A Thick, Greasy Stew

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Okay, okay, okay, okay.

(deep breath)

So I'm thinking that my experiment in avoiding casual posts in favor of well-thought-out and carefully pre-written posts is a washout, so it's back to business as usual.

That doesn't mean that I'm not going to put more polished material on the web, though. If you'd care to read the first post done under my nom du blog Dr. Herpetophilious ...

Pataphysics, the science of imaginary solutions, was initially developed by the drinker, piscator, cyclist, and pistolero Alfred Jarry, who on the side was a puppeteer and man of letters whose work paved the way for Dada. In this context, the concept of pataphysics has been lifted from its absurdist roots and brought into the larger world of fantastic literature, where it may prove of practical use.

Allow me to introduce myself; for the purposes of these writings, I will be referred to as Dr. Herpetophilious. In personal life, I’m one of those sad artists trembling on the edge of nonexistence – but the nervous, hesitant wretch whose pathetic struggles are charted elsewhere is an entirely different beast from the one who now writes for you.

In the realm of imaginary solutions, I speak with sure knowledge and unassailable authority. While my doctorate, like its field, is imaginary, that is the mark by which you may be assured of its authenticity. You may be asking yourself – is Dr. Herpetophilious a pataphysicist, or a pataphysician?

Both, of course, and here is an example. For those of you still in a state of quandary, here is an example of applied pataphysics.

For the rest, click here.

My art has been getting a lot of very interesting interest lately, and among other things, I have a couple of pieces currently featured at the online journal Corium, one here and one here.

So what the hell is going on with me? Well. I'm nine kinds of funky. I'm past the emotional shock of finding out that there's stuff wrong with my brain, and am on to the emotional shock of having my studio torn apart. This is the first time I've been able to sit at my machine for days. My recliner is broken and I'm waiting on parts from the factory, and those people are slow in a way that leads me to envy people like Stalin or Vlad the Impaler who could compel those lazy wretches to fulfill their obligations in a timely fashion.

The old recording system the hon. Richard Talleywhacker and I have been using has been taken away, and the studio is now a smoking mass of rubble. I am having a hell of a time figuring out how to get things organized... This is the main reason I've been off the computer. I am trying to get the studio really organized, really functional, and I've just passed the point where I have to make things worse before I make them better.

If I can get the racks loaded and wired today, that will be plenty good enough.

Of course, this is all just to keep me away from the novel...