MUNNY MUNNY MUNNY

WOWZERS IN YA TROUSERS!

I've just recently been introduced to the world of Munny's...probably a bit slow, but hey I've been busy. So. If you don't know already - (which I'm sure you do) Munny's are cute little creature designs you can buy, and they're basically like blank canvases. A do-it-yourself toy. Designers from around the globe create the shape and submit it and we deck it with features. Siiiiiiiick. There's a little MUNNYWORLD Flickr group where you can show off your rad cool designs yada yada yada, but this little guy...he's just so cute. I just want to eat him, then regurgitate him, whole, then sleep him in my bed and watch him until the morning. Owwwwww. He's just sooo kah-ute - insert grinding teeth really really hard and squishing nose.

Look at him.....

And check out Kidrobot if you want to design your own. ▲

NOTHING TASTES AS GOOD AS MY BABY FEELS

I like him alot ▲

THE OPENING OF THE TRUNK

Moment of inner freedom
when the mind is opened and the
infinite universe revealed
& the soul is left to wander
dazed & confusEd searching
here & there for teachers & friends.
Moment of Freedom
as the prisoner
blinks in the sun
like a mole
from his hole

A child's 1st trip
away from home

That moment of Freedom
LAmerica
cold treatment of our empress
LAmerica
the Transient Universe
LAmerica
Instant communion and
communication
lamerica
emeralds in glass
lamerica
searchlights at twi-light
lamerica
stoned streets in the pale dawn
lamerica
robed in exile
lamerica
swift beat of a proud heart
lamerica
eyes like twenty
lamerica
swift dream
lamerica
frozen heart
lamerica
soldiers doom
lamerica
clouds & struggles
lamerica
nighthawk
doomed from the start
lamerica
"That's how I met her,
lamerica
lonely and frozen
lamerica
& sullen, yes
lamerica
right from the start

Then stop.
Go.
The wilderness between.
Go round the march.
He enters stage:

Blood boots. Killer storm.
Fool's gold. God in a heaven.
Where is she?
Have you seen her?
Has anyone seen this girl?
snap shot (projected)
She's my sister.
Ladies & gentlemen:
please attend carefully to these words & events
It's your last chance, our last hope.
In this womb or tomb, we're free of the swarming streets.
The black fever which rages is safely out those doors
My friends & I come from
Far Arden with dances, & new music
Everywhere followers accrue to our procession.
Tales of Kings, gods, warriors and lovers dangled like
jewels for your careless pleasure

I'm Me!
Can you dig it.
My meat is real.
My hands--how they move
balanced like lithe demons
My hair--so twined and writhing
The skin of my face--pinch the cheeks
My flaming sword tongue
spraying verbal fire-flys
I'm real.
I'm human.
But I'm not an ordinary man
No No No
What are you doing here?
What do you want?
Is it music?
We can play music.
But you want more.
You want something & someone new.
Am I right?
Of course I am.
You want ecstasy
Desire & dreams.
Things not exactly what they seem.
I lead you this way, he pulls that way.
I'm not singing to an imaginary girl.
I'm talking to you, my self.
Let's recreate the world.
The palace of conception is burning.

Look. See it burn.
Bask in the warm hot coals.

You're too young to be old
You don't need to be told
You want to see things as they are.
You know exactly what I do
Everything
I am a guide to the Labyrinth

Monarch of the protean towers
on this cool stone patio
above the iron mist
sunk in its own waste
breathing its own breath.

Poet - Jim Morrison

ALANNAH CURRIE & JANE HOWARTH

Dying to get your Taxidermy on?

Alannah Currie. Formerly British singer-songwriter for UK band The Thompson Twins.

After the bust of the band in 1993, she dropped her music career for what seems to be the best thing she ever did. Becoming creative. With dead things. I would kill to do this for a living. The colours of the fox chair are absolutely insatiable. It screams luxury. Every nestly abode simply must have a chair like this. Almost as delectable as an Eames. No. No way near actually. But close.

Ok, so I don't really know alot about Jane, but what I do know is that I could wonder all day how it came about that she would be waiting for beautiful white birds to fall from the sky, scooping and clutching their warm bodies home, to her studio to proceed to stuff them with beads, fabrics and other figures of lush, strengthy femininity possessants. It's sheer genius. I'm rather intrigued the way their necks fall, lifeless and limp, but then the formalities of the fabrics and jewels somehow give the creature a new lease on life. After death. Although I'm not entirely sure if I could have one in my house. Perhaps the outside dunny.