a seventy second poem...'how we laughed'

I used to

Work in an

Administrative

Capacity at a

Local GP surgery.

One day we

Registered a patient

By the name of

Edward Andrew

Thomas Balls.

E.A.T.Balls.

How we laughed!

a thirty seventh cartoon...'canal'

This is a cartoon of The Regent's Canal in London.  You can stroll the tow-path in a day from east-west, meandering through the city, past the Camden locks, stopping at a watering-hole every now and again for refreshment.  Walking in the city is a great thing, and fills in one's head map of what could otherwise be a bewildering urban sprawl.  Good thoughts come when walking too.

a seventy first poem...'a very small piece of history'

So - quickly -  here’s what

Happened...About five minutes

Ago I was chatting in the

Laboratory with my assistant,

Jimbo. We were experimenting

With shrinking objects,

Both animate, and inanimate.

Well, Jimbo needed a

Whizz – he had drank half

A bottle of Ice-cream

Soda. And when he was out

Of the room, I began

Idly playing with the dials

On the ray-gun – very foolish!

Suddenly, I guess, there

Must have been a power

Surge, and in a blinding

Flash of magnesium-white

Light, I was ‘diminished’,

To about the size of

 A European ant. Now,

Jimbo had left

His near empty Styrofoam

Cup, on it’s side, atop the laboratory

Table. And I went to sit on the

Lip. To wait for Jimbo to

Return. And reverse the

Situation. However, when he came

Back into the room, instead he’s

Gone and picked up his cup, not

Noticing little yours truly, and

Sent me sliding down the inside

Of the thing, in a sticky

Sluice; has put the plastic

Lid on and has begun slurping.

His straw is a goddamn vacuum!

Any time soon, I…

…could…be…

a…very…small…piece…

of…history.

a thirty sixth cartoon...'it's alive!'

This cartoon requires sound.  And since I can't seem to embed an audio file with this post, I'll just have to let the imagination generate noise.  The inspiration comes from the album cover of The Smoking Popes excellent debut album, Born To Quit.

a thirty fifth cartoon...'love hz'

When one falls in love, one is, in a sense, completely broken, and then put back together; feelings about oneself and one's life re-arranged.  This can result in something happening that is rather beautiful, a Grayson Perry moment if you will - Perry has, in the past, made new art out of deconstruction.  It can also result in something rather terrible if said love dies, and/or goes unrequited; a grotesque reconstruction that simply doesn't fit together as it used to - you might call this doing a Wyndham-Lewis.

a thirty fourth cartoon...'farewell transmission'

The desert is where, beyond the horizon, there lies nothing.  A place where people go to die, or rediscover themselves: I suppose it's either a lonely and unforgiving place, or a great, silent space one can find peace of mind and solace in.  The title is from (yet another) song by Jason Molina - his music evokes both claustrophobia and pain, as well as hope and promise.  The best evocation of a desertscape in literature I have come across is in J.G.Ballard's The Drought, in which some of the characters fail to come to terms with their new environs, while others, who were outcasts in the old world, discover something approaching true freedom in the new.

a thirty third cartoon...'the door'

This is a door, a door with an exit sign, the word 'exit' illuminated against a green background for visibility in conditions of low light.  It's a straightforward cartoon, and one I would like to show to David Moyes, the Manchester United manager, and his whole coaching staff.  United's loss to the unalmighty Stoke City at the weekend was their eighth defeat in the Premier League, their fifth in seven matches in 2014.  I laughed, but laughed knowing that laughing and crying are physiologically the same thing in a desperately gloomy situation.