Magic, munchies and mayhem
19/07/2012 11:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
izmeinaToday was a simply gorgeous chilly crisp and crunchy day. In spite of a 1am bedtime all the omens indicated the best of all possible days. The weather and the delicate light at this time of year confer a special kind of magic and nostalgia for the pale faint light of Europe. This time of year is the nearest we get to it. In summer there is a bleached out effect as the brightness of the light is so overpowering
Winter time is porridge time. No Uncle Toby 30 second powdered oats for this ever so discerning serpent. The six dollar bag of biodynamic kosher deliciousness from Kojonup is down to its last quarter. The usual ritual is to soak the oats in water overnight and then add milk in the morning. Very tasty and delicious and dirt cheap.
Sat outside facing west lapping up the sunshine with the Izzie in one chair and the bowl of porridge in another watching the birds and listening to a fascinating story about Woodside and its collusion with our Emperor Colin Barnett to trash yet more pristine beaches and land.
This speaker Geoffrey Cousins used to work for the Lying Rodent so was especially impressed by his admiration of Bob Browne and his excellent demolition of every single argument in favour of the James Price Point gas hub. Especially disgusting was the bullying tactics of our emperor towards the original Aboriginal owners of the land in the area. Sign up and we will give you 33 pieces of silver. If you refuse we will take the land anyway and you won’t get a single cent.
Colin Barnett is a disgusting goblin with no concept whatsoever of the sacred or sublime and an extremely inflated sense of his own importance. He is not only happy to trash Aboriginal sacred sites but has no regard for those of the white people either such as Hale House and the Esplanade which he wants to turn into a mosquito infested swamp. Betty’s bog not Elizabeth Quay will be the most accurate description of this abomination. But worst of all is the murder of many old Moreton Bay Fig trees
If only the Dementors had never preyed on the previous Premier ‘Good News’ Geoff Gallop and replaced him with an utterly arrogant smarmy git, then Labour would have won the 2008 election and spared us the Monsanto invasion and the trashing of so many sacred sites.
But back to the present moment. It was a gorgeous day and Izzie was one contented serpent in spite of the premonition that the old toad would be once desecrating our owleries with more of her filthy stinking howlers this day or the next. With a bit of luck the bosses from state HQ would be keeping her otherwise occupied in preparation for the big bad government box tickers.
The smiles and sunshine came to an abrupt end no more than five minutes after boarding the bus to Fremantle. The 106 route is notorious for attracting more than its fair share of jerks behind the wheel. This idiot did not take too long to start slamming on the brakes and the jerk’s favorite game of speeding up to get through the next set of lights but missing them at the last minute with the usual grand slam. Anyone unlucky enough not to be sitting would soon find themselves thrown to the floor. After 30 minutes of this ridiculous jerkery the Izzie was a blubbering nervous wreck.
Used to think it was just our imagination or some strange serpent sensitivity but observing other folks struggling to stay upright or in some cases being actually thrown around the aisles made us realize that it was not just a sign of Izzie insanity. But still wondering if there a word for sensitivity to rapid acceleration or deceleration. Just as well the Izzie never had any aspirations to be an astronaut
The bus, bed or bath tub used to be the best sources for ideas and inspiration. These days a bus trip is a source of serious stress and even exhaustion. Creativity is completely out of the question
Some routes seem to be much worse offenders than others. Guessing that the long, windy curly ones never allow an opportunity to build up speed so they are usually better. But the jerk rodeo riders can still manage to do the bucking bronco bullshit at the red lights.
It got to the stage that it would be necessary to sit down for a good twenty minutes to recover from the gravity defying ordeal or else risk the rest of the day being an endless cycle of claustrophobia and panic attacks
Today seemed to be one of them. Ten minutes sitting in the sunshine seemed to have a calming effect but two door hogs blocking the exit of the Juicy Beetroot cafe and standing waiting for an eternity for them to get the hell out of there while holding a bowl of hot vegies was enough to induce the whole claustrophobia thing all over again.
By this stage Izzie had well and truly covered herself in shit magnets. Used the two hour ticket to go to the art gallery with the Aleister Crowley and other occult artworks. Asked the bus driver to let us off at the Harvest Terrace stop. The bus does a detour up a hill before returning to the main route via Harvest terrace. Unfortunately one of the landmarks on the hill includes a site belonging to the infernal goblins. Just the sight of that filthy stinking logo was enough to induce most murderous thoughts indeed
Was expecting to exit this area right near Harvest Terrace but there seemed to be no trace of the place. Before we knew it a large grain mill with a dingo appeared into view. This was way way past the art gallery and the driver had never said a thing. Was most miffed indeed but at least he wasn’t a brakes slamming jerk like the last one.
Bugger. Had a gutful of buses at this stage. Would be better off with a broomstick. Ten to fifteen minutes walk got Izzie to the desired destination all the while thinking that this seriously gorgeous day was rapidly going down the gurgler unless we could put an end to this ridiculous awfulizing. Was completely incapable of a single solitary happy thought and only toads, dementors, demons and other miseries tormented the Izzie mind.
But how to snap out of it, had no idea at all. Lucky that all the peculiar pictures upstairs in the gallery finally provided the circuit breaker. Without even realizing it, slowly returned to the present moment and enjoyed the weird and wonderful art works. The promotions were rather misleading in that there were only two Works of The Beast and one of them was seriously fugly. But that did not matter as the rest of the stuff was so fascinating. The two draw cards Crowley and Rosaleen Norton were non events but the others were beautiful and spooky. There were 20 something art works in all.
Windows to the Sacred
Some were surrealist and spooky and others included a very striking set of black paper cuts. Titled “Legion 49” it actually consisted of 49 +1 very cool and creepy creatures including Cthulhu, the odd toad, rat, cat and serpent or two. They were all symmetrical along a centre line like each half being a mirror image of the other. This same artist also had sculptures of some of these creepy crawlies which were apparently inspired by Mexican magical and folk art. The artist is Barry William Hale
One was a fly with a crown. That must have been Beelzebub. He also had a special blue circle inscribed with numerous sigils devoted to him. They looked remarkably like Voudoun ‘veves’ so Izzie is wondering if they are related at all. Assuming that French occult tradition must fit in the mix somewhere.
There were some strange and fascinating artworks concerning secret Freemasons business and the parallels to Australian Aboriginal culture and beliefs and of course all the secret stuff.
This exhibition runs until 20th August. Will most definitely return for another look and especially to snaffle a second copy of the seriously strange magazine “New Dawn’. There are free copies on offer due to the gallery curator having written an article about this particular exhibition which features there. With stories about demonic possession by David Icke and the Grand Cabal of the City of London - capital of the world’s largest banking conspiracy, what is there not to love? Izzie suspects these conspiracies will serve as a veritable gold mine of juicy inspiration for August.
The return to the present moment returned to be short lived. Did a bit of a coffee crawl and went to the shops to get a phone top up and a few nibblies. In spite of the place being nearly empty still managed to be all psycho, paranoid and claustrophobic. By then it was ten to seven and time to slink off to the Philosophy Cafe meeting which was the other main reason for being there in the first place. But got to thinking that having well and truly crashed and turned from toasty to seriously scratchy that just the five minute walk to the Sail and Anchor pub would be just too much for the overloaded serpent senses to cope with.
Slinked off to the bus stop instead and prayed that all the jerk drivers had long finished their shifts. No such luck. It is not just the drivers but the buses themselves that are a big part of the problem. A jerk can ruin a ride on any bus including the old ones but the recent models have the ride from hell preprogrammed. It has something to do with opening and closing the doors being directly linked to the brakes so that a driver has to make the extra effort to stop the stupid things from suddenly starting or stopping. So with the new buses instead of the default position of only the really bad drivers being jerks we are left with the awful alternative that only the really good ones aren’t.
Must go check to see how long the dinosaurs will be lurking at Scitech. In this present state of neurotic nuttiness, subjecting the Izzie ears to the hordes of wee squealing beasties is just looking for trouble. Maybe will just spend the morning snoozing in the serpent sack instead before venturing outside the Lair at noon
Winter time is porridge time. No Uncle Toby 30 second powdered oats for this ever so discerning serpent. The six dollar bag of biodynamic kosher deliciousness from Kojonup is down to its last quarter. The usual ritual is to soak the oats in water overnight and then add milk in the morning. Very tasty and delicious and dirt cheap.
Sat outside facing west lapping up the sunshine with the Izzie in one chair and the bowl of porridge in another watching the birds and listening to a fascinating story about Woodside and its collusion with our Emperor Colin Barnett to trash yet more pristine beaches and land.
This speaker Geoffrey Cousins used to work for the Lying Rodent so was especially impressed by his admiration of Bob Browne and his excellent demolition of every single argument in favour of the James Price Point gas hub. Especially disgusting was the bullying tactics of our emperor towards the original Aboriginal owners of the land in the area. Sign up and we will give you 33 pieces of silver. If you refuse we will take the land anyway and you won’t get a single cent.
Colin Barnett is a disgusting goblin with no concept whatsoever of the sacred or sublime and an extremely inflated sense of his own importance. He is not only happy to trash Aboriginal sacred sites but has no regard for those of the white people either such as Hale House and the Esplanade which he wants to turn into a mosquito infested swamp. Betty’s bog not Elizabeth Quay will be the most accurate description of this abomination. But worst of all is the murder of many old Moreton Bay Fig trees
If only the Dementors had never preyed on the previous Premier ‘Good News’ Geoff Gallop and replaced him with an utterly arrogant smarmy git, then Labour would have won the 2008 election and spared us the Monsanto invasion and the trashing of so many sacred sites.
But back to the present moment. It was a gorgeous day and Izzie was one contented serpent in spite of the premonition that the old toad would be once desecrating our owleries with more of her filthy stinking howlers this day or the next. With a bit of luck the bosses from state HQ would be keeping her otherwise occupied in preparation for the big bad government box tickers.
The smiles and sunshine came to an abrupt end no more than five minutes after boarding the bus to Fremantle. The 106 route is notorious for attracting more than its fair share of jerks behind the wheel. This idiot did not take too long to start slamming on the brakes and the jerk’s favorite game of speeding up to get through the next set of lights but missing them at the last minute with the usual grand slam. Anyone unlucky enough not to be sitting would soon find themselves thrown to the floor. After 30 minutes of this ridiculous jerkery the Izzie was a blubbering nervous wreck.
Used to think it was just our imagination or some strange serpent sensitivity but observing other folks struggling to stay upright or in some cases being actually thrown around the aisles made us realize that it was not just a sign of Izzie insanity. But still wondering if there a word for sensitivity to rapid acceleration or deceleration. Just as well the Izzie never had any aspirations to be an astronaut
The bus, bed or bath tub used to be the best sources for ideas and inspiration. These days a bus trip is a source of serious stress and even exhaustion. Creativity is completely out of the question
Some routes seem to be much worse offenders than others. Guessing that the long, windy curly ones never allow an opportunity to build up speed so they are usually better. But the jerk rodeo riders can still manage to do the bucking bronco bullshit at the red lights.
It got to the stage that it would be necessary to sit down for a good twenty minutes to recover from the gravity defying ordeal or else risk the rest of the day being an endless cycle of claustrophobia and panic attacks
Today seemed to be one of them. Ten minutes sitting in the sunshine seemed to have a calming effect but two door hogs blocking the exit of the Juicy Beetroot cafe and standing waiting for an eternity for them to get the hell out of there while holding a bowl of hot vegies was enough to induce the whole claustrophobia thing all over again.
By this stage Izzie had well and truly covered herself in shit magnets. Used the two hour ticket to go to the art gallery with the Aleister Crowley and other occult artworks. Asked the bus driver to let us off at the Harvest Terrace stop. The bus does a detour up a hill before returning to the main route via Harvest terrace. Unfortunately one of the landmarks on the hill includes a site belonging to the infernal goblins. Just the sight of that filthy stinking logo was enough to induce most murderous thoughts indeed
Was expecting to exit this area right near Harvest Terrace but there seemed to be no trace of the place. Before we knew it a large grain mill with a dingo appeared into view. This was way way past the art gallery and the driver had never said a thing. Was most miffed indeed but at least he wasn’t a brakes slamming jerk like the last one.
Bugger. Had a gutful of buses at this stage. Would be better off with a broomstick. Ten to fifteen minutes walk got Izzie to the desired destination all the while thinking that this seriously gorgeous day was rapidly going down the gurgler unless we could put an end to this ridiculous awfulizing. Was completely incapable of a single solitary happy thought and only toads, dementors, demons and other miseries tormented the Izzie mind.
But how to snap out of it, had no idea at all. Lucky that all the peculiar pictures upstairs in the gallery finally provided the circuit breaker. Without even realizing it, slowly returned to the present moment and enjoyed the weird and wonderful art works. The promotions were rather misleading in that there were only two Works of The Beast and one of them was seriously fugly. But that did not matter as the rest of the stuff was so fascinating. The two draw cards Crowley and Rosaleen Norton were non events but the others were beautiful and spooky. There were 20 something art works in all.
Windows to the Sacred
Some were surrealist and spooky and others included a very striking set of black paper cuts. Titled “Legion 49” it actually consisted of 49 +1 very cool and creepy creatures including Cthulhu, the odd toad, rat, cat and serpent or two. They were all symmetrical along a centre line like each half being a mirror image of the other. This same artist also had sculptures of some of these creepy crawlies which were apparently inspired by Mexican magical and folk art. The artist is Barry William Hale
One was a fly with a crown. That must have been Beelzebub. He also had a special blue circle inscribed with numerous sigils devoted to him. They looked remarkably like Voudoun ‘veves’ so Izzie is wondering if they are related at all. Assuming that French occult tradition must fit in the mix somewhere.
There were some strange and fascinating artworks concerning secret Freemasons business and the parallels to Australian Aboriginal culture and beliefs and of course all the secret stuff.
This exhibition runs until 20th August. Will most definitely return for another look and especially to snaffle a second copy of the seriously strange magazine “New Dawn’. There are free copies on offer due to the gallery curator having written an article about this particular exhibition which features there. With stories about demonic possession by David Icke and the Grand Cabal of the City of London - capital of the world’s largest banking conspiracy, what is there not to love? Izzie suspects these conspiracies will serve as a veritable gold mine of juicy inspiration for August.
The return to the present moment returned to be short lived. Did a bit of a coffee crawl and went to the shops to get a phone top up and a few nibblies. In spite of the place being nearly empty still managed to be all psycho, paranoid and claustrophobic. By then it was ten to seven and time to slink off to the Philosophy Cafe meeting which was the other main reason for being there in the first place. But got to thinking that having well and truly crashed and turned from toasty to seriously scratchy that just the five minute walk to the Sail and Anchor pub would be just too much for the overloaded serpent senses to cope with.
Slinked off to the bus stop instead and prayed that all the jerk drivers had long finished their shifts. No such luck. It is not just the drivers but the buses themselves that are a big part of the problem. A jerk can ruin a ride on any bus including the old ones but the recent models have the ride from hell preprogrammed. It has something to do with opening and closing the doors being directly linked to the brakes so that a driver has to make the extra effort to stop the stupid things from suddenly starting or stopping. So with the new buses instead of the default position of only the really bad drivers being jerks we are left with the awful alternative that only the really good ones aren’t.
Must go check to see how long the dinosaurs will be lurking at Scitech. In this present state of neurotic nuttiness, subjecting the Izzie ears to the hordes of wee squealing beasties is just looking for trouble. Maybe will just spend the morning snoozing in the serpent sack instead before venturing outside the Lair at noon
