Trans-Chroma: Todo del día espectro

• Sunlight hitting the dashboard crossing Las Cruces at dawn

Melting Creamsicle™ on naugahyde -- a blinding visual flavour

• Looking down from the mesa over Cortez at high noon

Dusty maize-hued scape baking under light of white gold

• Double rainbow over the Jicarilla Rez

Spectra framed by brooding violet clouds and swaying grass of electric green

• Tumbleweeds crossing 94 near Medora

A panorama with the hues of white klieg lights gleaming off a tarnished Zildjian

• Town lights shimmering at midnight in the river at Salida

Diamond pinpricks smear and ripple through black water beside the roadway

Sleep beckons, and there... there is a roadside motel.

De amanecer a la oscuridad, cielo a conectar a tierra... a güebo...
...Ahí nos vemos.

Friday Night Diqqat: Who needs to see?

Signal integrity diminishing, unwanted noise increasing.
An intermittent connection with no increase in conductivity.
The solution didn’t involve the application of solventless corrosion inhibitors.
The solution didn’t involve deoxidizing the potentiometers.

What was the solution?
What do you think?


“Shumo chi mikuned?”
“Hamash naghz... Hech gap ne...”

Singes de Style: Epigones Élégant and the Road to Thanatos

Down the sidewalk comes the parade, with all the pageantry of a baby elephant walk. A train of hipster chimps (chimpsters?) shuffling forward with a loping gait, each clutching the scarf of the ape in front of him.
And where does this caravan lead? To Pain & Blunder’s Hangout, where their Vespas are parked in a row, conspicuous in attentive fashion.

Man invented the wheel, it must be agreed, but what are the consequences of these creations that we hand down to our bipedal brethren?
Let us focus upon one average member of this troop...

Professor John Gutts: “A creature of concise inanities, the subject preens in front of the picture window, conscious of the eyes of passers-by. Attracted by a glint from the superfluous array of mirrors on his motorised bike, he scampers over and hops aboard. The mirrors act as catalyst for the self-grooming instinct: The subject immediately hunches forward, gazing at self-image and ‘checks his style.’ Accidently kicking the parking brake free, the scooter rolls forward while the unknowing chimp’s trendy and way-too-long scarf gets caught in the wheel...”

So, we see (a) the gift of the wheel, coupled with (b) the scarf...

Prof. Gutts: “What was once an innocent fashion accessory becomes a sinister instrument in the bitter struggle between style and death...”

...along with the Compound Coagment Factor itself, (c) the desire for style.

Prof. Gutts: “The appetible hunger for a sense of style within a collective is an irony of ironies, as ‘rebellious manifestations’ counterproductively bolster tribal attitudes instead of girding the autolatry of ‘The Individual’ (Yeah, scare quotes there cos ‘tis a Hipster Paradox).”

So... when ’style’ is simply a recursive means towards its own ends, freely embraced by the Culturati along with a wink-n-nod postmodern excuse slip, should it be any surprise where it all leads?

Prof. Gutts: “Voluntary ironic detachment... begets passionless art... begets a lack of cultural contribution... A discursive roundabout manoeuvre resulting in a terminal free-fall into Niche CultureDeath.”

Monkeys struggling to free themselves from the sub-kitsch noose of their own making, gurgling their final words, “I’ll get noticed if it kills me...”

Gloria’s Vainglorious Displacement: Boucs émissaires dans la piscine

Your domestic strife
cumbers every interaction...
Suspecting the worst,
fears become projection...
Tainting your ‘tude
magnifying every infraction...


In your pool, horsing around...
chlorinated water up the nose
gagging, snorting, sputtering,
incapacitated...

Take it out on the convenient friskies
innocent, fun-loving aquanauts...

The unexpected admonishment from on deck:

“Get off my property”

Del-Wood: Patinoire Anachronique

In the cold, diffused light of the mid-afternoon sun, the building sits at the end of the lot.
Dull, drab, cracked paint, gray as slate. Deco arcs of another age, invisible icing ignored... and a weathered, unlit neon sign (does it even work?).

Inside: Dark, cavernous...
Well-worn iron railings, scuffed maple flooring
and the unexpected echo of laughter.

The must of 1958 hangs in the air as dozens glide in circles.
The strains of a wheezing Wurlitzer breathe bright melodies like a whistling blind man, unaware of the decay around him.
A palpable sense of history hovers -- but is it from the obvious layers of dust or the dank, old-gym smell?

Around and around the figures continue to race, laughing.
Boys furtively eye the skirts, girls glance at the boys with a blush...
And it all seems to work.

Is this a taste of the heyday from years ago?
If so, that dusty, burned-out neon sign, quietly crooked and nonchalant, must have been one helluva beacon for the kids.

She and the Reflex of Mortals at Chestnut Run

Marguerite of Horatius
Sun-streaked auburn hair,
tanned shoulders with the beginnings of a burn, dappled with dew

La tuffatrice in volo
She is not Icarus.
She aims for the sea --
to arrive there in perfect pitch from the sky.

She stands, hands pointing north and south
toes on the edge
back to the brink

A slight bend in the knees
a taut bob of the arms
starting momentum

With an arch of her neck, her body springs -- upward... outward...
...airborne...

Over the precipice her frame arcs into the sky
Seemingly out of the sun
circumvolving in slo-mo
heels over head over heels
almost perfect...
almost...

The rotation a hair from completion
when her nape nicks the crag
from where she leapt

one split-second

and the reflexes of mortal men kick in

Bodies in motion are in flight before she even touches the water
Simultaneous splashes
and arms are there to gird her dazed form...
lifting... upward through the sea

All at the surface
and only seconds have elapsed.
Marguerite draws a breath
and the rest of us can release ours.

Primate Unstable

Monkey Jr. makes a rare cameo appearance -- the first since his debut in 1982.

It may be said that the discernible presence of venal subhuman tendencies in humans is more evident now in the present atmosphere of lax media mores and an ‘anything goes’ wink-and-nod climb up the social ladder.
The highly demanding chore of fomenting sincere affective bonds within one’s socio-economic habitat has been resulting in self-interest behaviours that parallel anti-social development that risks a pivotal brink-slide into full Pink Boy freebootery.
An urgent point to be made then is that the potential societal languor that would result from this outgrowth demands a containment contingency best addressed by a joint strategic pungeoning confutation.
A covert psychological facilitant is needed to expose the inherent ‘identity nakedness’ polemic of Pink tendencies. Thus, an acute Type I proximate pungeoning methodology should be implemented to best address potentially deviant Pink ideologies and the resulting effect they would have upon the existing societal matrix.