7000 + words

You may have read in the papers - right after the endless stories about how Jeremy Corbyn cloned Lenin and then totally did it with him while flipping off the queen - that I have finally finished the zoetrope I was working on. The above represents the remainder of the images used in the final thingamajig (well, there are over a dozen variations on the first image - the first frame of the animation inside the internal drum - each minutely dfferent from the last - but I think I can sppare you them) . Does it work? Am I happy with it? Yes and yes. Now let us never speak of it again.  Also there's another page of Rag and Bone because that's still stumbling on.

I've actually enrolled on an art course at my local college in an effort to improve my basic fundamentals, give me a grounding in different mediums and get me out of the house and away from the accusing voices that haunt my empty hours. I do worry that there might be a bit too much emphasis on the fundamentals. Last week I drew a pyramid. This week; spheres.

Love and Fishes

Dave D

The Ballad of Bruce Wayne

The people of Gotham despaired of Bruce Wayne

But what they never suspected was that

At night he would go and punch crime in the face

And he did it while dressed as a bat.

In a few months as Batman, Wayne had success

Getting the crime rate right down

Until a guy called the Joker startedmessing things up

And he did it while dressed as a clown.

The Joker was hired to kill our friend, Bats

At the behest of some dudes in the mob.

For crime was tired of being thumped in the mouth

Every time they went out on the rob.

They first fought one night during a soiree

And some poor buggers car got all bent.

Things then got worse! A hospital blew up!

Then Joker did a number on Dent

Bat finaly collared Joker one night

When trying to blow up some boats

The clown hit the bat in the face with a pipe

'I've beat you, you pansy' he boasts

But bats isn't beaten, he throws the crook off

And show him that crime doesn't pay

And Joker falls down, to certain death

And he did it while laughing away

But Batman lassoed him, before he went splat

And clown prince of crime hung there smiling

This joke's not funny, Batman decides,

So he hoyed the sod in Arkham Asylum

The people of Gotham still despair of Bruce Wayne,

They wish he would do something right

This is because they are kept in the dark

That Bruce Wayne is Gotham's Dark Night

The above was written as an attempt to teach a class of thirteen years olds about the ballad format of poetry, with various stanza's containing inciting incidents, rising action etc. etc. You probably didn't cotton on to this, but the plot is cribbed from Christopher Nolan's little known indie hit The Dark Night. I could tell by the faces of the children that they all thought I was a super cool guy, with great hair, who probably owns a kantana and is the best at swimming. Unfortunately I later decided that teaching is not for me, mainly as I cannot speak in front of a large group of people - even when those people are in a pupal state - without my voice rising three octaves and sweating profusely. Ho hum. The academic sector's loss is the soul crushing customer service industry's gain.

More recently the Alice in Sunderland project inches along, latest effort below:

For the remainder of this week I have been shaking my head in wearied horror at the shenanigans around the Labour leadershp election, trying to halt the decline in my physical state by lifting heavy things up and down and spendingmy valuable alone time pretending to be a cowboy complete with spit bucket and assless chaps.

Love and Fishes

Dave Denton

Whist Lads, Haad Yer Gobs

Another image for the Alice in Sunderland themed Zoetrope thing that I'm working on. I'm currently with struggling with how to get the bastard zoetrope thing to turn, however it has now occurred to me that I don't have to. All I need to do is get anyone observing it to run around the stationary images at a fast enough speed of 24 frames per second. This one conflating the Carrol poem Jabberwocky, with the North Eastern folk ballad The Lanbton Worm. For the record I'm far from being the first person in the world to make this link, so it's not like I'm just pullling it out me arse. The structure in the image is not the Acropolis but Penshaw monument, a Victorian folly that sits on a hill near Washington that the worm is meant to have wrapped itself around. Like all follies, the monument has never fulfilled any actual function beyond looking vaguely impressive and acting as a geographical point of reference when your a bit discombobulated. As I write this it occurs that I've never actually been up to see it, which I really should rectify at some point.

Spent yesterday building sandcastles on the beach. It should be noted at this point that I do not have or am in any way associated with any young children. The whole thing was done at the behest of my thirty something girlfriend, whose enthusiams for the whole thing didn't stop her insisting that I go on her behalf to purchase a (Mr Man themed) bucket and spade. Joke's on her though as my sandcastle was blatantly better than hers, mainly thanks to clever use of my Little Miss Sunshine sand rake to form a drawbridge. Scintillating stuff.

Love and Fishes

Dave Denton

 

The Walrus Loves the Carpenter

The moon was shining on the sea,

Shining bright and white:

The walrus and the carpenter

Sat out in the moonlight

And this was very odd, because

it wasn't even night.

Carpenter licked his fingers clean,

And tossed an oyster shell

Now that their repast was now complete

His face, it suddenly fell.

Those oysters, they had trusted them,

And they'd not been treated well

"Walrus," he said, into his chest,

sniffing away a tear

"We did those shellfish a great wrong

that they can't forgive, I fear

As now they're stuck inside our guts,

Are we the bad guys here?"

Walrus's flipper reached behind

And gave his back a pat

"My joiner friend, there is no need

To feel like you're a rat.

We were hungry. They taste good.

And that's the end of that."

He lifted up the chippy's chin

and looked into his eyes

"Don't be sad', the Walrus breathed

And to Carpenter's surpise,

Butterflies swirled inside his tum

and something began to rise

His face and loins were burning hot,

Carpenter suddenly knew

That oysters are aphrodisiacs

And he'd had thirty two

He put his mouth to Walrus's

At which point things got blue.

I'll spare you the gory details

of all things done and said

For walrus/man love is not a thing

you want inside your head

Though I believe you can find such things

Out there on the web.

They lay there panting, side by side

After the deed was done,

For sex is hard when your new lover

Outweighs you by a tonne

But thanks to lube and harnesses

They'd had a lot of fun.

"I can't believe that happened,"

Carpenter happily sighed

"But I'm glad it did as now it means,

I've no reason now to hide

That I love an Artic mammal."

"That's great," the Walrus lied

You see, what he was thinking,

But didn't want to say,

Was that he felt himself a player.

Monogamy? No way!

He'd just hoped to scratch an itch,

And get his end away.

"Oh Wally," said the Carpenter,

"I think that you're the one.

Do you think our parents will understand?"

But answer came there none-

And this was scarcely odd, because

That fucker, he had gone.

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With all due apologies to the estate of Lewis Carroll. This is apparently what I do with my spare time.

Love and Fishes

Dave Denton