Via Flickr:
Collage/drawing incorporating a copy of a previously uploaded drawing: 'Every Dog Has His Day' (in my DRAWINGS set here).
Free association styled prose from Julian Cloran, visual artist, writer, poet and agent provocateur. Random musings, which are sometimes cynical, but always intended for amusement, stimulation and entertainment. Comments are welcomed so don't be shy. Simply click on 'comments' to post yours.
Tuesday, 19 June 2012
EVERY DOG HAS HIS DAY REVISITED)
Sunday, 17 June 2012
DORA
Why pan Dora’s box?
Because: it’s full of socks and hopeless.
Like her box, bereft of hope,
Dora, drunk in her bedroom, has a grope,
Below faded pictures of the Pope.
Beneath her bed she keeps a rope,
Above which she dreams of hanging,
She’s frequently woken by next-door’s banging.
Tired, she blinks,
She’ll be late for work again,
Fired, she thinks.
Low-life regulars in her local buy her drinks,
Their breath and clothing, like her life, stinks,
Numbed to their advances, into depression she sinks.
She ponders her life, analysing links,
Occasionally feeling her life’s a jinx,
Gone are her chances of straightening kinks.
Her days of financial hardship and self-reproach,
Are lonely periods without a life coach,
But what could she learn anyway?
Except for definitions of shades of grey,
That corresponds with the segments of each day.
She has dark circles under her eyes,
And lacks things in her life to prize,
She’s neither extremely foolish nor overly wise,
She’s existing in a trap that’s crap and no surprise.
Because: it’s full of socks and hopeless.
Like her box, bereft of hope,
Dora, drunk in her bedroom, has a grope,
Below faded pictures of the Pope.
Beneath her bed she keeps a rope,
Above which she dreams of hanging,
She’s frequently woken by next-door’s banging.
Tired, she blinks,
She’ll be late for work again,
Fired, she thinks.
Low-life regulars in her local buy her drinks,
Their breath and clothing, like her life, stinks,
Numbed to their advances, into depression she sinks.
She ponders her life, analysing links,
Occasionally feeling her life’s a jinx,
Gone are her chances of straightening kinks.
Her days of financial hardship and self-reproach,
Are lonely periods without a life coach,
But what could she learn anyway?
Except for definitions of shades of grey,
That corresponds with the segments of each day.
She has dark circles under her eyes,
And lacks things in her life to prize,
She’s neither extremely foolish nor overly wise,
She’s existing in a trap that’s crap and no surprise.
'FROG' DOOR KNOCKER
Via Flickr:
I saw this unusual and, I think, lovely door knocker in Brighton and had to add it to my door knockers set here.
Saturday, 9 June 2012
HIPPIES
Stoned hippies worship worse hips than
their own,
Praising those who emit an arthritic groan,
It makes them feel better about their pelvic regions,
Passing round joints in swift rotation,
Reflecting on hip joints in their legions.
An alpha-hippie who is making a point,
Is unconsciously trying to take over the joint.
The other hippies refuse to stand for it,
They refuse to stand at all,
Struggling with their overall comprehension,
Of skeletal structures like a socket with a ball.
Ironically, they’re bone idol while their idol is a bone.
Someone plucks at a guitar and drones a paean to the pelvis,
His stoned compatriots are transfixed although he’s hardly Elvis.
Praising those who emit an arthritic groan,
It makes them feel better about their pelvic regions,
Passing round joints in swift rotation,
Reflecting on hip joints in their legions.
An alpha-hippie who is making a point,
Is unconsciously trying to take over the joint.
The other hippies refuse to stand for it,
They refuse to stand at all,
Struggling with their overall comprehension,
Of skeletal structures like a socket with a ball.
Ironically, they’re bone idol while their idol is a bone.
Someone plucks at a guitar and drones a paean to the pelvis,
His stoned compatriots are transfixed although he’s hardly Elvis.
Saturday, 2 June 2012
A COLUMNIST (COLOUR)
Via Flickr:
I used gel pens to add colour to 'A Columnist', my last upload. Hope you enjoy.
Friday, 1 June 2012
A COLUMNIST
ARCHITECTURAL, ANATOMICAL, AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL (AS ALWAYS)... WHEN I DRAW, I CONNECT WITH INNER PEACE AND FEEL SEDUCED BY THE SELF-ABSORPTION SO FAMILIAR WITH THIS DISCIPLINE. MY WORK FEELS EFFORTLESS AND THERAPEUTIC, MY UNCONSCIOUS IS IN THE DRIVING SEAT; CONSCIOUSLY I FEEL MEDITATIVE AND RELAXED, SOMETIMES VIEWING RECENT AND OLD MEMORIES IN MY MENTAL CINEMA, SELF-ANALYSING AND RELINQUISHING NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN THE PROCESS... IT WORKS FOR ME!
Sunday, 20 May 2012
THE PROTECTIVENESS OF THE SPIRIT OF BAGPUSS
Via Flickr:
Drawn last night (May 19th). Bagpuss may be unfamilar to those outside the UK, it was a cute childrens' TV programme about a sleepy cat...
Saturday, 19 May 2012
THE BABY'S COMFORTERS
Via Flickr:
My most recent drawing, loosely inspired by an elaborate metal door knocker I saw in Florence, Italy.
Friday, 18 May 2012
THE RELIGIOUS PEST
The other day, I had the misfortune of opening my door to a Jehovah's Witness. He was a polite and smartly dressed, middle-aged man. His opening banter was predictable, much as I expected from a fixated zealot who, as is so typical, is attracted to extremism in one form or another. But then, just as I was preparing to repel him from the doorstep, he caught me off-guard with something he said.
'I used to be an atheist,' he said. 'I found the idea of God, in fact the notion of any divine Creator, risible and absurd. It contradicted common sense and the shallow creeds propagated by organised religion seemed contemptible to me. Peddlers of faith in holy buildings were, I considered, at best naive, often ignorant hypocrites.'
Despite myself, I found myself paying attention to his words. In fact, I agreed with everything he'd just said. Although I knew I would regret showing any interest in the patter of a representative of such a notoriously thick-skinned, blinkered religious faction.
'I was raised in a rational, intellectual environment,' he continued, 'where science and scientific enquiry was valued most highly. My parents were broad-minded , yet slightly cynical people. They were fair-minded enough not to be completely dismissive of religions or, specifically, Christianity, while they did nothing to hide from me their opinion that most 'faiths' were merely mythic-based placebos for the weak and vulnerable...'
I thought: they sound like my kind of people. Then came his hook. I'd been expecting it but he still caught me by surprise as he said, 'Right up until last year, I was a confirmed atheist as I said. But I had an amazing, supernatural experience in my new home that radically altered my viewpoint. I had just moved in to a two-bedroom, two-storey house with my wife. We were unpacking boxes and arranging furniture all over the place. My wife was replacing all the curtains with new ones we'd bought and she asked me to store a box with the old ones upstairs in the attic, which I did. When I climbed back down the stepladder and stood on the landing below the hatch in the ceiling, I was completely transformed and felt inspired with an overwhelming passion for Jesus Christ, Our Lord. Since that day, I've never looked back or lost my faith. If anything it has become stronger with every passing day. It's such an intense feeling, really it's the reason I am here talking to you today.'
'I see,' I said. 'So you went up into your attic an atheist and came down a fervent Christian?'
He nodded enthusiastically. His eyes suggested to me, for the first time, his underlying insanity as he asked, 'What do you think about that?'
'It's hard to say...' I paused, then added, 'But that's what I call a loft conversion!'
He stood looking dumbfounded as I closed the door on him. Back inside the house, I was thinking to myself about his oddly compelling story. I wondered what might happen if he ever went into a changing-room.
*
POSTSCRIPT: Any atheists interested in forming a group and joining me in making unsolicited visits to Jehovah's Witnesses in their own homes are welcome to contact me via Narolc's World.
'I used to be an atheist,' he said. 'I found the idea of God, in fact the notion of any divine Creator, risible and absurd. It contradicted common sense and the shallow creeds propagated by organised religion seemed contemptible to me. Peddlers of faith in holy buildings were, I considered, at best naive, often ignorant hypocrites.'
Despite myself, I found myself paying attention to his words. In fact, I agreed with everything he'd just said. Although I knew I would regret showing any interest in the patter of a representative of such a notoriously thick-skinned, blinkered religious faction.
'I was raised in a rational, intellectual environment,' he continued, 'where science and scientific enquiry was valued most highly. My parents were broad-minded , yet slightly cynical people. They were fair-minded enough not to be completely dismissive of religions or, specifically, Christianity, while they did nothing to hide from me their opinion that most 'faiths' were merely mythic-based placebos for the weak and vulnerable...'
I thought: they sound like my kind of people. Then came his hook. I'd been expecting it but he still caught me by surprise as he said, 'Right up until last year, I was a confirmed atheist as I said. But I had an amazing, supernatural experience in my new home that radically altered my viewpoint. I had just moved in to a two-bedroom, two-storey house with my wife. We were unpacking boxes and arranging furniture all over the place. My wife was replacing all the curtains with new ones we'd bought and she asked me to store a box with the old ones upstairs in the attic, which I did. When I climbed back down the stepladder and stood on the landing below the hatch in the ceiling, I was completely transformed and felt inspired with an overwhelming passion for Jesus Christ, Our Lord. Since that day, I've never looked back or lost my faith. If anything it has become stronger with every passing day. It's such an intense feeling, really it's the reason I am here talking to you today.'
'I see,' I said. 'So you went up into your attic an atheist and came down a fervent Christian?'
He nodded enthusiastically. His eyes suggested to me, for the first time, his underlying insanity as he asked, 'What do you think about that?'
'It's hard to say...' I paused, then added, 'But that's what I call a loft conversion!'
He stood looking dumbfounded as I closed the door on him. Back inside the house, I was thinking to myself about his oddly compelling story. I wondered what might happen if he ever went into a changing-room.
*
POSTSCRIPT: Any atheists interested in forming a group and joining me in making unsolicited visits to Jehovah's Witnesses in their own homes are welcome to contact me via Narolc's World.
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