The travails of John continue … assailed by an alien (sheep).
Today I buried my head beneath my pillows and slept and slept and slept and rested. And it was good. For it is today the seventh day, the day of Saturn.
The hand, a magmatic, igneous extrusion of the Earth Herself, took it upon itself to uplift most suddenly and send us hurtling towards the sky-hooked Mothership of the Big Fat Star. Now I saw how Bloodmonkey could be confident, though the motion of this rocky ocean was causing sentiments of nausea and ground-love to churn [...]
Bloodmonkey moved his hand in complex motion and touched a bead he bore upon his belt. Suddenly the ground beneath the Kurmatum al Hurd shook and lurched and groaned. Aghast I spake, “What’s thou done? This earth quack, is it doing of yours?” To which Bloodmonkey chortled, “Nay, I petted the Earth and this is [...]
“But regard! T’ seasons past, the diesel whales were slow,” I cried. But with dismissive snort Bloodmonkey lectured on the calendrical conundrum and the Crossedmanday celebrated by the Right Believers this very silent night. “Agreed,” I wailed, “But look, the Fat Red Star hangs limpid and malevolent in yon sky, while this rockship, this [...]
I asked our Captain, “Why follow you yonder diesel whale, arrgh?” and he responced and essayed to explain, “Thaat diesel whaale you arrgh of, thaat is none other than the Celestial Diesel Whaale of the Flower and the Pot, who fell to this here faair Earth from the Skies aabove, materiaalizing when the High Improbaability [...]
The Big Fat Star, known to men as that of Bethlehem, was beheld by Captain Bloodmonkey. And he *knew*. He knew it was no Star. Rather, it was the exhaust vent of the Jolly Wagon of Destruction, the Machine of Consumption, the Flaming Mothership of Mass. He gave the order and the Rock Ship Kurmatum [...]
Twenty days to Xmas. Still time to loot for presents and sell your soul for trinkets and baguettes. I read somewhere that in the UK alone 3 bn. euros worth of unwanted presents are given per Xmas.
It is the nature of film festivals that they present too much in too little time for too much money. Much like special store discounts and 2 for 1 offerings.
As a friend of a French person or two, I am also on strike, so there is no news here today. Only a happy lady and a funky sheep. Strikes are fun and good for the sheep.