Stim-celluloid. |
They appear to have made a film about me. I don't know how to react to this. There are so many, more deserving swamp-based heroes, like Bayou Jack, the Cajun Crusader, and Pogo. I can't deny some ...
Posted by Man-Thing on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
Cupid's ebon bolt. |
Valentine's Day. Memories rise out of the quagmire, excavated skeletons of love-gone-by. Ellen and I, at the movie house in town, her bawling at the end of "Love Story" (held over for a third straig...
Posted by Man-Thing on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
A bone is a part of the whole. |
Sometimes I miss having a skeletal structure. Dwelling in an indestructable mossy shell has its plusses, but I find myself wistfully remembering ball-and-socket joints and metacarpals, tibia and fibu...
Posted by Man-Thing on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
Sometimes, I like ambient trip-hop... |
... I just don't always get it. Also, it makes me sleepy. I have to shamble off to bed now....
Posted by Man-Thing on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
Intrinsic value of the open road. |
Rain falls, making the bogs overflow and spill forth their secrets. The drops hit the forrest canopy like a half-mad drummer boy. I sit beneath a weeping willow, shielded in a loamy womb. Later, I...
Posted by Man-Thing on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
Fluffy spearmint cloudscape. |
Disjointed memories. A great sense of fear, emanating from a weed-choked, antediluvian manse, deep in the verdant swamp. A pale figure in black. A man with glowing red eyes. A battle. Fear burne...
Posted by Man-Thing on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
