Originally uploaded by a nameless yeast.
From the Halloween Spectacular at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. This is the spectre of William Thomas Manning (1866-1949), the tenth bishop of New York.
"We the undersigned do hereby vouch for the excellent character of Pat Padua, a.k.a. 'a nameless yeast.' We like the cut of his jib we do, and mothers all over should feel confident that this man has the most noble intentions toward their daughters. He is also not gay, but he would like to design some clothes for her anyway.
PS He doesn't look fat in this picture."
--Signed, this girl and that other one.
photo par Snelson. scent by Givenchy.
On our excursion to Wheaton a few weekends ago, Jen/birdcage took this picture of me and Snelson with her pony 828, whose alchemical optics somehow resulted in what Jen identifies as "an odd yellowy-pinkish color cast that makes them look like pictures you found in the back of that hutch in your grandfather's dining room that he took with his old Pony II Camera in 1964 and then forgot about."
This has been an odd month for flickr connections. A few weeks ago, iwantamonkey, a local contact I'd never met, got a job at my old office. We finaly ran into each other in the coffeeshop that I've photographed so often.
Last week she posted a picture of her new cubicle - which looked awfully familiar. It happened to be my old cubicle! I spent ten years in that thing. I gave them the best years of my life!
Tonight I was waiting at the bus stop watching all the girls watching all the girls go by, when a couple goed by. I watched them. The red-haired fella looked familiar and he thought he recognized me - it was Will, the star of goodgolly's photostream - and here's goodgolly! Will knew me from the first-grade picture I use for my icon, because my hairline is the same you know. Golly wisely suggested we part before things got awkward and we'd stare at our shoes and ask if you like things and stuff.
I gave them the best years of my life!
It's a regular Flickr invasion in nameless yeast town, and that's not counting the one camped out and singing songs under my bedroom window, despite all my warnings about the rats. We've traced the phone call - it's coming from inside the house.
I had an internal ear bath via suction and scrape. (I know, this isn't an ear you see above, but it's more interesting.) (Because out of the mouth you have words and song and the ear simply listens which is fine but, you know, participation is good.) (Although the passive nose strikes me as somehow more romantic than that of the ear; no you cannot smell music and without music what would we do, how would we woo and headbang?) (And yet, all three are intertwined, hence the professional compartmentalization of this specialty, which granted could also be prone to fetishism). The clog that had vexed me since sunday and before was more than waxy build-up, not one but *two* kinds of fungi. How they got in my pyjamas I'll never know. The suction originally produces a strangely pleasant sensation, like an aural scratch, but pleasure began to end when the suction ran out of stuff to suck.
The effects of corn squeezins on the human female are as varied as the whole of human experience. This Aryan reveler ran free and openly; while another, whose unfortunate picture won't be seen on these pages, cursed out the photographer, who didn't even think her pants were that interesting and only stopped to take the picture because of John and whose fatal flaw was an indiscreet use of artificial light. As a dear person-of-uncertain-relationship-at-this-juncture noted, her fears are my reality.
THANK YOU PUNY HUMAN CHRISTINA FOR SENDING HULK THESE PICTURES THAT ARE VERY GOOD PICTURES OF A MONKEY AND A KITTEN WHO ARE FRIENDS!