wytchcroft

found today and i quote: "3 Little Pigs; how they fooled the big bad wolf and the three little wolves
and invented a wolf spanking machine."

a wolf spanking machine.

i leave my reaction to your imagination...
but it's real alright.
thank you mr disney, thank you mr holloway.

or how a conversation about PG Wodehouse can wind up somewhere unexpected...

wytch:
i believe my first exposure was a Jeeves book swiped from the shelf of
a holiday cottage; i must've been quite young since i remember being
scared by the cover of The Ka of Gifford Hilary!

...
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well it happens all the time - it's censored from our minds
you'll find out...
I am Waiting - The Rolling Stones

One in your belly, and one for Rudi.
You got what you gave by the heel of my bootie.
Bang-bang--Out! like an old cherootie...
The Wedding List - Kate Bush

i went down to the cemetery
to see old Rudi Valentino buried
lipstick traces on his name...
Don't Look Down - Iggy Pop/James Williamson

...
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His Catholic guilt.
All that Buddhist bubblegum.
Forget about it.

................

this was my first response to the prompt quoted below;
a much more, uh, elaborate (?) reaction is currently gestating.
this is a place holder, in effect.

a scanner partly:

To be or not to be
Some freak anomaly
A ghost rattling chains of electricity
Behind a cloud of plasma energy
The hole in the heart, the absence of a centre
The hollow core hiding
In a magnetic field.

.....................

( prompt )

Since the world and his be my wife woke up to the Bowie new album happy joy news oh boy...
i thought i would celebrate with a song that is definitely a fave rave and deep and meaningful and what not.
Conversation Piece from the 'lost' album Toy and featuring Lisa Germano.
Much better than the version the Thin One cut back in the 1960s (or so). It's lovely.
And here tis:


all credit to the uploader etc.

i am crazy with the hectics just now and will do a proper catch up asap.

she knows she's strange...



and long may she run...

. 



Rosemary Lane

Ah to be broken into joy.

“Oh Rose,” Jack sighed with his head lolling on the lathed smoothness of my shoulder, “you have quite killed me.”

The little death, and my poor frock all torn and my petticoats disarrayed; by pleasure.

The rumpled sheets their every crease proclaiming; “what ho, mischief in the Master’s house!” And I myself so gleefully destroyed, reduced to spastic judders and twitches – peering through eyes sticky with fallen lashes, whose insides were ruptured and brazenly exposed, cogs and levers, my pretty hinges, the secret inner workings all revealed.

“And where is the lad eh? Where is the sailor boy?” My father swung his head from side to side as if to find the culprit, the enactor of his ruination would be crouching behind a cabinet, skulking shame-faced behind the marionette of the Great Ozu.

But Jack had gone at first light with a jaunty step, a tip of his cap and three shiny coins laid on the bed. Jack had gone and it was for Jill to go tumbling after...

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“That,” said the Magician, “is Mary Carty. Be warned, she may lark upon the stair but she is no Cosette, you may be certain. Alone in this vast metropolis, the girl is responsible for half that is mischievous and almost all that goes unpunished.
Eh, Magpie?" Deigning finally to address the child herself. "We have a visitor tonight as you can see.”

“I should bleedin’ cocoa," the girl scoffed.

............................................

well it doesn't take much sometimes to motivate me - when i want to be motivated i guess, ha-ha*.

anyway and note to self etc. i have found the draft notes for the final chapter of Spirit Among the Magicians. Yes, the chapter that (not unlike the titular character) disappeared accidentally into the electronic aether from which it cannot return.
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when people talk of plot bunnies, i often wonder; what are the other literary-labelled animals there might be roaming about or kept in jealously guarded hutches or to be spied from the corner of the mind's eye sneaking in through cat flaps and disappearing up trees or jumping onto the band wagon hitched to a rough riding train of thought and away across the hinterland and into the dusk..?

koff! carried away, there! um, lit-critters then, anyone know of any?
seems probable the topic has been thrashed out before somewhere, manywheres even.

i have a few fanciful notions. e.g. "i have an awesome character monkey to go with my plot bunny, will you read it and be my guinea pig?"

"Not bad old man, but i think your thematic kangaroo is punching below its weight."

"Ah! Narrative bats - i see narrative bats everywhere!"
- "Shhh! you'll scare off my plot bunny!"

"I'm not saying you're garrulous but you do let the dialogue dogs off the leash don't you? As for your ideas, wow, you certainly can't be accused of putting all your eggs in the one basket now can you? Some may find your notions confusing but i like to think of it as allowing the chickens of your imagination to roam free-range... before you farm them out to the all consuming reader."
- "That's nice but what the fuck are you actually talking about?"

Hmm.. maybe it's a flora and fauna issue; i mean people talk about editing as 'pruning' right?
so i guess that makes words and sentences the grass and carrots for plot bunnies to chomp on?

maybe so, but i prefer wildlife.
"The text flows like a herd of wild geese taking to the high heavens whilst the lemur of your prose relaxes in its... tree?"
- "You're saying it stinks, right?"

"Elephant shanks, my boy - elephant shanks."

and if a note to self goads me to scribble on, is this not a goading note or goat in fact?

it is important to think deeply about these things.