seems soon iam about to become a full time maker of gold things
obstensibly to allow the fiscal pieces feed me to continue painting
its a hard life for little fish all the same
hiding out from hunters and swipers and countless low level trawlers
to think before i recognised the shallow dark horror and wicked simplistic ways of the world i wanted only to be biggles
instead i named a dog in child natured honour of the funny flying machinest and even now i still miss hunting the dastidly field grey mice in the far paddocks with the brazen little pupster
long live days of yore and doggy licks
my band of the week blongs to karen o's yelking trio and their new disc
"Gold lion is
Gonna tell me where the lot is
Take our hands
Out of control
Take our hands
Out of control"
and a taste of miu miu although i am starting to wish for the smallest guilded brick to throw at him and his pangs
saw some new paintings by my friend the splendifirious del barton
1000 hair raises for her superb ways of seeing all those things only she can see but show whoever is lucky enough to glimsp she is in a show at kaliman gallery in sydney starting june 6th
a 3 metre high six breasted demon feme feeding a deeresque creature her breast milk so check out some of her little ones at the gallery site for fun under the gallery artists heading though tim mcmonagle is ok abitseeweedy neo raushist and the opening was a right whos's who of sydney try to be the greatest big shot art star shooting flameout on a wing some one has to do it i spose
www.kalimangallery.com
shiny snappy sleep deprived as usual now i will ahave to consider sleep as the final lost utopia for huxley and conrades illegitimate monkey offspring
a pillow is really a soft device to wangle out the grey matter soul and send it to hallaballooo land with out consent
though its generally a free ride with the payment of roof
what i really want is another captivating book or two
i have out read my self and need new insights into how why other people go about keeping about
this has to be good though as iam banefuuly picky of such things
i will make things of gold soon after all
not to mention a new crop of pictures
the cauldron boils
heres huxley talkin it up or not or out damn spot
"I had been sitting alone with books,
Till doubt was a black disease,
When I heard the cheerful shout of rooks
In the bare, prophetic trees.
Bare trees, prophetic of new birth,
You lift your branches clean and free
To be a beacon to the earth,
A flame of wrath for all to see.
And the rooks in the branches laugh and shout
To those that can hear and understand:
"Walk through the gloomy ways of doubt
With the torch of vision in your hand."
obstensibly to allow the fiscal pieces feed me to continue painting
its a hard life for little fish all the same
hiding out from hunters and swipers and countless low level trawlers
to think before i recognised the shallow dark horror and wicked simplistic ways of the world i wanted only to be biggles
instead i named a dog in child natured honour of the funny flying machinest and even now i still miss hunting the dastidly field grey mice in the far paddocks with the brazen little pupster
long live days of yore and doggy licks
my band of the week blongs to karen o's yelking trio and their new disc
"Gold lion is
Gonna tell me where the lot is
Take our hands
Out of control
Take our hands
Out of control"
and a taste of miu miu although i am starting to wish for the smallest guilded brick to throw at him and his pangs
saw some new paintings by my friend the splendifirious del barton
1000 hair raises for her superb ways of seeing all those things only she can see but show whoever is lucky enough to glimsp she is in a show at kaliman gallery in sydney starting june 6th
a 3 metre high six breasted demon feme feeding a deeresque creature her breast milk so check out some of her little ones at the gallery site for fun under the gallery artists heading though tim mcmonagle is ok abitseeweedy neo raushist and the opening was a right whos's who of sydney try to be the greatest big shot art star shooting flameout on a wing some one has to do it i spose
www.kalimangallery.com
shiny snappy sleep deprived as usual now i will ahave to consider sleep as the final lost utopia for huxley and conrades illegitimate monkey offspring
a pillow is really a soft device to wangle out the grey matter soul and send it to hallaballooo land with out consent
though its generally a free ride with the payment of roof
what i really want is another captivating book or two
i have out read my self and need new insights into how why other people go about keeping about
this has to be good though as iam banefuuly picky of such things
i will make things of gold soon after all
not to mention a new crop of pictures
the cauldron boils
heres huxley talkin it up or not or out damn spot
"I had been sitting alone with books,
Till doubt was a black disease,
When I heard the cheerful shout of rooks
In the bare, prophetic trees.
Bare trees, prophetic of new birth,
You lift your branches clean and free
To be a beacon to the earth,
A flame of wrath for all to see.
And the rooks in the branches laugh and shout
To those that can hear and understand:
"Walk through the gloomy ways of doubt
With the torch of vision in your hand."