Dalek Relaxation Tape

22 03 2015





Oil Paintings in Progress x 2 – A Time to Heal and Dirty Jokes

12 03 2015

12″ x 24″

A Time to Heal: Stage 2

A Time to Heal: Stage 2

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8″ x 10″

Dirty Jokes: Stage 2

Dirty Jokes: Stage 2





I Love Mochi!

6 03 2015

MOCHI is a Japanese rice cake made out of glutinous rice pounded into a paste and molded into a shape.  During the mochitsuki event in Japan, otherwise known as the mochi pounding ceremony, mochi is made.  In Japan, it is a traditional food mainly eaten during the Japanese New Year, although it is served throughout the year.  Mochi can be made savory and sweet.  The sweet version is known as Daifuku, which are round glutinous rice balls filled with sweet ingredients such as red bean or white bean paste.

I can’t keep mochi in the house.





Rocky Top Farms, a banana portrait

3 03 2015
Rocky Top Farms

Rocky Top Farms

I grew up a simple farmling, riding bananas, rustling splits.





Oil painting in progress – A Time to Heal

2 03 2015
Twin preachers performing a two-headed exorcism on a demon child at a wedding reception. Typical Monday.

Twin preachers performing a two-headed exorcism on a demon child at a wedding reception. Typical Monday.

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A Time to Heal detail

A Time to Heal detail





Raisin Bread, y’all

27 02 2015
Made in Murica

Made in Murica, recipe soon





Glassed-in DNA Makes the Ultimate Time Capsule

16 02 2015

Mind-blowing utility DNA has for storing data. 

Just 1 gram of DNA is theoretically capable of holding 455 exabytes – enough for all the data held by Google, Facebook and every other major tech company, with room to spare. It’s also incredibly durable: DNA has been extracted and sequenced from 700,000-year-old horse bones. But conditions have to be right for it to last.

giphy

DNA replication





I Like My Musak in a Language I Don’t Understand

5 02 2015

No introduction necessary. This is brimming badfuls of bad functional music.

Many rap songs in the desert

Persian surf garage

Some more old Persian rock

Stabbed in the mouth 37 times

Second Floor: Women’s Garments, Sundries, Lasers

Roof Missing, Still Climbing

I’m in a Different World Now

and it feels weird. I can fly. Good god look at those glasses. 

May I Try This Cream? It says ‘tester’. May I Try This Cream? Miss?

Yes, I Can Wait

Forever

fleet-38

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International Body Shop Dump, K.O.

2 02 2015

Some rope dancing, still better than the Super Bowl.

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Hold my calls, I have this happening. 

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Some renegade band of warriors limber up, limber up oh my god what are they doing?

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And then clean out yo Nasya and stuff like that.

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K.O. It’s you, baby.

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Oiled, shirtless, wandering, grappling primates. The grandstands are packed. A fine display, indeed.

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Become a guru:

“Remember the infinite is our freedom manifested through our consciousness.”

- Max Sick

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Max_Sick

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Many essence 

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Super powers

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More Super Powers

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The Motherfucking 1987 Crysta Light Championship

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Clean the set, prepare for lesson, 

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Begin again.

Or blend again.

Or Brasil again

Oh god don’t do that





Janathon Day 31: O God That’s Over

1 02 2015

What a horrible performance. I started off by not running much, put in a decent week, then quit in a raging meltdown, Went sledding, then got on some crazy pills that made me see bugs, have spates of an hour of two of complete memory loss, gross confusion,  incoherent and impulsive behavior.

“I need a passport.” For what reason? To visit the fishing camp in Novia Scotia I inherited? Not likely, but one would like to at least be able to, to have that choice, to open up the possibility of more trout. And to my eldest nephew, I bequeath my trout camp on Siglar Point. “I need to drive to a hat shop an hour away. I need to throw out my karate clothes. I need to throw out all seaweed paper.” Okay, good eye, nice job. “I need to research the epigrammic history of celery, especially homonyms of Taiwan and Chechnia.” Oh god, why?

I need to run.

I blundered into February above ground. Nothing better than another Sunday above clay. Well, comparatively speaking, if you were enjoying a nice afternoon without you bleeding from your eyes, for example, you could still have a reasonable range of emotional responses. If you never bled from your eyes, then the emotional impact would be fairly boring. I have not lost horns, therefore, I have horns. If you always bled from your eyes your entire life and then one day you didn’t bleed from your eyes, the occasion would be profoundly satisfying. I have lost bleeding from the eyes, therefore I have no bleeding from the eyes. So, I ended the month having never bled from my eyes, but thankful, nonetheless, that I did not start this month. I am thankful for my healthy eyes, and for the fish camp I’ll probably never visit. “I can catch fish [gesturing vaguely to area by river] over there.” Shakes head. “Something old, something new, something Scottish, something finned.”

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EDIT: 

So, I ended the month having never bled from my eyes, but thankful, nonetheless, that I did not start eyeball bleeding this month. I am thankful for my healthy eyes, and for the fish camp I’ll probably never visit. “I can catch fish [gesturing vaguely to area by river] over there.” Shakes head.

“Something old, something new, something Scottish, something finned.” I dreamed I didn’t make any sense when I originally wrote this. My instincts are red hot.

I dreamed I didn’t make any sense when I originally wrote this. My instincts are red hot. But at least I slept all night, dreaming I’d lost my mind, dreaming that I’d assuredly lost it and here are some examples to support my theory. 

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Because the only time I can run is evenings late, and there’s a lot of ice everywhere and I hate slipping around on black ice on late night headlamp runs. In a run-down blighted rust belt ghost town, I sort of lost interest in running these same hillbilly roads. And the medicine made me hallucinate and stay up all night and see bugs and I’d forget huge chunks of time in the day. All of a sudden, driving down a road, I’d forget where I was entirely, have no idea where I was heading. When I spoke I said wrong things, my dexterity dried up and blew away. I broke things, knocked things over, and I could see my hands doing things wrong but I wasn’t entirely connected to the action. I’d have these crazy sweats. I burned toast… It was at that moment, looking at the toaster, that I decided to toss the medication. I was tolerant of the stuff for a while, but when it robbed me of the ability to make toast, I decided to avoid bloodshed and flush the pills. Would you choose insanity or burnt toast?

I lost eight pounds, I gained eight pounds. When the moon is full, so are my pants.

Come June, I’ll be living in a different town, remaking my life, pursuing la vida sequel, interested in my cage again.

frozen banner

An expanse of thorn-choked winter fantasy fun balls.

And so, another Janathon draws to a close. I did not beat my previous personal best of 356 miles. No panoply of seasoned running anecdotes to share, this time around, have I to share with my friends and running relations.

img094

(IRAS 18059-3211)








That Blog of Zhangah

Where you’ll find the gratuitous ramblings & scribbles of a zany creator

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