Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Almost Living by Mo Watson


Almost Living


In the beginning of the 21st
century I was living -
barely living -
about 20 minutes away from
Cleveland,
Ohio
I will not reveal the name of the town
All I will say is that
it was like living in something
that Cleveland, Ohio had thrown up
after a long day and night working
a double shift in
in seedy bar.
I lived in an apartment complex at
the bottom of a freeway ramp.
Across the hall from my apartment there
lived a
friendly dwarf...
at least
I thought he was a
dwarf
and
friendly.

From Mo Watson's unpublished dream journal sometimes referred to as: I Know a Guy Who Had a Dream About a Tiger Taking a Shit on His Chest

My Slow Cousin Writes by Mo Watson



My Slow Cousin writes:

I like to draw
I have since I was 7
years of.
Ago

*

There is
nothing like
having fun
in the rain

*

Oscar (The Cat) is just looking at something
I no they can see things we don't see.
like a ghost.
No I hope its not that


From the unpublished book Missives From My Slow Cousin by Mo Watson.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

More Musings From Mo Watson


Cubicle Thoughts


For me, it is not a
Rat Race.
It's more like a ponderously dull
wander through a
Rat Maze.


Taken From Mo Watson's Book, I Have Seen the Enemy and He is That Guy Over There in the Stupid Tie. Published by Incorporated Crank Press...in 2011.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Painstakingly Made Surrealism: Le Nez (1963)

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Here is a short, French film based upon a story ("The Nose") by Nikolai Gogol about a man's nose that suddenly decides to leave the man's face and find a new life in a nearby town. The animators used pinscreen animation to bring the surreal tale to life.

I can remember when Spencers Gifts sold small boards of pins. One could press their faces and hands and other body parts if one wished into one side of the board. The other side of the board would show the "impression in pins" of the pressed body part or whatever else one pressed against it. This novelty item was based on this animation technique.

The amount of time the animators spent making this short has got to be mind-boggling.


Tuesday, June 5, 2012

I Like My Coffee Black...Like My Comedy.


I don't know about you but nothing brightens my day more than creating depressing (and perverse) greeting cards. Feel free to share!



someecards.com - Hello? Mrs. Jones? This is not a sales call. We are just calling to let you know that there is no God. Thanks and have a wondrous day!
someecards.com - Life is easier on LSD.
someecards.com - What would Kafka do?
someecards.com - I found a box of dreams under my bed. They smell kinda rotten.
someecards.com - Well, we purchased the hot tub and had the baby. When does the happiness begin?
someecards.com - The box is empty...not unlike my life.
someecards.com - 8 out of 10 business majors have tasted human flesh.
someecards.com - Tuberculosis is atrocious. Wow. I made a rhyme!
someecards.com - My wife is a hoot when she mixes her seconals with wine.
someecards.com - Coprophagia? Is that some kind of skin disorder?
someecards.com - I prefer the term
someecards.com - Math is for assholes.
someecards.com - Most men lead lives of quiet desperation... -Henry David Thoreau

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Søren Kierkegaard's Dark Alley

I've noticed that many quotations from Søren Kierkegaard sound like lines from some of the finer hard-boiled, pulp fiction published in the 1950s.


I see it all perfectly; there are two possible situations - one can either do this or that. My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it - you will regret both.



Listen to the cry of a woman in labor at the hour of giving birth - look at the dying man's struggle at his last extremity, and then tell me whether something that begins and ends thus could be intended for enjoyment.

The gods were bored; therefore they created human beings.


There are, as is known, insects that die in the moment of fertilization. So it is with all joy: life's highest, most splendid moment of enjoyment is accompanied by death.












Wednesday, May 30, 2012

The Music For The Freak Out

Here are two fine tunes from the Golden Age of Hippie Exploitation Cinema.

The Glass Bottle performs this track from the film, The People Next Door. The film presents a tripped out tale of young hippies freaking out and their suburban parents who must deal with the freaking.



A soundtrack record was released and it is not as hard to find as you might expect. I found one a few years ago and I barely leave the house.

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The song used to highlight the moves of Meg Foster in the film Thumb Tripping has (as far as I know) never been released on LP or CD. The film like the preceding one remains unavailable on DVD. This film captures the youth of the late 60's at a little older age than The People Next Door. Two youths using their thumbs to meander across the USA...




The music was written by Bob Thompson. He is known (well, to me at least) as the fellow who composed music that would be the soundtrack to some one wandering about on a giant marshmallow while zonked to the gills on painkillers and vodka cocktails:



The lyrics to the tune were written by Jerry Fuller. I'm guessing this is the same Jerry Fuller who wrote the song, Traveling Man, that Ricky Nelson took to the top of the charts. A quick look at Fuller's bio tells me it must be the same fellow. It looks like he is a person who likes to keep busy.

Beyond the tunes, though, there is Bruce Dern:



And that should sober you up real quick!




Tuesday, May 29, 2012

In a World Without Hope...and Pants!




qEEyd


There are moments when just looking at this photo cheers me up.


Friday, April 27, 2012

A Few Poems From Mo Watson's Book, Martian Beer and Pizza.


Dieting

Ralph began the
awful task
of digging
the hole
he wondered
with
shovel in filthy
fat hand
with sweat pouring from
his massive brow
if there was a way to
figure exactly
how many calories he
was burning digging
this deep hole
for the body of
his
dead
best
friend

Condiments

I do not
relish
drama
I prefer
to put
mustard
on it.

Martian Beer and Pizza

When they
arrived
by the
thousands in
their cigar-shaped
ships
they beamed a terrible
message that
all of us could hear
and understand
they came
for the water and
something
awesome
that was contained
in the earth's
core
the voice said
we
must crack
the earth
like an egg to
get
it
so
sorry
humans
the earth
as you know it is
through
but
the voice went on
to say
there will be
free
beer and
pizza available to
all
until you are
blotted out
for all time
I
for one
was
cool
with
that.

From Mo Watson's book, Martian Beer and Pizza. Published in 2010 by Please Remove Your Hat Lady, I Can't See the Movie Press


Friday, February 17, 2012

Friday, February 10, 2012

Acid Jam...Again!



Word is this was a big underground hit in Germany at the time.  I would have liked to have been at that underground party.    

Saccharine Everythings, Part 48 or Maelstrom Shmaelstrom I'm Taking a Nap.



I long to screw up a snooty society party.

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I forget where I snagged this photo. All I can say is that there is something about it that makes me depressed.

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I began College in 1987. I was ready academically, but emotionally I was a wreck. My father died that year. The woman I was dating (who was ten years older than me) broke up with me the day before my first class. I felt (quoting the great Richard Brautigan here) "like a sewing machine that's just finished sewing a turd to a garbage can lid.”

The College's library had a copy of the book pictured above. I spent a lot of time in the library back then. More specifically, I spent time in the libraries smoking room. It's hard to imagine one could lite up a butt in a room in close proximity to microfilms and rare research texts, but it was the case back then...

I spent much of the time with that book, a book that contained critical studies of Leonard Cohen's novels and poems, and a collection of English dirty limericks that dated back to the Victorian era.

Each one helped me out of a depression so thick and deep that I could actually cut slices of it and serve it as a party snack. 

Depression (when served hot) tastes like French pastries.

I miss spending hours in libraries and smoking cigarettes.



Now - in 2012 - this is the sort of thing that washes the blues away

Friday, February 3, 2012

Thee Cormans

Everything about Thee Cormans speaks to me.