Fashion Police, Walla, Over-ness Alert: Gravity

Boring. And it is the frame, or one of them. We're thinking of taking a hiatus from this dull and dismal affair of weightiness and blah, for more chiffonesque faire. Floofy stuff might be an option. That just has way too many dimensions and so, it's the new black. Think about that. Think about feathers and stuff. Added to the evolving fashion metaphor, it becomes an absurd wrinkle. It will all seem more dramatic once draping becomes the new black. Evolving contexts are important.

This is to be discussed next week at a luncheon that will include all manner of small comestibles, a menu so Jupiterian in splendor that, in fact, it engages in such colliding strategies of linguistic and culinary trapeze work as to render the output a folly. The description often, naturally, has little to do, experientially, with the wording. Think in these terms when selecting which prints to mix.

Were-Jackalope Sighted and Cited -- Updated

That's right. The dreaded, mostly-non-existent were-jackalope appears to be existing and has a few ravishing insights, if one credits a tale told by a Jackalope, full of bluster and nonsense as they are known to be, and yet, if were, is it Jackalope we hear, or the whisper of some other thing in a weirdo's ear? Either way, it signifies. Esoteric or exoteric, the distinction meaningless to the connoisseur of wack logics. Don't worry about the critters. Just observe their actions. This story is developing, since the creature is likely in a talkative mood.

Update:
"Yeah, I'd quote what it said, if I understood a lick of it," said Hairy Sam, self-identified, and probably someone else, per the local custom in certain locales. Existence is getting slippery some ways, when everyone wears a bland disguise. That may be the message in the medium, so to speak, of the appearance of the mythic beast in its most exotic form. Inversions are the focus, in many dimensions. The cat's been stalking the periphery, eyes aglow. Everyone's fur is ravishing. We'll have a random newsish thing above. Take it as a constant metaphor.

The new tarantula, who has not yet a name, is settling.

This is an Exercise

"Slipstream Coalescences in the Enhancement of Mystical Mojo," is a new course offering being roundly dismissed by sane folks in Walla Walla, but nevertheless being floated in the water water ectosphere by nefarious non-existent types calling themselves "The Walla Wickidity League." This a foray into the "distance learning" dance craze that's been all the rage with the mixed prints set and is thus available in all times and places, which is confusingly ambiguous in regard to the materials and aims of the course. That's most likely part of the point. Course details have to be gleaned through psychic means. You're part of it.

Rivers< Many

Delayed Reaction TV Dreams

Television archaeology is a sometime pastime of the shores of the many waters. A De Lorean driving menace cruises the streets of this creeped up burg, enticing the unwary to ponder the absurdities of popular culture, which is not without its charms. Also, surfing YouTube by increasingly oblique strategies coughs up interesting stuff. This is a creepy game to play on a summer day. Maybe not recommended, which could, in itself, recommend such a behavior in some form. This is a study in the living course of myth. Lines written disappear to reappear because it's a slipping glimpse. It's Saturday morning somewhere always. That's what happens. One gets into silly thought-experiments, some of which one lost track of a while back. Like, an armadillo's age at least. It's good to use up those thought experiments in order to access subtler levels of something one might term ridiculous reiteration, but only if the problem is seen only in two dimensions.

Paisley, Plaid, Puce and Polka-Dots

All have been deemed "the new black" at some point in the history of the darkest dark. "What might be next?" one wonders, even as mixed prints take center stage for the upcoming season. The complexity of the current courant leaves almost infinite room for improvisation in the realm of fashion and stuff that we think of as metaphor. The Hawaiian shirt oracle predicts surf and hula. The choice is between a lady and a tiger. Not actually a metaphor. That in itself is an interesting point of inquiry. It's excellent to keep one's fashion statement ambiguous and confusing.

Stranger Found Wandering Near Whitman Mission-- Time Travel Maybe Somewhat Possibly

The man is in his forties and was wearing only a pince-nez when found. Other than these bare facts, little is known about the freak found wandering by the Walla Walla river near the sacred mass burial site at the former location of Marcus Whitman's ontological experiment in mind-alteration which has Marcus and Narcissa occupied with headless ghost duties in the vicinity. Anyway, that's another cartoon. The pince-nez-wearing subject uttered just one word, "prattle, prattle, prattle" over and over, in self-reflexive non-ironic silliness, leading some to speculate that his ties to academic organizations might yield information as to his providence and the how to send him back because he's boring. Others, reading his fashionlinguistic irony, believe he may be a hipster and a performance artist, which could mean ties to shady alliances and skullduggery. Nobody likes it one bit. Luckily, there may be some options on the event horizon to erase his foray into this ecosystem in the EverHasNot or something like that. Also, Elvis may ever appear. There was actual video of the subject, but we'll post something more appropriate. (The above video is considered educational as to the reasons for continued yoga practice: the dance craze.) In other news: Venus conjunct Regulus. (It suffices to say he may have been keeping track of butterflies. That's been a disguise and not-disguise.)

De-Contexting Expansion

More Walla Walla linguistics in the news this week as wacky outbreaks of what could only call uproarious hijinks take off on their own and get up to mischief, maybe. 'Twas the purpose, anyhow, somehow, weirdo. A watched pot never stirs and somehow boils anyway. Whatever. WWZD? Study the ecosystem, of course, orienteering the linguistic terrain, playing with the wildlife of d'evo-lution, borne of cartoon logic, as it is. This is, in fact to be the subject of a future blather by Professor Prattle of Nowhere Normal School in our twin city, Nowhere, Texas; "The Origin and Effect of Cartoons (somethingorother) Human Consciousness: This Shit is Real", which is expected to be so funny as to be dangerous. Really dangerous. Like, Prattle is serious but you could just die laughing, even if he weren't wearing that pinz-nez. Dude. Really. Somebody needs humor lessons. Or I need humor lessons. I hope I don't, because that's not a good spot to be in right about now. There are all sorts of codes intersecting of their own abides and ends. Also, what if everyone collectively lost cell service? That would be one wack joke. It's gotten way too easy. To get a virulent case of the heebie jeebies. There are dimensions to the linguistics. Even the medium jumps under the fingertips, but somehow nobody even attempts to see it, which is the trickster's delight. It's an Exxxxxcellent time for a ... Developing. Oh, gosh. Not to giddy one'sself up overmuch is usually a good strateeegical maneuver. Back up to Dobbs level, or something. It's about being memory. It's really about being memory. It really is. It's a very odd terrain. Think in implications in dimensions. This is all composed by a person well-known to be a goofball.