Twitchy slicey

Fight night! You all have them over eggs or kids, or kids wearing eggs.  Our fight night was my happy in the bubble tub, book in tow, wine glass placed... when I felt a shabby leg.  

I'm not trying to impress anyone by way of being shaven, it's just what one does when not on some sort of field trip through Haiti.  Let's recall that last October (I know.... fucking October right?) I took two antibiotics for a urinary infection and went numb from neck down.  

It's all but gone except... for the section of leg I shaved tonight and skin came flying off with wings.  I CAN feel the problem, but not until really put under pressure.  This was pressure.

 Looks like nothing eh?  That's a sorry excuse for a thigh and no blood drainage, I zipped a good three inch tear down it's top bone.  Yelping... I called for Mr. Morgan.

"I've bloodied myself."
"You do that always."

And he seriously fucking left me.  Bleeding into my own broth of bubble wonder.


This from the man who had a rash last week and called from the shower for a second opinion.  I was there in two seconds and didn't say "dry it off, you're fine."  piss piss of my time sort of thing, no.


Shame.  He still maintains he didn't know it was so "dire"  and I maintain that anything bleeding in the house should have a second peeky.  As for my numbness, it really is almost gone but I get these really odd synapses at night that makes my limbs move or jerk, definitely nervous system damage... .careful what you swallow.


- DM

My Bonny

I have on me a crazy sense of mischief tonight.  One of those sorts that you walk into a room and catch a wide, wild eyed person huddled into the corner with huge eyes and a grin that means they know something you don't, coupled with hands over the mouth to cover an immediate attempt of the mouth to tell. 

What me done?  Not tellin'.  I'm fine to giggle lonely.  I told the Russian, he wasn't impressed so fuck him.

Onto bigger things.  I've been working further on my heroine pieces, I've done two since my last posting.  Mr. Morgan found the prior (not posted) as "not your best" and wandered off.  That's really a fuck off way to not get fed.  I've seen his artwork and his stick figures are sideways and frankly crippled, sad for them, but don't fuck off my art.  I am weird about it as it is.  


The latest piece is another Loreena McKennit drill, Bonny Swans.  I think it's swell if you'd give my work (and shitty fucking photo of it, it's detailed madly and quite colorful) a go and listen to the lore of the reason I drew it.  It's really a bummer, like most of my art, but I think I did well to bring it to life as a visual and no it is not yellow in person.... a lot of purples, greens and blue.  My fascination with dead Celtic broads are endless.  I spent a very long time on her, and wish the photo were better.... it's stunning.  I never say that of self.  Please do listen to the below song, it's pretty awesome and explains why I drew what I drew.

Below for the printing lyrics and story.... tis good stuffs!




A farmer there lived in the north country
a hey ho bonny o
And he had daughters one, two, three
The swans swim so bonny o
These daughters they walked by the river's brim
a hey ho bonny o
The eldest pushed the youngest in
The swans swim so bonny o


Oh sister, oh sister, pray lend me your hand
with a hey ho a bonny o
And I will give you house and land
the swans swim so bonny o
I'll give you neither hand nor glove
with a hey ho a bonny o
Unless you give me your own true love
the swans swim so bonny o


Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam
with a hey ho and a bonny o
Until she came to a miller's dam
the swans swim so bonny o


The miller's daughter, dressed in red
with a hey ho and a bonny o
She went for some water to make her bread
the swans swim so bonny o


Oh father, oh daddy, here swims a swan
with a hey ho and a bonny o
It's very like a gentle woman
the swans swim so bonny o
They placed her on the bank to dry
with a hey ho and a bonny o
There came a harper passing by
the swans swim so bonny o


He made harp pins of her fingers fair
with a hey ho and a bonny o
He made harp strings of her golden hair
the swans swim so bonny o
He made a harp of her breast bone
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And straight it began to play alone
the swans swim so bonny o


He brought the harp to her father's hall
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And there was the court, assembled all
the swans swim so bonny o
He laid the harp upon a stone
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And straight it began to play lone
the swans swim so bonny o


And there does sit my father the King
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And yonder sits my mother the Queen
the swans swim so bonny o
And there does sit my brother Hugh
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And by him William, sweet and true
the swans swim so bonny o
And there does sit my false sister, Anne
with a hey ho and a bonny o
Who drowned me for the sake of a man
the swans swim so bonny o 


Entirely possible I have a hard on for drawing ghosts but here are the lyrics, it's a good story and I love when she calls out her murderer.  I did good.  My next piece is calling "The Making of Medusa"  we'll see how that shakes out.

- DM

Memories, like the corner of my mind.... misty water.....

This was my avatar last week.... sparking the following conversation copy/pasted from an IM.

 

Bosslady's Daughter:: wow!  sweet avi (picture of a magnificent tree - tree of life sort)

DM: : I agree.  Never took shrooms but I babysat for a few participants once and they claimed to have climbed the "mighty tree"   I like to think that is what they saw.  but it was really on inspection of such a glorified act of god,  nothing more than a large sagebrush.  heh

DM:  and they stank for days! 

Cheers to those who entrusted me to motherbird and awe at the miracle placed before them.  With no disrespect, I'm glad I was able to see soberly that it was sagebrush, as I'm allergic to Mighty Tree and could have turned a good time bad swiftly.  Not remotely sorry that I never took that trip, pun intended - plus doesn't it taste like the shit it's raised in?  Who puts that into their mouths on purpose?  Those who seek Tree, that's who.  Fair enough, keep on my tree seekers.

- DM

Zigga Zig Ahhhhh

Peace out to 2010! The last of family gatherings for what best be a good chunk of months was on New Year's Day, the final of three weddings in two months.

Not to say it was a bad wedding, went on a bit but for their dime I guess the bride and groom are allowed to talk about themselves for 4 hours. I won't claim to have been completely miserable, it was nice enough but I was also fine to have mailed a card.

However, to offset the overly exaggerated ceremony of how the couple met and how the Fates smiled down with approval and foresight, at the reception was a photo booth, and a few chardonnays in, Prada and I looked at each other in silent knowing that we at some point were going to tear that shit up.

Prada was sparkling (literally wearing glitter) in anticipation. She wanted a piece of that action so badly I was willing to go with simply to see children being flung from the line, bandicoot style, spit flying and teeth bared. Or.... the other possibility was a slick slide of her ever so high heel to ankle swipe a bitch and move forward in line unnoticed. I was game, I'd have thrown a pair of prop glasses in a round of fetch with the kids ahead of us but we just cut in, needing nothing more than a "What, what you gonna do!! Back up son" stare. Photo time meant business.

If I look somewhat hostage and resisting, I am. Mostly because the seat in there was about two inches and two sets of cheeks were vying for it.

Told you she was rabid, biting my ear here, or going for the jugular ..... I'm smiling because the wine has stopped my brain from letting me know I should be defending myself.


We then, with others danced our booties off. Well, they did, I haven't a booty BUT I was the only bitch out there who ditched shoes and did the moonwalk when MJ popped off. Dancing with Prada is dangerous if you are Raggety-Ann small and mal-coordinated. i was certain she was going to fling me through a wall in one of our spins - which were sex-ay but - I'd have looked the drunk broad, and something tells me she'd have samba-ed off back into the crowd leaving me behind as "the one who fell." presuming her partner just went missing, twirling off into the crowd, fuck it, get a new one!

Zigga zig Prads, for sure we worked it with the best of em, getting wicked at a party after age 30 rocks more because no one ends up in the bathroom holding hair, been there done that - we simply just rocked the bitch.... then looted the table. Heh, that was my influence, go figure.





-DM