The Man on the Back on of the Truck

Whether he was hitching a ride on the back or riding shotgun, the man always had a smile on his face and a thrill for life that led him to the craziest corners of the earth. He loved to love and the world love him right back with open arms, accepting his toothy grin and beaming ten-fold back. From the sake bars of Japan all the way to the streets of Rio de Janeiro during carnival.

There was the time he saved a small boy that fallen over the railing during the running of the bulls in Spain. He ran back towards the bulls and saved the boy, earning renown throughout the streets of Madrid. Like Bo Jackson was to sports, The Man on the Back of the Truck was to life. He went through it all os effortlessly that some people didn’t think he was really real.

Who knows where you’ll meet him next.

The Elephant in the Bathtub

A dreary, overcast Saturday morning spent rinsing the alcohol I sweated out of my body from the night before. Cora’s bathroom was a putrid shade of yellow, accented by a garish pink bathtub and matching curtain. For the second time in the past hour, I couldn’t help but think her taste was rather poor, in decor and men.

The lone companion of my shower, happened to be a solitary elephant. Left behind by his herd at the watering hole

to fend for and clean himself. His trunk lay down his forlorn, round face. A drupe of unmistakable sadness after having shared such memories with his pack.

The warm water felt therapeutic on my skin, much like the water of the Nile that soothes the masses of animals that gather from thousands of miles to seek reprieve from the hot sun.

With my hide wet, I let out a bellow like a trumpet and stamp my feet and shake my tail. I flap my ears and wiggle my large body to let the water of the Nile trickle off of my leathery skin.

I leave my little elephant friend to be surrounded by the pink of the flamingos that have joined him also basking in the water. I smile as i go to re-join my herd.

The Wilderness in the Water

Confined off the cobbled path of a prestigious Victorian manor, lies a tranquil and serene pool of water. Surrounding the pool a mosaic of fine brick-work spiderwebs from the centrepiece.

The sky ripples and clouds break like waves crashing on the horizon, yet there is a calm that seems to differentiate from the chaos that surrounds this place.

In the flash of a camera, indistinguishable from lightning, the spirit that lives in all places that the wilderness permeates, rears onto its hind legs, letting out a roar that booms like thunder. Bellowing her fury at the ordered world, the feral that was tamed.

In her heart, the heart of the wilderness, a man stands. A part of the wild chaos that runs through all living things, but separate due to their desire for defining the wild.

In an instance, the lightning vanishes and the wilderness has left the shrine. I’m left more lonely than before.

Nice to Meet you Captain Lambchops!

On a Wednesday walk around the town yesterday with the pupper I was was watching, Audrey (photos to come), I fortunately rambled upon the most fascinating character.

Captain Lambchops, the grizzled motherfucker, was a seafairing man that had sailed the Seven Seas. His one true love was the only lady he could never leave, “The Scottish Lass”. She was a worthy and true vessel, that had taken him throughout the land, but she was no ordinary ship according to him.

He pulled me close and wheezed to me with a stench of a smoked Marlboro, “She be a magic boat. She takes me wherever I want ‘nd whenever want. I get whatever i want from the lady, me boy. It’s all about the implication.”

He released the scruff of my shirt and I took a step back from him.

oh, It was only some water on a concrete block.

 

King of the Nosmos

Here’s a photo I took while out getting beer with a friend, I found some inspiration I wasn’t expecting.

I saw this while out getting a drink with my buddy and it got me thinking about the way we read and the possibility of breaking it down further or in different ways. Going from a different angle, I read this as:

Nosmo

King.

King of the Nosmos. A mythical realm 11 dimensions off kilter of the one that we currently reside. The Nosmo King smokes spliffs constantly in an act of irony and rebellion in the face of his title.

I’ll be breaking more of the ordinary down for my coming posts and hope that you enjoy the journey!

The Journey Begins

Hello! Welcome to my blog! This is part of a project for University and one that I am intending to continue on well past it’s original purpose. Specifically, this blog is to document my findings in the mundane and everyday ordinary aspects of life that go unnoticed and unappreciated. My goal is to rework the ordinary in new and unexpected ways that will radically shift the original meaning of the work.

I’m looking forward to this journey and filling this space with the creations I encounter, thanks for joining me!

Peace and love friends.