Tag Archives: Crude But Effective

Ink Blot: Two Ducks On The Case

In which modern technology is utiilized to form Rorschach-esque ink blots. Updates Wednesdays.

ink blot

This week’s ink blot is two ducks inspecting a hole in the ground. I’m on vacation and it looks like my subconscious is, too. Sorry it’s not more exciting. Last night I took allergy medicine after drinking a lot of Pabst Blue Ribbon and my heart raced until six in the morning. When I finally did sleep, I dreamt that some beefy tall guy with a jock’s haircut was turning all our leaves upside down. (This was a problem). In the end of the dream he got hit by a bus. Perhaps this hole in the ground leads to his grave, and those ducks are leaning over to peer into it underneath a canopy of upside down leaves.

Ink Blot: Pelvic Bone

In which modern technology is utiilized to form Rorschach-esque ink blots. Updates Wednesdays.

ink blot

This week’s inkblot is a pelvic bone.
Growing up in a lake house my family had a dog-named Flash. He showed up one day under our car all malnourished and shaky, until we fed him some grits and he stuck around after that. He’d run off for days at a time, though, and sometimes when he came back he’d have buckshot in his skin. Once he came back wearing a multicolored striped child’s shirt. I guess some kids had stuffed him into it; he was a pretty friendly dog so I bet he played along willingly.
We lived next to miles of undeveloped forests, so every once in a while he’d come back with some mysterious bone in his mouth. Remains of animals were common around our rural neighborhood, turning a corner in the woods and finding a snake or a bat or a deer or a set of their bones happened all the time. It’s funny what kids get used to quickly, especially in the death and shadows of the country.
Flash, the wandering dog of my childhood of bones, once ate the car cover for my stepfather’s BMW, or tried to. My stepfather wanted to kill him because he was wild and could not be tamed. I cried on the dog’s behalf until my stepfather relented.
Years later when Flash died of old age, my stepfather made an engraved plaque for his grave.

Ink Blot: Twin Sisters

In which modern technology is utiilized to form Rorschach-esque ink blots. Updates Wednesdays.

ink blot

I see two identical twin sisters lying in a claw foot bed, sharing thought balloons with winged edges. Above them, dreams of astronaut dogs in space helmets have already begun to take shape. From the way their heads are tilted inward and toward the foot of the bed, I’d say they’ve reached an agreement on some decision regarding you, the viewer. If I were you, I’d be wary of girls who dream of dogs and their look-alike sibling.

Ink Blot: Pippi Longstocking

In which modern technology is utiilized to form Rorschach-esque ink blots. Updates Wednesdays.

ink blot

I want to say Pippi Longstocking, but I see a rope bridge, too. Wouldn’t a rope bridge be the kind of place you’d find Pippi Longstocking? Coincidentally, I trace my long and complicated relationship with literature and nudity back to Pippi Longstocking and the book of 1950’s radio bloopers in the cardboard box in my grandmother’s guest bedroom with the immaculate carpet and the foldout couch with the bedsheets that felt like old tortillas. The bloopers book, in addition to being hilarious to me when I was a kid, also featured minimalist nude illustrations to accompany the more racy content.
Thanks to an imaginary girl who lived with a monkey and some long dead radio personalities, I learned that I loved books and I loved nakedness, leading to me being told I was a nerd by a pale faced bug eyed girl in fifth grade and an elaborate plan for stealing my stepfather’s Playboys from his bedroom in middle school. That bug eyed girl got sunburned in Cancun on Spring Break, so that was a kind of tropical Pippi-eqsque justice, and I eventually saw naked girls in person and so had no need of Playboys any longer.
This leads me to conclude that all’s well that ends well for literate fans of soft core pornography, as well as for unsupervised wealthy horse-lifting children.

Ink Blot: Roosters.

In which modern technology is utiilized to form Rorschach-esque ink blots. Updates Wednesdays.

ink blot

I see two roosters looking up at the trees, waiting for the leaves to fall.
Yesterday I saw this punk rock guy walking around under a tree that was turning colors and dropping leaves on his head. I guess he was a bit of a rooster himself.
This morning I was walking into the bathroom and it occurred to me that dead men who stay in this world as ghosts to resolve unfinished business probably turn into leaves on the wind when they move from place to place this time of year.
When I was walking to my car to go to lunch I got to thinking about how many different things the word “ghost” could mean, and then my car wouldn’t start in my front yard until I opened the hood and shook the battery cables, and when it was done I stared at the dirt on my fingertips while above me the branches of the trees resolved the unfinished business of shedding their leaves.

Ink Blot: Spotted Pug

In which modern technology is utiilized to form Rorschach-esque ink blots. Updates Wednesdays.

ink blot

I see a spotted pug’s face emerging from the snow. The last time I saw a real pug, it was jammed in some lady’s cleavage outside of Kroger. She opened up her coat and told me it could be mine for $400. If I was trying to sell a puppy for that much money, I would hang out in an area with a higher density of rich people. Also, I would have both “dogs that have been in my boobs” and “dogs that have not been in my boobs” available for sale.
That Kroger is also know as “Hot Girl Kroger” because of its seemingly endless aisles of attractive shoppers, none of whom have ever offered me anything that was underneath their coats.

Ink Blot: Ants

In which modern technology is utiilized to form Rorschach-esque ink blots. Updates Wednesdays.

ink blot

It’s an ant’s face. See his little legs on the side? Here is a haiku about ants:

ants at the picnic
checkered cloth under basket
fucking mandibles.

If you can think of a better haiku, then damn your compound eyes, king of the ants.

Ink Blot: Zombie Dream

In which modern technology is utiilized to form Rorschach-esque ink blots. Updates Wednesdays.

ink blot

Every month or so I have a zombie dream. The zombies kept their memories from before. They spoke to us in imposter tongues, the same but not the same, having inherited a new hunger.
They found their way into our houses, they found their way into that football stadium we walled off, and massacred us on the field. They found their way into the valley- we built the walls high, but there were train tracks on a bridge above us, and they learned to ride the train. I owned an antiques store before they came; I fought them with old swords. I fought them with an office cabinet once when they had me cornered. But I am an old man, and I am getting tired. And they are getting persuasive.
That having been said, this week’s ink blot is a little woodland gnome putting out a campfire with his oversized fancy new boots.

Ink Blot: Stone Man

In which modern technology is utiilized to form Rorschach-esque ink blots. Updates Wednesdays.

ink blot

A man made of stone performs stupendous acrobatic feats in midair, pebbles falling from his feet, his rocky hands outstretched in flight, his craggy head capsized toward the earth and his legs kicking at the sky.

Ink Blot: Split Trunk Tree

In which photos are randomly pulled from the Scene Missing Flickr photostream, run through a Photoshop Rorschach filter, and analyzed.

Ink Blot

This is the base of a tree lit by an internal fire. He’s yelling out loud because his trunk is split in two, both sides unaware of the other and pulling him apart. Even though it is one month away, I’m starting to think Halloween.

Ink Blot: Spotted Elephant

In which photos are randomly pulled from the Scene Missing Flickr photostream, run through a Photoshop Rorschach filter, and analyzed.

Spotted Elephant

This is a spotted elephant looking you right in the eye with an X drawn on his forehead. Beware any animal of an unnatural color, especially one that has been marked by an unknown source, not to mention one that meets your gaze so readily. Here’s another sinister elephant, ridden by bones.

Ink Blot: Bulls Under Water

In which photos are randomly pulled from the Scene Missing Flickr photostream, run through a Photoshop Rorschach filter, and analyzed.

Ink Blot

These look like two bulls facing each other, diving into the ocean. I stole the term “bulls under water” from an ex-girlfriend. She taught a dance class to elementary school aged children, and one of the girls in her class told her that Radiohead’s “Pyramid Song” reminded her of bulls swimming under water. So I suppose you could say that I stole the term from a little girl I never met. Bulls swimming or otherwise are often referenced in my life. Aside from being a Taurus and being told by every girl I’ve ever dated that I was the most stubborn boy they’ve ever met, I’ve been working on a portrait photo project based on some Argentinean playing cards that feature matadors and bulls. I found them in the pantry room adjacent to the kitchen in the old tin roof house I’ve been renting. Given that I’m always thinking about the sea or the ocean or big bodies of water or even smoking on my front porch under two big pirate flags, it’s no wonder that the idea of bulls submerged in the briny deep has insinuated itself in my dreams and e-mail logins and website names and little post-it note drawings and even here in my very first Rorschach test. So thanks for the elusive but nevertheless pivotal concept in my life, dancing little girl. Maybe one day I’ll come up with something equally haunting for you to obsess over.