release the bats!

nick cave: creepy looking, creepy sounding, australian.
pictured here looking a wee bit like jospeh beuys...but everything i draw looks a wee bit like joseph beuys, if you ask me.

i hope he's happy though, that creepy ol' nick cave.




all i really want is for everyone to be happy.





even australians. (though i would prefer if they kept their happiness on their own island)

if so,

some of today's questions for myself:

1. am i joking?

2. no, seriously?

3. would i like grits?

4. could i improve my french bread making skills or am i not french enough?

5. does sentiment come from your guts?

6. is derrida really the answer?

7. is derrida really not the answer?

8. is the possibility of death impossible?

9. is seasonal affective disorder a myth?

10. what does it sound like when doves cry?

sank into your dreams

makes me cry:



i saw a chupacabra/fox with severe mange in my yard last night



{it looked like this fox with mange in wales-- i will try to get a photo if it comes back}

at the time i was just spooked and confused and uncertain, but now somehow through the "magic" of "feelings", a fucking mangy fox/chupacabra has brought back all my mystery creature fascinations (which admittedly weren't really all that gone anyhow) and odd and unsettling childhood memories of seeing pictures of a thylacine in a book and just wanting to see one so badly, only to discover they were already all gone and my out-of-date book had led me astray. I don't know why it still matters to me, but it does.

beautiful inside my head forever

does it bother you that i save my hair when it falls out? it bothers me.

it bothers me.

part time faculty indeed

Raining all day.
Tried to take pictures that show how misty-cloudy-middle earth it is, but i can't really do it justice. Rain is hard to photograph. Or not, and i haven't figured it out. Could be either.
Rainy days are an excellent excuse to do nothing.
Most things are an excellent excuse to do nothing, really. Especially when one is as gainfully unemployed as i am.
Despite a very uncharacteristic (but more common this summer) Dawson downpour, i managed to install some blinds in the radio station and check out the new record shelves Jim built and Pat painted. They look so sharp. Front loader style, for much easier and quicker record searching.
It will be a spectacular advantage in djing with vinyl, which i very much dig.

This past 7 day chunk has been a funtimes week. Lots of sunshines and cocktails and even some bbqing and canoeing. I fucking love canoeing.















and cocktails.









In other unemployment related news, i have been trying to better acquaint myself with the sights and services of summertime Dawson.
I got to catch annnnn 'istoric presentation by this feisty northern poet just the other day:



And photograph the real guy's pretty excellently appointed cabin.







I think Robert Service's bed might be nicer than mine.



I dreamt last night that the Microphones song "I Felt Your Shape"was going to be used in a movie that i didn't like the sounds of and was subsequently crushed.
I think it might be the most beautiful song in the world. It's less than two minutes long, and it makes me cry everytime i listen to it. Really. As lame as that might be. As i was saying to Aaron Burnie only yesterday, "feelings are boring, kissing is awesome".
But feelings are bossy and ubiquitous.
Always clogging up the instruments with their crud.
Eating up RAM power.
Smelling up the fridge.
I think i will do like Milli Vanilli [Frank Farian] before me and blame it on the rain.