I am oddly proud of my ability to ignore everything going on around me and put all my focus and attention into creating something of a fairly poor standard. I have recently been diagnosed with a rare condition, called Doodleitis, which means I am unhealthily obsessed with doodling. I am no artist, nor am I a poet… nor am I really a human being, but rather a small ferret like creature posing as one.
I have a book that is getting filled up with doodles, poems, writings, scribblings, collections of fallen leaves and pebbles that resemble political figures. As I am bored, I feel compelled to share with you some of my personal favourites that I have written/drawn/spawned this week. Prepare your mind holes for a grand feast of originality and wit.
This is a drawing and a short poem. The poem reads:
“Sad Moon, Sad Moon
You’ll feel better soon.
Or maybe you won’t
And if you don’t
I’ll still look up to you.”
It has a melancholy sort of feel, and I like that. Also the picture makes me laugh for no reason.
There’s nothing worse than a badly drawn laptop telling you that ‘your concept of reality is flawed’. I’ve had to return many computers back to PC world for their constant need to make philosophical and/or psychological remarks.
This one is fairly self-explanatory. It’s a man/pineapplelizard/fox with wellington boots. He’s yelling the word gherkin because he’s angry with society.
Now for part 2 of this art exhibition. The following are some statements I found scrawled in my book.
- The real problem with hindsight is that it’s never there when you need it.
- Violence is never the answer. Unless the question is what word can connect the following: Fight, War, Kill, Stab, kick….
- Never say never! Unless the situation calls for it.
If you got this far I thank you for your patience. Unfortunately, there is no payoff for reaching the end. I was going to reward you with a picture of a transvestite ancient Greek philosopher shouting obscenities but my scanner decided to stop working at this point. But I will tell you the obscenity was fuck. Which apparently is a really bad one. Fuck… FUCK.
I don’t fully understand why because I can say the word Duck with the same sort of aggression and in the same context and no one would really care. If I walked into a post office and shouted DUCK YOU, YOU’RE ALL A BUNCH OF DUCKING WASTES OF SPACE. DUCK DUCK DUCK! I’ll probably have to undergo some sort of psychiatric evaluation, but no one would be too offended. What’s that all about? Why are bad words bad? Surely it’s the context that makes a word bad. If Cunt meant ‘extremely nice person’ we wouldn’t reel back in horror at its utterance… cunt… cunt. Punt…
YOU DUCKING PUNTS!
Are you offended by that? You should be.