Cerrelius the Supranatural

Happy End of the Year!
You folks!

Just Go To Bed

Ducks go across bridges to get to bed. Monkeys fight monkeys to go to bed. The poor and the drunk and flea-bitten zebras whisper in caves to go to bed. Turds go to bed in turd beds. Whistles and weasels and skinny umbrellas do not have beds but sleep upside down on hooks in the laps of a floating burgundy Spanish class. These thoughts do not belong in beds. They have burned their pajamas and sent their pillow cases flapping in the hurricane raging outside this tinted window. We keep turnips and toenails underneath the bed springs. Ducks go across bridges to get to bed. Sight stretches out like fitted sheets over streets and lamps and bottles and Walgreens you drove to get the toothbrush to go to bed. Go to bed. Rest like warm bears near rivers and trees made of rings. Go to bed many times and get rings and grow thicker in little layers. Denser or flabbier or jollier or burnt. Go to bed and follow the daisy chain. Patterns are getting smarter. Repeat to the same. Ducks go across bridges to get to bed. T-shirt geniuses in illustrious basements like outer space with glowing stars in the carpet. In the carpet. We all belong to the carpet. Flatten yourself out on the carpet because we all belong to the carpet. Go to bed. Go to bed. Buses need to be driven and coffee needs to be made and groceries need to be checked out and bagged and shirts need to be folded and rooms need to be cleaned and miles need to be traveled and messages need to be sent. Go to bed. There's no attention for you here. But you can look. Go to bed. Ducks go across bridges to get to bed. Many feeble millipedes fear going to bed. Just go to bed. Look all you like but go to bed. There's another time. After the bed. Hungry spiders sleep in silk. There aren't enough words to justify the alternative. Go to bed. The alternative needs no justification. Tumbling pillars and clouds of dust. Ragged breathing sleeps in sad rooms. Just go to bed. Ducks go across bridges to get to bed in a little line and stay in line and always in line and moving ahead. Always moving ahead in a line. Enjoy the walk because it doesn't stop. Just go to bed.

Grapefralaxy

There are whole worlds in grapefruits. Whole rooms and echoing halls and windows stretching to the thin sky in a grapefruit. I mean, paying attention to a grapefruit--whole or split in half or tearing the thick chunks. There's a wind in grapefruit. A gale carrying thoughts that make the body clench and shudder. A streak of shimmering drops sent down in a rush from the mountain top--stinging the eyes--perfect thin needles piercing and opening every pore. Wracking whole body breaths almost enough to break the nerves and burst the lungs. Lying flat like the drops spread thin in scented circles and then there's a calm. A centered, whole voice speaking in sense from above.

Triggers. Strings.

We come attached to distant parts of scattered worlds. With senses to search and hands to pull, legs to carry, and hearts to follow. The light bounces and bends and sends us out to see its shines.

Tall and Sheep

Once about a time ago, a shepherd was tending to his flock on the fields that sat in the jagged shadow of the mountains. And he was very bored. He was long and tall with ruddy cheeks and good bone structure and bored. The sheep tore at the grass with their hard flat teeth and chewed it and chewed it right in the front of shepherd--mocking him indifferently. It was very quiet aside from the obnoxious chewing of the sheep. There wasn't even a breeze strong enough to carry the sighs of the shepherd away from him. So, the sighs settled in pile around his feet. If a wolf came, the shepherd would try to beat it with his shepherd-staff. That would be exciting. But, then the shepherd considered that wolves would probably travel in packs and easily overwhelm the feeble shepherd and eat him and he would be dead. After a certain amount of time of imagining his dead body--this also bored the shepherd. A fox would probably go after one of his sheep alone. But, a fox wouldn't attack when the shepherd was nearby. The shepherd wished he had a companion like a dog or a wench--something better than the sheep. The sheep he had were boring because they were the sheep he had. Better sheep would be less boring--or even much worse sheep. Sheep that were attracted to land mines or possessed or stupid and easily frightened--any sheep that weren't his sheep. But the shepherd had his own sheep and that made him bored.

Meeting of the minds

The weird egg thing is kinda like this thing on the wall in my shower at home.

The dinosaur in a motorcycle/Daft Punk helmet talking with the Big Nosed Man is exactly what it is.

Ghost of Christmas Merry

Thanks to Christmas, more tablet drawrings to come!

This is the smiling ghost of childish Christmas glee. Because, a child's understanding of this holiday is probably kind of unsettling.

With the romanticizing of fat burglars and all...

misfortune seemed his lot...

Just in Time for Nothing!

For snack today we have a pile of puke. Also featuring a medley of eyeballs and baby teeth. Also featuring toenail clippings and a glue stick from 1962. Also featuring a cup of blood (made from concentrate, gluten-free, some pulp). Also featuring rodent bones pulled out of a guy's hand. Also featuring earthworms, nightcrawlers, wormearths, and crawlnighters. The napkin is also available for consumption and made from the recycled remains an ancient redwood we chopped down. Ladies and gentlemen, do not criticize the man behind the glass wall. He is only trying to help you. We promised you snack and you have been given snack. You have not been promised happiness. You have not been promised satisfaction. You have not been promised nutrition, substitutions, or revolutions. You have been promised snack. Snack is optional. This does not mean you have options. Like all things, you only have one option for Snack: accept or decline. Snack will not be recalled. Snack will not be warmed-up. Snack will not be chilled or served with a smile. Ladies and gentlemen, the snack will not crack the glass when thrown. I repeat, the snack will not crack the glass when thrown. You have one option: accept or decline.

We Had Other Things Too

Every year the Wooly Worm Buffalo trek across the Great Seltzer Ridge. The path is steep and craggy and some Buffalo Worms are lost in the crossing. Predators have karate-chop action and can strike without warning. No one knows why these creatures traverse this dangerous terrain every year, without fail. The Worm Buffalo do not tell anyone their reasons. They do not even discuss the reasons amongst themselves. Scientists know this through advanced surveillance techniques and outright attempted bribes. It may be fair to say that there is no reason for the journey. The landscape demands it. These ancient places beckon and we, as all creatures do, silently, unknowingly, respond. The unknown is the unknown is the unknown is the root--the system of roots branching and splitting and spreading. We are the buds and the bugs. Pulled up and out from the dirt through untraceable tunnels and cast into the sun. At what cost are we risen? For what purpose are we assembled and set in motion. To create rhythm. To serve the beat and move in time with the vibrating light--born out of frequencies and resonating with the lowest, largest, deepest hum of the Underwave.  

Marshmallow Snowmans

The wind swept up crunchy leaves like cold crisp corpses dancing with butterfly wings. I was standing on the gravel path, bundled up with only my eyes exposed and snot running down to my scarf. She was sitting on the bench wearing only a t-shirt and purple-colored pants. The squirrels were fat balls of fur with tall tails. The trees were skeletal and stunningly bare. They were attractive. The trees were. I was like a bloated, polyester bag of garbage. She was shivering. I didn't say anything and my my mouth was covered by the scarf and the jacket so my voice would've been muffled anyway. I was like two floating eyes. She was very attractive. Built like a block with a strong nose. She had a bright face and hard right angles. Her cheeks were turning red from the wind. She wasn't looking at me. She was turned away from me and looking at I-don't-know-what. I stood there, watching her. She had pointy elbows and pointy wrists and clavicles that weren't "jutting" but still pronounced. She was very beautiful. I didn't say anything to her.

5 Fingered Hand of Man

Good. evil. strange. beards. justice.

3 Noses???

Little Girl: What's he saying?
Me: Nothing
LG: What are those words?
Me: He's not saying those words. Those words are tattoo'd on his upper lip.
LG: Yeah, but what's he saying?
Me: Nothing.
LG: Nuh-uh!
Me: The words are written on him. He's not saying anything.
LG: No, they aren't. What's he saying?
Me: You tell me!
LG: I don't know.
Me:....
LG:....

I made a house!

Houses by cliffs are cool.

Merry Christmasween!

This blog is now a repository for snacktime menus.

Science boy looks like science! Explosions!

Here is a dolphin boy.

With a Fork!

A wall? You put up a wall? Why do I feel that it's not to hold things in but built to prevent me from seeing how little is behind it?

Is it in anyway related to having to serve apple sauce with a fork?

Meager creations indeed.

The iceberg theory must certainly hold true in this case:

If you leave out important things or events that you know about, the story is strengthened. If you leave or skip something because you do not know it, the story will be worthless.

Alien Santa Dude

We're on a rocket to the moon! Alien Santa? What gifts do you bring to the boys and girls of Planet Earth?

Nothing?

You give them nothing? You have no toys or games or inflatable houses for even the saintliest of children? How can this be, Alien Santa?

You must teach them to believe and do not punish them for their ignorance. Appear in their dreams! Appear at night when they lie awake all alone. Alien Santa--an overactive imagination is a terrible thing to not exploit for notoriety.

Foonicornucopium

The world is a very big place. And there are stranger things in it than are dreamed of in your commercials and sassy t-shirts. Hop on the back of the unicorn leaping across the spreading void and over the rainbow road. Keep your eyes peeled and your ears clean. The broken bits and shattered shards are yours to collect. And assemble. Strings of fancy tie the busy parts of things along.

or something like that.

Cheese and Grains

Burgers and ant claws lobster fill.