“The mens don’t know, but the little girls understand”. So sang the Doors, and originally, Howling Wolf. The Back Door Man was the guy doing his “midnight creep”, slipping in the rear of someones house and having his way with another man’s wife (not to be confused with a guy who has an anal fetish – that’s another type of back door man). He’s the guy doin’ it on the sly. Other men may be totally unawares, but the little girls aren’t, they understand.
I shouldn’t listen to a lot of blues when I sit down nightly and start to draw. Too many weird thoughts run through my mind. And that distracts me from drawing my increasingly more and more abstract drawings. This is compounded by my laughing so hard, that I lose my train of thought, thinking that what I just thought was the greatest thing on earth, until I later read it and think, “Wow, what a bunch of bullshit”.
I am by the way, a total Front Door man. If The Wife caught me at the back door, she’d throw me out the front.
Sometimes my mind gets cluttered with a lot of useless information. And like I do with my email, I regularly get rid of all the Spam I get from horny housewives, loan companies, credit scores, pharmaceuticals just for men and a host of other bullshit I have no interest in whatsoever (a Russian Bride could be interesting however). How all this stuff gets into my email, I have no idea. So I empty my trash on a regular basis. I like things nice a tidy in my brain. That way things don’t have the proclivity to spin out of control; delete it when you’re done with it is my motto.
On occasion sweeping the mind out is refreshing. The problem is, what do ya do with all the refuse? Put it right up there on the ol’ blog is my solution. Wonder if there’s pollution in cyber-space?
As is the custom in America wherein the President addresses Congress on the state of the Union (of united states), I too feel it necessary, being President and CEO of Hansi’s Hallucinations, to address the state of my blog. First of all, I’m sure glad that over half of my audience doesn’t hate my ass as they do President Obama’s, and just can’t wait till they take over and begin to fuck things up. Frankly, I don’t see how President Obama does it, and manages to stay so calm and act nice. If that were me up there, I’d be subtly giving them all the finger ( pretending to remove something from my eye with my middle finger) or picking my nose and flicking a booger at those sitting on the right side of the aisle – those are the guys who just sit there and never applaud except when America is gonna bomb someone.
Well, 2014 was good for me….hope it was good for you. I quit blogging for the second time, and also quit working part-time for my former employer in Probationland which I fondly (but not fondling) called ‘The House Of Pain’. The break from both certainly hit the spot. Guess I wanted as few obligations as possible. Now I’m fully retired, and plan (or hope to hell) to never work again. Don’t get me wrong, working in retirement was great, as long as ya made under the $15,000 Social Security limit. But contrary to everything you read on Yahoo Finance, money isn’t everything, and I’ve found that one (or two if ya count The Wife) can live very comfortably with a simple healthy lifestyle.
In short, everything is beautiful, and I’m starting to feel groovy.
I don’t know about you, but when I was a kid I watched The Adventures of Superman on TV. Loved every cheezie, poorly acted episode; especially when Superman (portrayed by actor George Reeves who was no man of steel himself because he is thought to have committed suicide) jumped outta that tall building window and started to fly.
Well, I’ve taken to watching them again on ME-TV, the network that features old TV shows from the fifties and sixties. Wow! By today’s standards these half hour shows were a bunch of crap: low budget simple stories on cheap sets featuring B-list actors. That was in 1952 – early television. I was only five years old at the time and didn’t have a clue about television, cause our family didn’t get a TV set until 1955 or thereabouts ( a big boxie piece of furniture – a Packard Bell – that always “went on the fritz” and required a repair man to come over to the house and fix it on a regular basis, which made my Dad curse, “What a piece of crap!”.) I saw all the episodes when they played as re-runs in the afternoons before the Mouseketeers came on.
What impressed me the most was not so much the actual episodes themselves, but the network and the demographic it was playing to. Old TV shows playing to an older crowd trying to re-live their youth, interspersed with commercials for hearing aids, walk-in bathtubs and Kaiser Medicare ads. After an hour of watching this nostalgic stuff, I couldn’t help but realize, “Wow…a bunch of geezers must be watching this crap”. Sure glad I’m not one of them: some old fart sitting back in his recliner, mildly medicated, reliving his youth, blowing his mind in the present over that which blew his mind in the past, and wishing that he too could fly (and get it on with Lois Lane).
“I got it made in the shade”. An old saying implying that you’ve arrived at a reasonable state of comfort or well-being – or, a cheap souvenir produced by local natives sitting under a coconut tree. All I know is, my comfort level would be greatly increased if I had a maid in that shade with me. Someone to clean-up after me while enjoying a shady lifestyle.
Whilst suffering from a case of the piles
I came across a chap named Giles.
“If you’re feeling no pain
Might as well do it again”
He said, of revisiting old styles.
I just drew something I hadn’t done in a long time. An older ink with colored pencil on brown paper with plenty of cheesie white grease pencil to over-due highlights. Thank god I’m way beyond that. Doing less and less figurative work, leaning more to abstract stuff. In college, I thought that anyone doing abstract work couldn’t draw. Until…I learned how to draw and then chucked it all to go pure abstract works.
Funny how things change; even people. They’re harder to change than inanimate objects, because change involves a bit of discomfort, and most folks want to avoid discomfort at all cost and stay comfortable by doing the same old thing (assuming that it’s workin’ for them). The problem is, while trying to avoid discomfort, your tolerance for it lessens more and more, to the point where getting out of that recliner to go to the bathroom becomes a huge ordeal. So you end up gritting your teeth and vow to never drink water again.
If there’s a lot of discomfort in your life, you will eventually change, if for no other reason than to get rid of the pain. Be it a job, relationship or personal endeavor. Most of my discomfort manifests itself as a dissatisfaction with what’s going on. And there’s a lot to be dissatisfied with these days.
One of the coolest things about writing udder nonsense and making up words as you go is condescendifickle*. “Oh Hansi”, you are probably thinking, “That’s nothing more than a bunch of giffsnatchelschiest. Go ga-findel yourself.” Well I’ll be dipped in lepenzalpoo if I didn’t laugh my gesnarffulstump off when I came up with that one. Almost paddidledripped in my pants.
*Condescendifickle: A secret word that only you know the meaning off, which can be used as camouflage (an actual real word) to conceal its true meaning. So when I say to someone, “Go stiffelhump** yourself.” Huell have to draw upon your own imagination for a meaning.
**Stiffelhump: A secret word of mine which I’m not gonna tell ya the meaning off cause it’s secret. But so as to not offend anybody, let alone stir their evil minds, I will say that it has nothing to do with preforming a vulgar act upon one’s self.