"GET YOUR BEAK OUT OF MY BUSINESS" is a fast fiction that finds its inspiration in a piece of art from Brazil. I'm moving around the world linguistically, you see. Over the past two days I've had Portuguese artists providing the visual inspiration for this here blog thang but today I've got art from Eduardo Recife, a freelance artist with his own homemade fonts that go by the names of Horse Puke, Disgusting Behavior and Memory Lapses. His art is equally amazing.
Eduardo's from an interesting part of Brazil called Belo Horizonte. Yes read about it U. S. of America !! Learn about geography !! Make use of this fucking technology !!! (I'm sorry I'm being a total asshole here. It's the fumes from the soapbox that are seeping up into my head. I realize that you who are reading this are probably already on the side of all things good. I just can't erase any of this as my delete button is on the fritz.)
Enjoy...
Gunner's carrier pidgeon endeavors to give him the latest updates on what's going on in the world. The carrier pidgeon swoops down on newstands in the neighbourhood, claws into the front page and flies it back home in a crumpled windswept ball.
Sometimes, Knowlton Nash - the name Gunner's father or mother has given the bird - flies over the events and arrives home beckoning Gunner in the direction of the fray.
"Tweat, tweat, tweat," he articulates with fluttery fluency.
But Gunner doesn't want anything to do with the troubles of the world. He wants to enjoy everything from the comfort of his easy chair. From his castle.
Let the miracles go fuck themselves, Gunner tells himself. "Go home miracle bird," he curses at Knowlton Nash.
Same as it always was.
Eduardo's from an interesting part of Brazil called Belo Horizonte. Yes read about it U. S. of America !! Learn about geography !! Make use of this fucking technology !!! (I'm sorry I'm being a total asshole here. It's the fumes from the soapbox that are seeping up into my head. I realize that you who are reading this are probably already on the side of all things good. I just can't erase any of this as my delete button is on the fritz.)
Enjoy...
GET YOUR BEAK OUT OF MY BUSINESS
Gunner's carrier pidgeon endeavors to give him the latest updates on what's going on in the world. The carrier pidgeon swoops down on newstands in the neighbourhood, claws into the front page and flies it back home in a crumpled windswept ball.
Sometimes, Knowlton Nash - the name Gunner's father or mother has given the bird - flies over the events and arrives home beckoning Gunner in the direction of the fray.
"Tweat, tweat, tweat," he articulates with fluttery fluency.
But Gunner doesn't want anything to do with the troubles of the world. He wants to enjoy everything from the comfort of his easy chair. From his castle.
Let the miracles go fuck themselves, Gunner tells himself. "Go home miracle bird," he curses at Knowlton Nash.
Same as it always was.
posted by kevin spenst at 11:47 PM
1 Comments:
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