postcarding

duders,

getting makey on those cut-paper collage-type jauns

isn't exactly the most dynamic of friday night plans.

i know it.

after a disgustingly shark-gluttonous dinner,

and a disgustingly big black stinky doomsday-fuming stump of cigar,

i turned off the self-sabotage,

and instead got poppin' on a little semi-fresh fake-art project.

that's a thing.

staying up well past midnight, 

clipping stray scraps off of pictures torn out of stacks of magazines,

and glue-stick-nubbin rubbin' the backsides of every one of 'em.

i doo-doo that sort of crafty safety-scissored assembly sh!t.

yeah.

each hybrid mutant image is stuck on the perfect background,

(and that's about the only time i ever care about creating background)

and then it all gets affixed to an index card,

which gets lined-up, written on, signed, with x's and o's and hearts an' that,

then sealed-over with clear tape-type protection

and addressed to a not-even-remotely-at-randomly selected active participant.

....and i've already got the stamps, too.

y'know what that means, right?

that's right- 

picture postcards are back on the event calendar

for the woodsly goodsly summertime big-fun activation schedule.

you want a sneak peek?

okay....teleport:

that's all you get for now, guys.

on the realsies, though?

it takes a looooong time to snip and snap all the little pieces.

way longer than it takes to select the individual elements.

i keep a stash of cut-outs in an envelope at all times, just in case.

still,

it consumes time at a ferociously focused pace.

it goes slow, and it takes forever.

too bad about that, because i really could've used my beauty rest.

awwwwwwwwwwwww, man.

i guess i'll stay ugly,

because these new notes i'm dropping are gonna stay dope.

it all costs something, neighbors.

and i was already broken and busted, 

so it's a only a small price for producing some pretty sweet nothings.

anyway,

keep your see-balls peeled on your mailboxes.

you might just be getting a treat.

-

i don't know what made me get back at it, kids.

honestly,

mail art has never gotten me much in the way of reward-reaping.

i think i might be choosing the wrench harder than usual, even.

if every piece is unique and unrepeatable,

then every time i put one in the post,

a little piece of individual artsy hottness disappears 

from the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.

i'm creating and destroying in one short span,

just so you can put a leaf of expertism on your fridge under a magnet.

***********

i'm half-asleep, sort of.

no more so than every other day.

i've been having big-lipped potato heads attacking me in my dreams.

that's no jokes, jerks.

nightmares when i'm out cold in slumberland,

and nightmares when i wake up, 

in hard styles and empty rooms and empty F*ing days.

i'm cutting it up, kids.

i'm cutting it ALL up.

it's the remix Folk Life/empty life edit,

and it's all really happening.

that's the whole point;

never quiet, never soft.....