My Blog

A pretty new doorway

Sqweegle — Thu, 23 Mar 2006 15:12:28 GMT

In response ta tribe's censorship an' deletions of it's members, photos, threads, an' tribes, I have opened anudda doorway inta pretty pixie paradise over in Free Association land.. Slowly dis new forum arrises out of tha howlin' void left us when tha tribe overlords went mad wit' greed an' power, an' raped what once waz a vital an' growin' community a' creative an' passionate freaks. Come on over an' check it out, Help us grow as you grow in a soil watered wit' tha blood a' freedom of expression. Tha tribe CEO iz from Pepsico, where he marketed tha flesh a' chickens fer that Kentucky Colonel, An' he says hiz goal iz ta turn tribe here inta a "virtual Starbucks" Come, drink a draught a' freedom: http://free-association.net/index.php?option=com_associations&task=displayAssociation&id=339

Enceladus

Sqweegle — Sat, 11 Mar 2006 12:07:15 GMT

Ah, but here we fly in a small spin of a spiral circlin' in a far-off corner a everythin' An' here there is Mars, brother body across tha void everythin' there fer carbon-based life. An' then there's Io orbitin' Tha boil a Jupiter. Again, a harbor fer tha fire a life, as here on Earth far below dark unseen in tha vice of tha weight ov tha sea fed from tha maw of volcanic vents forms delicate that melt when pulled from their depths. Volcanos flare far off on Io. An' also in Sol's dance spins Titan of Saturn another nest aboil wit' tha promise of life that shoots out of tha frozen winter soils a'bloom in tha air, sweet flower ejaculate, as in ocean depths far below yer feet. An' now there shines Enceladus, turmoil an' churn shootin geysers into tha freeze like a fist in a far circle away from the fire a' Sol. A strike like a hammer tha breath of a kiss.

Springtime wit' Sqweegle.

Sqweegle — Wed, 08 Feb 2006 17:17:29 GMT

Here in my gardens at outer Whopdahooptaville tha bones a' winter are all a'buddin' out wit' a new skin a' green. Beds a'dog-tooth violets fluff up from tha duff an' stuff littered from last season. Tha sweet frog song rises from tha cool dark cornes an' puddles down in tha fen an'upper bog. It is time ta plant tha whipple-peas an' harvest tha first shoots a' blue bacon asperagus. Blue bacon asperagus really makes yer pee smell mighty foul. Steamed fresh an' lathered wit'purple mouse butter is tha best preparation for blue bacon asperagus. Serve up a big steamin' pile a' this delight wit' a barbiecue beetle hom-bow to ya sweetie an' it will have an effect like a love spell. Humankind never quite grasp tha truth that true love could never be bought wit' a spell That spells abomination,like tha Tar Beast, but that story iz for later.. An'it is spring here! Time ta dance about in the soft new grass wit yer bare toes! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Watch out fer worms an' poo, natch. Above my garden here rises a hill where once tha pixies danced wit tha dear above sweet summer meadows. Then tha nasty old Rabbit named Bore moved in and built a fortress of a hole locked wit' a big iron door. Now old Bore Rabbit had some thing goin' wit tha Tar-Beast, an this is no Brer Rabbit an' Tar-Baby story here! Dis is at best a dark reflexion in an oily still pool down in one a' tha shadowy side-pools below in tha bog. Now Tar-Beast was a gloppy sloppy shapeless thing. It had big boobies, but so do a lot a men. It had a strange mound where it's genitals should be, but Tar-Beast waz so foul few would get close enough ta peek. Tar-Beast would act like it needed a hug, then in it's stinky embrace much worse would happen.Tar-Beast would get mad, then go mad, an' leave foulish gray slime trails as if by a zombie slug. Zombie slugs are as bad as ghost spiders. Tha ghost spiders are them little things ya feel skitter over you,as you are about ta drift off inta sleep snug in yer bed at night.Scampery things that are not physically there. Bore Rabbit behind his iron door lived off tha fat a' tha land. Always tryin ta foul-up my garden, I had ta train a batalion of bantams ta gaurd tha pixie gardens. But Bore-Rabbit waz all lonely shut up by himself behind that cold iron door, so he went down to tha parking lot ta ask some spirits ta ride him. Tha spirits laughed at him. Bore-Rabbit had fouled a pixie Sanctuary jus' ta feed his selfish ambitions, an' now he lived down a hole behind an iron door. As luck would have it, that beautiful spring night down in tha parking lot, there waz Tar-Beast, who saw alla this- an' wanted a hug.

Dancing wit' your chickens is good!

Sqweegle — Sat, 07 Jan 2006 23:35:06 GMT

January and it's time ta bed, Seeds saved from a dead summer Heeble-hops, barley tops, rainbow lettuce head. Violet chunk peas an' flowers for bees, an' out prance my chickens so eager ta please. Big proud full cocks capped wit' red, a proud cock ta take on a ride in a hummer. But really let's talk of elephant squash, lathered wit' swirly squirrel butter sauce.

Purple mouse milk is good for you.

Sqweegle — Sat, 27 Aug 2005 03:57:37 GMT

Still am I stymied when I go into tha local stinky hippie co-op an' ask for some good purple mouse milk ta soak my cheerios in. Tha dreadlocked cashier monkey looks at me like I'm some little hippie child lost from his Earth momma who's dippin' in tha chips in tha bulk food section. With her fingers. But back ta purple mouse milk. I strain it through bracken orchid petals ta make a smooth cheese that spreads sweet on salt cod. Not tha fish cod. A pixie cod is a weenie type thing wiggly-jiggly thingy that pods from ocean-bloomin' flowers that grow in tha shadow shoals of jekib bas whimmie narrows. But first ya gots ta catch tha slippery little purple mouse an hold it down ta milk it. That's a two hand job.

My chickens.

Sqweegle — Mon, 15 Aug 2005 22:05:31 GMT

Tha summer heat has caused my prize Belgian trottin' chickens ta moult early. I tried doin a picture out a tha feathers, an' got glue an' stuff all over my fingers. Then I scratched my head an got feathers stuck up there too. I'm hot an' sticky wit' feathers stuck in my head.