Archive

Monthly Archives: February 2013

Image

Almost every American schoolchild learns the alphabet in sequence via a sing-songy thing which ends–nowadays–with “Now I know my ABCs/Next time won’t you sing with me?” (In my day, it was “Now I know my ABCs/Mommy, aren’t you proud of me?” I’m guessing the Alphabet Teaching Powers That Be determined that gender specificity for the end tag was too Mommifying.)

This page came to its septuple-acrostic form because after I decided to acrosticize “Letter Getter” the question “WHICH letters?” naturally came up. “ALL of them” was the natural answer. I have a strong feeling that I am the first person to present the alphabet in the same letter-grouping as the childhood song (when viewed as columns) in a quintuple-acrostic segment of a septuple-acrostic array. (I have a stronger feeling that a Hill of Beans is more valuable, and more nourishing.)

This array is sufficiently Procrustean as to challenge internal meaningfulness. Behold the words, without their acrostic emphasis:

Less apprenticeship for THUGS–quiescently we beg
Egoed Bums jk us; if we squawk then we renege
Trade yr old CDs for link–reserve your flexy tat
Telemarketers harumph & praise your sexy fat
E-Z, friend–I know a Goddess–curvy & azure
Righteous/graceful–pops–but to bereave a grizzly? Grr

Meter’s pretty good, rhyme OK, but the content is both like a dilirium dream and an opera singer not quite hitting the high note–or so it seems at first blush (it is only a few hours old).

This is not my first foray into sequential alphabetization. I leave you with this sonnet, done over four years ago, with the single acrostic “Alphabet Soup” and managing to get A through Z in order by the final couplet. Cheers!

Image

Image

Here are the words, which are not only snaky but go behind objects:

VelociRapture’s easier to mock than to accept
Or so it seems to one who’s stunned from go go go go go
Recursion’s that divertissement that takes unextra step
To plow through tweaked [infinity] where Tiny makes it so
Inconsequentiality’s what gives the grave its sting
Conversely, knowing that they MATTERED helps most folks feel Super
Understanding Truth it pays to linger on the lingua
Leaving an Escape Clause should you need to fly the coop
A relative positioning will get us low or high
Remaining are unfathomed depths that boil down to Why

This is yet another excursion into Vorticularity. I keep coming back to the subject…inexorably…as if drawn into it…

The truth is, the stuff we’re made of exerts a force on everything else, everywhere. It’s in the equations both Newtonian and Einsteinian. Even a paper clip influences the farthest star.

My own private vortex-maker is my pencil, which is also my ambassador, my spokesmodel, and my toy. I will never be so poor as not to be able to scare up a pencil stub and an illustration substrate. If I were desperate, I’d sneak onto the nearest golf course and lift a scorecard and a pencil from the rack by the clubhouse. They’re complimentary, which is one modest earmark of Civilized Intercourse (that was an awful pun, folks).

I have posted this on a Facebook 30-day artist’s challenge, and a friend of mine commented “Wheeeee!” I’m glad she enjoyed the ride. I hope you do too.

Image

I am writing directly to my computer screen, and you are reading it slightly-to-much later, in part thanks to Samuel F. B. Morse, inventor of Morse Code and pioneer of telegraphy. The dot-dash conversion of alphanumerics precursed, and presaged, the zero-one reduction of information used in original machine language, and upon which all computer/systems now depend.

Doing the above page, I wrote the acrostic first. The “Mama” of the acrostic made me think of the Motherboard, so I found a suitable photo source and started to draw one, quickly finding out that it would take me far longer to render an acceptable Motherboard than I had time (every page has a Midnight deadline) or inclination (prefer nudes, portraits, and comic-strip continuity drawing to circuitry illustration). So I faked up some of the Motherboard and calligraphed the label in a homey and quite large font for coverup. I then went whimsical and thought “Mothraboard” and “Bad-A** Mutha, Bored” would be good completative compositional elements. It also tickled me to double my Samuels with the Pulp Fiction incarnation of Samuel L. Jackson.

Lastly: when it comes to Data, we are ALL Babymamas. What you are reading is data I’ve labored to give birth to. Remember me on Mother’s Day! 🙂

Image

Happy Valentine’s Day to lovers old and young. Please have this slight but sweet acrostic confection. Why I spelled Indulgence Induldence I cannot say for sure. Perhaps something duld my sinces.

I have created a Valentine for my sweet/fine/incredible Girlfriend, Denise. It is for her eyes only. I encourage you to likewise make Valentines for those you love, from afar or otherwise. This is a day for Sweethearts.

Some time ago I drew Denise reading, and acrosticized the occasion, thus:

Image

Friends, may your Valentine’s Day be filled with Love and Kisses.

Image

Yesterday was Lincoln’s birthday. I wanted to say something new, or at least meaningful, about him. I had little to go by in my recent experience aside from having viewed both LINCOLN and ABRAHAM LINCOLN: VAMPIRE HUNTER. So I did a little research…

Which led me to documentation that President Lincoln frequently used the N-word, loved minstrel shows demeaning to people of color, and told “darky” jokes. In other words, today he’d be considered a racist by many.

There are those who might say that we can’t expect too much from a man of the near-south in the 1800s. And my hero Kurt Vonnegut once confessed to admiration for the writing of known Nazi sympathizer Louis-Ferdinand Céline. And Robert Penn Warren once wrote “And what we students of history always learn is that the human being is a very complicated contraption and that they are not good or bad but are good and bad and the good comes out of the bad and the bad out of the good, and the devil take the hindmost.”

Somehow I found myself grouping Lincoln, Barack Obama, and Jomo Kenyatta, founder of the independent Republic of Kenya, where Barack Obama Sr. came from when it was still British East Africa. Jomo Kenyatta is on much Kenyan currency and coin, but not for long. Perhaps it is because he was publicly in favor of female genital mutilation. “No proper Kikuyu would dream of marrying a girl who has not been circumcised,” he stated in his book Facing Mount Kenya. Wikipedia mentions his taking the “traditionalist” side in public debate.

And what of Barack Obama? He has most of his second term before him. I would like to urge him to become an example to the world of what the United States is all about. He has already done that to some extent. His two inaugural speeches were magnificent, and I have praised them both on my modest Facebook soapbox. But Gitmo remains open for business, and many of his other promises go either as yet unkept or bent or shattered. “That’s politics,” some may say. But, Mr. President, I urge you to at least pretend to transcend politics, to the good of the world citizenry. Pretend to be transcendent, early and often, and with good will and good luck Kurt Vonnegut’s admonition will apply favorably.

NOTE: I wish my journal page above had contained much more of the message that is here below it. I was seduced by wordplay, and the acrostic format, plus some semblance of meter, plus an incorrigible proclivity towards punmanship, made the words what they are. I regret that they did not mean more; I hope they and these words are at least thought-provoking.

Image

Long ago I did some purchasing for a software engineering concern. One vendor offered a cut-rate screaming deal on a ONE GIGABYTE HARD DRIVE. It could be mine for a mere two hundred and ninety dollars.

Now I have something that holds thirtyfold what that dinosaur would, and it set me back ten bucks. I should use it more often in case things go Kablooie.

Image

Saturday morning our Village of Oak Creek was fabricked with the satin of joined snowflakes. I have not seen snow falling all that many times in my life–spending most of my life in the Valley of the Sun, I was 21 years old the first time I saw snow falling–so it is new enough to me to seem miraculous.

I owe my knowledge of the word (or words) Uffda (or Uff Da) to my sweet former wife, a small-town gal from Minnesota. During our 23 years of marriage, which ended a year ago last December, I also learned to say “come here once” instead of “come here, please” and “well, you’re welcome” instead of “you’re welcome.” Uffda usually follows some kind of accident (like dropping the fried egg on the floor) or burdensomeness (like working a double shift)–at least that was my inference. I am not bilingual in Minnesotan; but I often say “Uffda” just after getting my old bones off the couch after sitting there for more than an hour. Comes in handy, and trips off the tongue!,

It was one of those days John Lennon sang about when he sang “Nobody Told Me There’d Be Days Like These/Strange days inDEED…” Suddenly I found myself again at Urban Beans in Phoenix, Arizona with the smallest of time windows. It was 5:35pm. Caffeine Corridor would start at 7:00PM, and I had to talk to at least two people beforehand about at least two different things. After the event I had to dinner&drive back to my home and my love, with an image to post befor midnight. And I hadn’t ordered my large plain-drip coffee yet.

At 6:17pm I was finished with the image. Necessity is the mother of inspiration: I knew I had to keep it minimal–MINIMAL? A theme tailor-made…

Image