With the bunting yet to abate and no end to its replication in sight (seriously, do these things reproduce asexually or something?), the Club-Footed Gremlin begins packing his things in search of greener pastures, where arbitrary decoration doesn’t dictate your directives.
Bindle over shoulder, our hero takes one look behind him before setting off on that old dusty trail–he really didn’t put a whole lot of thought into this pilgrimage, seeing as he has no mode of transportation and, well, a club foot.
It’s at this moment that Mr. Gremlin Man (the moniker he’s hoping will stick, or even just MGM for short) decides to go the whole nine yards and make like the pilgrims of old by prostrating himself and crawling to his destination. That definitely sucks, since he has a whole steamer trunk full of crap he wanted to lug around with him in the event of any one of numerous hijinks and/or shenanigans he may encounter.
But no, minimalism is apparently the name of the game here. MGM frets for a minute about how he’s going to sate his addiction to instant gratification, but then remembers the phone in his front pocket. As long as he can get to some outlets before the day is over, he will be able to rest easier and charge hardier.
2021 has been a down year in terms of my total number of published posts. While it might seem discouraging that we’re well into the tenth month and I’m averaging about two posts per month this year, I can say with confidence that the quality of my compositions has increased from last year’s offerings. Well, I can say anything I want in this echo chamber, but that doesn’t necessarily make it true.
You could say that my 2021 has been more of a Instagram year for me, and my visual output has been pretty prolific lately as a result. You can see for yourself at https://www.instagram.com/wharved_/. Anyway, this is all to say that I’m going to be providing more content on a regular basis to WHARVED, since I want to represent my artistic output as accurately as possible, and I realize that Instagram just doesn’t scratch that itch the same way that WHARVED does.
So here’s a drawing for you! I called it Zipper Skipper, and it is my friend.
The uncanny orthodontist gave me braces, and I never even asked for any! What a swell fella. He even said I could get them tightened for free at one of his six participating franchises if I were ever out on the town and looking to feel alive for a minute. The billing department is starting to get annoyed with me because I refuse to pay for the braces. They told me they set up a payment plan on my behalf, but I never signed anything, shook anyone’s hand, or even offered a verbal agreement. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, we call that “free-99”.
What the hell is even the point of human relationships if all we ever do is demonstrate how unfit we are to spend time with one another on a regular basis? It’s madness, more than anything, and chemical compounds that dictate our actions without our knowledge. That ‘without our knowledge’ bit really bugs me the most of anything, since I attempt to figure out things for a living (well, I wouldn’t call it a living, but I somehow manage to get (most of) the bills paid every month). My daily existence is predicated upon the ability to tell truth from bullshit, and it’s what has helped me negotiate the wild waters of humanhood thus far.
So it disturbs me when a person comes along and knocks me off the tracks, like a goddamn penny that some toddler put there because they thought it would be funny. Not funny, kid. Perhaps experimentation with the species is necessary, and some folks take circuitous routes in order to accumulate the necessary data. Or some people are just assholes.
What the hell am I even typing here? Is the synthesis of words through keyboard activity more significant than penning them by hand? How would one method be preferable to any other when composing original products of human imagination?
The answer involves an inordinate amount of wobbling and waffling between the ideal state of the human being and the universe we’ve inherited through no fault of our own.
How many times have you heard that “through no fault of our own” nonsense and actually bought it for a second? What a modern convenience it must be to forget the struggle of our forbears while annihilating the only home we were ever given. Great job, guys.