Tuesday 30 August 2011

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

Barry Cade was an obstructive bloke, which was no joke.
Saul Bellow, however, wasn’t known as a noisy fellow,
Anymore than a woman called Serena is necessarily mellow.

So what’s in a name?
No two answers will be the same.
‘So and so by name, such and such by nature…’
Is an expression that generalises the occasional nature of names.
Naming and shaming highlights one of the drawbacks of names—
Making readily identifiable those who are to blame.

The use of names has altered due to society’s widespread political correctness,
Making their use more complex like a series of social games.
You can’t call a spade a spade these days unless you want to dig your own grave,
Unless you’re referring to playing cards and say it with a poker face.

If you licked a sweetshop it would leave a bitter aftertaste, which is hard to swallow.
Language, supposedly, contains numerous helpful symbols aiding human communication.
Yet it’s a sad fact that from all the world’s languages only two symbols are universally understood: the £ and the $.

These days, as a general rule, labels are unacceptable.
Apart from when they’re on a shirt’s collar.
A ‘true’ collarbone would increase the weight of certain items of clothing,
Making consumers shirty, perhaps we’d see their loathing.

Tuesday 23 August 2011

SIGMUND FREUD AND THE WOMAN WHO LIVED IN HER FRIDGE

When Sigmund Freud was deployed to psychoanalyse a woman living in her fridge, he was unsurprised by her frosty reception.
Or her clumsy attempts at being elusive with orchestrated deception.
The woman was called Anna, which is a common name.
Adding Anna to his list, the great analyst smiled in anticipation of the predictability of her game.
‘You’re not the first woman I have met who lives in their fridge, you know.’ Said Sigmund. ‘Oh no, indeed, a woman called Brigid who, as it turned out, was frigid, did exactly the same.’
‘Was she cured?’ Anna asked after a brief sulk.
‘Ach, no,’ Freud shook his head. ‘She was completely unprocessed. There was some cured ham sharing the fridge with her but I didn’t want to do anything to reinforce her idea that her choice of living quarters was appropriate.’
‘I overheat,’ Anna abruptly explained. ‘The fridge cools me down, lowers my temperature and helps me feel comfortable.’
‘Indeed?’ Freud nodded smugly, delighted with how rapidly she’d thawed.
Nevertheless, her thinking, as indicated by her behaviour, was flawed.
‘You know, Doctor,’ she said coldly. ‘When things are frozen they don’t mind being ignored!’
‘You mean like corpses, perhaps?’ Freud fumbled. Asking the question with his eyebrows more than his mouth as his words were barely mumbled.
‘No, Herr Doctor, I don’t mean the dead. I say that ice is indifferent. You can like it or lump it.’
‘Ice?’ Hissed Freud. ‘You refer to a mass of frozen water. It is no more and no less! Your meaning is unclear to me, Anna, I must confess.’
Anna’s expression showed that she couldn’t care less.
She was a cold-hearted woman, the doctor knew.
Why, even her skin was distinctly blue.
‘Well.’ Sighed Sigmund. ‘You may as well continue to inhabit your fridge. If that’s what you want to do.’


Monday 22 August 2011

THE SAINT AND THE SICK

THE SAINT AND THE SICK by Narolc
THE SAINT AND THE SICK, a photo by Narolc on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
Collage and dtawing in gel pens on paper.
www.narolc.blogspot.com

Sunday 21 August 2011

COLOUR ENERGY FIELD

COLOUR ENERGY FIELD by Narolc
COLOUR ENERGY FIELD, a photo by Narolc on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
Collage and drawing in gel pens on paper. The triangular shape of the composition was arrived at naturally when it was completed and cropped accordingly.

My latest blog posting is as pure a piece of surrealist writing as I've ever produced. Loosely revolving around the theme of wheels I use the flow in the wordplay to create a nonsensical poetic story. Please follow the link below if you wish to check it out.

narolc.blogspot.com/2011/08/spokes-spoken-of.html?zx=b39f...

Saturday 20 August 2011

SPOKES SPOKEN OF

If you tire* of wheel-spoken people just tread carefully around them.
There’s no point in running them down, if they’ve already been run over.
Those who spoke well of outspoken blokes jokes feel wheel spokes in their tactile search for symmetry.
Spokes in wells tells of strokes that fell folks,
Making them drop wood spikes that spite a place for water.
A daughter caught her mother thirsting for her lover,
So she threw her down a well knowing full well she would not recover.
To not speak ill of the dead, to always think well of a shed,
Are equally worthy things to keep inside a healthy head.
For whom the bell tolls, trolls going like the clappers.
Tolls charged for rolls barged down canals channels funds into astronomical budgets,
But nothing like NASA’s.

*Tire is the American spelling of tyre.

Tuesday 16 August 2011

Monday 15 August 2011

THE PRESS AND THE PUBLIC

Where do pint-sized stars meet gritty Glaswegians?
In tabloid articles where you will also find Antipodean actresses mixing with media moguls and formulaic alliteration to excess.
The success of the press depends on the public who, in the past, believed the world was flat.
If shit smells it can’t be shit, even when it smells and when a celebrity kisses and tells in newspapers their circulation swells.
The public’s preference for titillation over information makes a heavyweight broadsheet seem an elitist source of reference.
Making vapid fools drool’s the popular press’s game.
When greedy, unscrupulous editors are apportioned blame for their underhand activities, do their journals’ readers feel no shame?
No sense of complicity or feeling of guilt?
For creating the demand their rags supplied?
For having the taste for the bilge from the monsters their appetites built?
Is their surprised indignation at corruption in the media plausible or genuine?
Was their astonishment over MPs fiddling their expenses for real?
Or is the public outrage seen merely orchestrated—as their end of the deal?
I don’t understand how most people think, nor see how they must feel.
But it seems they must be playing a game with an inevitable outcome that’s always the same.
The ignorant, mentally lazy pursuants of sensation are repulsive, self-indulgent wastes of space clogging up the nation,
Worshipping footballers and looking to celebrities for inspiration.
Their lowbrow taste saturates our culture with the facile, the pedestrian and the mediocre—what a choker!
The suffocating volume of pap drip-fed to prevalent cretins spoils life in general,
Reducing everything to marketing ploys and supplying materialist morons with hi-tech toys.

Friday 12 August 2011

THE BRUSH CAR, LEFT

THE BRUSH CAR, LEFT by Narolc
THE BRUSH CAR, LEFT, a photo by Narolc on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
A toy car made from recycled materials.
www.narolc.blogspot.com

THE BRUSH CAR, RIGHT

THE BRUSH CAR, RIGHT by Narolc
THE BRUSH CAR, RIGHT, a photo by Narolc on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
A toy car made from recycled materials.
www.narolc.blogspot.com

Wednesday 10 August 2011

THE BRUSH CAR, FRONT

THE BRUSH CAR, FRONT by Narolc
THE BRUSH CAR, FRONT, a photo by Narolc on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
Toy car made from recycled materials.
www.narolc.blogspot.com

Sunday 7 August 2011

ANATOMICAL ARCHITECTURE

ANATOMICAL ARCHITECTURE by Narolc
ANATOMICAL ARCHITECTURE, a photo by Narolc on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
A very recent drawing, which I worked on during breaks from working on my novel. Ink on (lined) notepad paper. Approx. size: Height: 20 cm. Width: 13 cm.
www.narolc.blogspot.com

Saturday 6 August 2011

THE GREEN TRUCK, RIGHT

THE GREEN TRUCK, RIGHT by Narolc
THE GREEN TRUCK, RIGHT, a photo by Narolc on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
THE GREEN TRUCK

Switches, bitches pushing buttons, mutton’s dressed as lamb along with the framework of a pram.
A sham, a clam, a shamrock—a real rock, verdant structures like leaves deceives the eye.
One wonders why the door’s concealed there?
Green plastic, elastic globules of PVA medium attire brushes with transparent blobs so it bobs up and down when pushed by the hand of a child wearing a frown.
Drown in implication, the imprecation decipherable among symbolic elements, transistors and tiny batteries; scatter knees as you kneel to examine a vehicle that’s missing some wheels!
It feels deals are done behind your mind, you can’t find the words to explain it—there’s something elusive in the effusive that you must needs remind yourself about, which is a bind.
Its’ juxtaposed fluorescent towers’ silhouettes empowers some, others it plants seeds inside, then it germinates and flowers.

www.narolc.blogspot.com

Friday 5 August 2011

HOLOCAUST DENIAL

(While) Holocaust denial is hollow, coarse and vile,
It’s an extremist assertion, both moronic and juvenile…
Jew the Nile,’ the Pharaoh decreed,
So Jews were plunged in the Egyptian river,
Some would drown, while others emerged with a shiver.
Historically, a persecuted race it is a disgrace to deny the scale of Jewish suffering.
However, I for one find the conveyor belt of Hollywood schmaltz—
Driven by Zionist interests, saturating the global media—
Is an unbearably harsh form of revenge.

Thursday 4 August 2011

THE TALL TRUCK (RIGHT)

THE TALL TRUCK (RIGHT) by Narolc
THE TALL TRUCK (RIGHT), a photo by Narolc on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
A toy truck (with no back wheels) made from recycled materials. This side shows collage culled from photographs of my old pintings, which I have used to decorative effect.
www.narolc.blogspot.com

Wednesday 3 August 2011

THE TALL TRUCK (LEFT)

THE TALL TRUCK (LEFT) by Narolc
THE TALL TRUCK (LEFT), a photo by Narolc on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
A toy truck (with no back wheels) made from recycled materials.
www.narolc.blogspot.com

Tuesday 2 August 2011

Monday 1 August 2011