Mostly because I had other fish to fry. However, my experience writing SILVER BROWN (and subsequently 2021’s project for National Novel Writing Month, which was an offshoot of SILVER BROWN) came up as a topic whilst chatting with somebody I met once on one of those crazy apps. The conversation fizzled soon after I brought up the talking ferret, but it got me thinking about what kind of grand artistic endeavour I should tackle next. During the holidays, I spontaneously jotted down something in the notepad on my phone to that effect, which I’ll have to wait until the end of the academic year to pursue in earnest.
It’s fall in this here Northern Hemisphere. Or autumn, if you’re fancy. A season of transformative molting, of dispensing with that which is no longer necessary. Certain anatomical structures withering away to preserve the life of the organism as a whole, the useless structures in question becoming bombastic and colourful before they are ultimately cast aside, wilted and impotent. It was out of this ancient rhythm of Nature that the time-honoured autumnal tradition of the wicker man was born.
In the spirit of getting rid of things that are no longer needed, every year I customarily dress my wicker man in old clothes of mine that are far too shabby and tattered to be worn in polite company, adding to its bulk by stuffing it with handfuls of the ever-present dry foliage. A significant part of this tradition calls for all participants to compose a handwritten list of everything they would like to lose in the coming year, to be affixed to the effigy moments before the great sacrifice. This year’s list was augmented with a special attachment, of a type I would not normally include.
It goes without saying that this past year has been an exceptionally trying one for the human species. Among other things, there is an irritating pimple on the sphincter of the world that is all but certain to rupture and cause a life-threatening infection if it is not promptly removed. To that end, I incorporated a conspicuous image of said pimple into the construction of my wicker man…
The pointed hood visual effect was not something I originally planned, but it works.
In addition to a hideous mug, I also festooned him with a tiny camouflage penis, which I probably made too big…
…and somewhere on the back of the figure’s head, I did a little Sharpie doodle of the other Lovecraftian abomination that is actively threatening human civilization…
This is hands down the ugliest wicker man I’ve ever built.
Dousing the effigy in some kind of flammable liquid before the party starts is highly recommended, speaking from personal experience. Any kind of distilled spirit is ideal for this purpose; the higher the proof, the better. Fittingly enough, this year I went with Trumplethinskin’s national beverage. Vodka.
The stage was now set for the main event. It took several attempts to get the show on the road, because the wicker man’s sleazy “fixer” The Wind kept trying to persuade the High Court of Nature to delay the sentencing. But once things got underway, it was a magical mystery tour from start to finish. I present it here in spectacular GIF-o-vision™ for the viewing pleasure of the good guys and ghouls of Planet Earth…
“You cursed brat, look what you’ve done! I’m melting!”
The face fell off when it was about half-melted, landing nearby. It gave me the most menacing stare (highly reminiscent of filmdom’s Chucky, minus the charm) as it laid on the cold stone, the flames engulfing it and reducing it to embers. Obsolete, irrelevant and scientifically debunked embers…
“I’ll get you, my pretty! And your little democracy, too!” [manic cackling followed by abrupt shortness of breath and involuntary sniffing.]
Occasionally you see ghouls manifest in the flames when these things burn, like that time a dragon peered out into the land of the living a few years ago…
The Draconis Lux of ’17, who has no platform and probably won’t be the next Bigfoot.
This year it was the orange phantom with the big eyes staring at me from what remained of the wicker man’s head, shortly after the face fell off. It resembled either C-3PO or Gonzo the Great. Or perhaps Dr. Zoidberg from Futurama. It’s a highly subjective thing, really. I’m leaning towards Gonzo myself. A fitting interpretation, on account of his subordinates being all chickens.
This is actually not the first blog I’ve ever started. I’ve created about half a dozen of them in my lifetime, but none of my former blogs presently exist. Most of them were shut down voluntarily by me a few months after launching. Usually out of boredom. Or maybe because I just couldn’t be arsed to do the work involved in creating and maintaining a blog. It was one of those reasons. This current blog has already outlasted every blog I’ve done before, so it’s got that going for it at least.
I archive most of what I create, and remnants of former blogs still exist in my personal digital vaults. Here’s a titular wordmark I created for the header of one of my old attempts…
Rough translation: “The Brainfart Place”. I wrote it another language and used a fancy script font to make it an elegant brainfart place.
…and here’s a banner I created for somebody else’s blog (which also no longer exists)…
There’s also this skull banner I did once, although I can’t for the life of me remember what blog I did this for…
Lastly, I give you this collection of photographic evidence from that time five years ago when I created a (working!) ganja pipe from a jalapeño pepper. One that had just the right shape to be used for such a purpose. All it needed were exactly two incisions…
There’s my trusty old laptop Lucille in the background, who has since retired to the great network in the sky. #RIP
Despite being refrigerated at all times when not in use, the jalepeño pipe only lasted for a few days before it started rotting and I had to retire it. But it was an interesting experiment while it lasted. This pipe imparted a zesty Tex-Mex flavour to the smoke. At least it did while it was still fresh. Then decomposition set in and it started tasting more like Taco Bell…
Five and ¾ Senses 