Inherent to the human condition is the inability to predetermine whom we will fall stupidly in love with. Us sapiens have written tome upon tome on the subjects of romance, dating, life companionship, compatibility, marriage, surviving divorce, finding someone new, how to choose authentic French linen in a world full of convincingly well-crafted knock-offs… and none of it gets anyone any closer to having an answer.
Hoping to make a connection in a world utterly saturated with all-that-glitters seems a desperately futile task. Our attention span is becoming increasingly narrow, and the sheer amount of awesome required to truly impress people is, quite frankly, ridiculous. But this might get their attention.
…these things just kind of leak out when I take the lid off. Today I found the LoveBot mk.IV hidden away in an old 0.1 I left under my keyboard. He kind of just eeked out looking all frantic and frazzled, like he had something important to tell someone. Then the the girl kind of just started soaking into the page, and it was pretty clear what his problem was.
All hail Neptune Barnett! » “WA Premier Colin Barnett has said he is “pleased” to see the controversial catch-and-kill order policy begin after the first shark was killed on Sunday morning.” (WA’s baited drumlines kill first shark on Australia Day)
We skipped from could to cloud, landing regularly for picnics (consisting largely of a lovely Narwhal gnocchi I was fond of at the time) and made it to my rendezvous with a contact in Nogliki who ran a little submarine that took me out into the Sea of Okhotsk… I’ve said entirely too much.
I can absolutely remember the first time I looked at a girl and liked her. Like, LIKE liked her. This was quite a revelation to me because, just moments before, the sum total of my feelings for her were the desire to bury her in the sand pit and surround her with sweets to see if ants would eat her and, if they did – how long until there was just a skeleton left? Then I’d own a skeleton! Epic!
From small beginnings scribbling declarations of love, to illustrating for a wedding and starting my own narwhal steak eatery – from the very first of my visitors to today – there have been a multitude of crazy stories, some of them were even made up.
Scientists that do mind-bonkingly difficult things with numbers on dusty blackboards go ON AND ON about distances. Interstellar distances , they burble through be-tangled mustachios, are SO vast that light itself packs a pretty hefty cut lunch before it sets off. Then for the nonce, the BASTARD scientists pop an LED-encrusted helmet and a webcam on a little droid and shoot it DIRECTLY INTO the vastly dark, silent freezing nothingness on a one way journey to the place where time began. And if you read the right type of journal, they tell you how its feeling about the diode-crushing isolation for months and months before it stops talking to us at all. Not because it dies, but because there is NO COMING BACK. It just goes on & on & on FOR EVER…
Happy Halloween twenty thirteen! I’ve had somewhat of a difficult day, what with my girlfriend eating my brains and all. I had just made a toasted Camembert sandwich and was about to feed the pumpkin beast when hey ho, she lops my head in half and downs my cerebellum with a spork. Typical!
This is a brief introduction to Belladonna Bubble, Miss halloween Twenty Thirteen. I would like to tell you that Belladonna Bubble is a good girl, or at least that she has a good heart even though she is quite often less than good. Neither of those things is even remotely true.
Later in the day, every kid in the street would be gathered together in one arbitrary yard, with every length of available hose like hatch-work over driveways; all these kids running about excitedly on the precipice of a gargantuan take-no-prisoners water fight.
Why was I in Iceland, I hear you implore me to hurry up and explain? Well, my reasons were deux. Firstly, to visit the lovely people of Eyjafjallajökull for no other reason than to establish, once and for all, how one is supposed to pronounce Eyjafjallajökull. (…read on)
Earlier this year Heather Fay asked me if I would be interested in doing some artwork for her new record, now titled Cherish the Broken. I had worked with Heather before when she released her cover of Thriller but this was a much bigger project, and it was exciting!
I was recently invited to spend some time in Google+ HQ to sketch some of the rarer wildlife that can be found occupying the darker corners of server rooms. I suppose you’d imagine the Google+ team would lay rodent traps about the place to deter such riff-raff; but you’d be wrong. And most certainly not the amazingly capable critters you’d find in those parts. I sketched this one especially for birthday boy Dave “Bez” Besbris, who knows a thing or two about CyRREL Sciuridae [Cyber Robotic-Rodentia Enhanced Life-form].
I was recently contacted by Kate & Nigel, a New Zealand couple who, while planning their nuptials, had happened upon my name …
Autumn is my favourite time of the year. The mind-shattering heat of Australian summers begin to cool at last, the plants begin their preparation for hibernation, and the animals start to get fluffier and cuddlier. Oh, and I get to break out the cumfy clothes and the Big Winter Slippers.
…He spent the next four years in an orphanage and was put to work making sandwiches for all the other children. Mostly he enjoyed inventing sandwiches, but things don’t grow so well in good old Dudinka, because it’s just mind-shatteringlycold. So sandwiches were generally made out of seafood (with a heavy tendency towards narwhal steaks) which suited him just fine.
This piece, “Safe Haven”, is just for me – something fun that has been floating about in my head. Or rather: merciless haunting me from the murky depths. Or rather: waiting for me to dip a toe in the water, so that it can devour me whole and digest me like a sarlacc.
One of the toughest challenges in any relationship (as partner, parent, sibling, friend or lover) is to endure the rough and ugly moments. Life is not the movies where the only moments we will ever share are those well-parcelled little moments of perfection. There is a whole heap of less than delightful stuff that goes on too, and ultimately they are what make those other moments so wonderful.
Dirk Reul is a debonair man of culture, class and style. His knowledge and skill with all things culinary is astounding, as is his …