Swamp Thing by Charles Vess

(Me and Mrs sleeping in this AM)

“Cure is simple,” says the clown. “Go see a doctor. They can prescribe Lexapro.”

“But Pagliacci,” the doctor says

Again, the painted pig was a mystery, a riddle wrapped in a concrete enigma. Today its body was a deep blue, like the abyssal depths of the ocean, and its hooves, eyes, snout and tail were gilded with gold. On its side, the letters TV + KW gleamed like a secret message, and opposite them, the cryptic HVHS 2024. I suspected this was the sign of the happy valley high school, a place where young minds are molded and ultimately corrupted by the system.

Was wearing one of my “old gods of Appalachia ” shirts on my walkies today, and a friendly face mentioned to me that they loved the podcast, and welcome to night vale back in the day.

I put them on the road to Uncanny County and King Falls AM , I hope they enjoy them as much as I did when I last dug in.

Can anyone recommend some podcasts in that style?

I also really enjoyed Archive 81, Our Fair city, Sayer, Magnus Archives and the Lost cat.

#paintedpig #salemtraditions #aug102023 #hvhs #happyvalleyhighschool

Date: Wednesday, August 9, 2023
Location: The Greenway

My footsteps echoed through the quantum lattice of reality as I embarked upon a peculiar sojourn along the Greenway. The world was a symphony of kaleidoscopic hues, each leaf a note, each rustling breeze a crescendo. The air itself was charged with narratives, interwoven tales that danced between dimensions.

Upon my path, I encountered a squirrel – or was it? Its eyes sparkled with cosmic secrets, and its chittering speech was an encoded message from a distant constellation. We conversed in riddles and revelations, bridging the gap between earthly and extraterrestrial tongues.

The asphalt beneath my feet pulsed with a strange energy, resonating with the thoughts of those who tread before me. I could hear the whisper of past conversations, a surreal auditory montage of laughter, tears, and whispered confessions. Was I walking a physical path, or traversing the corridors of time?

A portal manifested in the guise of a passerby. A common occurrence for some, but I recognized it as a rift in the fabric of reality. The traveler emanated an aura of forgotten dreams, carrying tales of forgotten futures. We exchanged a knowing glance – a bond forged through the recognition of our shared existence in multiple universes.

The flora itself seemed to communicate, leaves rustling in secret languages. The trees reached out with ethereal appendages, brushing my skin with tactile echoes of forgotten memories. I marveled at the organic internet of interconnectedness, each root a node, each leaf a pixel in Gaia’s grand display.

In the distance, a jogger moved with mathematical precision, tracing a fractal pattern across the landscape. Their path was a tapestry woven from the threads of chaos theory, an elegant equation written upon the canvas of spacetime. The observer became the observed, collapsing probability waves with every stride.

Time and space intertwined, collapsing and expanding like a cosmic accordion. My footsteps echoed not just in the present, but in timelines yet to be. The Greenway was a nexus, a crossroads where the ordinary and the extraordinary converged, transcending the boundaries of mundane reality.

As I concluded this unconventional sojourn, I couldn’t help but ponder the nature of perception and experience. The Greenway was not a mere path but a canvas upon which the universe painted its wildest tales. And I, a mere wanderer, was privy to the whispers of the cosmos, a participant in the eternal dialogue of existence.

Until the next page unfurls,
Scotto

Pearl says Happy Belated International Cat day!

Photo by @maximillian_deersteak , who shares office space with Pearl most weekdays.

For the record, that black pad, pink toed foot is one of her rear legs. Her from paws are hugging it.

This little girl has amazing toes and whiskers, and loves making biscuits.

#misspearl #catsofinstagram #internationalcatday #tabbycatsofinstagram #stripedcatsofinstagram #august092023

Lieutenant James Montgomery Doohan of the Canadian Army. These photos were taken in England prior to the Allies’ D-Day invasion of France.

Doohan successfully led his unit off the beach after the initial landing. However that night, in an unfortunate friendly fire incident, while Doohan was performing post checks he was shot at by a nervous Canadian sentry Doohan was struck by six bullets, one of which severed the middle finger on his right hand.

#jimmydoohan #hero #friendlyfire

In the hushed embrace of an overcast canopy, a solitary pilgrimage unfurled upon the Mason Creek section of the Greenway. Nature’s palette, diffused by the gentle shroud of cloud, rendered a tapestry of muted hues – a testament to the artistry of subtlety. The ambient temperature, a gentle caress at 70°F, summoned forth an atmosphere of temperate reflection.

Amidst this symphony of stillness, a lone figure embarked upon a sojourn, their footfalls akin to whispered incantations. The absence of companions conferred a whispered intimacy between wanderer and wood, as if the verdant realm had conspired to share its secrets with this solitary seeker.

The verdant veil of leaves, cast in monochromatic luminescence, cradled the wayfarer in its arboreal embrace. The symphony of solitude resounded – a sonata of rustling leaves and murmuring waters, underscored by the distant refrain of avian minstrels. Each step seemed a deliberate conversation, a communion with the land itself.

As wooden bridges spanned the tranquil creek, a tableau of serenity unfolded beneath the gray-dappled heavens. The creek, now a mirror of the overcast firmament, wove a tapestry of unity between earth and sky. A reverent pause, leaning upon the bridge’s wooden balustrade, offered a vista of quiet contemplation – a microcosm of the introspective odyssey.

In the absence of fellow travelers, the path became an avenue for introspection, a corridor through which the wanderer tread unburdened by the world’s distractions. The overcast weather played accomplice, a guardian of solitude that veiled the solitary figure in an embrace of silence, allowing them to converse unabridged with their innermost thoughts.

Secluded reprieve beckoned – a mossy nook amidst nature’s sanctuary, wherein the solitary wayfarer could unburden the soul. In this cloistered alcove, the symphony of solitude reached its crescendo, an offering to the muses of introspection and contemplation.

As the journey’s final chapter unfolded, a sense of tranquil fulfillment blossomed. The overcast heavens, the absence of companions – these were not mere elements, but rather protagonists in a narrative of solitude’s rhapsody. The Mason Creek Greenway had, on this day, opened its arms to a seeker of quietude, and in return, woven a tale of solitary communion that transcended the mundane and tread the ethereal.

And so, the wanderer departed, carrying within their heart the echo of whispered leaves and the imprint of bridges traversed. The overcast sky, a silent witness, bid its adieu, and the Greenway returned to its hushed sanctuary, awaiting the embrace of another seeker on a day when the heavens themselves had composed an ode to solitude.

Yours in contemplation,

Scotto

Returning to the painted pig statue in Salem, Virginia, after just a week or so, I found myself greeted by an unexpected and captivating sight. The statue, which has long stood as a symbol of artistic expression, had undergone a transformation that was both surprising and intriguing.

Unlike my previous visit, where the pig’s design had adhered to a certain order and theme, this time it seemed that a playful chaos had taken over. Splashes of colors, ranging from serene blues to vibrant greens, now adorned the pig’s surface. Amidst this riot of colors, the words “BLUE” and “GREEN” stood out, written in their corresponding hues across the pig’s back.

Upon closer examination, it became evident that the seemingly random amalgamation of spots, lines, zigzags, and circles was not as haphazard as it appeared. While lacking a strict rhyme or reason, there was an undeniable harmony in the way the colors bled into one another, creating an abstract yet coherent whole.

As I stood before this evolving masterpiece, I marveled at the essence of impermanence that art often embodies. The pig statue had transformed from a structured canvas to a vessel of unbridled expression in just a matter of days. It was a testament to the ever-changing nature of creativity, where each stroke of paint added a layer to the narrative, even if that narrative was not immediately decipherable.

Leaving the painted pig statue behind, I carried with me a sense of appreciation for the ephemerality of art and the beauty that can emerge when artistic instincts are allowed to flow freely. This latest update, with its apparent messiness, had woven a new chapter into the statue’s story, inviting all who encountered it to ponder and interpret the intriguing blend of colors and forms.

#paintedpig #salemtraditions #aug042023

Today’s farm share haul – oat bars, melon, cherry tomato, eggplant, basil, rhubarb, pickling cukes, peppers, onion, nectarines.

Oh yeah, brotherrrrrr!

Grail figure get! Kinniku-G , from #spymonkeycreations con in 2013.

#kinnikug #kinnikuman #hulkhogan #glyos #glyoscompatible #modulartoys #toyphotography #toystagram #battletribes #musclefigures

Date: August 1, 2023

A serendipitous journey unfolded on this balmy summer day, leading me to an extraordinary haven where two passions intertwined: the love for craft beer and the delight in farm-fresh produce. With excitement brimming like the frothy head of a pint, I embarked on a pilgrimage to the artisanal brewery, an enigmatic venue where the echoes of tradition and innovation danced in harmonious rhythm.

The brewery, a cathedral of creativity, housed within its walls not only barrels of golden nectar but also a treasure trove of vibrant vegetables that graced the tables of connoisseurs and culinary enthusiasts alike. This modern-day alehouse, a portal to gustatory wonders, offered an unforgettable experience where the senses were bound to be enlivened.

As I approached the brewery’s entrance, the aroma of freshly brewed beer mingled with the fragrant bouquet of ripe produce, creating an intoxicating ambience. The fields surrounding the brewery were an unexpected sight, a testament to the brewery’s commitment to sustainability and supporting local agriculture. Lush rows of eggplant, tomatoes, rhubarb, honeydew melon, nectarines, basil, pickling cucumbers, and peppers flourished alongside the barley and hops, a living testament to the synergy between farm and brewery.

Greeted by the brewers, their passion for their craft was evident in every word they spoke. With a warm smile, they presented us with woven baskets filled with nature’s finest offerings – an eclectic fusion of farm-fresh vegetables amidst the backdrop of a brewery’s creative prowess. The sight was as bewitching as an artist’s canvas and as seductive as a poet’s verse.

Within those rustic baskets, a mosaic of colors and textures beckoned, evoking a tantalizing symphony of flavors. The eggplants, reminiscent of dark aubergine hues, whispered tales of culinary alchemy and exotic brews. The tomatoes, like ruby gems, were a homage to summer’s radiance, while the rhubarb enticed with its tangy allure.

The honeydew melons, their flesh like a sweet symphony, offered a refreshing interlude amidst the rich malty notes of beer. Nectarines, with their velvety skin, sang an aria of luscious indulgence, while basil infused the air with its aromatic overture.

Amongst these prodigious offerings, pickling cucumbers and peppers stood as guardians of tradition, a culinary marriage of preserved flavors and artful brews, enhancing the dining experience like an allegro crescendo.

As I carried the baskets of abundance back home, I marveled at the symbiosis between the brewery and the farm. This sacred communion breathed life into both crafts, a reminder that creativity and sustenance could be inseparably entwined. I felt a deep sense of appreciation for the artisans who labor to create a tapestry of flavors, uniting the essence of the earth with the spirit of human ingenuity.

In this journal entry, I attempt to immortalize the wonder of this pilgrimage to the brewery, where the heart finds joy in the union of beer and bounty. It is in these moments of extraordinary synergy that life reveals its most poetic splendor, and the art of living intertwines with the art of brewing to form a symphony of fulfillment and appreciation for all the bounties bestowed upon us.

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Today we visited Floyd, a small town in southwestern Virginia that is known for its natural beauty, arts and crafts, and music scene. We had a lot of fun exploring the town and enjoying its local flavor.

We started our day by going to the Floyd Farmers Market, where we bought some homemade pastries and some drinking vinegar from the friendly vendors. We also enjoyed listening to some live music by a local band that played bluegrass and folk tunes. The market is a great place to experience the culture and community of Floyd.

Next, we went to the Floyd Country Store, which is a historic landmark that sells old-fashioned candy, ice cream, books, and music. The store also hosts the Friday Night Jamboree, which is a popular event for old-time string band and bluegrass music. People of all ages come to dance, sing, and have fun.

I can’t wait to come back and explore more of its attractions sometime soon.

#floydva #farmersmarket #saturday #july292023