Curious cats, and free standing tubas. Why not. Perhaps it’s time we admired both. Well, we know cats get admired a lot. But do tubas do? If you place them simultaneously together perhaps people will notice. Place a cat inside a tuba and it’s AAAwww!
Tell me a story about a tuba and a cat and I will listen? Tell me about a tuba playing cat and I will dance!
There you have it. The juxtaposition we’ve all been needing today and from now on. Sundays are meant for blowing your own horn and cats can too!
For some reason it’s Foxy Friday and Supper’s Ready is stuck in my head, that part where he sings ” something tells me I better activate my prayer capsule!”
And do I have time this morning to listen to a 23 minute song? On foxy Friday I do. And I’m not even saying that it’s look foxy today, it’s be a fox, if you will. Sly and sneaky, like sneak a 23 minute song in your morning routine is what I mean. Or quietly whisper something strange and meaningless to someone then run away! Yeah! That kind of foxy. Playful and with no worries, for once!!!
I’ll probably delete this later. Happy foxy Friday everyone. Rock out or throw a rock, or something.
Remember to feed your winter Weirdo Birdos. They are especially vulnerable this time of year, and likely if you have a shelter for them even the better. So they can nibble and wiggle and jingle to their heart’s content. I imagine a little hollow area in the trunk of a tree with a bird sitting at his table, coffee and seeds and singing his early morning songs. Letting everyone know he’s A OK!
Sluggish. I’ve turned into a slug, oh no an ugh slug… Cold, rain, the end of the week, usually all those combinations turn me into a slug. As well as poor eating (holiday foods), poor sleepin’, and poorly overworked this week have done me in. I’m okay with it. I’m a happy little slug. Just slugging along, taking my time, not going to overdue or overthink it anymore today! because I’ve already overdone it. That’s why I’m a slug!!
Tomorrow I’ll draw a slug brain because that’s a whole other area of sluggishness. Day dreamin’ whole scenarios that haven’t happened, may not happen, probably won’t happen because now I’m just a slug and there’s absolutely no way now it’ll ever happen. I’m an inch long now. Watch out you don’t step on me!
Unleash your weird bird, your weird bird voice that is. Nevermind however loud and obnoxious a bird is, or however lovely and strange, it keeps on squawking. I realized I spelled squawk wrong but went with it. Because I unleashed it, it’s going to sound and misspell as well as it pleases. And it has just found a bunch of maggots so this bird is happy. Do birds eat maggots? Probably crows do! Damnit it should have been meal worms!
Weirdo Birdo! Maggots are gross. Sorry I didn’t mean to make this a gross bird, it was supposed to be kind of lovely but now you add maggots and he’s definitely strange indeed! We’ll see if this Weirdo Birdo sticks around on the Musho Blogo for a while.
Let’s ditch the half face theme for just a moment with a random 3/4 face! (Shrieks of screams!)
This 3/4 Face doesn’t even look like it has thoughts or a voice! Vapid Face!!
I don’t even want to know what they’re thinking. Thinking about bird poop or something. Nothing substantial. The half heads are such strong thinkers, so deep and existential…3/4 face what can you say about them? I hope they don’t show up randomly again, we may find out what they’re actually thinking and saying out loud!
“Poops poops bird poops.”
Maybe they’re just nervous. Half Heads can hide, but when you’re just a little exposed oh boy, sometimes it just comes out…like bird poop. Fast and flying around ready to smack somebody in the face!!
Some would say, you’re a loser, worthless creature with a dull mind…
Rest assured, a quiet person has mush to say…just words aren’t its outlet.
Communication is not its outlet. But, maybe art is.
I had all my artwork, code mush, stuff I did as a kid, etc. go missing/destroyed. I won’t go into it, and it’s hard to put into words what it feels like to have that all gone, it hits me sometimes and I fall apart. A part of you, an extension, journals too, sketchbooks, they were my outlets, my form of communicating my mushy brain. It’s all gone. All I have left is just crap I doodle here and there because I don’t have the energy or will to do anything else. My brain is literal MUSH. (more BRAINS!)
I know they weren’t good, but at least some of the stuff I did in art school showed potential, until I decided I was not worth a damn and chased after stupid men and stupid friends. and drinking and drugs and shit. That stuff does destroy a mind. i have the proof. I am an idiot, and I used to be pretty smart.
Oh, the woes of regret. And being stupid. And lots of things, that I wish I had never done. What is a life without regret though? A life worth living I think. This life is however, as pointless as a pointless pencil.
And somehow patterns get repeated, and then you realize it wasn’t just being young and stupid, you’re actually just really fucking stupid.
I am starting over at 40 and I break into sobs uncontrollably because it’s not as glamorous as a Eat, Pray Love novel or something. It’s actually horrifying and absurd to have absolutely nothing, NOTHING. I need to be a nobody though. I need to be nothing because seeking validation and the seeking I did just was wrong. I used to just mold myself into whatever was around me. Like an octopus shaping and changing to fit its environment. Just so I didn’t have to show anyone my true self. Now, that everyone knows I am nothing, I’m pretty much a dead pan and I don’t have to please anyone anymore because everyone hates me.
and for the first time in my life I’m okay, okayish, that no one likes me anymore. Because who they liked was the person that would bend over backwards for them, who would be there for them, when no one would ever be there for me. In my darkest, darkest hour, no one but their judgments were there. And I know I don’t reach out to people, I know I don’t know how to speak my true feelings because I’ve always masked them. I’m terrified of them actually. To face yourself is nothing like a self-healing quote, or a self-love instagram meme account, you know what I mean. It’s falling apart. It’s losing it and maybe you have the strength to get back up and sharpen the pointless pencil!!
Code Mush 