"~\UK-USA/~"

Maybe things would be better for us if we asked the Queen, and whoever is Prime Minister this week to take us back in.
Under the parliamentary system the Republican Party, the Brooklyn Maoist League, and all of the other demented U.S. culture war groups would have harmless back bench seats so we could keep an eye on them.
We'd finally have National Health, better TV shows, and no one would hate our guts as much.
On the other hand the Brits might not like an additional 30 million Irish descended subjects suddenly hanging around giving them the finger.
Also British food would vastly improve with all The Tex-Mex, Cajun, and other Southern cooking added to the mix. Coney Island Hot Dawgs too.

"~\C/~"

I could use some of them cat toy things.

I got stuff to prop up.

*

Btw if you have Netflix.

Watch 

"The Umbrella Academy"

Listen below.

Theme song to a massacre.

*

 It's murderously surreally entertaining.

I say this as a Queer Pacifist

with an interest in Vengeance.

"...grim"

Yeah so I went with a bunch of cute stories, and nice pictures. Some of which I designed below there for a bit. I get that way as ya know. 
Like you I'm different things at different times. 
What gets me is when some say,...what's wrong you were so nice, and sweet now you're shoving kittens into wood chippers.

Well the little fuckers deserved it gimme a break.

On that I keep having dark grim dreams,...bad ones. I leaves it to your imaginations.

...eh no I won't. 

They're like Alien meets the Walking Dead in a Race Riot during a flame thrower fight between naked boys, and nuns all this happening in a Concentration Camp for Queers.

Get the picture?

Everyone of them elements was in one part or other of this months series of my dreams. This is why I'm now addicted to diabetes friendly non-sugar ice cream. It's the only thing I have left.  I'm going to dive back into it after I post this demented shit.

Which is right now.

“Mercurial”

A short “Star Trek” tale. 

It concerns the fate of the Federation vessel USS Pequod. The back story of the ship, and crew I leave to your imaginations. We join them as they enter the Augustine System on the Federation/Breen border.

The ship, and crew of the USS Pequod were caught in a temporal slip. There they stayed for 200,000 years. 

…give or take.

Outside the Slip the ages raised, and lowered seas, and rearraigned the stars. Through all this the crew lived the same four minutes.

The same, and the same, and the same.

‘Till they didn’t.

Like Angels time slips are mercurial. Coming, and going as they please. The Augustine Event lifted leaving the Pequod facing, “…new worlds, and new civilizations”.

Ages later their descendants met a species that knew them. Knew them, and had plans for them. For these were the authors of the Augustinian Event. These people called themselves,…

“The Q”. 

*Deleted scenes.

In the Pequod’s galley Boson’s Mate Ivy reached for her coffee. 200,000 years later she drank it.

In the corridor of deck three Crewman Rodrigo waited for the lift. 200,000 years later it finally arrived.

On the bridge Helmswoman Keong felt a hint of turbulence. 200,000 years later she also noticed all the stars were in the wrong places.

228 years after that,…

Keong’s great grand kid’s,…kid’s kid’s kid met the “Q”.

"A Story"

For over a century, and a half we unknowingly called to the stars. We pleaded for attention with Morse Code Carrier Wave radio, and now Digital Bursts.  We even changed the spectrum of our atmosphere with industry. All this to mark our presence.

We called, and were heard.

As is their way the Star Folk sent an Envoy. This to hear our story not from our machines, but from ourselves. A vessel of bright shimmers there, but not moved undetected through the clouds. 

It came to rest not at the Kremlin White House Versailles or even Disneyland. It settle a meter above the cracked pavement of a forsaken part of East Saint Louis, Illinois.

The Envoy disembarked, and floated to those watching. They were enveloped as with a mist. Their souls were asked for the story of Earth.

In response the Envoy was led to a battered Homeless Shelter. There the people said the truth of Earth could be found.

“A Simple Yule Story”,...rerun.

I wrote this just before the Yuletide. Around then my health went to hell. So I missed everything up to Valentines Day. That, and I think our dear comrade "Z" was offline so he may have missed this story.

The partial return of young "Midshipman Pip!"

I'm thinking over ideas for further adventures, but this will have to do for now. So Z as I promised, and which you might have missed "Pip" returns,...for a bit.

******************************************************

(A mid-shipman Pip Christmas story for my friends, especially “Z”. I make a cameo as his “Uncle’. The first stave of Pip’s adventures is below this one. You may wish to start there.  

…also there’s been a bit of time travel in these few lines. As Pip, and his ship are from 1904, and this story takes place in 2032. …shit happens.)

The HMS Agamemnon ported at the isle of Turquoise Christmas eve. There was snow on the ground, and the winds were brisk. Passersby greeted one another heartfully. The spirit of Yule was well about.

As Dickens wrote. 
"Christmas is that one time in the rolling year when men, and woman from all circumstance open their shut up hearts to the world.”
Young Pip on liberty walked up Algernon Hill. This to his Uncle’s shop of “Bewildered Amazements”.  All prices negotiable.  Pip banged the brass knocker whose shape changed as the wind blew against it. There opened was his dear Uncle.

Pip’s old kindly generous often befuddled by the world “Uncle”.
Surprised, and bearing a broad smile Uncle said, “…Pip! Ah! …and a merry Yule to you. Come in child! ’…in in in from the cold!”
“Hi Uncle!” Piped Pip his round glasses fogging from the warmth of the shop. Uncle,…“Aw bless you child. How happy I am to see you.”
Laughter smiles, and ironic jibes followed. 

“Cider! we must have cider” happily bellowed uncle.  Pip, “…yes it was so cold coming up your hill.” Uncle’s apprentice Toby poking his head from a side door, “….Hey Pip”,…“Hey Toby!
"Cider, and buttered buns!” said uncle.
Cider indeed! We need some Toby magic. Hot Christmas cider minted as only you can! “I’m on it” said Toby disappearing into the heart of this magical yet user friendly shop.

About time travel. 
Pip often brings items from the past for uncle’s inspection. This is how he gets so many bewilderments for the shop. More in another story.

Old uncle took Pip’s tunic, and gratefully accepted various items from Pip’s century. They sat by the fireplace where they spoke of seas, and  ships cabbages, and kings madmen, and poets. 
Then came Toby with three very large drafts of Minted Christmas Cider! All three souls sat together warm, and cozy as they sipped laughed burped, and laughed again.

Happy they were. 
Happy in each other’s company. Happy with the world.  
Happy as they blessed all in it.

A Happy Yule to all.

****************************************************

Here below is the first chapter in the adventures of Midshipman Pip.

“Pip @ Sea”

‘Being the Journal of Mid-Shipman Jamie Pip. 

Royal Navy Cadet.

HMS Foretina, May 12th, 1903

I stood “Bow Watch” from quarter noon till sundown. Observed, and reported a French steamer on the starboard horizon. Post noon a Spanish Ironclad “Man 'o War” crossed us heading east then turned true north.

Twin rainbows sighted 12 degrees to port. A great storm has skirted us.

…for now.

Most enchanting however at dusk a Pod of Blue Whales rode our bow break. How graceful they glided as they sang to each other.

************************************************

HMS Foretina, May 14th 1903

17 degrees N/NW of the Isle San Angelica de Isabella. 

It is a full Moon this night, and the North Star is to port. Orion with his three sisters drifts in the sky at our windward. 

The Foretina sings.

At night she sings. From her rigging’s sails boards comes music. Her timbers groan her bow a soft choir, and oh how cleanly she cleaves the sea.

The ships bell chimes as a call to prayer.

**********************************************

HMS Foretina May 17th, 1903

A new lad came aboard by launch from the port of Isabella. His name is Aliabad Wellington. He is kindly in disposition, and comely in appearance.

A “Black 'a Moor” he is, and poetic in his speech.

I though a Jew shall be so forward as to befriend him. Perhaps he will smile upon me if I gift him my slim though precious volume of Sufi poems, and prayers.

**********************************************

The 21st of May 1903,

9 degrees E/NE of Saint George’s Atoll.

The a fore mentioned gales have caught up with us! We suffer within her sharp teeth! The Captain has ordered we sail into the wind. Waves lash the decks The sea looms over us. Fish rain down as “Manna”.

Cook says, “…if we ain’t pulled to the bottom we’ll eat well this night!”

So fearful yet beautiful is this.

The sky a blur of color, Bright arcs of lightning dance on every horizon. The sea illuminated the masts ignited by “Saint Elmo’s Fire!”

The bow digs deep yet rises again the rigging makes her strange music. The good “Foretina” yaws hard to port then starboard then again even more deeply.

The eyes of the younger Cadets are wide with terror yet wonder too. So it was for a night, and a day.

Fading drifting sand in a gentle wind…

A dream,…how… why…..the ship the storm Aliabad faded slowly…vanished.

Even myself…gone.

************************************************

I’m reading a book. One made of linen. It’s pages it’s leaves flutter in the breeze. It speaks to me this linen book. Telling not only the written story within, but how it came to be.

How it was cut sewn stitched. How the words were so slowly, and carefully threaded together.

This book of cloth told me of it’s inner life. About the lives the ways of all the books like her.

Then gone.

…like the “Foretina” gone.

*******************************************

I enter another world in mid-sentence.

Friends. Three women friends of which I am one. In dreams you live whole lives in moments. I entered a world with life long friends about me.

I yearned to tell the 'secret’ my great, and terrible secret. What for them was a lifetime was for me a moments fancy as I lay asleep in another world.

We sat, and laughed at the folly of the world. A world I was about to leave. Leave, and forget. This world, and my 'momentary’ friends will vanish.

Leaving not even dust.

********************************************

I awaken with the fragments of lives on the tip of my tongue. Fragments which as the moments passed melt away to nothing.

"~\S/~"

It's 27f degrees with a wind-gust chill of 9f.

Yet Spring waits her turn.

"~\S/~"

Dubteppia quietly waits for Spring.

"...cheap"

"Bob da Bunny" is currently on Mars. Doing some sort of NSA black ops governance thing. Perhaps checking on the slave labor camps Fox sez the Clintons run out there. Hey where do you think cheap iPhones, and corn chips come from.

You'll note Bob wears no space suit. Turns out sentient sock puppets are immune to the harsh conditions of Mars. Atlanta in summer not so much. Mars okay.

He sends his regards, and wishes you were there.

"Dante's Dream"

I feel like driving in circles in a burning 1956 Desoto singing "A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall". This at the top of my lungs.

Otherwise I'm fine,...how are you?

"D 646 Latouche Treville"

"I just loves this shit!"

I should have gave that radio career a miss.

That, and joined the fucking Navy.

"...toy time"

Kind of Queer in a Rough Trade sort of way.

I was thinking of a waffle blizzard.

This with a syrup sleet.

Maybe some butter flurries.

"...can't sleep"

I wish I were 11 again in fifth grade or whatever so I could leap up, and grab that fucking evil Sister Margarete. I'd sink my teeth into her jugular, and tear her fucking throat out.
This as she came to beat the shit out of me again. 

I imagine she wouldn't see it coming. 

Kids that got raped or were beat all the time dream these things. 
I did. However you eat it, and get on with your next pile of decades.

Still.

Ever think of what you'd do. That is if you suddenly found ya' self in your past during a traumatic time. 
There you are in your 11 year old body knowing what all this shit will do to you. Knowing what the next 60 years will be.

There'd be a bunch of fucking mangled bullies nuns, and priests.

I can see it now. They'd say "...he was such a nice quiet sweet little boy. Why would he amass such a fucking gigantic body count out of the blue?" All the while though locked up in Juvie,...kid jail, I'd smile in quiet satisfaction.

Where was I,...yeah I'm sleepless in hell.

"...medium"

This is one of my paper collage Faeries. I had a burst of creativity a few years ago, and cooked up piles of these. Lately just write,…and sleep. Creativity comes, but the medium changes with time. I’ve been dreaming music, but don’t know notes so can’t transcribe them. As I do with visual dreams. I use these all the time in rants stories, and sermons. You work with what you have.

"...reasonable"

I ran into action figure alternate universe John Lennon, and Cat Woman at Coney Island last summer. They say "Hi" to everyone, and wish them well. They mentioned that Bernie was elected on their Earth. That, and Trump is facing 20 years on trial for fraud, and embezzlement.

That, and the new Department of Arts, and Pursuit of Happiness just finished building five new cities. Twenty more planned. These experiments in non-capital based economies. Bernie said he got the idea from Star Trek.

Sez President Bernie, "...a world without bosses or money seemed a reasonable begining.