sloshbuckets's posterous

ithell (it's a rainy day, sunshine girl)

She spent her time in the lighthouse, casting symbols with her fingers onto the waves, transmitting lullabyes to the creatures of the deep, and they in turn carved her castles of coral and driftwood, the spires and minarets of which she could see on cold cloudy days like jagged teeth between the breakers, spindrift gifts of plastic and flotsam and coke bottles worn down to cat's eyes, which she gathered among the rocks and trash and shells, perfecting her taxonomy, dried kelp in her hair and sand beneath her purple-polished fingernails, and so she spiraled up the nautilus stairwell of the lighthouse to the balcony again, again, her underwater friends waiting for her latest missive, the boy she no longer thinks is cute, the song she now knows the words to sing, her studies of crab pincers and hollow bones, slowly learning each other, salt at the corners of her eyes, forming her fingers to make the shapes, to say the names, to say hello.

Rex Sebastian source images

These are a bunch of images I'm using as inspiration for the Rex Sebastian stories; imaging all these smeared with a soft-focus quaalude veneer of 70s robo-funk to get the complete vibe.

Rex Sebastian, Discomancer in 'Velvet Magick Rites in the House of Uranus'

It takes a true warrior to escape the siren song of satin sheets, particularly at so ungodly early an hour as two in the afternoon, but Rex Sebastian had been trained by the best. From the darkest cannibal cults of the African veldt to the airy climes of the mountain fortress as Alamut, from the secret teachings of the Buddha Monks of Shaolin to the hypnoerotic initiations of the Black-Thighed Witch, Rex knew his was a life of higher duties, responsible as the single remaining practicioner of the Velvet Magic Rites still alive on this plane of what the foolish rabble still glibly call "reality", and as this was a time when the black stars hidden behind the night sky were in conjunction there was no safety to be had. He donned his skintight pants sewn from the invincible skin of the Nemean Lion once worn by Omphale, his golden medallions taken from around the necks of his long-deceased enemies and his cloak, of which I am only allowed to say the interior was painted in sigils drawn in the biolumenescent blood of The Cruthian, only then standing before the window of his Manhattan penthouse apartment and looking first down upon the city, his adopted home, and then up into the cloud-streaked sky, into the icy black depths of the cosmos...his true home. His familiars brooded and purred quietly to themselves while his manservant the house-devil Devotos dared not bring the champion his morning bloody mary and fistful of pills. The Discomancer was not yet ready.

  TO BE CONTINUED 

Stackalee Madness (Excerpt)

disco phail

Note that I just now tried my best to make a disco remix of
'Stackalee' as performed by Frank Hutchison in the Anthology of
American Folk Music, and phailed. I can confirm that it runs at
125bpm, though. I had this inkling that disco remixes of pre-1930s
recordings would be the next big thing... but, as yet, I cannot
confirm.

for the record

I plan to hit this hard again this weekend, and the weekend after that, with Halloween weekend being a great unveiling of deformed treats for all the fucked up children of the world. History will absolve me!

seven clocks in the serpent's throat

Last night Stu challenged me to make a film made entirely of stock footage. Moreover, the audio could only be accompanied from library records, foreign language tapes and sound effects collections. This seemed pretty doable, but then he added the zinger: it had to be a film a general audience would watch and enjoy, it couldn't be some clever art project deal. I told him I'd give it my best shot and headed off to the Prelinger Archive to start rounding up footage. Esther, Stu and I did a little brainstorming as to the best approach, and we agreed that a action-fuelled detective film was the way to go, with secret agents and brainwashing cults and brother versus brother and a mysterious dame pulling the strings behind the scenes. I'm all about this, and after going over some of the footage I started piecing things together a little more, and because I'm me I added in a lot of giallo/occult horror overtones, as I already have a nice public domain stash of that material. Expect a showdown at the World's Fair, an army of masked schitzophrenic assassins and a groovy hippie cultist who knows more than she's saying. Any other themes/characters/ideas you'd like to see woven into this?

wedding and black intoxication

[the text for this is delayed, but here are the illustrations]

Bobcat Bob suggests the Good Ship Almighty stay in, have tea & watch movies today

 

The Hall of Discomfort

I'm designing the haunted house for our Halloween party. It's called the Hall of Discomfort. I want to fill it with things that make people uncomfortable. Any suggestions are welcome. So far, I have:

A framed picture of Bea Arthur
Some sort of creepy drunk clown tableaux
Some sort of display of cartoon animal sex
A stuffed bunny on a pedestal
A creepy doll (likely my talking pee wee hermann doll)
A disapproving grandma
a loose shoe and blood
a dont look now midget facing a corner
a toy piano, with a mini disco ball, and a photo of liberace. and maybe some glitter on the piano. or feathers

any other ideas?