Chess Boy: Capablanca's Golden Bishop, Part 7

Chess Boy: Capablanca's Golden Bishop, Part 6

Chess Boy: Capablanca's Golden Bishop, Part 5

For some reason the scan picked up a lot of what I thought were erased pencil lines, maybe I'll try to clean it up later.

Christmas Bugs

I actually drew this comic last year but I just found it. I had drawn two more empty panels after these, but I can't remember what was going to go in them, likely more bugs.

4 Panel Space Saga

Well, folks:

I am pleased to present you with the product of several weeks' intensive comic drawing labor! 

Might Sound Better With the Sound Turned Off

Some have asked, "UNK, how do you get those strange sounds from your piano?"
So glad you asked! Here is a two-minute illustration of my piano fisting technique.

Chess Boy: Capablanca's Golden Bishop, Part 4

Skating Song Snippet

 

The short video, below, is a test of a new recording format for me. I'd appreciate any comments on the visual presentation and the audio. Is it too loud? Too muddy? This snippet is similar to "The Skating Song" on the CD "Christmas Raga." Notice the iconography! Enjoy!

 

HUMBLE GIVINGS

*KhRRRM* (to quote Conor)

I hereby propose to announce a new Christmas Policy, or rather, thematic guideline, proposed to me by m'colleague Tom, on Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve EveEve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve EveEve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve

* * * *

WHEREAS the truest gifts, are those which cannot be grasped nor even seen and

WHEREAS the spirit of the season is frequently burdened, obscured, clotted and obstructed by excess, and

WHEREAS a proliferation of bohemian decision making has deprived all but the patriarch of substantial means, and

WHEREAS the young, also, due to the arrival of many new "little tubs" are not only constrained monetarily but temporally, and

WHEREAS resourcefulness and scrappitude are guiding principles of the culture, as passed down especially from the matriarch, and

WHEREAS the greatest gifts come in small packages, and

WHEREAS the Lore of the Season emphasizes and enshrines especially that which is of especially small stature

SUCHAS The Tim of small proporsh in the Carol and, also, the Givings of a petite percussionist, and 

MOREOVER the smallness and humilitude of even the central figurine of the Babe, and the most humble quality of his bedchambers are immortalized and preserved in many songs and verses, 

THEREFORE

In the spirit of past guidelines such as Many Gifts, we resolve to institute a guideline of "Humble Givings" to be instituted in this season. 

SUCHTHAT those participants may be not only liberated but encouraged to fixate upon that which might be overlooked due to its diminutive nature, either in market value, physical size, or that which, in form or function, attains or aspires only to the smallest. 

* * * *

Merry Boxing Day Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve EveEve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve

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Chess Boy: Capablanca's Golden Bishop, Part 3

Cardboard Rhino Live (read down, then second row)

Sunday Comic from Cardboard Rhino Live

Space Comic

Dad suggested that people make space comics so I made one.

Chess Boy: Capablanca's Golden Bishop, Part. 2

Chess Boy: Capablanca's Golden Bishop Part 1

Poem about things

fantastical actresses collapsing their passing praxis till they're strapped with molasses my masses of mattresses ask pastors for plasters while my blasters last longer than a stronger man's masters a big dog on top of a log asking god for a frog to sing songs on a ponderous slog my slugs buddies a nugget a bug who's ugly but studied his ruddy thugs run drugs to bums while their brothers are bloodied I've got no love for weevil they're evil like Stevie the weasel who sneezes bees into my easel  while wheaties please my aunt Edie my people get down and clown around bounding through boundless counties their round hienies are shiny but tiny like Pliny's mind in a mountie karate choppers and potty shoppers keep popping Pilates while poppas basmati rice is topped with bodies

Some poems

The troubled bluster of the sublet was but less for the butler's subtle bustle.

The staple leapt into the pasted petals, pleats of pastel on a pallid plate.

A Special Message for Yinz Frenz from Chickie Siciliano

Composure

Composure
for Sonny Rollins

Every note I hit is wrong.
I hit it too hard or I hold it too long.
I play it too slow or I play it too fast.
Or I play it just right without knowing what's next.
Hearing the gap          I start to panic.
My left hand goes in search of the tonic.
My right hand sends out a sonic array:
Surely one of these notes must be okay?
On my way to it I hear something strange,
So I back right up and play it again.
There's something to it so I keep on diggin'
Trying to get this new stuff to fit in,
Hoping it doesn't all sound like crap
As I start trying to find my way back.
Before I get there, it all falls apart
My right hand and left hand grope in the dark.
Mercifully, the piece is now over
As I sit weeping and try to recover.

On listening back the all angst is gone!
So is the feeling I've done something wrong.
All that is left are the notes of this song.

The Pillow Thief

The Pillow Thief by Steve O'Keefe