Food shortages

I have this recurring dream, well nightmare really, that the world has been hit by a zombie apocalypse. Few humans remain and those that do live under the radar of the predatory flesh eaters.

In my dreams I am pursued by hordes of these repulsive creatures, shambling towards me like a never-ending tidal wave of rotten flesh. Vacant eyes stare as they are propelled by just a primeval instinct to feed.

And how they feed – ripping into limbs, gorging without taste, smell, or indeed any other sensory pleasure. It’s pure savagery, like the proverbial fox among the chickens.

As creatures from horror go, they lack and little need any form of sophistication, intelligence or cunning. It’s all about the power of the pack, a very large and greedy pack. There’s no thrill in the chase, no sense of victory when you capture your quarry. It’s just mindless feeding for seemingly no purpose, after all it’s never really explained why the zombie must eat flesh. Will they all die when they run out of living creatures to provide their three meals a day?  Is it just an unnecessary compulsion? What's the point of zombies anyway?

And then there’s the issue of them destroying what few humans remain on the planet - that’s where I have a real issue. You see, I'm not particularly concerned about being eaten by the vile creatures myself… it’s more that I worry about what they’re doing to my food supply....

;)

Seriously, nobody ever thinks about how the poor vampires will manage during a zombie apocalypse do they?

[For the uninitiated, this devilishly handsome fellow above is the rather delicious Damon Salvatore. Mean n moody, but ever-so-sexy blood sucker from the Vampire Diaries. Obviously he shouldn't be confused with flesh-eating rotting Doris at the top of the page. She lurched her way out of my imagination and dragged herself onto the page dripping pus... nice....].


Vanessa, from A Fanciful Twist is having a Halloween Party. I like to pen a few words of fiction on these occasions. This is a little on the short side this year, but what it lacks in substance I hope it makes up for in drool-ability. And, if you have any zombie nightmares, here's hoping Damon Salvatore will be on hand to rescue you!

Mapping friendship

Doubly inspired - by both Orly Avineri's class and my beautiful friends on our round robin journal swap, I created this piece that maps our friendships. Layers of maps, letters, postage remnants and scraps from here and there* while the watchful eyes offer up the gateway to the soul.

Our round robin has wrapped eight friends together through art. Next stop on the journal's journey is the original owner, so I'm incredibly excited as I anticipate the arrival of mine back in the post any day now.

We have resolved to share all through a little blog party, so watch this space to share in the globe-trotting wonders.

While we're on the subject of parties - I'm sharing this with the Paint Party Friday revellers.



(*including one from Orly - or it might have been Teesha - it's the transparent piece over the right eye with the 4 on).

Zumba la Bumba (elephants can dance)

I think that in a former life I must have been Cuban and also possibly an elephant. You see, I have this total affinity and love for Latin music; it seeps through my veins and pulls me to my feet like some dark-haired King of Salsa in a sweaty nightclub.

My speakers rebound with the sensual passion of the Buena Vista Social Club and I dream of one day being able to play the Spanish classical guitar.

Unfortunately once I get onto the 'dance floor' (or more accurately the Zumba class studio), that's when the elephant makes its appearance. I just can't seem to coordinate arms and legs; my hips most certainly don't swivel or shimmy in a remotely sexy fashion and swarthy suitors back away with quick flip of their Cuban heel (or there would if there were actually any men in the class... I've been trying to persuade my twinkle toes to come along, but he's having none of it!).

There is a happy end to this tale though and it's not that elephants can do the Cha-Cha-Cha... You see the thing is, it doesn't really matter if I don't quite get the steps exactly perfect or that I constantly muddle my left with my right, front, back, up and down. No,  the point of going to a Zumba class is to have fun and work out to a spot of passionate music. If you sneak a look around the room, you'll notice that you're not the only one in a tangle or with a huge grin. In fact, forget elephants, there are giraffes, orang-outangs, ostriches (and OK, admittedly a few swans!).

If you've never tried ... you should!

Strange things are happening to me...

Peculiar things are happening in this neck of the woods. It's all rather baffling.

Firstly, time is playing tricks on me. My digital bedside clock keeps shifting the hours around as it feels like it. It alters both the time of day and my alarm settings so I'm oversleeping or getting up way too early.

Secondly, strangers are calling my mobile phone claiming to have a missed call from me - although I have made no calls. I've even contacted the provider to see if somehow my SIM card has been cloned.

And thirdly (for now.... who knows what's going to happen next....) I get this strange sensation down my left shoulder when I'm sitting at the computer. A tickling on the underside of my skin like someone is trying to tell me something...

If you can shed any light on any of these mysteries, then please send your answer on a postcard to the usual address!

(I love this photo image I created. You think you see something but is really what you mind is telling you? Look closer... I thought it went well with the subject matter!)

No vacancies?

Journal page from the heart

I am shamelessly stealing/borrowing this poetry from both Ange and Rumi. Written by the latter, I found it on the former's blog and it sang to me a tune of recognition.

This human being is a guest house. 

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Rumi

It has been a busy period in this particular 'guest house' - high season for visiting emotions. Some seem to have set up home, while others flit in and out with no regard for reservation or planning. When the Sorrows come to stay with naughty children Depression and Mope they are usually bent on taking over the place, filling every nook and cranny with their dreary moods. They are not the most profitable of house guests that's for sure as they leech productivity and cast a weariness over all in their path. They play mournful tunes and spend too much time in bed. How am I supposed to change the sheets when they are weighing them down?

Fortunately I do believe they are thinking about leaving. I dropped a few hints - like printing out their invoice and packing their suitcases and they sense a shift in my once subconscious welcoming attitude towards them. You see, I've had an enquiry from Joy and Gratitude. They are desperate for a visit and let's face it, who wouldn't open their doors to these moments of sunshine?

Grungetta

Spent many restorative hours yesterday painting and talking about art at my Art Spa for the Soul Workshop. It was a wonderful day and, given that I've been really down in the dumps lately, just what I needed for a bit of creative pep up.

Here's the piece I worked on - the result of a number of exercises mashed up together, lots of loose sketching and play

More about the workshop in a forthcoming post, just wanted to share this with my friends at Sunday Sketches.

Doodles on Doodles...

and whiskers on kittens...

Just playing in my journal and letting the paint take its own direction and map out the story.

This one speaks to me of adventures in Arabia.

When she arrives at Paint Party Friday she will have tales to tell of secrets in the sand, ancient treasures and mystic stones.