Tuesday, May 29, 2007
The browsers out there really do not leave enough comments for ye olde Squorche and it is leading him to puppet depression. Has anybody got puppet Prozac? On second thoughts tranqs are not a good idea.
Say: no thanks to tranqs.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
There is some stuff about him on the BBC and also at
K1's mum told me about it and I had a nightmare:
I suddenly died and my body remained in bed as my soul lifted out of it. I hovered above my body for hours it seemed. Then, to my horror my body's eyes opened and my body walked around like a zombie heading towards Covent Garden. Then when it was on the tube somehow it "spotted" me and came running after me. I was being chased by my own body. I ran to the Royal Opera House where a beautiful lady suddenly came out. She had large brown eyes and a beautifully shaped nose.
I asked her to marry me but she could not hear. My body then asked her to marry it and she said no. Then my body "caught sight" of me and captured me. Suddenly I was back in the bedroom still out of body but below me there were two bodies that were identical and exactly like "my" body. I woke up sweating and tangled in my strings.
I want an operation. I want to be a wire-puppet like the ones at Blind Summit.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Here comes my day a clunking
Plunking into plonkerty
So much rubbish needs must a junking
Thoughts a-thunking plink
When I’m lonely
I want be-withs
Bet rare are the am-withs
Where not think some thoughtly thinks want I
What think is a thunk
I’ve seen some blinks that make a bunk
Every human has to accept that they’ve blunk
And often with a blink
Today is a thinking day
They say I think too much
Some kind of thinking is just a hiding away crutch
Throw it away and talk and say
Oh Thank you,
Thanks very much
If my mind’s a rabbit
It’s a rabbit without a hutch
is a lifelong thing
It’s a thung to think
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Saraband is Master Ingmar Bergman's last film so far and is a must see for any of you shit directors out there who don't know what you're doing when it comes to your actors. Here is acting at its finest in a tightly woven chamberpiece where the depths of human selfishness, especially that of artists, is given the kind of air that lets truths multiply in action and emotion - the miniscule vibration of facial muscles that convey the macroscopic turmoils of the heart and the dying of the soul.
The story is about a weak son and a tyrannically domineering father. The father was an operatic celebrity. His son is a cellist of competence who has never enjoyced the limelight. But his daughter, his dad's grand-daughter with whom he is disgustingly committing incest has the potential to be noted by the snobby and hyper-critical classical music world. But she has to break free of her dad, and grandad whose daughter she possibly could be. In two scenes the music, Bach, in the church and Bruckner, Symphony no. 9, in the grand dad's study are used with masterly psychological accuracy.
It is one week since my last post and in that time a super-nova has exploded. It is the brightest thing anyone has ever seen. But I didn't see it. Did you? Please contact bbc.co.uk if you did see it. Apparently one is going to happen in our galaxy, the Milky Way very soon. Lock up your Mars bars.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
In a picture beamed to NASA on Earth from the New Horizons spacecraft orbiting Jupiter we see the similarity between VanGogh's masterpiece Starry Night and the Little Red Spot ( a storm the size of planet Earth, situated below the famous Great Red Spot, an even greater storm requiring a celestial teacup) .
- A link to pictures from Jupiter and its moons:
- A link to the Van Gogh web gallery: