here’s another old pervert wanting to see some titties.”

Oh well…maybe all this drawing is just what it is and no more.  That would be fine.

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Drawing Daily

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Hansi Hallucinating

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A lot of my drawings of late haven’t been making much sense.  But that’s okay, this is Hansi’s Hallucinations.  But enough about that.  The narrative just ain’t happening today.  Sometimes words just get in the way, and they need to be shoved out of the way.  Not in an angry or rude manner.  No, that would never do.  Gotta be polite, things just go more smoothly that way.  Gently nudged is more like it.  Almost like saying, “Words, I don’t need you anymore, would you please leave me alone.”

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Have you ever wondered what it would be like Not thinking in words?  Inconceivable, isn’t it?  All I can do is speak for myself, but my thinking is like a non-stop dialogue that runs constantly, evaluating everything, liking or disliking everything.  Wanting and avoiding; most of the time living in the past (when not actively fearing the future).  Rarely present; mostly absent : Checked out – do not disturb.

Maybe that’s why I like to draw.  Subject matter doesn’t matter; process does.  Abiding in the right side of one’s brain (my brain) allows me a break from the Marx Brothers Movie I call my mind [Duck Soup?].  Thinking, or awareness becomes more intuitive, concerning itself with space, form, line and color, and how they all relate to each other visually.  A nice place to be; I think I’ll hang-out there for a while..

Geezerhood

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When a man reaches his mid sixties, he finally comes to the realization that he is no longer a little boy, but rather an old man who is aging, and doing so rapidly.  Muscle tone is softening, recovery time from strenuous activity is getting longer and sexual prowess is diminishing.  [At least I’m finding that sexually I’m prowling a lot less these days].  Things just ain’t what they used to be, and ya find yourself turning into a geezer.

Well, I’m finding that becoming a geezer is not a bad thing.  In fact attaining Geezerhood, as I like to call it, is actually a liberating experience.  Freedom from social constraints, partial invisibility, and a general “I no longer give a shit” attitude (which no one gives a shit that you have or not), are just a fraction of the benefits of being a Geezer.  Of course there’s all the ‘senior discounts’ which one can reap without guilt, cause everybody thinks you’re just an old turd livin’ off of Social Security.  There’s Medicare, and also early dining specials.  And, in California, ya get twice the personal exemptions on your state income tax for being sixty five and over; so there’s money in Geezerhood too.  Let’s not forget all that sweet handicapped parking.

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So, ya can see  the benefits of Geezerhood.  Some of these also include: never having to buy clothes again (a true geezer has all the clothes he’ll ever  need and wears them every day); A more relaxed approach to personal hygiene; And a more realistic view of work and the toll too much could take on ya.  But what I seem to like the best is being invisible.  Not the type of invisibility ya wished you had when you were fourteen years old and had fantasies about being able to go inside the girls locker-room and not be seen while they took their showers.

Nope.   When one has attained Geezerhood, no one any longer pays attention to ya.  You’re invisible cause nobody really looks at ya.  All they see is some fucked-up old guy, who ya wanna stay clear of, and definitely not wanna get behind in a line.  You’re not scrutinized, you’re more tolerated, put up with.  So, if ya looked fucked-up, and everybody expects ya to also act fucked-up.  Might as well live up to expectations, and wonder around  enjoying the scenery.

Excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

Another Side

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Back in the olden days when everything was real instead of being “virtually” real, records used to have two sides: an A side which contained a groups Big Hit, and a B side which was usually some mediocre filler because one hit was all a group during the fifties could muster.  Sometimes however, a big star like Elvis or Ricky Nelson had ‘hits’ on both sides.  Elvis had a lot of those.

Well, the same thing applies to blogging.  Not every post one cranks out is a Hit; sometimes there’s ‘misses’ too.  Since one cannot turn their computer screen around and still see anything, I thought I’d turn one of my masterpieces over, and show some of my B side material today.

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Drawing Up A Storm

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Okay…Once again I’m in a drawing groove and crankin’ em out.  However, by the time you actually see this one, I may be in a slump again.  But I’m not in one on February 15th (and not in one on march 6th).  Well, as groovy as that may seem, I”m finding myself in an artistic dilemma of sorts, trying to figure out just how far, how finished, I want to make these ink and colored pencil drawings look.  When to stop work on a piece of art is often just as difficult as when to start.

But I know one thing.  I’m not trying to prove anything, and right now, all this drawing is fun.  So I guess these are ‘finished’ enough.

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Screamin’ for More

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Our society is always screaming for more.  More money, more fame, more excitement, more information, more of everything.  When we’re not screaming for More, we’re screamin’ about Less.  Big Brother would have us believe that Less IS More.  But every body knows that’s bullshit.

What we don’t hear much about is Enough.  Maybe cause nobody knows how much is enough.  Everybody knows when they’ve had too much (or too little), but Enough is difficult.  There’s always room for more, but I’ve had way too much of some stuff, and don’t want any more of it ever again.  Guess ya might say’ “Enough is enough.”

Sometimes, but only during fleeting moments when I’m not watching television where they’re constantly tellin’ me I sure as hell don’t have enough, I think I do actually have enough, and in fact, even agree with Big Brother, and think that Less IS, really more.  Guess it’s a matter of choice.  Less is good if it’s a matter of choice, but sure stinks when it’s forced upon you.

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My Creation Myth


I heard this story on National Public Radio the other day about how four out of 10 Americans believe the creation myth in Genesis is literally true. However, the story pointed out, some conservative Christian scholars are saying publicly that they can no longer believe the Genesis account. Asked how likely it is that we all descended from Adam and Eve, Dennis Venema, a biologist at Trinity Western University, replied: “That would be against all the genomic evidence that we’ve assembled over the last 20 years, so not likely at all.” Venema says there is no way we can be traced back to a single couple. He says with the mapping of the human genome, it’s clear that modern humans emerged from other primates as a large population — long before the Genesis time frame of a few thousand years ago. And given the genetic variation of people today, he says scientists can’t get that population size below 10,000 people at any time in our evolutionary history.

Well I don’t know about you, but the thought of having evolved from a bunch of immoral fornicating monkeys is an insult to my intelligence.  And, doesn’t explain very well why the world is like it is [but maybe it does].  If you read between the lines of Genesis a little bit, and extrapolate in a true hallucinatory manner; maybe this will explain everything:

I think we are all familiar with the creation story in Genesis, (or at least should be if you went to Sunday School as you were supposed to), and how God created the world in six days. But it was the second week after creation when things started to get interesting and go a foul.

In six days God made everything from dry land, to the fish in the seas, to the animals, whose primary job it was to be fruitful and multiply. The last thing God made was man, after which he had to take a break and rested on the seventh day.

On day eight, God brought the animals before Adam for him to name. Well, everything that was created on the fourth and fifth day, had a few days to get their land legs, were well rested, and now took to obeying God in earnest by getting fruitful and starting to multiply.  The world turned into sheer copulation chaos. Having a days jump on everyone else, the oceans were already a boil with passion. The air reeked of pollen, musk and pheromones, suffering from a global case of stink-finger. Everything on land was now busy screwing its brains out, and was filled with Holy Heat (no wonder they called it Paradise).

Everything was busy doin’ it except Adam. [One had to wonder if Adam named the animals, “fucking cattle”, “fucking lions” or “fucking elephants”, because he was pissed about being left out of all the fun; or, was he just describing what he was seeing going on all around him?] Well God felt sorry for Adam, and while he slept, created a woman out of one of his ribs: Eve. So what is the first thing Adam does after seeing Eve? Yep, He jumps her bones. With everything else around him balling their socks off, Old Adam must have felt really horny despite only being two days old.

Now, the real historical moment. What does Eve do next? Eat the apple. Nope, that happens a few days latter; old Eve gets to thinking. “Now that bone jumping wasn’t too bad, a little messy, somewhat enjoyable. But….I still feel a little …unsatisfied.”  So when Adam is asleep (the time when all sorts of weird shit happens on newly created planet earth), a brain-storm occurs to Eve and she really starts to thinking. “If God made me out of clay and part of Adam’s rib, why don’t I fashion something similarly rib shaped, and then I’ll never be unsatisfied again!” And Bingo! I’ll leave the rest up to your evil imagination.

Seeing how creative and cunning Eve was, put ideas into the Serpent’s mind, who was standing around watching all this madness. [That was before God took away his limbs, and not specifically mentioned in scripture, his penis too.] “If Eve would fall for a fake phallus, just think of what she’d do for a bite from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.” And you know the rest of the story; it’s been downhill ever since.

Well that sure provides a better explanation about our present state of affairs to me.  The moral of the story: Guys..don’t get discouraged when the woman in your life gets on your case and wants to change you into a better man. That’s just the old Mother Eve genes kicking in. God created you as a finished product, Not a proto-type, that can be “monkeyed” with, via constant improvement.

“My gawd Hansi; Is that all you think about is sex?”  No….I sometimes think about eating and taking naps too.  But I just can’t help it.  I came from a group of Northern European monkeys, who when not eating bananas in the Black Forest, where busy laying around fornicating all day.  [That was before they invented beer, after which they got fat and didn’t care anymore.]  So that’s why my pretend version of creation is by far more satisfying than a bunch of monkey business.

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